#'Well that's not really marketable so if you want to see it maybe you should create it yourself'

[featureenvyproductions]

"Why does everything need to be Gay now it's so shallow to make men attracted to each other when they could be Pure Platonic Friends -"

oops sorry I can't hear you over the sound of me Doing What I Want Forever because I have been watching movies, TV, and animation since the 80s and have watched enough shallow heterosexual romances that would have been stronger as mlm-wlw solidarity friendships to fill the space between stars in a galaxy

#also 1) friends can fuck each other so you're not safe especially since gay guys do this a lot #2) why can't there be a cast with MANY mlm characters where some are strictly friends and some are partners #(bc this is a real thing that happens in the real world shocker I know but sometimes friend groups have several mlm folks) #3) as an aromantic vaguely ace spec person I get the need for good platonic relationships #but uh queer people reading mlm romance into something (often based on their own experiences or representation needs) #that creators refuse to delve into #or god forbid writing it into their own work #IS NOT THE BIGGEST PROBLEM HERE #i can't believe it's the year of our lord 2024 and i am still seeing this thinly veiled homophobic take everywhere #2006 called and it wants its 'I don't wish evil on gays but i dont condone their gay stuff' attitude back #Also when I think about all the shows and movies that came from source material with wlw or mlm characters who were all but TOTALLY erased #Or I think about media about queer historical figures who were utterly straightwashed or had their queerness demonized #or reduced to a footnote or Non Controversial background noise #My rage about this increases like 10000 fold #Anyway TLDR ultimately I fall under the mlm umbrella and that's part of the reason I write the shit I do and I'm not the only one #And I write cheeky posts about it but I actually am genuinely disturbed sometimes at this sentiment #Because no one says it outright but there's this massive undercurrent of an assumption that we don't exist #And we don't create #And we don't create things FOR OURSELVES not even bc precisely because of all the times we were told #'Well that's not really marketable so if you want to see it maybe you should create it yourself' #I feel like I'm talking to a wall here DOES NO ONE ELSE GET ANGRY ABOUT THIS #LIKE HOMOPHOBIA ISN'T OVER YET #ESPECIALLY NOT FOR MLM PEOPLE WHO AREN'T CIS AND WHITE #Like stop calling sex and/or romance shallow when it's gay and SUSPICIOUSLY 0 OTHER TIMES oh my fucking god

[tardis--dreams]

One thing you need to know about me is that I will never reblog anything that has the addition "this should be reblogged by everyone" or anything of the like.

#unless it's like #really funny and not a guilt trippy kind of bullshit #i can agree 130% with a post and then see that comment and I'm like #yeah no. go fuck yourself. #(this point has been made so many times but people don't get why it's annoying apparently. people don't dislike your stupid addition #because they secretly disagree with the post but because now it seems like some weird social obligation to rb is #rb this or you're a bad person is a clever marketing strategy but it's quite stupid because it weakens the original point #oh you're saying everyone should rb this? well now it looks like the ppl rbing actually just do it out of some feeling #of social obligation. not because they really want to but because they want to fulfill the arbitrary standards you just made up for being #a good person #and don't get me wrong most certainly are most people rb these posts still out of agreement with the original statement #but it's still annoying as fuck and also you'd think ppl would know by now that people don't generally like being told what to do #so my hypothesis is (and i won't do any research to prove or disprove it (i might be very wrong and most people don't mind obviously)) bjt #but my hypothesis is that people who originally agree with the post but have a strong desire of being free in their choices #won't actually end up rbing bc it's just not that free of a choice anymore bc you just had to make it 'obligatory' but we all know #nothing is obligatory on a stupid webbed site like this so they scroll past while people who maybe would have scrolled past now feel #like they might actually be a bad person if they don't do as it says but without actually caring about the content. which diminishes #the positivity the post originally was supposed to spread bc how do you tell ppl actually mean it now when they rb these things #anyway. am i ranting about something completely asinine phenomenon on tumblr.com? yes. #would it be better to not dedicate my time and energy into making a 'hate' post? absolutely. but that will never stop me from doing so #(also works for things like 'you guys HAVE to do xyz [for your (mental) health/etc]'. literally the best advice phrased like this #is counterproductive. post something that doesn't sound like you're judging everyone who does otherwise and maybe ppl will be more inclined #to believe whatever your point or statement is) #ok I'll stop #shut up amy

[jessiethewitchzard]

Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

#aj oc #dungeons and dragons #D&D #ttrpg

[httpjungkookcom]

CYBER BOY | JJK (m)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 12K, not bad!

Genre | Android! Jungkook x Grad Student! Reader, Fluff, Smut

Summary | Jimin, as much as you love him, is a major pain in your ass. After dragging you to his store against your will (literally) you end up with; the newly manufactured, eerily human Jungkook android model. He's so human, you begin to have questions.

Index | A lot of fluff, reader is terrified, Jungkook is a sweetheart, Jungkook is absolutely whipped, Jungkook is good at anything and everything you could think of, including pleasing you ;), soft smut, Jungkook just wants you to feel good

A/N | You don't really need to know the lore of Detroit Become Human, it's just briefly mentioned in the story. Cyber Life is basically a manufacturer of robots/androids, that's really all the background you need for the story. Enjoy! <3

Jimin’s very busy today talking your ear off. Well, more than normal you should say. Two weeks ago he scored this huge paid internship with CyberLife, a company that currently holds a monopoly over all other tech companies with its superior android manufacturing, innovative technology, and competitive prices that “Are to sure surpass your expectations.” He was ecstatic, going on about how maybe they’ll gift him an android as an intern present (spoiler alert, they did not.) Regardless, they pay him very well for an internship and he loves their technology so he’s still happy. Now, it’s something about a new android he’s droning on about. 

“No, I don’t think you understand Y/n.” Jimin clarifies, walking alongside you on the campus pathway. “One in the entire world, only one is being made.” 

“I understand plenty, Jim.” You genuinely laugh, side-eyeing him as he questions your intelligence. “I think I understood the first time you said there’s only one, and the second time, and the third, and now the hundredth.” 

“And you don’t even want to see him?! I don’t understand!!” Jimin almost yells, wide eyes as he turns to you to emphasize his point. 

Ever since Jimin scored the internship, you constantly refuse to ever step foot in the company. Mostly because you know Jimin would try to market to you, and he’s got a reputation for never getting told no. That’s the excuse you always gave, telling him off every time he’d talk about the “low low price of 4,999 dollars!” Secondly, the androids freak you out a bit. They’re hyper-realistic, all the way down to every single man-made eyelash on their face. You’re sure if you look close enough, you could probably see fake pores. 

However, you don’t hate artificial intelligence at all, nor are you a part of the momentum-gaining group of “androids are stealing our jobs, and ruining society!” You suppose for you, it’s just how realistic they look, act, speak, and walk. Everything about them is human-like. Maybe if they had a Siri-sounding voice, or walked stiff, maybe you’d get behind the idea of owning one. 

“You would try and get me to buy it, why are you saying him? You never do that Jimin?” You ask, laughing softly. “What, you got a crush on him?” You raise your brows, elbowing him with your hands remaining in your pockets, cold air waiting for the opportunity to bite at your skin. 

Jimin scoffs in defense, pretending you offended him as he shoves you away. “We were told to market it as him because he’s so realistic most people apparently won’t know the difference.” 

“…And you want me to buy that thing!?! An android that is so human you can’t even tell?!” You ask, feet stopping in their tracks. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind.” You roll your eyes, beginning to turn around, and instead, make your way to your apartment complex. 

“Nooo, at least walk me to the store like always. This isn’t fair!” Jimin complains like a child, stomping his feet softly in the thin layer of snow that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “I just wanted to tell you because I think it’s interesting, I promise I won’t market him to you.” 

“You’re a liar.” You turn back, unable to fight back the smile as you walk up to him. “Fine, let’s get going before it starts snowing harder. I’d hate for you to be covered in it and you ruin all your bots with the liquid.” Sticking out your tongue, Jimin mimics you as he does it back. 

“It wouldn’t ruin them, c'mon Y/n. They’re waterproof.” 

“Jimin.”

“Right, sorry sorry.”

Jimin stops talking about androids for the rest of the walk, instead beginning his daily oversharing session, as he vents about this mystery boy “Taehyung” he’s been seeing. Jimin claims he’s always on campus, everywhere, but you have yet to see him. Secretly, you’re starting to believe Jimin is making parts of him up. He wraps up the rant as you approach the door, “Anyways, he seems genuinely sweet. I think I’ll give it a chance.”

“Yeah, I also think he seems nice. Maybe it’ll be worth it.” You shrug, beginning to pull your arm away from Jimin’s where they’re interlinked. 

“Just like…you should give our androids a chance.” You're dragged into the store before you can even get another word in, Jimin locking down extra hard on your arm in case you fight it. As the doors close behind the both of you, you finally give in. “That big box over there, that’s our new one-of-a-kind boy.” Jimin beams, walking you over to it. There’s only the logo of cyber life on the front, no model codes, details, or specifications anywhere to be seen. 

“So, what’s he look like?” You ask, finally able to pry your arm away from Jimin’s chokehold. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know??” 

“Exactly what I mean, I don’t know.” Jimin spits jokingly, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “CyberLife is keeping all the details under wraps, I suppose whoever gets him is the first to find out. Personally, I think it’s to see if people recognize it as an android if the owner takes him out into public.” The information feels like whiplash, as does the mixing of it, him, and owner. 

“That is the freakiest thing I’ve ever heard.” You laugh. “So, how much is he going for?” You shrug as Jimin smirks at you, eventually punching his arm. 

“What, you want him?” He earns himself another punch. “He’s not.” 

“Jimin, what the fuck? Is this an empty box???” You're now beginning to think Jimin is fucking with you. Maybe a prank to see how gullible you are to the information he tells you, never really questioning his nerdy rants. “No characteristics, no price, let me guess, no name next huh?” 

“Ding ding ding.” Jimin chuckles. “The model doesn’t have a name. He introduces himself to his owner one-on-one.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Wait wait wait, don’t you want to know how you can get him if he’s not for sale?” He coaxes you back to the box laughing the entire time as he speaks. Once again grabbing you so you don’t have a chance to run away, you’re left trapped. If the androids surrounding you in the store are already this realistic, you’re a bit afraid to see what’s in the box honestly. “Aren’t you at least a bit curious, an android not up for sale hm?” 

“With the information you just gave me, it’s an empty box up for sale,” You complain, ready to go home and cozy up on the couch with this weather. It’s cold, wet, and you’re already slipping into your winter break laziness. 

“It's a raffle.” 

“Oh great.” 

“I’ll enter you into it.” Jimin beams, running over to a computer behind the cashier counter. You groan loudly, beginning to follow him to stop his antics. “Uhm ma’am, employees only beyond this point.” Jimin changes his tone to his customer service voice, holding a hand in front of your face. “I’ll be with you in one moment.” 

“Jimin, this isn’t funny. I’m going to kick your ass,” You complain, glancing over your shoulder to the large box behind you as if he’d pop out at any moment. “I don’t even want the opportunity to own him, people would probably kill others over him.”

“One moment, please ma’am,” He speaks, breaking up into laughter throughout his sentence. You’re helpless as you stand at the counter, watching in disbelief as he types in all of your information faster than the speed of light.

“I wish we never sat next to each other in Introduction to Computer Science.” You laugh, watching him click submit before making his way back to where you stand by the box. 

“Raffle results come out tomorrow. That’s why I had to drag you here.” Jimin beams, “If you don’t want him, you can always give him to me.” 

Faking a gag, you begin your way out of the store. “I'm going home, Jimin. I'm gonna be spending my winter break alone, android-less, binge-watching movies, so feel free to stop by.” You smile, waving to him from the door. Jimin inserts some snarky remark that you don’t really catch, rolling your eyes at him through the window regardless. 

Doing exactly as you promised yourself, you all but melt into the soft bed you’ve been in a long-distance relationship with the entire semester. Now, you’re able to catch up with spring classes being an entire month away. You spend the rest of your afternoon double-checking that all of your assignments are in before allowing yourself to sleep. The next day, you begin your marathons, finally catching up on all the shows you said you’d watch. With a content sigh, you begin your second binge-watching marathon of the break. It’s cut short just one episode in, a small knock catching your attention. Following it, it’s your front door. 

“Hi, Jimin, do you wanna-“ It’s not Jimin standing on the other side of the door, not at all. There are two tall men, with a big box placed in the middle of either one of them. “Oh, sorry. I was expecting someone else. How can I help you guys?” 

“Is this the residence of Y/n L/n?” One asks, making your throat run dry as you glance at the box behind them. “If you could just sign off on your delivery, free of charge provided by the company.” Glancing down at the paper presented, CyberLife. Shaky hands sign a sloppy signature, the movers quickly move in and place the box in the middle of the walkway before rushing off. Closing the door behind you, you’re at a loss. 

Wouldn’t they call you if you won? Or an email? Or mail? Who in their right mind just comes and delivers such an expensive and precious item without some sort of confirmation beforehand??? Your normally cozy and comfortable apartment suddenly feels too small with the box in it, another human-like thing occupying the space. 

“Jimin?!” This has to be a prank, Jimin has to be laughing his ass off in this stupid box. With caution, you press an ear against the metal and try to hear laughing, snorting, breathing, anything. The box is white and blue, only confirming the high possibility of an android being inside. “Jimin, if you're in this box, I’m going to kill you for real this time.” You give a fair warning, pressing and pulling hard on the side handle. It opens smoothly, the door not even creaking once as you pull it open. 

You jump hard as you peek into it, not Jimin. Definitely not Jimin. Hiding behind the door, you peek once more into the inside to take in the sight. He’s…pretty? Somehow his android skin is activated without even being turned on yet, hair styled with his bangs pushed back from his forehead. His nose is slightly large, but it fits his face perfectly. There’s a small mole underneath his lower lip that you think is an interesting addition to an android model. 

With a hard beating heart that feels as though it’ll burst through your rib cage, you abandon your protection. There’s an owner's manual placed neatly in front of his body that you pick up with shaky hands. Activate your android by pressing on its led sensor for 10 seconds. It’s the longest 10 seconds of your life, heart hammering against your bones.

His eyes slowly peel open, blinking a couple of times as he takes in his surroundings. Human, scarily human. He’s careful of your reaction as he steps out of his box to not scare you too badly, pushing the door closed behind him to create more room in the small apartment. “Hello, I’m Jungkook.” 

There it is. 

You don’t answer, prompting him to continue introducing himself. “I’m a one-of-a-kind android that was beneficial for promotional purposes, but mainly I'm built to be the best companion possible for my owner. I possess old and new features that are designed to make the everyday life of my companion significantly better.” 

“Jungkook?” You mumble, his name feels way too human. “What’s your full name?” 

“Jeon Jungkook, from Busan, South Korea.” You could throw up everywhere, the realistic bot smiling softly as he stands in front of you. 

“Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m Y/n. …you are an android, right? Do you mind if I, uh?” You gesture to his chest. Your brain is struggling to believe he’s an android and not some sort of joke sent to you. Jungkook happily obliges, removing his synthetic skin and popping open his chest panel. Stepping a bit closer, you can definitely confirm that they are CyberLife organs and blue blood. “Okay, sorry I’m just having trouble adjusting, that’s all,” You mumble, closing his panel for him. 

“There is usually an adjustment period for new owners. Have you had another android in the past?” Jungkook asks, glancing around your apartment for any sign of one. He takes a couple of steps away from the box, feet making no noise despite being a giant piece of what is essentially machinery. Freaky.

“Oh, no no. It’s not that I’ve been against it, I just haven’t had the money or need for one I suppose.” You explain, feeling like you owe him an explanation as to why you don’t have an earlier model. “I’m a grad student, you see?” 

Jungkook nods softly, gesturing to the couch for you to sit down. You follow, a bit confused as to what this could possibly be about. It feels as though he’s about to break up with you, making you laugh softly to yourself as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. “I’m not sure what needs you have, but just let me know and I will do my best to fulfill them. This can range from construction, gardening, cooking, cleaning, companionship, intimacy, etc.” 

“Intimacy, what does that even mean in terms of an android?” 

“Some androids are designed to carry out human wants and desires for sexual intercourse-”

“Okay, okay, sorry I asked.” You cut Jungkook off before he can give you the long, likely in-depth explanation of their usage. “So, what do you want to do around here? I mean it’s just me, so it’ll probably get pretty lonely unless you come to my classes with me.” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not very big but it’s comfortable, feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like.” 

“I want to do what you want me to do, Y/n,” Jungkook answers, speaking like a true CyberLife android, a computer.

“God, it’s so weird.” You complain. “You look so human but act like you’re an android, so it’s just throwing me off.” You smile softly, watching as he smiles back. His smile is pretty, perfectly aligned teeth on full display. When he smiles hard, small wrinkles form in the corners of his eyes which you find oddly endearing. “Your LED also is barely noticeable, just all of it together tricks my mind into thinking you’re a human.” 

“That’s how I was engineered, with that in mind.” He smiles, “I don’t think I’ll be mass-marketed due to how human my design is, it would likely cause unrest within society.” You nod along to that, it most definitely would only make the anti-android movement worse. “If you’d like, I can adjust my LED to be more of the stereotypical android look.”

“No, no that’s okay. I like you however you present yourself. But, can you change your hairstyle? It’s just a bit too CyberLife, fresh out of the package if you want to go out in public later on.” You shrug, once again feeling the need to explain to him. He does, switching through various hairstyles before deciding on one. It’s slightly longer, with soft waves making it look fluffier than before. It’s still just as dark, but it suits him. 

“I can also simulate body modifications such as piercings, tattoos, scarification, split tongue, stretched lobes, whatever you would wish for me to look like,” Jungkook informs, once again sounding fresh out of the box. 

“You do whichever ones you’d like, Jungkook. It’s your body, fake or not.” You smile, watching as he shuffles through the catalog of options in his head. A giant smile overtakes his face as he comes out with two face piercings, a couple of ear ones, and most notably his tattoo sleeve. 

“Uhm, is this okay? I can always change my setting back if you prefer it-”

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We gotta get you out of your default settings, jeez.” You laugh. “I’m not really sure what to do now, I was watching a TV show if you’d like to watch it with me?”

“I’d love to.” He beams, watching as you jog into your room. (You forgot the name of it already, mind racing 1000 miles a minute with everything going on.) You come back out with blankets to hide it, handing him one as you set up the living room TV. “I’d also love to make you dinner while we watch, would that be okay?”

“Kook, YES. I don’t mind what you do unless it’s like actively punching holes in my drywall. Then maybe I’ll draw the line.” You joke, finally earning a laugh from him. It’s contagious, spreading over to you as you giggle along. You don’t think you’ve completely wrapped your brain around the fact that he’s one of a kind, purposely engineered to basically do anything and everything, and so annoyingly pretty as he sits in your small apartment content as ever. “Also, I’m not sure if you notice, but your footsteps make almost no noise. It’s okay to make sounds. I think if you walk around here completely silent you'll probably scare the shit out of me.”

“Noted.” Jungkook chuckles, sliding off of the couch and making his way into the kitchen. He makes more noise this time, and it’s much more comfortable that way. The soft knocking of pots and pans fills the background, not enough to be annoying but enough to let you know there is someone else here. Maybe, and you’d never ever admit it to Jimin, his addition to your home is starting to feel like it will be a welcomed one.

Getting used to having another person, an android, in the house is a learning experience. The following morning after he was delivered, you had completely forgotten all about him in your half-awake state. After using the bathroom, your feet shuffle out into the kitchen in search of any sustenance before you start the day, Jimin already texting you to ensure you guys are still on for your morning coffee run and walk to the CyberLife store.

“Good morning, I made you-”

You’ve never screamed so loud, so early in the morning. You’re sure you woke up all of your neighbors in a 5-door radius, along with the incoming noise complaint that is surely on its way. You screamed so loud that Jungkook has to recalibrate his audio processing system, standing still for multiple minutes as it reboots. 

“Sorry, sorry Kook.” You cackle after the initial fright, hands holding your stomach as you almost cry from laughter. “Adjustment period, remember when you said that?” You laugh harder, making your way over to him.  Jungkook laughs softly along with you, not nearly as hard but he feels happy seeing you so happy. He grins hard as you wipe away your tears, your stomach hurting from just how hard you're laughing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. I have to stop.” With another glance at Jungkook in the kitchen, you’re cracking up again. 

“Y/n! I thought I’d be nice and make you breakfast!” Jungkook whines as you continue laughing at him, unable to hold it back for longer than one-minute intervals. You slowly calm down over the course of the next 10 minutes, forcing yourself to not think about it. “Anyway, I made you a breakfast sandwich. I’m not sure if you have anything to do today but-” Jungkook stops talking as he notices your chest heaving, trying hard not to laugh. “Are you-are you serious?? You can't even look at me huh?” Jungkook cracks, smiling hard. 

At this point, there are tears rolling down your face. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, I’m done for real this time. Just had to get it out of my system.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Jungkook jokes, putting the plate in front of you regardless of you continuing to giggle every now and then. 

“I’m not sure what you’d like to do today, but I’m gonna go out with a friend for a bit. There’s not much to do here, I’m normally used to being out all the time, but there’s Netflix, Hulu, Disney, whatever you’d like to watch.” You talk in between bites, rushing as you inhale the food. You get ready quickly, awkwardly side-hug Jungkook as a goodbye, and rush off to meet up with Jimin.

Jimin is as ecstatic as ever, going on and on about who he thinks got the android in yesterday’s raffle. He gets his hopes up a bit before going to the store, coming up with the idea that maybe no one won and he’ll be unboxed today. Nerves flood throughout your body, your mind thinking back to the sweet boy that made you breakfast this morning. “Anyway, what’re you up to today?” Jimin sighs after his excitement, strolling along the sidewalk with his drink in hand. 

“Probably a bit of holiday shopping, and hanging out with a friend-”

“A friend?! Who? Do I know them?” He interrupts you, immediately questioning. 

“No, no I don’t think you do. He’s a family friend of my mom’s side-”

“HE?”

“I hate talking to you.” You laugh, no longer feeling the need to continue talking about it. You ignore Jimin’s prying questions, favoring dismissing all of them. What’s he look like? Where’s he from? Is he cute? What’s his name? Is he nice? Jimin brings up anything and everything. “Okay, we’re here, oh noooo.” You chuckle, pretending to be disappointed. 

“I’ll find out eventually.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at you before entering the store. He’s beyond disappointed that the box is no longer sitting in the store, texting you about it as you walk home.

Coming home, you’re a bit more prepared as you enter your apartment, spotting Jungkook in the living room. The upcoming week is your adjustment period, slowly becoming less and less spooked by his presence in your cozy home. Jungkook has learned to turn down his hearing slightly in the mornings until you get used to him, no longer having to re-coordinate his processing system constantly. You’ve also warmed up a lot to him over the week, the sweet android quickly becoming a part of your everyday life and holding a fond place in your heart. You’ve made movie nights become a ritual, cuddling up to Jungkook on colder nights. (He’s aware and even adjusts his systems to make himself put out more heat for you.) 

Jungkook is also the best listener you know, listening and taking in all of the stories you’re willing to tell him. He knows a lot about Jimin, as you seem to hang out with him the most. He had dumbly asked if he was your boyfriend, sending you into another laughing fit you were unable to stop. Along with this, he’s started accompanying you out more. Jungkook comes on grocery runs with you, goes to the library with you, goes to the nearby cafe you frequent, and even begins joining you on nights out at clubs. It’s scary how no one realizes he’s an android and doesn’t even bat an eye at him even in android-free spaces.

Most nights out, Jungkook has to fight you into bed in your tipsy state. You appreciate him for it, and all of the patience he shows you. “Y/n, let me take off your makeup.” Jungkook giggles softly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he holds a makeup wipe in his hand. He’s carefully holding your ankle in his palm, keeping you from sliding head first off the bed if you move too much. As you shuffle around to better lay on the bed, he no longer needs to restrain you. Currently, you have the spins, holding onto Jungkook’s clothes in a death grip to ground yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at you. “It’ll just take two seconds, come here.” 

You finally oblige, shuffling around to place your head in his lap. “Do your worst, pretty boy.” You slur slightly, smiling up at him. 

“Pretty boy?” Kook raises a brow at you.

“Mhmm, my pretty boy.” You nod, wearing a soft smile as Jungkook wipes your makeup off. “You wanna sleep with me?”

“Sorry?” Jungkook almost chokes on his fake spit. 

“You’re warm, come, lay down.” You coax him, pulling him down. You’re not laying on the bed the right way at all, heads laying at the foot of the bed. You’re also slightly diagonal, not caring at all as you cuddle close to him for warmth. Jungkook smiles hard as you nuzzle into his chest, one of your legs swinging over his. “Warm, soft.” You hum. You get the best sleep of your entire life, and it now becomes a normal thing for Jungkook to lay with you. 

You learn a lot about him during this time as well. One, Jungkook can taste and eat as his program allows him to. He doesn’t need to at all, but once again he was built for companionship and he can’t think of anything sadder than people eating meals alone. You had learned this when Jungkook offered to eat with you, confusing you to hell and back before actually explaining. Now, you always make him get something when you guys go out in public, to really sell the whole he’s just a human drinking his overpriced cafe drink!! Considering other androids don't eat or drink anything other than blue blood, it really adds to his non-android appearance.

Two, he’s been programmed to be good at absolutely everything. 

Personal fitness: Jungkook is more than happy to accompany you on jogs, encouraging you but also giving you the peace of mind you need when running through rough parts of town. Along with this, he somehow is able to calculate your strides and distance, which you believe blindly and don’t even question. Lastly, he’s able to carry water and electrolyte snacks that he claims are good for you when you’re physically active. When you refuse to drink, Jungkook jokingly wrestles you into submission until you take at least one sip.  

Cooking: Jungkook has taken to making all of your meals, and you’re not even upset about it. Every meal is different but just as delicious, you assume he has some sort of chef programming. When you don’t have an item Jungkook needs, he’s more than willing to go out and get it for you. You’re a bit too anxious to send him on his own, but in reality, he’d probably be okay given his appearance. Despite taking over cooking needs, if you’re lucky he sometimes lets you help out with baking holiday cookies. Jungkook still takes to distracting you, twirling you around with a giant smile to the music playing in the background. 

“Kook,” You whine, a giant smile plastered on your face despite complaints. You can feel Jungkook smile as he tucks his face into your neck, one hand holding your waist and the other taking your palm into his own. “The cookies will burn.”

“They still have 3 minutes, don’t worry hun.” Jungkook smiles hard, pulling back to look at you. You match the cheek-aching smile, forced to twirl as Kook easily spins you. Getting carried away, the cookies did slightly burn in the oven. 

Makeup (yes, even makeup): Jungkook had offered to help you get ready for a research-related conference, let’s just say you got a lot of compliments that night.  

Cleaning: You tell him constantly he doesn’t have to spend his days cleaning, but he listens very minimally and still picks up for you every day.  Sometimes he tries to hide it from you, placing a very strategic piece of laundry on your floor to give the illusion that he didn’t clean. (It never works how he intends, once there was a random towel in the hallway while every other room was completely spotless. He was embarrassed about it the whole day.)

Security: He’s not a fighter under any circumstances at all, you can’t even imagine Jungkook getting into an altercation. You suppose he could if he needed, it’s likely somewhere deep in his programming. However, it’s the peace of mind he brings to you every night, you no longer deal with the worry of if your door is locked 1000 times. 

Helping with your Grad assignments: Kook is a very advanced computer, how can you not?

And just simple companionship on days you’re worn down and tired. On days when you're very stressed out, he happily does your skincare to help you relax along with a small massage he knows from, who knows, somewhere deep in his computer brain. 

“Kook, can you really take your time today, I need the relaxation.” You chuckle, grabbing all of your products and walking out of the bathroom. Jungkook follows, confusion growing even more as he watches you lay down on the floor with a pillow. 

“....What are you doing?” Jungkook chuckles, standing over you a bit as he peers down. 

“Come, sit, sit.” Without any more questioning, Jungkook sits with his legs slightly separated. You move to lay in between them, pillow on his lap. Ohhh, he sees now. Jungkook pulls out all of the stops he can with the tools provided, doing your skincare and giving you a massage. “Holy shit, you’re good at this.”

You suppose the only thing you’re unsure of with his skills is his intimacy feature, as you haven't had any reason or want to test it. You’ve been curious about the extent of the features, Jungkook is more than happy to once again explain all of his programming to you. Artificial saliva, physically soft skin, artificial bodily fluids, flexibility, shapes created with pleasure in mind, etc. The list goes on and on. He was also more than happy to offer his services to you, bright-eyed and excited about your reaction. You postpone the offer, maybe another time. At this, Jungkook begins his lecture about how it’s detrimental to one’s health to be sexually frustrated for too long that you put an end to, as quickly as possible. 

You haven't introduced Jungkook to Jimin quite yet, a bit scared Jimin would immediately clock your android counterpart as exactly that, an android. You have to explain this to Jungkook, who wants to meet Jimin more than anyone else since you seem to be such great friends. He understands the dilemma but still wants to meet regardless. 

Maybe four weeks into the break, there’s a knock on the door that catches Jungkook’s attention more than yours. You’re busy getting tangled in the Christmas tree lights that are impossibly knotted, Jungkook trying to help out as much as he can. He’s hesitant after accidentally pulling one of the cords and almost swiping your feet out from underneath you. “Can you go get that please, Kook?” You mumble, lights somehow wrapped around your waist, legs, and neck. Jungkook scurries to do as he’s told, not wanting to take over lights for you. 

You can hear the door creak open, followed by a period of silence. “Who are you??” Your hands stop moving, eyes blown wide as you glance over to the door. Shit shit shit. 

“Hey Jimin! Come in!” You call from the living room, still hard at work at making the lights cooperate with you. You pray to god he doesn’t see you sweat. “I told you about him, remember? He’s in town for a while on an internship. Jimin, this is Jungkook, a family friend. Jungkook, this is Jimin.” You introduce the two of them. Jimin turns around to face Jungkook, Jungkook quickly catches your eye contact. You mouth to him to turn his LED off completely, which he follows.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook smiles wide, garland hanging down from his arms as he shakes Jimin’s hand. Jimin shakes his hand back, turning back to you. 

“Y/n! You didn’t tell me said friend was so hot!” Finally, the atmosphere breaks as all of you laugh along with each other. The entire interaction is based solely on the assumption you have that no one has seen Jungkook’s design, including Jimin. He doesn’t seem to clock Jungkook immediately, joining in on your and Kook’s journey of setting up the decorations. Jimin gets ornaments in order, Kook garland, and you get lights. Next, you all take turns walking around the tree stringing everything up. The star is the scariest part, Jungkook insists on just lifting you to place it atop the tree. 

Jimin laughs his ass off the entire time, watching as Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and easily lifts. “Jungkook, my ass is in your face.” You laugh, wobbling slightly as you cackle. Jimin also laughs hard at this. 

“I’m not looking, promise.” This only makes the group of you laugh harder. Jimin looks at Jungkook to check the accuracy, falling to his knees as he sees Jungkook’s head at a 90-degree angle looking sideways. “Put the star on!” Jungkook calls, laughing softly. Thankfully, you come down unscathed and unharmed. You all settle in, putting on holiday movies to watch. 

“Do you guys want hot chocolate?” You ask, already getting up and making your way into the kitchen to start making them.

“I’ll help.” You send Jungkook a hard glare, seating him back down. “Ugh, fine. You never make mine right though.” He complains, sitting back down and grabbing his blanket once more. You can see him and Jimin talking, but you’re unable to hear it over the movie. Walking back in slowly, you cautiously carry three mugs. 

“Here, you big baby. Hot chocolate with extra chocolate and whipped cream.” You hand Jungkook his and then Jimin's. “And regular for you like an adult.” You watch as Jungkook sticks his tongue out at you, making you laugh as you sit down. 

“Extra chocolate? Kook, do you mind if I taste yours?” Jimin asks, scooching forward to reach over you. Jungkook mumbles something about wanting his whipped cream, quickly licking the majority of it off the top before handing it over. Jimin glances down at the cup before taking a sip, nodding his head. “Y/n, can you make mine like that next time?”

“Wow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes as you return your attention back to the movie. The night continues without much more commotion, the group of you watching movies and taking turns making cocktails. Jungkook purposely dumbs his down to hide himself, relief washing over you as you’re handed a simple mixed drink. (Jungkook can and will make the most elaborate, bartender-level drinks you’ve ever seen.) Maybe he’s not as clueless as he pretends to be. 

“I think I should get going, gotta get up early in the morning.” Jimin yawns, standing up and stretching. “I won’t make you come get coffee with me since I have to be at work at 6 am.”

At this, you recoil. “So generous, Jimin. I definitely would not make it there at 5:30.” You laugh, getting up off the couch to walk him out. “Do you want us to walk with you, it’s a bit late Jim.”

“...Tae is picking me up.” You gasp as Jimin opens the door. Jimin slaps a hand over your mouth. “And NO! You can’t meet him tonight, I have to at least give him a warning in advance.”

“I hate you.” You sigh, jokingly shoving him out of the door frame. “I’ll see you soon, loser. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe and so I know this weird, unknown, creepy Taehyung that I’ve never met didn’t kidnap you or something.” Waving goodbye to Jimin, you can finally breathe as you shut the door. “He’s skeptical of you.” You huff. 

“I know.” Jungkook mumbles, “I think the hot chocolate and drinks convinced him, though. He stopped being skeptical after that. Now, he’s skeptical and thinks we’re dating.”

You don’t know how Jungkook can tell, but you believe him. With a long sigh, you return to the couch, plopping down back onto the blankets. “He’s too skeptical about everything.” You laugh. Kook follows you into the living room, laying down on top of you. “He wouldn’t care that you’re an android, Kook.” You reassure him, “I just don’t want that to be your description and introduction to people we meet.” Jungkook nods in agreement. 

After the small bout with Jimin, Jungkook settles in very well over the course of December.

He makes breakfast, wishes you a safe trip before your departure if you’re doing somewhere without him, sometimes earns himself a peck on the cheek that makes him blush bright red, picks up around the apartment or organizes, and then just hangs around until you get home. He genuinely believes you getting home is the best part of his day, can’t even imagine a better person to wait around for. Sometimes you guys will go out for the evening if you’re not tired, other nights you both stay in and watch tv or movies cuddled close together. 

For once, you’re not spending the holidays alone. Over the last couple of years, you had always gone over to Jimin’s apartment for company if he was still in town. Other times, you just spent the holiday watching movies. “Merry Christmas Eve, Kook.” You hum, sitting close to him with your head resting on his shoulder. Your knees are folded underneath you, facing Jungkook’s lap but not on him. Jungkook rests his head on yours, a blanket tossed over both of your laps. You’ve already made cookies and Jungkook started cooking ahead for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. Jungkook has been scolding you constantly for making him do dumb childish Christmas activities, cookies for Santa, carrots for reindeer, etc. You think it’s cute.

“Merry Christmas Eve, pretty girl.” Jungkook hums back, reaching over to hold your hands. He’s taken to calling you pet names, making you blush furiously every time. 

“Do you want an early Christmas present?” You smile hard at him, glancing up at him. 

“Is that even a question?” Jungkook giggles, watching as you jump off the couch and immediately sprint into the bedroom. He can hear loud rummaging, and he’s about 99% sure you’re in the closet. You come out with a medium-sized gift bag, presenting it to him. Placing it in his lap, you watch with a giant smile as he opens it. Somehow, he reaches underneath his set and instead pulls out your matching pajamas. “Y/n, I don't think these will fit me.” He chuckles. 

“How do you go underneath the top thing?” You scoff, snatching them out of his hands and quickly hiding them behind your back. Kook chuckles softly as he finally pulls out his set, a giant smile plastered on his face as he examines it. “And, I also have one. So we can match.” With loud laughter, you and Jungkook begin sprinting to the hall. You duck into your room, and Jungkook disappears into the bathroom. 

Your heart feels heavy with emotion as Jungkook steps out of the bathroom on the other side of the hall, you stand in the doorway of your room. “Y/n, thank you.” Jungkook mumbles, voice wavering a bit as he reaches out and takes your hand in his. You could cry as he pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for everything.” 

“C'mon now, don’t get all sentimental Jeon.” If you get any more sentimental, you’ll cry. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” He smiles, leading you back to your Christmas movie marathon in the living room. Watching movies for the rest of the night, Christmas comes before you even realize it. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook speaks softly, once again kissing your forehead. 

“Merry Christmas, my sweet boy.” You kiss his cheek in return, fighting the blush away. 

Christmas is exactly what you’ve dreamed of, eating together, watching movies, opening gifts, setting up and playing with said gifts, and spending plenty of time cuddled up together. For Jungkook’s gifts, you got him a game system and a phone to keep him busy once the spring semester starts in a couple of weeks. Jungkook’s quick to input your number, demanding it as soon as it comes out of the box. 

“Are you ready for your presents?” Jungkook smiles. 

“Am I huh?” You question, raising a brow. You weren't expecting anything since Jungkook is an android, and therefore is unable to work unless it’s programmed into him. Along with this, he hasn’t asked you for any money within the last couple of weeks. “How, Kook?” You mumble as he comes out of your apartment's small storage closet with gifts, a bright smile on his face. 

“I maybe, maybe not, went out and did college kid’s homework and assignments for cash.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, avoiding the look you give him. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and kind, otherwise, you’d scold him to hell and back for it. At least he was able to get around without being clocked as an android, you choose to look on the bright side. He sets the prettily wrapped box in your lap, yet another thing he’s good at. It’s a new bookbag and a recipe book, Jungkook’s pretty handwriting, and little doodles filling the pages. There’s a card in the bag, you already know it’s going to be sentimental and doubt you’ll be unable to read it without crying.

As you suspected, you’re in tears by the end of the card. You sniffle hard as you press it against your face, hiding your tears from Jungkook. “Nooo, don’t cry. That wasn’t my intention.” Jungkook coos at you, wrapping you in his arms with ease. “Your bookbag seemed to have a lot of miles on it, I figured I’d get you a new one for the upcoming semester. The recipe book is in case you ever want to cook for me, since you always complain about never being able to make me dinner.” Jungkook explains. “And the note is just my gratitude, I suppose.”

“I told you no more sentimental stuff.” You chuckle, wiping your tears off your face as you turn to properly hug him. “Sorry I didn’t write you a card, I didn’t even think of it.” You mumble. 

“I don’t need a card, trust me,” Jungkook speaks softly, kissing your cheek where a tear stain still remains. “Do you wanna get back to our movie?” With a nod, Jungkook is quick to put it back on and pull you close to him, allowing you to lay on his chest. The movie begins to wrap up, your mouth opens before you can rethink it. 

“Kook?”

“Hm?”

“Do you wish you were human? Or do you wish you were given to a different owner?” You ask curiosity just genuinely wanting to know his answer.

“I’m not sure, really. I suppose being a human has a lot of rules for socializing, existing, and everything else. I know I’m not a human, but it does feel like I am so I suppose that’s close enough for me to be content.” Jungkook explains, shrugging softly as he holds you to him. “And I don’t wish I was given to another human, I really like it here. I think if I were with anyone else, they’d likely treat me like an android and expect me to, idk, act like one. That seems like a stupid question, given my completely sincere and heartfelt letter.”

You giggle, nodding to agree with him. “Yeah, probably. It’s easy to expect you to act like a perfect android when that’s how you were marketed, after all.” You giggle, sitting up to peer down at him. Your hands rest on his chest to support some of your weight. Jungkook is very pretty, even prettier peering up at you with eyebrows slightly scrunched together. “I still just can't believe you’re an android, Kook. Sometimes I don’t think about it and just see you as a person. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, always.” Jungkook grits as he stares up at you. 

“You’ve been using I think and I feel, Jungkook.” Jungkook tenses hard underneath you, fear momentarily flashing across his face. “CyberLife programming doesn’t do that. Were you built with a missing code, or did you break your coding when you got here?” You ask softly, hands meeting his face and gently holding it in your palms. Jungkook seems scared, fighting for an appropriate answer to your question. “I like it, Kook. I was hoping this would happen, but I wasn’t going to try and recode or reprogram you myself. I just want to know. Your note was also a dead giveaway, Jeon.”

“...I broke out of it partly when I got here and you started asking me to just be myself and not be my program.” Jungkook answers truthfully, “And then I broke out of it completely when it wouldn’t let me feel love for you, platonically or romantically. I didn’t like it, so I got out.”

You smile hard at him, rubbing the stress out of his face softly with your thumbs. Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you too, Jeon.” 

Jungkook’s hands meet your knees on the couch, holding onto them as you sit on his lap. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Y/n,” Jungkook almost whines underneath you, squeezing your knees. “But my programming, it’s uhm, on, right now. I can’t really control it just yet, it's created to react to your actions and body. And you’re, uhm moving a lot right now. Just give me a minute to-”

“...What if I want to, maybe, utilize these features?” 

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whines, hands coming up to cover his face momentarily. His head pushes itself back into the throw pillow he was resting on. You smile as his hair spreads out around his face as he does so. 

“Only if that’s what you want too, Kook.” You mumble, shuffling slightly to better distribute your weight on his lap. Jungkook genuinely whines, his hips bucking slightly against your own as he searches for friction. You rise to your knees slightly at this, Jungkook quickly moving his palms to seat you back down. His warm hands splay across your thighs and finger tips digging at your hips, holding you down. Excitement bubbles deep in your chest, knees squeezing Jungkook’s waist a bit tighter. “Kook, I can feel you.” You whine as his hands press your hips into his, the pajamas much thinner than you realized before. “I need words, Jungkook, for confirmation.”

“Y/n, I’ve been offered my services for weeks. I have been out of my program for weeks as well,” Jungkook grins, hands sliding, moving your hips to grind down onto him. “There is nothing I want more.” He answers honestly, sitting up to meet you. “Please, let me make you feel good.” Jungkook meets your lips, extremely soft as he kisses you. He waits for you to respond, too scared of making you uncomfortable by moving too quickly. Kissing him back, Jungkook is quick to pull you close, chest pressed flush against one another. 

His eyes quickly meet yours as you pull him back softly by his hair, searching your face for any discomfort as quickly as his computer brain can process human emotion. You don’t give him much, your eyes scanning across his features as you take them in. “I just wanna see my pretty boy, that’s all.” You reassure, pecking his lips a couple of times as you guide him to lay back down on his back. He happily lets you do as you please, god he’d let you do anything. His eyebrows knit together as your cold hands slip underneath the pajama top, easily slipping it up and off. Jungkook is quick to follow, tossing your top off before quickly pulling you down to him, warm skin pressed together. “So warm, Kook.” You mumble against his lips, your hands finding purchase on his biceps. 

“So soft, you’re so soft.” Jungkook groans against your lips, hands kneading your skin underneath them as he explores every inch of exposed skin. He rubs goosebumps away every now and then, holding you even closer. “Let me make you feel good, pretty girl. Lay back for me." Jungkook's voice is husky, lips never fully leaving yours as he talks to you. You follow his instructions, moving to lay on your back as he quickly follows. You’re completely flipped now, Jungkook in between your legs as he leans over you. 

His palms never leave you longer than it takes to remove clothing, lips working their way along your jaw. “So perfect for me, just for me. Always wanna be with you, Y/n.” Jungkook almost babbles into your skin, leaving dark marks in his wake. Sooner than you can comprehend, you’re completely bare before him.

“Kook, this feels unfair,” You complain, reaching to pull at his pajama pants. 

Jungkook basically rolls his eyes at you, pulling at his pants and kicking them off behind him, not paying much attention and basically clearing the coffee table. “Would you just focus?” He smiles, having to bite back a soft laugh. 

“You just swiped everything off the coffee table.” You comment dryly, also having to bite back a laugh at the situation. “You know, you’re literally a house robot, you’ll be cleaning it up-fuck,” Jungkook isn’t listening anymore, sliding down to his torso and nipping at your thighs.

“You were saying?” He humors you, diving in before giving you a real chance to answer his question. It’s impossible to talk, mewls and whines slipping through every time you try to come up with some witty, snarky response. Jungkook, smug, knows that. He’s unrelenting, face buried in between your legs with no signs of moving. 

“Kook, how are you, fuck, so good at this?” You whine, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Jungkook, at the pull, groans, animalistic as he gives you exactly what you want. “Kook,” You mumble, hips lifting off of the couch to grind against him. 

“Yes, there you go, pretty girl.” Jungkook groans against your skin. You push and pull, moving him exactly how you need, how you want. Jungkook, ever eager to please, could get off on this alone. His hips unconsciously grind against the couch, needing some sort of relief, it’s almost torture. “Gotta get you ready, feel good, hm?” Jungkook asks softly, vibration shooting straight to the knot in your stomach. One that only tightens as his fingers move, easily sliding inside, kneading at exactly where you need him. 

“Is this a programming thing?” You whine, clenching tightly around his fingers from the pleasure. He knows exactly what you need, exactly how to give it to you. 

“It's wanting to please you.” He answers quickly, going right back to his work. He can feel you react as you grow closer, clenching tighter around him, grinding harder against his face, thighs closing in around his head. “Feel good, hm?” 

“Too good,” You whine, legs beginning to shake as you draw closer, body on fire. “You’re going to make me cum, gonna cum for you.” Your voice cracks, coming unraveled on his fingers. Jungkook relishes in it, committing every sound to memory, every shake, every twitch of your thighs around his head. He groans as he tastes you, tastes it, arms wrapping tighter around your hips to hold you in place. 

“Kook, need more, need you,” You whine loudly, hands reaching to his shoulders to pull him up. He follows, moaning softly when your legs wrap around his waist. 

“Need it, or want it?” He asks, kissing along your skin, “Take it pretty girl, take all you want.” Jungkook leads, softly pulling you up to straddle his hips. Kook pulls at his boxers, helping you maneuver around to get more comfortable. “Gonna let you lead, make yourself feel good.” It all feels like too much, body on fire as you grind against him, easily slipping along his cock. Your legs are just now recovering, shaky as you pick your body weight up, easily sliding down. 

“Kook, wait wait fuck,” You whine, hips pressing themselves down until he’s buried as deep as he can, stopping all your movement. “Feels good, really good.” Your skin is on fire, and you have no doubt that your cheeks and ears are bright red. Trying to find purchase anywhere, your hands grip his forearms where they hold your waist. He feels too good, your mind feeling fuzzy as your chest rises and falls as you try to calm down. Pretty, he looks so pretty underneath you as he peers up through half lidded eyes. A small wrinkle forms in between his brows as he focuses all his attention on your pleasure. 

“Pretty girl~” Jungkook almost coos to you, leaning up to press your foreheads against one another. “Let me take care of you, I’ll be so gentle I promise. Lemme make you feel good.” He reassures you, grinding against you to prove his point. Shapes with pleasure in mind weren't a lie, his cock perfectly angled to catch that soft spot inside everytime. Placing your hands onto his chest, you regain a tiny bit of stability as you slide along his cock. The little bit of composure you have is short lived, Jungkook’s beginning to slide out before slowly pushing back in, only stopping when your hips connect again. 

“So deep, Kook,” You can only whine, arms losing their strength as you slip down, only holding your hips up and resting on his chest. “Sorry, it feels too good,” You apologize as he does all the work, thrusting while also maneuvering your hips to target where it feels best. Everytime he bottoms out, he’s sure to grind against your clit, only adding to your overwhelmed state. You’ve barely even started, barely even moved, and you’re panting like a bitch in heat. A giant smirk comes across Jungkook's face, pride blooming in his chest as you whine and pant all for him. 

“Feels good, hm? You’re gonna be a good girl and let me hear you come for me?” He rasps against your ear, one of his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “So pretty, beautiful. All for me.” He encourages, making your face flush further as he forces you to stare into his eyes. It feels as though if you were pinched hard enough you’d wake up. “Come for me Y/n, all over my cock, wanna feel you.” It hits you out of nowhere, almost blind siding you as it washes over your entire body. Your thighs clamp down around Jungkook’s waist hard, trying to still the stimulation. He doesn’t allow such luxury, determined to thoroughly ride you through the orgasm, continuing his movement until you’re almost begging. 

“Kook?” Your voice is rough as you finally speak up, shaky hands meeting his chest as you push yourself up once again. 

“Hm?” He acknowledges you, hands running across your skin to smooth out any goosebumps that remain. You’re about 90% sure his touch is what’s sprouting them, but you don’t have the mindfulness right now to tell him that. 

“Why does it feel so good? S’like I can't even think with you inside me.” You whimper as you feel him throb, hips beginning to grind against him for some sort of stimulation. Jungkook beams underneath you as you instinctively fuck yourself onto him, so desperate for pleasure. Your brows knit together and bottom lip is quickly caught between your teeth as you grind your clit against him, cock nudging your g spot simultaneously. 

“Hmmm, I don't know. Scientifically there are multiple answers for that. But realistically, it’s likely my design and programming, and the fact you haven't been touched the entire time I’ve been here.” He chuckles at the last bit, reminiscing on all the lectures about sexual health and how too much frustration is a bad thing, “You’re extra sensitive, and I know just what to do, where to touch, how to make you tick, Y/n.” He teases as he slowly rubs the pad of his thumb into your swollen clit, the sensation making you cave in on yourself as you try to avoid it. “Cute.”

“Jungkook, m’serious!” You slur, rocking softly. 

“I know pretty girl, I know. I can tell.” Jungkook chides, clearly finding some sort of humor as he watches you shake and twitch because of his cock. “You feel good, hm? Help yourself pretty.” 

“I'll try,” You nod, your bottom lip finding its place between your teeth once more. Your feet lift a bit to hook around Jungkook’s inner thighs, giving you some sort of leverage to fuck yourself up and down. The very first movement is already pulling a whine from past your lips, so sensitive already. Jungkook's eyes are fixated where the two of you are connected, giant eyes watching his cock disappear and reappear. He feels himself throb as a ring of your cum begins to form, deep, deep pride and smugness brewing. 

“Taking me so good, riding me so well.'' Jungkook praises, feeling his cock jump once again as your thighs begin to tremble softly. “Feels good?” Jungkook coos, palms beginning to run over the muscle. 

“Really good,” You nod, biting back moans. Jungkook moans softly when you tighten around him, hands reaching up for your face. 

“Be my good girl, let me hear you. Gotta hear how good my cock makes you feel,” Jungkook moans softly as you tighten around his cock. His fingers gently slip into your mouth, running along your tongue to hold your mouth open, preventing you from biting down on your lip again. “There you go,” He smiles as you moan and whimper, drool beginning to pool around Jungkook's fingers (not that he minds at all.) “I need to know how good I am to you,” He cracks, a small whimper slipping as he finishes his sentence. 

“You look so pretty, Kook-ah,” You babble around his fingers softly, looking down at him. The visual is almost enough to make you cum on the spot, so unbelievably worked up it almost hurts. The way he’s peering up at you like you’re everything to him, chest beginning to artificially flush, lips bright red, cheeks beginning to match. His hair is still splayed around his head, creating a pretty halo. “Gonna cum again for you,” You whimper, hips meeting his own with a small slap. 

“Good,” He smiles, rubbing small circles in your clit when you begin avoiding grinding onto him. It makes your legs shake further, your moans growing as you’re unable to muffle yourself, one hand still holding your jaw. You cum hard, thighs shaking harder than you’ve ever experienced before. Jungkook's sensitive to your reaction, slowing down his movements to allow you to ride through it without it hurting too much. “Good girl, so good for me, feels good, hm? Just a bit longer,” He talks you through it gently, voice honey to your ears. 

You nod, riding through it for as long as possible. As you finish, your body slumps forward, arms wrapping around Kook’s neck as you hug him close. “Do you not cum? Is that not how this works?” You chuckle softly, his cock still throbbing softly. 

“I can, when I feel that my partner has been thoroughly pleased and satisfied.” He informs, his CyberLife popping out for a quick moment. You shake, holding him closer. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your hair as you calm down. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, how much more satisfied am I gonna get?” 

“We’ll find out.” 

“Jungkook,” You pull back the slightest bit to catch his face, a cheeky smirk written all over it. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose. 

“I gotta make up for the weeks you were celibate.” He softly grinds up into you, filling you with a wave of want once more. “I need to satisfy you,”  He teases, kissing along your jaw and beginning to trail down to your neck. “Make sure no one else ever does it as good as me, no one else can make you cum like I can.” He continues, beginning to sit up and make you sit up as well, easily lifting both of your body weight. 

“Fuck, Kook,” You whine, allowing him to maneuver you onto your back, never slipping out once. You can feel him throb softly, beginning to work himself up. 

“So even if you look elsewhere, all you’ll think of is me, this pussy all mine, always,” He bites down softly into the flesh of your shoulder, leaving a light mark. “My girl,” He smiles, leaving light marks once more. His hips instinctively grind into you as he talks, not giving you a break for a second. 

“All yours, Kook. I'm all yours.” You whimper softly as he slides out entirely, slowly filling you up again. 

“Fuck, Y/n,” He whimpers into your neck, seemingly beginning to feel affected. “So tight,” He pants softly, hiking your legs up before pinning them to his shoulders, hands placed firmly on the couch underneath you. He’s deeper like this, able to target exactly where you need him without even really trying to. He slides out slowly, snapping his hips forward this time. It forces a moan from the both of you, sharp spikes of pleasure shooting up your back. 

Jungkook holds his torso up, strong arms flexing and veins beginning to show. Your hands grip hard at his biceps, trying to find some sort of stability as he easily folds you in half, hips unrelenting as he snaps them forward. You can't quiet down, mind becoming fuzzy as you moan and whine for him. 

“So tight, just, ah fuck, pulling me in, Y/n.” Jungkook pants, hands beginning to form fists where he holds the couch underneath his palms. You clench around him, words shooting straight to your core. “Don’t, shit, do that,” His hips falter the slightest bit, head falling forward slightly. 

“Want you to cum with me, Jeon,” You mumble softly, arms reaching around to claw and pull at his back, pulling him closer. “You'll do that for me, please?” You ask, catching his eye contact as he pulls his head up. He lets out a soft moan as you make eye contact, abs beginning to contract as he fights off his pleasure. Fuck, he’d do anything for you. 

“Need you to cum again first, just one more,” He speaks softly, reaching forward and pecking your lips softly before pulling away, he leans back a bit, giving himself more room to maneuver. His hips snap hard, chasing both of your highs. You almost complain at the loss of closeness, but quickly forget about it. “Let me have it, Y/n, need to feel you,”

It’s expected, but still rips through you, head thrown back into the couch as you shake hard. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, almost panting through your orgasm. Jungkook's hips don’t relent, chasing his own high. A loud whimper falls past your lips, hands reaching down in an attempt to push his hips away, “I know, I know, just a bit more, gonna cum for you, just like you asked pretty,” He consoles you, reaching down and softly pulling your palm up to his lips. He softly kisses your palm, hips stuttering and becoming uncoordinated as he teeters on the edge. 

“Please, Jungkook, cum in me,” You whimper, the overstimulation almost too much. Your hand holds the side of his face, his own hands falling to hold onto you. 

“Fuck, fuck, cumming for you,” He whimpers, hips surging forward, cumming as deep as possible. You whine and twitch as he continues, throughly fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the mess the two of you made together. His chest rises and falls, small pants slipping past his soft lips as he leans forward, holding you as close as possible as he kisses you, slow and deep, passionate. It makes you throb, quickly pushing him away before you get going again. 

“Kook,” You smile hazily at him. 

“Right, right,” Jungkook chuckles softly, pulling out as carefully as he can. He's covered in your cum, and you’d probably be more embarrassed if you had a sense of rationale left. “So fucking pretty,” He comments, and you meet his eyes to see what he’s talking about. He’s not staring at you, he’s looking at your pussy, hands hiking your legs up by your knees. 

“JUNGKOOK!!” The embarrassment begins to come back as does your rationality. Your legs pull against his hands, closing in on yourself. 

“I mean it,” He laughs softly, letting you go as he leans forward to kiss you once more. “C’mon,” He smiles, wrapping his arms around you and easily lifting you. You don’t pay much attention, but you know he’s walking to the bathroom based on the direction he’s going. He runs you a warm bath, consistently checking the temperature for you. He waits with you while it fills, softly rubbing out sore muscles to the best of his ability, kissing the dark marks in your skin. Once it’s filled, he carefully helps you in, making sure you don’t slip. Once you’re fully in, he gets up and begins to make his way out.

“Kook? Can you not take a bath?” 

“I can, I just need to clean up really quick first. I’ll be right back, promise,” He smiles, kissing the top of your head before leaving. You can faintly hear him shuffle about, evening declaring the space clean enough before joining you in the bath, sliding behind you. “You feel okay?” Jungkook asks softly against your shoulder, voice making goosebumps sprout against your skin. Your head is leaned back against his shoulder, back completely rested against his torso. “Anything hurt too badly?” He asks genuinely, not looking as he kisses the bite mark on your shoulder he left behind. 

“Yeah, I feel okay,” You smile, nudging against him softly. “I need to know though, how does your cum work? Do I have to buy a plan B or? That’d be kinda freaky, technology so advanced it can create life.” 

Jungkook genuinely laughs, making the water slosh as the both of you bounce softly. “No, no. It acts as a lubricant actually, so we could keep going if we really wanted to.” He smiles, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he hugs you close. “I wish though, you’d be such a good mama for me,” His voice vibrates against your skin, his palms splaying across your stomach where he holds you close. Once again, your pussy aches as he talks softly against your skin. 

“Do not!” You warn, pushing his face and hand away as it begins trailing further down. “We'll be going round 2,3,4, and 5 if you keep it up.” You laugh, trying to get away from him. 

“C’mon, pretty, relax. Let me clean you up,” Jungkook giggles as you slide away from him, trying to sit on the opposite side of the tub. He grabs your ankle, easily manuerving you to rest against his torso once more. He does as he promises, gently cleaning all the fluids and sweat off of your body, hands ghostly as he tries not to stimulate you any further. “I love you Y/n.” Jungkook sighs softly as he finishes his work, arms coming to wrap around you. 

“I love you too, Kook.” You smile softly, craning your neck around to kiss him gently. You carefully maneuver your feet under you, shakily standing out of the water. 

“Easy there, bambi,” He chuckles, holding his arms out on either side of you in case you really do lose balance and slip. He's persistent in his precaution, careful to hold his arms out until you’re securely on the bath mat on stable footing.

“C’mon, finish cleaning up so you can come warm me up,”

“I like the sound of that-“

“Jeon.” 

“Right.”

#bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #android! jungkook #robot! jungkook #robot jungkook #bts jimn #jimin #park jimin #bangtan #bts #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jhope #bts rm #bts taehyung #rm #jin #yoongi #jhope #taehyung #whipped jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #cyber boy

[dammn-dean]

Hii could you do Simon and his wife arguing like pretty badly and their shouting at each other as their arguing she hears her newborn cry and once she goes to the baby room and feeds looks after her baby she didn’t wanna go downstairs to talk to him she just went on her phone on social media.

(If you’re okay with doing that!)

Thank you so much for the request! I hope that this is what you wanted... I changed it up a little, but I still think it fits the request. Thanks again 🖤

Whispers and Words

Pairing: Ghost (Simon Riley) x Female Reader

Words: Almost 3k (oops)

Warnings: Reader is a new mom, Simon is a bit mean/clueless, reader is insecure, arguing, barely there sexual talk if you squint

Staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a small smile on your lips. You felt like you looked nice. A very casual, but cute dress adorned your body for the first time in a long time. Your baby went down for bed already, giving you a little extra time to yourself to shower and get ready for Simon to get home. You even fixed your hair and put on a little make-up. You felt good.

There really hasn’t been much time over the past 6 months for you to treat yourself, much less dress up. Having a newborn was a full time job! Simon had been gone almost the entire time, not by choice but because of work. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel any better, because.. Well it really didn’t. You missed him so much, and he missed so many things your baby was accomplishing. Getting bigger by the day. He was home off and on for a combined maybe 4 weeks the past 6 months, two weeks straight after she was born and a few days here and there since. All of that felt like it didn’t even really matter at the moment, your Simon should be home any minute now. 

You had decided to spend the time you had getting ready, which didn’t really leave you a lot of time to cook for him like you had wanted. Instead you settled on ordering in from a few of his favorite places, so he would have plenty to eat over the next couple of days. Simon was always a big eater, and you hoped you could get to the market to buy groceries in the next day or two. You loved cooking for him, and he loved eating your food. As much as you would love for him to come home to a big home cooked meal, this would work just fine. The last bit of food you ordered arrived not long ago, so you started moving some food to serving dishes. You hoped it would make it easier on him, just get home and dig in. 

Simon was due home about an hour ago, which had you a little worried. You sent him a text about 30 minutes ago, a simple, “You okay?” with no response. You felt crazy checking your phone every other minute, seeing if there was a call or text from him. Nothing yet. You stood from the stool you were perched at, tired of staring at the now cold food. You decided as an attempt to salvage the meal, you moved some food to baking dishes, turned the oven to keep warm and began boxing up the rest for later. Your back was to the door as you had placed the last of the food in the fridge when you heard the sound of a key entering the front door. 

Giddiness filled your body, a smile on your lips as you quickly shut the refrigerator door and made your way to the living room. Smoothing your dress nervously as he entered through the doorway.

Simon takes a couple steps in the house, pausing by the door to slip his mask over his head and set it on the side table there for the sole purpose of holding his mask. His eyes then search around the flat looking for you. His tired eyes fall on you with a small smile on his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes flutter down your frame with slow blinks, which make your cheeks warm. You hoped he liked your dress.

“Look at you sweetheart,” he all but coos, with his arm out for you to fall in with a hug.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped once you were in his embrace. Your head rests on his chest, arms wrapped around him as well as you can muster. His strong arms swallow you whole, making you feel a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time. 

“I missed you so much, Si.” Your voice is muffled into his chest. You can feel the rumble of his laugh more than you can hear it.

“I missed you,” he responds with a kiss on the top of your head. 

You pulled back a little to look into his deep brown eyes, loving that he is here with you more than you can even explain. Simon leans down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, which you return immediately. His hands began working his way over your shoulders, down your spine, before gently resting on your hips. The feeling of his large hands on you in such an intimate spot, that is a bit softer than it was before the baby, caused your spine to straighten. 

You pulled yourself from the kiss. “Oh! Food, let me pull it out of the oven for you.” You gave a quick peck to his lips at that and pulled yourself from his embrace to head into the kitchen.

Simon followed in after you, watching you pull a few trays of food from the oven. 

“I’m sorry it isn’t homemade… but I ordered all your favorites. I tried my best to keep it warm for you,” you explained. “I was expecting you a bit earlier, so I kept some in the oven for you. The rest is in the fridge!” You clapped your hands together with a small smile. “So you can have more of your favorites over the next few days.” 

Once your eyes fell back onto him, he held an odd expression, almost sorrowful. Your throat tightened at the look. Feeling like you made a mistake with the food. Internally cursing yourself, you were so sure he would be excited about having a bit of all his favorite take out, but maybe you were wrong. 

“Or if you want I can just put it all up and make you something!” You attempted to sound cheery, but you knew there were barely any groceries in the house.

You turned to the cupboards, looking through them all. Hoping something would magically appear even though you know there isn’t much in there besides some dried pasta, canned goods and cereal. For some odd reason your eyes began to burn with humiliation. Of course he wanted to come home to a home cooked meal, he’s been gone for months and I just ordered him take out. 

“Love,” Simon said softly. You ignored him, heading to the fridge. Knowing exactly what’s in there isn’t much better than the cupboards, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Standing there with the door to the fridge open, Simon slips up behind you. He slowly wraps his arms around you, pulling your form firmly against his. Your breath hitched in your throat. As much as you missed his touch, you weren’t prepared for how feeling his strong hands on your soft stomach would feel. Your body has changed a lot since giving birth, which is to be expected, you know that. The both of you just haven’t had any time to be intimate with each other since the baby. Your body needed to heal, and Simon was beyond understanding of that. Then your doctor cleared you, your body was better and this is the first time really seeing him since.

“You did great sweetheart, thank you for ordering all my favorites,” he whispers into your ear. Sending chills down your spine. “I will eat every last bit of it, promise.”

“You sure?” You question softly.

“Of course lovie,” he kisses the back of your head tenderly. “But Johnny asked the team if we wanted to go to the pub tonight.”

Eyebrows pulling down at that with a frown on your face. You turned your head to the side, attempting to see his face from your peripheral. 

“What?” Surely he wasn’t going to go.

“Yeah,” Simon pulled back from you to go around the island and perch on the stool you were previously on. “This last mission was a bit tough, and we all wanted to celebrate it going as well as it did. Happy to be back home, ya know?” He says as plain as ever. Reaching over to one of the baking trays and grabbing some chips to toss into his mouth.

“Sure Si, I get it,” you start, slowly turning around to face him. “But… Well it’s just that I haven’t seen you in almost two months, and I was really hoping we could spend some time together.” You bit your lip softly, eyes not leaving his. You hoped he could see the desperation on your face without you having to say it outloud. After a few moments of his blank stare, you decided to change the subject to your daughter. “You haven’t even had a chance to see the baby. And-”

“Y/N, don’t do that.” Simon started with a bit of an edge to his voice. “You know how much I miss you both. I can go out for a couple of drinks with the team, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“She’s been asleep for a while now, I know she will be up soon. She would love to see her dada, Si.” You felt your heartbeat in your throat now. If he won’t stay home for you, surely he will stay home for her. 

“That isn’t fair.” Simon stood from his chair. “You can’t hold her over my head. Our daughter isn’t supposed to be used as leverage.” 

“Of course not Simon, that isn’t what I meant. I just meant-”

“What did you mean then? To make me feel even worse about being gone from her? Because I don’t need your help to feel bad about that.” Simon’s voice was unintentionally raising by the second. You had no idea what it was like for him out there, on the job constantly thinking about you and your daughter. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad Si…” You gulped in some air, hoping it’ll calm your pounding heart. “I just have been so lonely and I was really looking forward to being with you tonight,” you explained softly. 

“It’ll be a couple hours Y/N.” Simon firmly stated with no room for argument. “I will be back before you know it.”

��I know that, but-” Cries echo throughout the flat, starting at the baby monitor on the kitchen island. You closed your eyes, telling yourself to keep your face even as your bottom lip attempted to wobble. You felt so sad and dejected. “Okay, Si.” You opened your watery eyes and gave a small smile that didn’t quite perk up the rest of your face. “Have fun and be safe okay?” 

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to your daughter's bedroom.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” You ask gently as you lean over the crib to pick her up.

“Hungry?” You whisper. 

Taking your spot in the corner of the room where your rocking chair is. You set up to feed her. You hum a small song to her as her cries finally calm and she accepts you feeding her. After her little belly was full you made sure that she was burped, then you changed her nappy and she was asleep again. You were grateful she was currently pretty good about getting back to sleep at night. Her tiny body was back in the crib as you looked her over. Perfect in every way. You gently brushed her head one last time before you turned to head back out of the room, but before your hand could twist the knob you changed your mind. 

You sat yourself back to the rocking chair, snagging your phone from the end table you had sat it on when you came into the room. You decided to just scroll for a while, not looking at anything in particular, just wanted to mindlessly scroll. Unfortunately it didn’t last long, after 10 minutes of not being able to take your mind off of him. You gave in, phone falling into your lap as the tears began to fall. You held your face in your hand, mascara long forgotten. You tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping baby. Your mind just kept spiraling. 

“How could he not want to be here with me?”

“ I felt like I looked pretty… as pretty as I can look anyway.”

“Maybe I should have expected this. It’s so selfish of me to assume he would want to be intimate with me again, looking like this.”

 And worst of all, your mind started to wonder if he was even going out with the team at all. “Surely there isn’t someone else… No Y/N stop that.”

 You told yourself, nipping that in the bud. Simon would never do that to you, you knew that.  

The tears just kept on going and going, until you had no more tears left to cry. You felt exhausted, you couldn’t remember the last time you cried like this and it really took it out of you.  Checking your phone again, noting how much time has passed, you decided it was time to just go to bed. Using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears as best as you could before standing with a small sigh. You opened the door gently and slipped out without making any noise at all. 

Before heading to bed you wanted to drink some water, you could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. You started on your way to the kitchen, but stopped dead in your tracks before making it more than a few steps. Simon was still sitting at the stool where he was when you went to feed the baby.

“Si, I thought you were gone to the pub,” you breathed embarrassed. You couldn't help but notice the baby monitor in his hand. 

“I heard you talking to her, and humming that song you always do,” he started. “And I was just going to listen for a moment until you came back out.” His hazel eyes gazed upon you, heavy with the weight of sorrow. “Then you didn’t come out, and I heard you…” He stopped.

You swallowed nervously, hands knotted into your dress, eyes on the floor. Trying to do anything to avoid the tension rolling off of you in waves. 

“Baby,” he started only to falter momentarily. “Look at me please.” 

Unsure why, but you just couldn't bring yourself to look up at him. The stool was pushed back, as he gently stood up, his boots thud across the floor stopping in your line of sight.

His thumb and index finger grip your chin gently, pulling it up to force you to look at him. You weren’t sure what to expect, but seeing his beautiful brown eyes watery wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry Si, I didn’t want you to hear that,” you tried to explain. “I’m just being selfish. I don’t want to force you to be here. I’m okay, go out with the team.” You attempt to reassure him. “I just want you to be happy.”

Your poor dress is a wrinkled mess, your sweaty palms constantly bunching and un-bunching the fabric. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed, but you felt shame to your core over him hearing you cry like that. 

“You aren’t selfish Y/N, and I am happy, here with you and our daughter. It’s where I am my happiest, love,” he clarifies. “You two are my world, and you don’t need to apologize to me. I am the one who is sorry.” Simon pauses for a second to clear his throat, not allowing himself to get choked up. “I never want to hear you cry like that ever again, especially over me. You don’t deserve that, my sweet girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your mascara stained cheek. “The perfect mama to our perfect baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “My beautiful darling.” Mirroring the previous action, kissing your opposite cheek just as gently as before. 

His large hands reach for yours, gently coaxing them from your dress, forcing them to relax. He takes one hand in his and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before repeating the same with your other hand. Simon warily looks you over, you are so beautiful, and yet your eyes are so sad. All because you want to spend time with him, how could he be so foolish. 

“You look amazing tonight sweetheart, this dress looks great on you,” he gushed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.” His warm hands resume their spot on your waist. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you blush.

“Definitely not nothing, love.” Simon realized his mistakes, he was always a bit slow when it came to things like this. 

“How about we eat some dinner and get ready for bed love?” He asked sweetly. Large hands engulfing your hips, guiding you to the kitchen. “How does that sound?”

You couldn’t help the smile from forming on your lips. 

“I would love that Simon,” you muttered. 

Once he gets you to sit on a stool, he grabs some plates for the two of you and places a bit of food on each before sliding the plates over to where the stools are. Simon takes his spot beside you, and leans over to you and whispers, “Maybe then we can have some dessert, yeah?” 

Your eyes widen at that, as your duck your head to hide your burning cheeks. 

“You up for it, lovie?” Simon beckoned, placing a kiss on your warm cheek. 

“I- uh I mean we can, do whatever you want,” you kiss his cheek in return. 

“I have a few things that I want.” Simon says with a grin. “Eat up sweetheart.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and let me know if you have any ideas or requests.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #reader insert #simon riley #call of duty #fic recs #thank you #dad!simon

[pretty-toru]

boyfriend quiz ᰔ gojo satoru

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. fem!reader. established relationship. mentions of sweets. making gojo think every question he answers is wrong on a quiz you made up.

“Baby, let’s take a little couple’s quiz together, hm?” 

Satoru had just stepped into your shared bedroom after a hot shower. The ends of his hair still damp from towel drying and his cheeks just a tickled pink from the steam as he takes long strides toward you, crawling into bed and stealing some of your warmth from under the covers. 

“Hmm, why do I have a bad feeling about this~?” There’s a boyish smile on his face as he holds you close and nuzzles your neck softly, feeling like his head’s up in the clouds the moment he’s wrapped up in your scent. “But alright, I’m game! Let’s go, I’m ready. What’s the first question?”

The white tufts of your boyfriend’s hair delicately grazes your nose and you press a tender kiss to the top of his head. “So, imagine you’re at our favorite bakery, what do you buy?” You start with an innocent question, leading him to believe that there's no right or wrong answers but he suspects there's a trick up your sleeve.

“That’s a fun one! I’m at our favorite bakery, right~?” He ponders carefully for a moment. “Well, of course, I would want those delicious pastries, those yummy cakes, and those fresh breads! And while I’m there, I should grab a few of your favorites too!” 

You almost forget just how incredibly thoughtful and caring Satoru can be. How you’re always on his mind and he spends a lot of time thinking about you no matter his whereabouts. You know this because it usually manifests in forms of gifts and trinkets—some sweet, some odd, some over the top, but they’re all very near and dear to your heart. 

“Wrong.” You shake your head gently, forcing an exasperated sigh that tells him you’re disappointed and upset he managed to get the question wrong. But really, you’re just messing with him, making him think his answers are somehow incorrect in this one-sided game of yours. “You weren’t supposed to be there without me in the first place.”

“What do you mean, Angel~? Why can’t I be at the bakery without you? Even if I’m getting you something, too?” There’s a glimmer of confusion behind his cerulean hues, yet his earnest smile still remains and he’s a bit at loss for words but continues to indulge you. 

“Next question—” Satoru quickly plops an affectionate kiss on your cheek before you continue, hoping to remedy your crestfallen face. “You have now left the bakery, what’s the next thing you do?” 

“Easy. The next thing I do after leaving the bakery is be with my favorite girl, and share all the delicious things I got. I want to be with you, no one else.” 

There he goes being so sweet again! He’s making this extremely hard for you not to openly swoon over him and smother his face with so many kisses, and he can see the way you’re biting the inside of your cheek trying to suppress your smile that he’s getting to you. But you shake your head again, “Wrong! You’re supposed to pick up the strawberries from the market like I had asked you to.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right! I forgot all about the strawberry you wanted~” Satoru gasps loudly and runs a stressful hand through his hair. He then laughs and playfully rolls his eyes that he somehow answered wrong for the second time now. “Fine, I’ll go pick up the strawberries.” 

You couldn’t help the quick kiss that lands on his cheek for being so utterly cute and adorable as you giggled along with him. “Okay, next question—a girl approaches you and she looks like she wants to hug you. What do you do?” 

“Hm, who is she and why does she look like she wants to hug me?” He tilts his head to the side as he considers the situation. You feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s merely seconds away from getting a curveball thrown at him. Even though you know kind of partner he is, you’re quite curious as to what he’ll come up with. 

“Well, what do you do~?” You gently urge him for an answer. 

“It really depends, Angel. Are you the girl then?” His lips curl into a smirk, and he looks at you almost too knowingly like he could read your mind. But you know that even his Six Eyes can't do that. 

You hate that he was able to figure it out so easily. He watches as your face lights up into your perfect and gorgeous smile, with your head falling onto his chest and face burrowing in defeat. All of his answers were simply too sweet and considerate with you in mind and you can feel your heart swell with so much love and adoration for him.

Your muffled words come up to reach his ears, “How’d you know to answer that I was there with you? You’re too smart for this. But yes, the girl is supposed to be me.” 

“So you approached me, and you wanted to hug me, right~?” He strokes your hair softly and offers an amused chuckle. You slowly lift yourself off him to meet his soft gaze, nodding. “If you want a hug, you always get a hug, sweetheart.” 

Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice to have his strong arms coil around your figure, locking you sweetly in his hold that makes you feel completely safe and secure in his warm embrace. Then, a lingering kiss to your forehead just before he releases you but you can feel the faintest waver in his loosening grip that he never wants to let you go.

“Okay, one last question?” Your weight dips on the mattress beside him, tucking yourself in the nook of his arm and resting your head on his chest. He hums contently when your body always seems to fit so perfectly with his as he brings you closer to him like he can’t get close enough. ”What are we doing next?”

“Well, we could go home, eat the baked goods and the strawberries. After that, maybe snuggle while watching a movie and take a long nap together. How’s that sound to you, baby?”

You briefly mull over his words, and you can’t remember the last time he truly took some time off and enjoyed himself without restraints. So you’re determined to plan a fun and romantic getaway because even your loving and goofy boyfriend deserves a much-needed break to experience the small joys and pleasures with you every now and again.

“That sounds like our perfect next date.”

#sobsobsobs #pretending I didn’t see anything the leaks weren't real mentally I am here with my most beloved safe in my arms and happy #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk x reader

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

Author's Previous Works | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases. 

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally. 

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room. 

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

  ‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’ 

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother. 

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas. 

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject. 

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’ 

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte. 

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises. 

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’ 

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’ 

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention. 

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly. 

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked. 

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away. 

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received. 

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework. 

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’ 

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done. 

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you. 

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming. 

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense. 

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg. 

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’  ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip. 

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited. 

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind. 

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair. 

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’ 

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever. 

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head. 

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’ 

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day. 

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head. 

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap. 

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea. 

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’ 

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’ 

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed. 

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’ 

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’ 

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick. 

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up. 

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye. 

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’ 

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks. 

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself. 

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there. 

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger. 

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ 

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that. 

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do. 

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences. 

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now? 

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores. 

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content. 

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’ 

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’ 

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine. 

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ 

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed. 

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by. 

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter. 

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better. 

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice. 

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did. 

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet. 

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought  Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions. 

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind. 

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for. 

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man. 

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’ 

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of. 

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh. 

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation. 

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance. 

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family. 

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly. 

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’ 

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone. 

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met. 

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’ 

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn. 

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’ 

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’ 

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so. 

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely. 

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for. 

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves. 

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here. 

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family. 

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit. 

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek. 

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’ 

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping. 

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think. 

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do. 

You screamed bloody murder. 

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’  you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you. 

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply. 

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired. 

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’ 

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire. 

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled. 

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname. 

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead. 

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape. 

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities. 

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff. 

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it. 

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment. 

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture. 

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste. 

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide. 

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot. 

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner. 

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’ 

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’ 

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms. 

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet. 

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie. 

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’ 

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you. 

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you. 

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off. 

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you. 

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’ 

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied. 

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you. 

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire. 

‘Yes, mother.’ 

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words. 

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss. 

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time. 

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.” 

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted. 

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours. 

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio. 

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone. 

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did. 

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio. 

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens. 

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave. 

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #angst #fluff #regency au #eddie munson regency au #regency!au #regency!eddie munson

[getosfavoritewife]

The Sun Always Rises

✮⋆˙ General Jing Yuan has a way of bringing sunlight to you, regardless of how much you avoid the warm rays. (1.5k words)

✮⋆˙ A/N: first post!! jing yuan has such a lazy/cozy feel and I'm still trying to gauge his personality so sorry if it's a bit ooc!!

✮⋆˙ Warning(s)/Content: forgemaster!reader; implications of mental health concerns (nothing heavy); can be read as platonic or romantic; fluffy fluff, teasing

✮⋆˙ jing yuan x gn!reader

Hearing three knocks against your door on a sunny winter evening could only signify one thing.

Not even trying to conceal the lack of surprise on your face, you open the door for your expected visitor; as usual, Jing Yuan greets you with a pleasant smile, hands comfortably clasped behind his back as he strides in like he owns the place, opens the curtains, and makes himself at home.

“Arbiter General,” you murmur, almost as if scripted.

“Forgemaster,” he replies in turn with a twinkle in his eyes, also as expected.

You don’t ask if he wants tea, opting to pour two cups and place them on the table as you both sit down. Forgemaster Yingxing had always taught you to be polite to guests, but that was a very long time ago, and Jing Yuan wasn’t just any guest.

“There’s a festival in Aurum Alley this evening,” Jing Yuan muses as he eyes the tea with interest, picking the small cup up as he gives the hot liquid a gentle blow and careful sip.

You know where he’s going with this, so at this point, the best course of action is feigned indifference and avoidance. “And you came all the way over here to let me know? Especially during such a busy day at The Seat of Divine Foresight?”

You take a ginger sip of the tea, grimacing as it burns the tip of your tongue, before placing it back down on the table. Master Yingxing’s tea was far superior to yours anyway—if he could see the hot garbage you’d brewed, he would have scolded your skills all afternoon.

Jing Yuan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Astute as always. You should get out of the house more.”

“I leave the house,” you try not to sound defensive, squinting at the man sitting across from you. “I go to the forge every day.”

“Other than there?”

“And… I went to the market last week,” you grumble, rooting around in your brain for excuses. Lamely, all you come up with is a throwaway line about being too busy that you know Jing Yuan won’t buy. Anyone else would accept the lies that rolled off your tongue like second nature, but not Jing Yuan. He knew you and your habits all too well.

He stands up, dusting his pants off with a lazy smile. “Wonderful, grab your coat.”

“No, Jing Yuan. No.” You respond too quickly, shooting up as you wrack your brain for an excuse.

The softness with which he calls your name is lost to the roaring silence of the room and you know what face he’s making without even looking.

That corner above the cupboard really needs dusting. Master Yingxing would sneeze because of the dust, and he’d blame allergy season. Maybe tonight—

“Only for a little while,” he coaxes, as he swipes a strand of hair from obscuring your eyes. Maybe that’s what makes you meet his eyes: golden and full of life as usual, albeit with his dark circles that seemed worse than before.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh tiredly, reaching up to run your fingers under his eyes. “You should sleep more, Jing Yuan. You look tired.”

A laugh rumbles out of him at that as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You can’t help but let the corners of your mouth quirk up in response. “Don’t let the others at The Seat of Divine Foresight hear you say that.”

“If only you would stop sneaking away at the sight of paperwork, maybe they wouldn’t be so wary of your work ethic,” you scold halfheartedly.

Jing Yuan simply watches you, an adoring smile peeking out that makes you want to push him away from you, embarrassed. Instead, you card your fingers through his hair, murmuring how his ribbon is coming loose as you free it from his snowy locks.

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as you tug through his fluffy hair, replicating his usual hairstyle with practiced ease. You let your thoughts wander to when you used to re-tie his hair every day after it came loose during sparring while Master Yingxing went to go meet with sword master Jingliu and the others.

“How’s Yanqing’s training coming along?” Breaking the delicate silence, your voice always sounds unfamiliar these days; the results of less use, you suppose.

A golden eye cracks open to peer at you, and Jing Yuan lets out another sigh, this time more rueful. “You know how he tends to be. It still surprises me the speed with which he is able to pick up on new techniques and skills, but that obsession with winning and losing…” Jing Yuan trails off. “It’s like I say, if you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child.”

“It’s a difficult age. Remember how you used to be?”

You bite back a snicker at the mock-offended look Jing Yuan shoots you.

“I don’t quite remember it like that,” he says. “I believe I was a joy to be around at every age.”

“I’m sure you remember it like that.”

“How else could you remember it?”

You take a break from playing with his hair to flick him on the forehead, at which he lets out a soft hiss, rubbing the small red mark and catching your hand before you can give him another one. “So mean.”

With a scoff, you make no move to remove your hand from his grip, letting yourself relax in his grasp. “You were nothing short of a terror. Anytime I tried to hang out with you it was always ‘Let’s spar here!’ or ‘Extra training is basically hanging out!’. I got so sick of you that I told Master Yingxing to stop meeting Master Jingliu when I was around.”

“Was I… really like that?” You can’t help but laugh at Jing Yuan’s face, ignoring the smile creeping onto his face at the sight of your laughter.

“All I’m saying is that he’ll grow out of it, just like you did. Kids are desperate to prove themselves at that age. You ought to praise him a little more,” you advise him softly.

“I give praise where it is deserved,” Jing Yuan places your clasped hands on his chest with fake affrontedness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he huffs in amusement.

“Yet I am expected to praise you even when you are undeserving?”

“I hadn’t realized there were times where I was ever undeserving of praise?” You can’t help to smack him with the hand that was resting on his chest as he pretends to ponder.

“Speaking of Yanqing though—” you start before Jing Yuan interrupts.

“I thought we were speaking about me?”

The roll of your eyes seemed to simply be an intrinsic reaction to Jing Yuan’s teases after all these years of dealing with his painfully fatherly sense of humor.

“General.”

The pleased smile on his face only curled higher. “I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, Yanqing’s birthday is approaching this month. Maybe it’s time he finally receives a sword from the Forgemaster on his birthday this year?”

“I can already imagine his tears of joy. He still asks when he can meet you sometimes. I admit I have yet to give him an answer in fear that he will spend every moment not used for training to instead bother you incessantly at your forge.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose. Send him around—it’s truly no bother. It would also help me figure out a suitable blade for him.”

You pretend to not see the way Jing Yuan’s brows knit together at your teasing jab.

“Come watch us train sometime soon. To help you gauge his fighting style, of course,” Jing Yuan remarks lightly.

“Of course,” you echo. Giving him a look before sighing, you grab your coat off the hook, opening the door for him as you slip it on. “Only for a little while at the festival, please. And no buying or winning me anything while we’re there.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t even try to hide the smile unfurling on his face and you know the next words that come out of his mouth are bound to be an easy lie. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Forgemaster.”

From spending every free minute together as kids to only seeing him when he came knocking on your door every single day. No matter what happened, the sun always rose the next day. And no matter what happened, your Jing Yuan was always there.

thanks for reading!! ✮⋆˙

#jing yuan #yanqing #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan x male reader #jing yuan x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr x male reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #jing yuan imagines #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #yingxing #jingliu #writings! ✮⋆˙

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Expecting: Life with their Pregnant Partner

Featuring Aizawa, Fatgum and Hawks

Aizawa x pregnant GN! Reader; Fatgum x pregnant GN! Reader; Hawks x Pregnant GN! Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader being a little reckless

AN: I was reading through my google docs and found these 😄 absolutely zero clue when I wrote these. Honestly love that for me.

Aizawa

"YN what the hell are you doing?" Shota shouts as he walks in, seeing his heavily pregnant partner perched along the baseboards of class 1-A's dorm floors.

"Shota! Just in time, I need you to change my water bucket. Look how dirty these baseboards are! Can you believe that?" you say, smiling at your husband as you go back to dipping the cloth in the bucket and wiping the soaking cloth along the now sparking boards.

"YN, seriously? I can't leave you alone can I?” He says going to help you up from the ground, fussing over you as you stand.

"You know the doctor said to rest right? I mean you and I were both at the last appointment. I'm pretty sure I heard him say that about 15 times,” he says, looking at you with a scowl as you roll your eyes in response.

"I'll have you know I did rest sweetheart. But then Miydoria came in and asked if I wanted a snack. So I said 'yes let me help you' so then I got up. I walked to the kitchen and noticed some dirt on the floor. So I got the broom out. Then I swept the dirt and noticed a scuff on the baseboards and well we can't have a scuff so I went and got a bucket. Then one scuff turned into two and then three and then five,” you say gesturing to the floor boards.

“YN seriously,” your husband said, crossing his arms over his large chest.

"You really want our baby to be born with filthy floor boards Shota?" You say, crossing your arms and waiting for your husband's reply.

"YN the baby isn't going to be studying the floor boards when they arrive. Plus I think you should be worried about more important things like, and maybe I'm just being dramatic here, but oh I don't know labor perhaps?" Shota says escorting you to the nearest coach the rest. You scoff at your husband once more as Midoriya, Bakugo, Kirishima and Todoroki walk in.

"I'm going to need you all to watch YN for me,” Shota says standing up and walking towards his students

"Excuse me? I'm very capable!” you shout, shocked at your husband's words to his students.

"YN I have a patrol tonight. There is no way I'm leaving you to your own devices. You'll probably end up repainting the whole common area,”he says looking at you.

"Didn't you already by paint YN?” Todoroki says before you quickly interject

"Well would you look at the time! Come on boys, let's go start dinner,” you say waddling towards the teens

"YN you have got to be kidding me right now?!?” Shota says rubbing his temples

"Have a great night love!” you say pushing the boys towards the doors.

Fatgum

"YN I'm home my love",” Taishiro shouts. The apartment smells amazing and he is starving. After a long night fighting crimes and arresting villains, Taishiro only wants two things.

To have a good meal and to see his beautiful partner.

"In here my love! I'm just finishing supper,” you shout as you wipe your hands on your apron.

Taishiro stoped and looked at you. His beautiful partner, pregnant with his baby and making him his favorite meal.

"Honestly I could get use to seeing you pregnant for the rest of my life YN,” Taishiro says pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead lightly.

You giggle and pat his stomach as you head back towards the stove to stir your vegetables.

"Lets get this one out first and then we will talk,” you say rubbing your belly as your stir the food and grab plates.

"Busy day my love?" He asks, washing his hands and sitting at the table.

"I went by the new fish market today and grabbed a huge variety! Then I went to the farmers market and got these and some fresh produce,” you say pointing to the freshly cut bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the table.

"YN I thought the doctor told you to stay away from fish,” he says worryingly.

"Love I can eat some cooked fish but I mostly got it for you! I've been watching this cooking show I wrote down some awesome recipes to try!” you say plating Taishiro's food and setting it in front of him

"Baby you should be resting during the day,” Taishiro says scolding you

You look at him, deadpan. "Babe I literally sit on the coach and write down recipes. I'm not running a marathon," you say rolling your eyes.

"I just worry about you YN. You do so much for me and I want you and the baby to be healthy,” Taishiro says, grabbing your hands and pulling you close.

You smile at your husband and give him a soft kiss. "Taishiro, you have Kirishima and Tamaki check on me at least twice a day when you are at work. Plus you text me every hour. Aizawa even came by last week to make sure I didn't need a snack. I'm well taken care of love!” you say smiling at your husband as he smiles back.

"Ok YN,” Taishiro says smiling as he grabs his fork and begins to eat.

"I did lug the groceries up the 5 flights of stairs today tho,” you say resting your hips against the back of the counter and smiling at your husband as he chokes on his food, quickly reaching for his water.

"YN seriously?!" Taishiro says clearing his throat as his eyes widen on you

"I'm joking babe," you say smiling. Taishiro breathes out a sigh of relief as he goes to take another bite.

"It was only four flights," you say laughing as you walk out of the room, leaving your husband hanging, fork halfway to his mouth.

Hawks

Hawks walks into his apartment to hear music coming from down the hallway. He smiles as he sets his keys down, removing his goggles, headset, boots and coat before heading to see you.

He knows you’re in the baby's room. That's where you've been for the past few days. Your nesting has kicked into full gear as you prepare for the arrival of your baby any day now.

What Hawks doesn't expect is to see you singing 5 feet above the ground, as you balance atop a ladder pounding a nail into the wall.

"Holy crap YN!" He yells as he goes to steady you and you smile down at him.

"Hey baby! So glad your home safe! How was your night?" You say smiling down at your husband

"YN what in the hell are you doing? Get down from there!" Hawks growls as your roll your eyes, setting the hammer on top of the ladder and climbing down.

"Ok I'm down here now what?" you say looking percuriously at your husband.

"Well for one, no more ladder,” Hawks says grabbing the ladder and folding it up, hauling it out of the babies room.

You sigh and follow your husband as he puts the ladder away.

"Keigo I have things to do!” you say your hands now on your hips as your husband glares at you.

"Do I need to put a lock on this door YN? Because I absolutely will!” he says narrowing his eyes at you.

"Keigo the baby is coming and their room isn't finished!" You say pouting and stomping your feet.

You husband sighs and rolls his eyes, walking up to you and pulling you into a hug. He knows how stressed you've been about your babies arrival.

"YN the baby isn't even going to be sleeping in their room remember? You have time love," Hawks says nuzzling your nose.

"Keigo first impressions are everything! And I want to give the baby a tour when we bring them home. And that includes their FINISHED room!" you say with emphasis, throwing your hands in the air.

Keigo looks at your, trying not to laugh at your pure ridiculousness.

"I'll tell you what YN. How about this weekend we do the finishing touches together?" He says as he notices your mood perk up at the suggestion.

"Babe that would be so awesome!" You answer gleefully.

"I mean I have to put the crib, swing and rocker together anyways. Might as well do it all,” he says as he notices your eyes widen and you look away from him.

"YN-"

“Ok so I may have accidently out the swing together,” you say, grinning at your husband.

Hawks sighs, his hand doing to his head, "what in the world am I going to do with you?"

#aizawa shouta #takami keigo #taishiro toyomitsu #eraserhead #hawks #fatgum #aizawa x pregnant reader #hawks x pregnant reader #fatgum x pregnant reader #gender neutral reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #hawks x reader #hawks x you #fatgum x reader #fatgum x you #pregnant reader #tw: pregnancy #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero fluff #aizawa fluff #hawks fluff #fatgum fluff #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia fluff #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha aizawa #bnha hawks

[queers-gambit]

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train 2022 #atj #tangerine atj #atj tangerine #atj character #tangerine x f!reader #tangerine x female!reader #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader smut #requested #queers gambit

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。EASY — KAVEH.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, slight hints to kaveh’s past (but no details), a word vomit of what i think it is to date kaveh bc he has stolen my whole heart soul and mind :,)

“good morning, sleepy head.” you press a soft kiss to the forehead on your chest, moving messy strands of hair with careful fingers. “we really should get up, you know.”

“no.”

“kaveh.”

“no,” comes his protest. he’s stubborn, doesn’t give in even when you pry the sheets off his bare back, feeling him shiver at the cool air as it meets his skin. and yet, you can’t help but soften your gaze as you stare down at him, cheek pressed against you as he sighs before drifting off again.

kaveh is easy to fall for.

he’s a gentle lover, sensitive and delicate around the corners. you find him in the warmth that coats your skin from the sun every morning, in the honey you taste on your lips when tea is ready on the counter before you leave, in the soft sheets that are always freshly washed and ready to lay on when you come back after a long day.

“we have lots to do—”

he groans, tightens his arms around you stubbornly. “it’s not time to wake up yet,” he huffs, digging his head deeper into you and making you giggle.

“maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up so late doing that project,” you poke the tip of his nose, watching as it crinkles at your touch.

and then you trace the apples of his cheeks, feel the familiar indents of his bones through the soft skin, familiarize yourself with every piece of him. kaveh is easy love, and difficult to forget. he’s the quiet voice tucked into your shoulder at night, the pair of shoes you know not to trip over at the door, the mess of tools that are still assorted in their own way on the table that you dare not touch, the pillow on the left side of the bed because that’s the side he prefers, the random sketches in corners of every paper around your home.

kaveh is easy to love, and you find him in every corner, look for him at every turn.

“i had a stroke of artistic inspiration,” he sniffs petulantly, “you wouldn’t understand.”

“oh, i see,” you nod seriously. he opens an eye, raises a brow unimpressed at your faux seriousness. “then of course, please disregard your sleep and health. all for the sake of inspiration.”

“hmph.” it’s indignant, the sound of defiance he makes, it makes you chuckle as your weave your fingers through his locks and scratch gently at his scalp. “i can sleep just fine if you’re not persistently ringing in my ear about waking up.”

“but i want breakfast,” you pout. “wake up.”

“breakfast can wait.” you feel his nose dig into your neck, and then the soft press of lips against your skin makes you melt against the sheets.

perhaps if it’s kaveh who requests, you’re inclined to relent.

“if you ever say i don’t favor you, i’ll burn your sketchbook,” you mumble. and still, even despite the slight grumble against your shoulder, you can’t help but smile brightly, turning your head and planting a kiss to the side of his head.

“how can you favor me if you interfere with my livelihood,” he mutters bitterly—but there’s really no bite to his words.

it’s endearing, the way he’s devoted to his career. it’s the first thing you learn about kaveh when you meet him one night—you watch in awed amusement as he rambles at the tavern about the lacking interior design in his drunken stupor. and then he’s there the next day too, drinking just as heavily as the night before—it makes you quirk a brow as you sit beside him.

drinking this often is not a good habit, you say to him. he glances at you, blinks a moment before he huffs.

well you would too if you had a roommate like mine, he starts—and you’re sure the entirety of the tavern can hear him as he spills his woes to you without even realizing.

kaveh is hard to miss from then on. you see him at the fresh fruit stands when you walk through the market, at the akademiya requesting (demanding) funding from the acting grand sage, at the fields smiling with the children as they play and he ruffles their hair.

he’s nervous when he asks you on your first date, stumbles over his words and rubs the back of his neck, but his smile is earnest and his eyes are kind. he’s clumsy as he takes you to dinner, trips over his own feet as he scrambles to hold the door open. he’s a few mora short, blushing and mortified as he pats his pockets for more, mumbling how he’s sure he’d had enough when you giggle and complete the bill. he’s talkative through the night, rambles about his job and his projects, tells you details you don’t understand but can’t help but catch every word. he’s a bit shy when you hold his hand as you walk home, coughs a bit too loud to hide the hitched breath in his throat. he’s inexperienced when he leans in to kiss you, missing your lips for the corner of your mouth instead and stuttering over his words as he tries to explain he’s never done this before.

and when he takes a deep breath, cupping your cheeks with both hands and looking at you with conviction like he’s now made his life’s purpose to kiss you properly, you know you love kaveh.

you know you love him—somewhere during the first date. maybe the first meet. definitely the first kiss.

because kaveh is easy to love, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

he’s easy to love through soft kisses under the sheets, easy to love through gleaming eyes and animated hands as he speaks, easy to love through those moments of doubt and festering guilt of the past, easy to love through that innocence that wants to see the world for all that’s good and never for what’s bad.

kaveh is easy to love. so you love him. unconditionally so, from when the sun meets the moon and over again. continuing the cycle, holding him in your arms and pressing your lips to the soft skin of his forehead. and maybe, one day, if you continue to love him as easily as you do, he’ll learn to love himself too, to see the way he deserves the tenderness you show him.

“—and just so you know, inspiration isn’t something you can elect to ignore. some artists go months, if not years without an ounce of—”

“i love you,” you interrupt his rambling, voice soft and breathless and seeping with affection that he’s not felt in so long, he pauses with wide eyes.

it’s not the first time you’ve said it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’ll never feel quite like this time.

“yeah,” he says shakily, clutching you tighter, “i love you too.”

and maybe one day, he hopes if he loves you hard enough himself, you’ll know you’re just as easy to love too.

your honor he’s my everything 🥹 please i would steal the moon and stars for him 🥹

#i was supposed to post this last night but i got too sleepy to finish it #take the core of my heart in text form bc he is all that’s left of me #teepods.writings #drabbles. #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[shallyouobeyme]

Path

Platonic!Yandere!Strawhats x reader (GN)

Summary: Slightly exhausted from never having any time on your own, you decide to swindle a little bit to get to spend a day alone with nature. What could go wrong? It's not like your crew is unhinged and obsessed with you, right? Right?!

!Minors do not Interact!

TW: Obsession, Yandere, Dark content, Threatening (not against Reader), slight infantilization, drugging, Reader discretion is adviced

Day 3 of my Yandere Writetober

Today was the day. The day you'd finally have some time for yourself - you had planned everything perfectly. You'd tell Luffy, Nami, Lysop and Sanji that you'd spend your day off with Zoro watching him train and you'd tell Zoro that you'd go shopping with Nami.

Zoro always left the ship first when you had your days off where all of you were off doing your own thing, so you'd leave the ship with him and once you were outside you'd tell him you had forgotten something and that he should leave since you'd be going with Nami anyways, so you'd go back onto the boat and get your journal (that was definitely not sitting in your bag, what are you talking about).

Zoro would leave thinking you were with Nami while you'd sneak off and the others would think you had left with him. You'd get back onto the ship before Zoro would make his way down and tell him that Nami had accompanied you back when you started to have a headache and when Nami and the others returned they would think you had come back with Zoro who would probably be napping by then.

If you were really lucky then maybe they wouldn't even talk about it and your little ruse wouldn't be uncovered, then you might be able to do it again sometimes.

Of course, you didn't want to lie to them, honestly, you didn't enjoy it one bit. They were your closest (and only) friends and they had become like family to you so lying wasn't your first option, but you had tried anything else by then.

Every time you docked at a new harbour and had no important mission to attend, Luffy declared the day a chill-out day where everyone could go off on their own to enjoy a little alone time since you were usually basically skin to skin 24/7. Except, somehow, you always ended up spending the day with one of them.

Either Zoro would make you watch him train under the guise that he wanted to help you learn some self-defence (when you mentioned the flaw in his logic that you never did any training, instead always watching him, he insisted that it was about seeing the correct form first and ended the argument, given that he was the expert), Sanji would take you to the market to buy ingredients or keep you in the boat to make you try his new recipes (always something that had similarities to your favourite dish to make sure you enjoy it) and Lysop would take you to some bar or another lively area where he told his stories in which he always was the one who saved you from mortal danger. Nami was probably the best to spend the day with. She made an effort to do something you enjoyed as well, or at least she tried until she found herself seeing something pretty in a shop and dragged you in to do some shopping - she loved seeing you in the cutest outfits and made sure to buy you something pretty every time she got to spend the day with you.

Luffy was definitely the worst, you loved him like a brother and he was the best captain you could imagine, but he was so... energetic. You'd always been more of an introvert, enjoying being alone with nature and your thoughts, and he - with his endless optimism and his hunger for adventure - was not that, in the best way possible. It was just really exhausting. He always got the two of you in some trouble one way or another and even though he always managed to get you out of it again, it was really stressful for you.

You had long stopped asking why you were never allowed to go off on your own, it always got you the same answer: 'Y/N, we just want to make sure you're safe after all you were not got at fighting like the rest of the crew. We just want to protect you.' You knew that they had a point, you had never learned to fight and you were never courageous enough to raise a weapon against someone else, even when they might have deserved it - which is also one of the reasons Zoro insisted on your 'training sessions'. Honestly, a little child playing pirates could probably beat you to a pulp easily.

Sometimes you wondered why you had even become part of the crew, but the others always squashed those doubts by telling you how important and helpful you were. After all, you were an expert in most things flora and fauna and had extensive knowledge of many different cultures, which often helped get the crew out of sticky situations and often helped when Zoro got you lost again and Luffy couldn't keep going from hunger.

But even though you weren't a fighter, you figured that you'd be fine for one day on a peaceful island without any large predatory animals, it wouldn't hurt anyone if you spent one day going on a walk through the beautiful nature and finally getting to spent more time journaling about the beautiful flowers and bird on the trail.

Which is why - while you hated lying - you didn't feel too bad about fooling your friends. And it was definitely worth it. You found some beautiful specimens of rare Venus Fly Traps and rare hybrid roses, along with a beautiful field of Symphyotrichum - also known as Asters - filled with hundreds of beautiful butterflies which made great models for your doodling.

It was so relaxing that you didn't even spare a thought towards what your crew was doing right then, which was - looking back at it - maybe not too clever, because somewhere else on the island, Zoro decided that he had enough training for the day and that maybe he should try to find Nami to spent some time with you and by some strange miracle did not get lost on the way there.

So imagine his surprise when he saw Nami, on her own, looking through some shop window. Imagine Nami's surprise when she looked around and caught sight of Zorro's green hair and her excitement of seeing you quickly faded at the fact that you were not standing there with him.

Zorro jogged over to here. "Isn't Y/N with you?" "I thought Y/N was training with you?" Both of them asked at the same time and quickly realized that something was wrong. They split up to look for the rest of the crew hoping that you may have just changed your mind and decided to hang out with one of them instead.

It was clear to say that they did not become calmer once all five of them had gathered and realized that you were, in fact, with neither of them. They split up once again to find you and it was safe to say a lot of people were threatened that day (mostly by Zorro) as they combed through the island, looking everywhere they could think of to find you, slowly but surely growing more and more agitated and slightly violent, leaving a trail of disturbance and in some cases destruction behind.

You, none the wiser, were on your way back to the boat since it was about half an hour before Zorro would usually quit training and you wanted to be sure you were on the boat before him, with a little pep in your step. The smile could not be wiped off of your face, or at least you thought so.

You were proven differently when you approached the harbour and found Zorro holding one of his swords to the neck of one of the harbour workers in a very, very threatening manner.

Quickly you hurried over, quickly getting back into the habit of trying to defuse the situation. "What's going on?" you shouted once you were only a few feet away. Zorro quickly looked at you, first with a look of confusion then of immense relief. He let his sword fall and rushed over to you, so quickly that you couldn't even process it before he had you squashed in his arms in a hug so tight that you had trouble breathing. One arm was pulling you towards him, and the other was pushing your head against his chest where you could hear his quick heartbeat.

You could hear someone running away, you assumed it was the poor harbour worker who had just had a near-death experience, as Zorro mumbled something about you being safe, and how he would not let you go again, but you couldn't hear him properly with one ear pressed against his chest and one against his palm.

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp but he only tightened it. "Are you okay?" you whispered even though you probably wouldn't even be able to understand his answer, which wasn't necessary because he didn't answer. Instead, you heard him screaming loud enough for it to reach your covered ears.

"Guys, I found them!!! They're okay!" You could make out a lot of steps coming towards you and soon you were getting whiplash from getting thrown around to so many different people all embracing you tighter than the last ones and every single one seemingly being more opposed to letting you go again.

In the end, you found yourself - somehow - being held by Luffy like a cradled child, who - also - pressed your head against him. "Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? We were worried sick about you," he questioned anxiously.

"What, no! No one hurt me, I'm A-okay, no one hurt me. Why were you worried?" "What do you mean why? You were gone, you weren't with Zorro like you said," Nami responded, quickly followed by Zorro, "And you weren't with Nami like you told me."

You couldn't help your face growing so very warm and darkening in colour because of the embarrassment of being caught in a lie. "Well," you started, not being able to help it that you pressed your face even closer towards Luffy, not able to stand the disappointment you imagined in their faces - unaware that they all couldn't help but coo over how precious you looked like that, "I may have swindled a little bit, I- I just wanted to spend some time on my own, I wanted to go through nature and journal again for once, I really didn't mean to make you worry."

"You could have told us, I'd gladly go through walks in the forest with you, who knows I might find some nice fresh fruit for some pastries on the way," Sanji said and you elected to ignore the fact that you had mentioned it towards them and that part of the whole idea was you having some alone time, but you figured you were already in enough trouble as is.

"I'm sorry, I really am, next time I'll say what I like outright," you sighed earnestly, now slightly concerned about the fact that Luffy still hadn't let you go.

"I don't think there'll be a next time soon, it's probably best if one of us stays on the boat with you from now on, just until we're sure we can trust you again, okay?" Zorro exclaimed and the others seemed to agree with him.

"What? No? I'm not a child, you can't just keep me locked away. I get that you want to protect me, but I'm my own person, I can make my own decisions and if I want to go on a walk I can go on a walk, now would you please let me down?"

Ignoring your request at the end of your rant, Luffy shook his head and shushed you slightly, "I know this is a lot to take in, but we just want to protect you, you're too frail and fragile to be alone in this dangerous world, so we'll take care of you, okay? Now I think it's time for a nap, don't you think so?"

You tried to argue that they should stop treating you like a child right that instant when suddenly there was a little vile of liquid brought to your lips and you couldn't help but swallow it in shock. You tried to fight back against Luffy's grip, tried to ask them what the hell they were doing and what was happening, why they were suddenly acting so strange, but every move felt like you were weighed down by a thousand tons and your words came out slurred and more and more quiet before you couldn't keep your eyes open and fell into a deep, disturbed slumber. Unaware of how much your life - and your position in the crew would change.

N/A: As a new blog, I'd really appreciate a like or a reblog or maybe even a comment if you enjoyed ❤️

#writetober #yandere #opla #yandere opla #one piece life action #x reader #one piece life action x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #zorro x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #sanji x reader #lysop x reader #platonic!yandere #platonic yandere #platonic #tw: drugging #tw: yandere

[iliketangerines]

Hello! How about the reader getting jealous of Smoke talking to another female Lin Kuei member, keeps their distance to prevent heartbreak, only for Tomas to confront them and admit their feelings for each other?

i want you

a/n: hey, just a quick reminder to not send in your requests twice. there's about 70 (yes you read right), and so it really might take a long while to get to them. if i don't feel comfortable writing something, i'll respond to it saying i'm not comfortable.

pairing: tomas vrbada x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Smoke stares at you from across the training pits, fidgeting with the karambit in his hands as he watched you talk with Kuai Liang

he totally and definitely wasn’t jealous, but his training partner clearly notices on how he’s distracted and leaves more openings for attack than usual

she stops their sparring and asks Smoke what’s wrong, and the gray assassin sighs and dismisses question, saying that nothing’s wrong and that they should continue training

but his eyes glance over at you talking to Kuai Liang, hands animatedly moving in the air, and his training partner has a look of realization when she catches Smoke looking at you

she smiles and then starts to laugh, and Smoke frowns and crosses his arms, waiting for the girl to stop laughing at him

she wipes away a tear and asks if he wants some help to go and ask you out, and Tomas flushes and denies that he has any feelings

but with the way his heart beats in his chest and his stomach fills with butterflies, he knows he’s fallen hard for you

maybe it was when you first joined the Shirai Ryu, maybe it was when you smiled at him whenever you saw him, maybe it was when you sparred against him and won

well, whenever it was, Smoke had fallen hard, and he wanted to ask you out

Smoke waves his training partner’s laughs away, lunging toward her to start their training again

later that night at dinner, he sees you talking to Kuai Liang again, and he sighs and picks at his food with his chopsticks, not quite interested in eating with that sight in front of him

his training partner sits down next to him with her bowl of rice, and as she shovels food into her mouth, she starts telling Smoke that he needs to make a move, get you some flowers or maybe cook a nice meal, everyone likes that

Smoke shoots a glare at the girl before turning back to face you, and he finds you staring point blank at him before facing your food and eating

Smoke covers his face with his free hand and shovels rice into his mouth, trying to keep himself distracted from the way he caught you staring at him

the girl laughs and jabs her elbow into Smoke’s side and starts giving him some advice on how to woo a person, referencing her own experiences with dating her own partner

by the end of the night, Smoke starts taking the girl’s advice seriously and discusses his plan to take you out after training tomorrow and go down to the night market and stroll around

Smoke spends the whole day bouncing on his feet, anxious to get to the end of training and ask you out with some flowers he had picked out early in the morning

but whenever he spots you, it’s almost like you run away, turning around and giving half-assed excuses as to the fact you need to be somewhere else

Smoke returns to his room, flowers wilted in his hand as you had avoided him all-day, and he isn’t sure why you’re avoiding him

you two weren’t close, but you had never shied away

you had even sparred with him, but you had declined his offer to train together today

it grated on Smoke’s nerves and made his mind spin with anxiety, did you like Kuai Liang? did you not like him? what happened between yesterday and today to make you avoid him?

Smoke can’t sleep, but he decides to try again tomorrow and maybe ask Kuai Liang what’s going on

he finds his brother easily that morning during breakfast, and he asks about you, trying to keep his interest in you damped down just in case Kuai Liang liked you

Kuai Liang point blank asks whether or not Smoke likes you or not, and the assassin fumbles with his words for a short moment before he says that he does

the yellow assassin lets out a loud laugh and pats Smoke on the back before saying to go for it and that he may be surprised, and it gives Smoke confidence that Kuai Liang doesn’t have feelings for you and that you might like him as well

but the whole day it’s like you’re a whisper in the wind, barely around the compound where Smoke is, and he’s about going crazy to try and track you down

but he knows you have to attend the mandatory clan meeting today, and he spots you from the podium in the crowd, somewhere in the middle

when Kuai Liang dismisses the meeting, he bolts down into the crowd before you can disappear, and he grabs onto your arm

you look at him and tug your arm back into you and say you have something to do, but he calls your bluff, saying everyone’s done with training and there are no tasks to be done

all the weapons have been checked, he’s pretty sure you’re not on patrol, all the training rooms have been cleaned, and none of the plates or trays need to be cleaned by you today

you stutter over your words and duck your head down, and Smoke asks you why you’ve been avoiding him as of late

you’re silent for a moment before you steel your shoulders and say you saw him talking to a girl and that it hurt you because you liked him and didn’t want to be hurt

Smoke’s heart skips a beat in his chest, he had figured you probably liked him back from Kuai Liang’s comment, but to hear it from you sent his head reeling

you start to step away, embarrassed by Smoke’s silence, and the gray assassin calls out for you to stay to wait

he blurts out that he likes you too, that he wants to take you out to the markets and woo you properly, buy you food and win you prizes like on a proper date

your mouth gapes open, and you reach your hand out and grab onto his hand before asking really, as if you didn’t believe it

Smoke nods, and he can feel a blush creeping up as his neck as you flash him that dazzling smile

he asks if you’d like to go to the markets tonight, just for an hour or two

you laugh and pull him into a hug before excitedly saying yes and running off to go change out of your training uniform

you yell back you’ll meet him back here in 30 minutes before disappearing around the corner

Smoke hides his face in one had as the other rests on his hip as he tries to process what had just happened

he hears Kuai Liang approach him and clap a hand on his back, congratulating him on finally asking you out

Smoke mutters out a shut up before disappearing off to his own room to go and change

he wouldn’t want to show up on your date in his training uniform

#tangerine answers #tangerine writes #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #smoke #smoke mk1 #mk1 smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada mk1 #mk1 tomas vrbada #smoke x reader #smoke x you #smoke x y/n #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada x y/n #tomas x reader #tomas x you

[sports-on-sundays]

two for one / LN4 & OP81 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Takes place from Australian Grand Prix 2024 to Monaco GP 2024.

Warnings: cussing, jealousy, flirty friendship, angst, manipulation, lying, OH THE DRAMA, confusion, mention of throwing up, not feeling well

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: I feel like this idea is so unoriginal but I don't care. The work of the reader is not mentioned much at all because there's no way I'm putting the energy into that

"We should have Oscar over!" your mother exclaims. "I'm sure he's going to b-"

"Wait, Oscar's coming over?!" your younger sister exclaims.

"No, no, no," you sigh. "He's not. Mum, he's busy. We can't be bothering him with that. He's got too much on his plate. It'll just be a burden for him."

"No, it won't! Oscar's always nice!" your sister, Ava, remarks.

You sigh. "He's polite. He's very good at being polite. But it would still be a burden for him."

"You get to see him, like, everyday-"

"Not everyday-"

"-but me and Mum haven't seen him in ages. Oscar's like an older brother!"

You roll your eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

You're surprised when it's Oscar who brings it up. A week before the Grand Prix, he comes to dinner, which is nice for your sister and mum, you suppose.

But it's after he leaves that your mum makes a comment you're not sure you like.

She sighs and says, "Oscar's so sweet, Y/n. I'm sure that boy loves you."

"Sorry?" you look up in surprise. It was said so casually, you weren't expecting such a comment.

"He's such a sweet boy," she starts, as though he's still the sweet boy from down the street that used to babysit Ava with you, and not a famous Formula 1 driver. "You've known him for so many years. I would completely approve of him as a boyfriend for y-"

"Mum, I'm twenty-two! I don't need you to approve who I date! " you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know. But don't you see the way he looks at you? He talks of you so fondly. He's just so kind with you- extra kind. More kind than how he is with other people."

You sigh, looking down at the tablecloth, picking your nails. "Well," you murmur, "if he really feels that way, he can let me know. But for now, I'm not interested in him... I... I don't think..." your voice fades off.

"Y/n. Haven't you had a crush on him for years? What changed that?"

You shrug, and murmur embarrassed, still not looking up, "I guess I just... moved on to someone else?"

"Y/n! You have a boyfriend?" your immature sister giggles.

"No! Just friends. But... I kind of like him, and I think he might like me, too."

"What's his name?"

You clear your throat, glancing down. You're not sure how to get out of this, so you decide simply to get up, saying you'll clean the dishes.

Because you know your mother would be, to say in the least, unhappy to know that rather being interested in Oscar, you're interested more in his teammate, Lando.

Or, at least, you think you are.

As you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, you think. Lando really is your type, in looks and personality. Everything you want in a guy. He's got a good sense of humour, a kind heart, and an adventurous spirit.

Not to say Oscar doesn't have all those things. It's just different.

Besides, you like Lando's curly hair. You like his greenish eyes and easy smile. You like his tanner skin and dark eyebrows. You like his build, you like his hands; you're just more attracted to him.

On the surface, maybe Lando and Oscar don't seem so different. But to you, one is your best friend, and the other, you want, just maybe, as a little bit more.

Are you not appreciating Oscar? You don't know.

But you sure know how you feel, and nothing is going to change that.

Or, at least, you don't think anything will.

The whole weekend after that goes as usual, but you're happy to be in yours and Oscar's homeland. After the practice sessions, you're seated, sipping from a your water bottle, when Lando plops down next to you. "Hello."

"Hey," you nod to him with a smile. "How's it going?"

He smirks like the stupid idiot he is and says, "Better, now that I'm with you."

You roll your eyes, and look up to see Oscar walking over he sits down on the other side of you, and you comment, "It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"

"What is?" Oscar asks.

"We used to play in this park, you know? Remember, dragging Ava along behind us?"

Oscar chuckles, nodding. "And my three little sisters. It was you and me, dragging around the four younger ones because our parents wanted a break."

"Yeah, your mum had Pilates or something," you joke.

He nods again with a grin. "Yeah. Probably something like that."

Then Oscar gets up and walks off, and Lando says, "So you two really have known each other forever?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Both born in Melbourne, a little over a month apart."

"So when's your birthday?" Lando inquires, crossing his arms across his chest.

"May 26. Funnily enough, that's the Monaco Grand Prix."

"Oh boy. I guess that means we'll have to drive well that weekend, even better. You know, for you."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "You're going to dedicate the whole Monaco Grand Prix to me?"

"Well, you certainly deserve it," he grins, patting your back before standing up and walking away.

Gosh, do you like both those guys so much!

"Ayy!" you grin, high-fiving Lando. "Let's go, baby! A podium. Nice job! And you too, Osc! Nice job, dude!" you add as he passes. He beams almost as big as Lando and nods, thanking you, before walking off.

"Well, what a gift," Lando winks. "To have you greet me after the Grand Prix."

"You're hopeless," you grin, rolling your eyes. "Good race, though. Solid, from both you and Oscar."

Lando suddenly wraps you in a hug, which makes your body practically turn to stone. "Thanks so much. You're so encouraging."

"O- Of course, Lando. Always."

"M-hm, and that's what I like about you," he says, pulling away from the hug, before walking off.

You're standing there, blushing softly, at the fact that Lando Norris just hugged you, when you turn your head, and, unexpectedly, see the brown eyes of Oscar lingering on you. As soon as your eyes meet, though, he swiftly turns his crestfallen face down, away from your face.

All the sudden, you feel a large, nervous stone in your throat.

Did he see you hug Lando?

Is that what that look about?

Or is he just down about not getting a podium at his home race?

Yeah, maybe that's just it. Anyone would be, right?

But, inside, you know that's not it. You know Oscar. He keeps cool. He's a good sportsman- a really good one. He's polite. He understands what had to be done.

So what's that look about?

Your brain can only reach one conclusion, and you're not sure if you like it.

Oscar takes a deep breath and starts walking toward you. Maybe it's time to say what he's thinking. If there's any chance of things going on with you and Lando, it's probably good for you to know how he feels, right? Just so there's no confusion.

At least that's what Oscar's figuring.

But, who knows, when he stands up and walks over, if he's actually going to admit it. For years, he's felt this way, and he's never had to guts to just say it, knowing you don't feel the same way.

Oscar wouldn't say he's scared of it, but he's definitely not keen on the idea of being rejected, which he assumes he likely will be.

You're just getting some coffee before you get back to your work, and Oscar, though he's really not thirsty or in want of any coffee right now, is ready to pretend he is.

The excuse is that he's tired. Perhaps it's too far-fetched, since it's pretty much a known fact throughout all of McLaren HQ that Oscar Piastri loves sleep, but-

Yeah.

He's 'super tired.'

You fill your paper cup up with coffee, in deep thought about work, and nothing else. Just as you're about to walk back to your desk and get back to the work, as you're turning around, a smooth hand grabs your forearm, and you spill your coffee on your McLaren T-shirt in surprise. "O- Oscar!" you exclaim, stumbling a bit at the utter closeness. "H- Hi!?"

"Hi," he says with earnest eyes. "I'm.... sorry."

"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't too hot. Oh well. I'll just go change; I have an extra shirt, sorry about that! Anyway, see you around!" And then you're off, leaving your half-full coffee cup sitting on the counter.

Oscar is left standing there, staring at the cup, his hand still out from where he had touched your arm.

Alright then. Well, maybe it's not meant to be.

Oscar's terrible timing is that he calls you the moment you're sitting next to Lando in his car, talking.

Lando is yapping. "-so then the girl said some spunky comment or whatever, and she reminded me a lot of you. You know, because I would've been the tough macho man in the movie that saves you from the fucking murder men, ri- Wait, who's calling?" he inquires, leaning over closer.

You laugh a bit at the interruption of his silly talking, and don't even think to not let Lando see who's calling. "It's Oscar..." you say vaguely, before looking up to meet Lando's eyes. "Why would he be calling?"

Lando shrugs, a curious streak in his expression. "Well, pick up, and see."

So you do. "Hello, Oscar?"

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you today," he says immediately, which causes a small laugh to escape from your lips.

"Osc, it's fine. I spilled it on myself. Did you call just to say that?"

"No," he laughs. "I was just wondering if tomorrow night you wanted to hang out or something..."

"Oh... yeah, sure, that'll work for me."

"Oh, nice. Alright. Also, one more question. I swear it's not related, either."

"Go on?"

There's a few moments of silence, before you prompt, "Oscar, are you still there?"

"Yeah. So... I was just wondering... are you dating anyone? Because. I know you and Lando are pretty close friends, and I was just wondering."

"Oh!" you say in surprise, your cheeks involuntarily going pink. And, without thinking, or considering, at all, you blurt, "No, of course not! Just friends!"

Immediately, you feel guilty.

You in no way lied, but you still feel like you just did something wrong.

Both you and Lando would say you're just friends.

But more and more, neither of you seem to want that.

And if Oscar's interested in you...

Oh, God.

"Oh, alright." He sounds somewhat relieved, which makes your heart tighten even more. "Alright, sounds good. Want me to just drive you from work? We could leave, at like, 8:00 P.M.?"

"8:00? What on earth are you doing, leaving at 8:00 in the evening?"

"I have something in mind."

"Uh?"

"You'll see. Trust me?"

"Alright," you shrug, still feeling very unsure.

"Okay. See you later, Y/n."

"Bye bye, Osc," you say, before hanging up.

The moment you do, Lando leans in close, with wide eyes, "What did he say?"

"Just wants to hang out."

One of Lando's eyebrows cock up.

"Lan," you chuckle. "That's all it is. Just like... like, how you and me just hang out."

"Mmm'kay, then..." he nods slowly. He's silent for a few seconds, before commenting. "Lan. That's cute."

"You're cute," you blurt, again, not thinking.

You really should try that more. You know, the whole thinking thing. You're sure you'd get in a lot less trouble if you used that brain of yours once in a while.

Lando immediately shows a pleased, toothy grin. "That's more like it," he comments, slipping his hand into yours, before he starts driving. "Up for an evening drive?"

"Always. Lan."

He winks, bites his lip, and gets driving.

"So, where are we going?" you ask as you walk to Oscar's car.

"I'm not telling you."

"Well, you're wearing a McLaren hoodie and grey jeans, so... somewhere casual."

"Good guess," he smiles, unlocking his car.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and as you're getting in, a piece of paper flies out of your pocket. You feel a lump in your throat as Oscar, with his quick reflexes, snatches it up off the ground.

Formula 1 drivers suck.

"Ca- Can I have that?" you ask quickly.

"Sure," Oscar says, handing it to you.

But it landed facing up. There's no way he couldn't have read the little note from Lando on it.

As Oscar walks around to the other side of the car, you read it over in your shaking hand.

You seem down today angel. If you wanna talk just find me or text me; i'm always here to listen. -lando

You feel your stomach lurch.

He even signed it with his name! The idiot!

And you weren't down! Just deep in thought! About Oscar, actually.

You let air escape from your lungs. You can feel the concern, the tenseness radiating off of Oscar as he drives, before, finally, he says, "Listen, I'm sorry for-"

"I know you read it. It's fine. It's nearly impossible not to. I would have, too."

"Angel?"

You bite your lip, looking out the window. "That's, just, uh, how Lando is..."

He regrips the steering wheel. "Y/n, you know me. If you lied on the phone, I won't be mad. I just want to know."

"I didn't lie, Osc. Lando was sitting right there when you called. I didn't lie."

"What... What were you doing?"

"Just hanging out. Just the same as what we're doing right now. You're both just my friends, okay?"

"Right," he says, but the sound barely escapes his lips, in only a whisper.

Soon, you reach the destination, and you're surprised to see it's your house. "Oscar...? Why'd you bring me home?"

"You'll see," he says with a soft smile. You both get out of the car, and he grabs some stuff from out of the trunk, before walking onto the lawn. You watch with your eyebrows scrunched together as he lays out a blanket. He sits down on it and pulls out a few little packets from his pocket.

"What's that?" you demand, still standing.

He takes your hand and gently tugs you down next to him. "Are you still a Tim Tam addict?"

You grin, holding your hand out to take a pack. "Thanks. And yes, I am."

"You're the most Aussie to ever Aussie."

"I could say the same thing about you."

Suddenly, he flops down on the blanket, laying down on his back, and you finally get the memo. "Stargazing?" you ask him carefully.

"If that's okay with you."

You grin, laying down next to him. "Why not?"

You lie there, side by side, staring up, and Oscar starts talking.

Listening to Lando is different. Lando is excited. Like he likes you so much and just wants to tell you everything. He talks a lot and makes you laugh a lot. Like, doubling over giggling kind of laughing.

Oscar makes little jokes, but just enough to make you softly chuckle. He doesn't go on and on. He pauses, as if he's thinking about what to say next. For you, that's a little awkward sometimes.

You feel awkward in silence.

But you like both of their ways of yapping.

After a while, Oscar is silent for longer than before, and you ask, "You asleep?"

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Wouldn't put it past you," you tease.

"Fair enough..." he sighs softly, before, suddenly, you feel his warm hand brush yours. And in the dark, his fingers find yours, and he holds your hand in his.

You don't know what to feel. But surprisingly, it's something good.

His hand is smoother than Lando's, but smaller. His knuckles and veins are more defined, and his fingernails feel rougher than Lando's.

Here you are, just comparing the two.

Is that wrong?

But his hand is also radiantly warm, sending heat throughout your chilly body, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

You lick your lips, murmuring, "It's kind of cold. Can we go inside?"

There's a few seconds of silence from your friend next to you, before he says, "If the problem is that you're cold, I could fix that."

You look over in surprise, meeting his glimmering eyes, which appear to be merely black orbs in the darkness of the night. "How?" you venture.

Suddenly, he pulls you close to him, enveloping your body with his warm. You gasp a little, your heart rate immediately quickening. All the sudden, you don't feel so cold.

All the sudden, you get why you had a crush on Oscar for years.

All the sudden, the feelings come rushing back.

And in the light of the fact that you feel the exact same things with Lando, you have absolutely no idea what to think, feel, or do.

"So, are you, like, a bowling kind of guy?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm a you kind of guy, so any excuse I can think of to go somewhere with you, I will."

"Brutally honest, no?"

"Nothing's brutal about it," he grins, sipping from his cheap beer. He sets it down and stands up to have his go, before plopping back down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"Lan," you chuckle. "You know, when you're bowling with only two people, as you've decided to do, there's not much time for cuddling in between turns." You say it lightheartedly. You don't mean anything by it.

But Lando does, apparently, because he says, "Ah, you know neither of his care about bowling. I care about you."

"Is this when I'm supposed to say I care about you, too?"

"Yeah, well, pretty much."

You lean closer, resting your head on Lando's shoulder. "I care about you, too. You're a great friend."

"Ah. Yeah, you too." He runs his hands through your hair for a while, before finally prompting you to take your turn. He stands up with you, as he has every time you've gone. You deliver the ball, but take just a step too forward, and slip.

Ah, fuck.

But suddenly, Lando grabs your wrist and pulls you back up, so you stumble right into him. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around you, and says, "Careful, there, Y/n. You okay?"

You clear your throat, blushing as butterflies swarm your stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He smirks. "No problem. That's what friends are for, eh?"

So, they both like me. And I like both of them. They're both so different in their own ways, but I like them both for different reasons.

And both likely expect the other likes me.

But regardless, they're both getting closer and closer to me. And I'm starting to

"Y/n-"

You slam your notebook shut, looking up to see Oscar. He's brought you on a few more...

Well, if you were to call a spade a spade, you'd say 'dates.'

But you just can't do that, because then you'd be saying you're dating two guys at once.

Neither of them have officially asked you out. Neither have ever even gotten close to calling you their partner.

So, that's how you convince yourself there's nothing wrong with it.

So they're not dates. You just don't know what to call them.

Either way, since the Tim Tam Stargazing Romantically Cuddling Under The Moonlight Night, Oscar has also taken you to dinner for his birthday and to a museum.

Oscar is different. He plans stuff out and then asks you if you're available. Lando asks if you're available first, and then just sort of-

Well, you never plan with Lando. You just do and go what and where you want that day.

It's different.

And yet again, you couldn't say which you like better.

"Y/n?" Oscar repeats, sounding more concerned now, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh- yeah, what?"

He sits down next to you. "I know you'll be busy, just like the rest of us, since Miami is coming up fast, but..."

You smile nervously. "Yeah...?"

"Want to come over to my flat tonight? Or something?"

You swallow a lump in your throat as the picture of Lando's text from earlier today appears in your head.

I'm feeling good for Miami. Want to come over to my place tonight?

You had said 'sure.' You knew sometime soon, plans would overlap, and...

And that time is now.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Oscar asks, placing his hand on your shoulder. "You look pale."

"Just... uh... Lots of..." you clear your throat. "Lots of work to do before the Grand Prix. Just... you know, stressed. I don't think I'll be able to tonight. But thank you," you put on a weak smile.

Oscar's lips curl into a concerned, thin line, but he nods, taking his hand off your shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just remember- I'm right here."

Same exact words Lando says to me all the time.

"R- Right. Thank you, Osc."

He nods. "Of course."

As soon as he's gone, you text Lando, letting him know plans abruptly changed, and that you're busy tonight after all.

You end up being very busy laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, emotions swarming in your stomach as you come to the realization that you can't keep going on like this. Soon enough, you're going to either have to choose one and break the other's heart, or let go of both of them.

And for some reason, just that thought makes you start to cry.

The rush of adrenaline is enough to make you crazy. Enough to make someone do stupid things that they never, ever should.

But when Lando Norris, race winner Lando Norris, is there, in front of you, you scream his name. When he sees you, his whole face lights up, and he throws his arms around you, lifting you up. "Nice work!" You kiss him on the cheek.

He giggles. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you and the whole team!"

"Ah, shut up and give yourself the credit for once."

He grins wider. "Yeah, I guess for once I do deserve it."

"Shut your face, loser- or, I guess, winner."

"No, you shut yours," he murmurs, and when he's sure no eyes or cameras are on you, pecks your lips, before pulling away and running off.

And you're left there, a dizzy mess of adrenaline and embarrassment.

Later, you're walking in McLaren, and suddenly, you hear Lando's voice, "Y/n, come here."

You look up to see him peeking out of his driver's room. "What?"

"Just come on. I've got something for you." He's looking at you like an excited little puppy.

You grin and shrug, walking in with him.

The door latches behind you.

"What have you got for me, Lan?" you ask, glancing around at his contained mess.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall, and Lando's face is merely inches away from yours. You gasp, staring at him, feeling his breath on your face. "This," he mutters softly, before his eyes flutter closed and his lips meet yours.

Excitement and guilt hit you at the same exact time.

But as Lando invites you, you lean into the kiss, and any thoughts of Oscar slowly leave you as you're consumed by the bliss of this intimate moment with Lando.

But when you finally pull away from each other, panting, you murmur, "We never, ever mention this again, okay, Lan?"

He just grins, his hand slowly caressing your cheek. "Of course. Friend."

You sigh shakily. "You supposed that was your little reward for winning your first race, huh? You already got a trophy."

"Ah, sure. But you're my real trophy."

Oh, Lando, and his so-called 'silver tongue.'

After literally just making out with Lando, it feels thoroughly terrible to pat Oscar's shoulder and tell him 'sorry' about P13. Yet you manage to keep composure, despite the heavy guilt, as you say, "It's just the luck of the draw sometimes, no? But there's always next race."

You want to break down crying. You want to say something, but at the same time, you don't.

You don't regret kissing Lando.

You like him.

You think you have a better chance with him than you do with Oscar.

But you like Oscar, too. And just doing that feels like...

A betrayal.

No matter how much you say you're just friends, when do labels stop counting?

Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel sick.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lando asks, surprised to see you sitting in the hallway outside the offices, back in McLaren HQ, hugging your knees to your chest, staring somewhat vacantly, at nothing whatsoever.

"Hm? Hi, Lando," you say tiredly.

He slips down the wall next to you and says gently, taking your hand. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself lately."

You swallow but don't respond.

He squeezes your hand and whispers, "Was it the kiss? Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"No, no... It's... nothing."

Lando sighs. "So I take it I won't be able to be getting you to talk, huh?"

"S'pose not..." you sigh. There's no way you're telling him. He's fifty percent of the problem.

And Oscar's the other fifty.

So he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly. You automatically lean your head into his chest, and he presses his lips into your scalp, gently kissing your hair. "I'll be ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. But if you never are, I'll be here for you anyw-"

"What the-"

Both of you look up in shock to see Oscar looking right back at you.

Oscar's teeth clench. He's usually, nearly always, such a calm person. But now he doesn't look angry. He just look deeply hurt.

You bite back a very sudden sob.

And out of his hurt, for once, Oscar Piastri doesn't think before he speaks, and the bitter words fly out of his mouth: "Alright then! Just lie to me! Just give me fucking false hope for no reason, Y/n! That's great! Thanks a lot! Thank you! Lando, why don't you keep comforting her? Clearly she'd like that much more than anything I have to offer."

And then he turns on his heel and walks away, down the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Lando snaps indignantly. "The asshole!"

Oh, Lando. He doesn't know. Not one bit.

"You stay here," he suddenly says angrily. "I'm going after him."

"Lando..." you sigh, burying your face in your hands. "Please, no..."

"Y/n..." Lando looks at you, uncertain.

You sigh again. "Okay, whatever." It's not like it can get any worse, can it?

So then Lando's off, and you're left to drown in your complete and utter regret.

Lando jogs down the hall, and the moment he sees Oscar's back in front of him, walking away from him, he calls, "Oscar, wait up."

He spins on his heel to face the Brit. His jaw is tight, and his eyes tender. "What?" he breathes.

"What the hell, man? What's wrong?"

"I'm not blind, Lando," Oscar sighs, leaning his back against the wall, shutting his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lando demands, facing him.

"I know you two are dating. It's fine. I was kidding myself. Playing pretend, yeah? Just like me and Y/n used to always do. It's fine. You know I'm the type of guy to adjust. I always do. That's what I've learnt. So, I wish you two luck, but I ought to be off now." Oscar then leans off the wall to keep walking away.

But Lando grabs his shoulder. "What? I still don't get it?"

"It doesn't matter. Forget this ever happened." The Australian doesn't sound bitter or angry anymore. Disappointed and resigned, for sure, but also accepting. "It's for the best. Just go comfort your girlfriend. She needs it."

"She's not- I mean- we- I-" Lando trails off, at a complete loss for words.

Oscar stares ahead, not facing Lando. "Lando, I like you. Let's not make this dramatic. I'm sorry; I slipped. Should have kept it to myself. Like I have for years. Never should have said a word."

"I..." Lando begins, but stops. "Oscar, I..."

"You don't know what to say?" Oscar asks, suddenly looking over to Lando with an actual, genuine smile on his face, surprisingly enough. "That's okay. Probably means you shouldn't say anything. Maybe you talk too much sometimes anyway."

It's just meant to me a light, friendly tease, but in this situation, it doesn't seem right. Knots twist up in Lando's stomach, and Oscar's words don't feel like a joke at all.

Lando knows more needs to be said, but there's nothing more to say.

Then, suddenly, to his somewhat shock, Lando hears your voice behind him. "Oscar," you say, walking toward the McLaren driver. You swallow. Keeping composure.

Oscar looks at you expectantly, tentatively taking a step forward, almost involuntarily.

You suddenly throw your arms around him in a hug.

"Hey, Osc," you begin whispering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what it might look like. But me and Lando are just friends, just like you and me are just friends. Like I said before- Lando is just like that. Besides, if you saw me sad, wouldn't you help me out in just the same way?"

"I... uh... O- Of course..."

"See? So there's nothing to be upset about. I wasn't lying to you."

Oscar's unsure eyes soften, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "I- Alright... Okay. Uhm."

"I forgive you, Oscar. It's okay," you smile gently, stroking his cheek.

You want to throw up.

Y/n. You lying, evil snake. Listen to yourself. So manipulative, and for what?

To save yourself.

To save Oscar.

But it is all selfish though, isn't it?

You're just trying to cover all your bases.

You take your hand away from Oscar's warm skin and say simply, "Lando- I think my problem earlier was just that I'm not feeling very well... Must have picked up some kind of virus... I... I should be getting home now."

And you run out, leaving the two McLaren boys standing there in the hallway, both absolutely speechless.

After quite an awkward week or so, the Imola GP comes around, and, like racing always does for you, the passion is too much to let any barriers soften your excitement.

You see Oscar first, who you congratulate with a high five. But he hugs you, saying, "How are you?"

"Huh?" you ask in surprise. "Great! Another super solid weekend for the team. P4 for you!"

"Hah, yeah," he smiles. "Well, I'm glad you're doing just as good as I am."

And later, wen you see Lando, your first comment is, "You could have won this one, too!"

"I know!" he laughs. "After knowing how it feels, P2 doesn't seem so glorious."

You click your tongue. "Don't worry, Lando. It'll come."

Well, in that following week, somehow, the two busy drivers both find times to ask you out.

As friends.

Lando tries to pry out of you what really happened that day with Oscar. You refuse to say it. Say it's personal, having to do with things from yours and Oscar's childhood.

More twisting the truth.

You're starting to hate how good you are at these disgusting games.

When you go to dinner with Oscar, it hurts your heart to see how trusting he seems. Even after it all, he thinks he's the one in the wrong. And he thinks all is well. That nothing wrong is happening. He asks you one more time if you're dating Lando.

You say no.

Because you're not.

Right?

And then, it seems, before someone can say 'I'm in love with two McLaren Formula 1 drivers,' you're walking into the Monaco paddock, the week flies by so fast.

You love Monaco. Doesn't everyone? It's one of the best Grand Prixs of the season in your opinion, if not the best. The atmosphere, the sea, the people- it's all just slightly different in Monaco.

Everything shines brighter in Monaco.

And, apparently, you do, too, because both Lando and Oscar are being particularly affectionate towards you this weekend. You can't tell if you like it, or if it's stressing you out. Likely both.

"So... Piastri-Leclerc, is it?" you ask Oscar with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that's right," Oscar says with a little chuckle.

Suddenly, one of your other coworkers nudges you and says teasingly, loud enough for Oscar to hear, "Ah, Y/n, that means you'll have to be Y/n Piastri-Leclerc when you marry him. What do you feel about that?"

Before you can say anything, Lando seems to materialize out of the depths of the McLaren garage to comment, "You know, Y/n Norris has got a lot better ring to it."

"The confidence!" your coworker laughs at Lando as Lando laughs genuinely and you and Oscar likely laugh more nervously than anything else.

That night, as you lay in the bed in your hotel room, you're having a sinking feeling, deep down in your chest, that soon enough, you'll have to choose.

You'll have to make a decision.

If you keep up this game any longer, one of you are going to get killed in the process.

You just have to be honest.

Who do you love more? Who would be better for you?

You've known Oscar longer. You connect with him better.

But you enjoy being with Lando more. You have more of the same interests.

Lando is always positive and confident. Oscar is always sensible and even-keeled, relaxed, and calm.

Lando's wild card or Oscar's solid rock?

They both care for and about you so, so much.

Oscar for all these years, was too scared to admit how he felt to you, and was only convinced to confess it when he saw how you and Lando were with each other.

So, essentially, jealousy was what convinced him to admit his feelings.

He hasn't even admitted it.

Lando has, many times. You've got Lando's number. He's straight with you. He's not scared to say it.

But at the same time... you've never believed in soulmates, but there's definitely something to the story of your life, and the way it always seemed to result in Oscar. He was always the one at the end of every tunnel.

You've known Oscar for a lifetime. You've known Lando for... what, two years?

You sigh deeply.

What the hell?

"P2, Oscar! P2! In Monaco!"

He's laughing as you throw your arms around him this time. Lando's there, patting him on the back. "Nice job, mate," he congratulates.

"Yeah, mate! Nice job is right!" you giggle.

Oscar leans away, beaming.

Then, as soon as Lando walks off, Oscar kisses your cheek gently, just letting his soft lips brush your cheek.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Would it... would it be okay if I kissed you later? For real?"

You swallow. "We'll see about that."

But Oscar just smiles. "Will I have to wait until I win a race, too, to get a kiss out of you?"

You laugh, but a lump rises in your throat.

Why is he talking as if he knows?

"Y- Yeah," you breathe. "I reckon so."

He nods and leans away. "Well, happy birthday, Y/n! I've got something for you!" He's about to pull you by your hand, when suddenly, another hand grabs your other hand.

"Wanna see your birthday gift, Y/n?"

You look up to see Lando.

Literally, both of them, about to pull you separate directions.

Yeah, you think almost scornfully, That's right. You can each have a hand.

#sports-on-sundays #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 one shot #formula 1 #formula one #formula1 #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 2024 #f1 blurb #f1 drivers #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 one shots #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 blurbs #f1 fan fiction #f1 fan fictions #f1 fan fics #f1 fan fic #formula 1 imagine #lando norris

[ghouljams]

Medievall au Konig…

King of a neighboring kingdom, who is declaring war. The king and queen, parents of Ghost’s princess, offer her hand in marriage as a peace offering. inviting him over to shortly court/get to know the princess, but falls in love with her lady in waiting? (or any type of servant/help type worker)

God this is dangerously close to my cursed king König from my novel and I am for REAL holding myself back here. This isn't going to be König's new medieval au, but I wanna see Ghost sweat and I love causing the princess pain. So I’m using my cursed König here, because I love him, and also because he’s just a little fucked up, and also also because he is just... incapable of loving the princess lmao

You hate this.

Your maids have spent all day preparing you to meet a man that could become your husband. A king. You pout as they scrub you with perfumed soaps, rubbing scented oils into your skin and hair until every nook and crevice if you is soft and sweet. It's truly the most extensive bath you've ever had, and all you can think of is how badly you don't want it to end. The same with your makeup and your hair, all the primping and poking takes far longer than you would've liked, and yet far shorter than you need. It's miserable, and your maids are too chatty, too excited. They don't leave you alone long enough to cry.

Your parents, well your mother, have planned a rather elaborate dinner to introduce you and the neighboring King. You desperately want to kick and scream, throw things and make a mess until someone takes notice of your misery and puts a stop to it. Your maids tighten the strings of your dress, fix your necklace until it sits just right on your chest, spritz you with perfume, and tip your tiara until it catches the light with the sparkle of tears in your eyes.

"You look beautiful m'lady," your lady in waiting smiles, squeezing your shoulders tight in an approximation of a hug. It's not a comfort. You feel like a horse being trussed up for the market. You say nothing, you think she gets the idea. She's always been a good friend to you. "Maybe he'll be terribly rude and ugly, and the King will kick him out before the meal is over," she suggests.

"One can only hope," you mumble.

Ghost isn’t waiting for you outside your quarters door. Your eyes dart around the hallway, past the knight that offers you an introduction. He should be here, why isn’t he here? He wouldn’t leave you if something important didn’t come up, something must have happened. You turn to your maid, confusion stealing away your anxiety for the moment. 

“Where’s Ghost?” You ask her. You hardly have a spare moment to feel sorry you’ve ignored this poor knight who you’re sure is his stand-in.

“Orders of the King,” The knight tells you, “I’ll be your guard from now on.”

Your heart falls. They’re really serious about this. You wonder if your mother put up a fight, if she was the one to suggest it. It feels like a betrayal of the highest order to look at this knight and tell him.

“I’ll be in your care.”

When all you want to do is throw a royal fit and tell him to get Ghost or get out. You suppose you could. You could go back into your room and send word you won’t be attending anything. Be a true royal brat. You shudder to think what would become of you if you did. Without Ghost to protect you, there’s no telling how quickly you’d be dragged from your quarters. Placed in front of your royal guest kicking and screaming, what a first impression that would be.

It feels like a funeral procession walking down the hall towards the formal dining room. Your feet hardly want to carry you, but you can’t run with an unfamiliar knight at your heel. For all you know he’d chase you down under your parents orders. That was the one thing you never had to worry about with Ghost, perhaps you took it for granted how loyal he was to you and only you.

You stop in front of the heavy wood doors. You don’t even get a moment to collect yourself, barely get a squeeze of your hand from your lady-in-waiting before the guards on either side open them. Immediately your worry over Ghost is replaced by anxiety for yourself.

The doors open, the guests at the table stand, and you look up, up, up, at the man you assume is your neighbor King. The height of him, the sheer mass of musculature and masculinity frighten you. You thought Ghost was tall, does this fucker come from a land of giants? The King tips his head to you, and you dip into a low curtsy. As well trained as ever.

"König," your father smiles, a ringing rising in your ears as König stares you down, "this is our daughter, Princess-" You wish you could say he at least seems interested in you. He doesn't. His eyes look bored at best and disdainful at worst. You wish you could say more but the lower half of his face is masked. You'd wonder what that was about, if you weren't so terrified that this man was going to take you away, he doesn't even seem to want you.

The man, König, has an air of violence to him, madness almost. An air you find infecting your mind even as you walk to your seat. The proximity to him doesn’t help the feeling that if any man would be the hand in your death it would be him. You can hardly imagine what a marriage to him would entail. How cruel could he be, when you couldn’t even sense a spark of warmth from him.

You knight pulls a chair out for you, and you sit, moving on pure instinct. König's eyes slide off of you to touch your maid as she leans to speak to you. You barely hear her over the ringing in your ears, your breath coming short as you stare at your place setting. Did you leave your heart in your room? It feels like you must have, you hardly think it's beating.

You feel like every muscle in your body is pulled taught, tightening to keep your skeleton from shaking. You can’t think against the rising wave of dread that settles over your mind. Your vision is so fuzzy, and the crown on your head is impossibly heavy. The weight of awful responsibility. An animal raised for slaughter, that’s all you are, all you’ll ever amount to. Another bargaining chip in your parent’s pocket to be thrown on the table in front of any unwed king they find important enough.

This is worse than an interview with a nobel. There’s no need for a formal meeting between you and a king. If he likes the look of you he can take you. There’s nothing more that needs to happen to make you his. A wedding is a formality. You’re sure that giant of a man has never heard ‘no’ in his life, and even if he had you’re sure that no didn’t last long. Where is your gentle knight? Why do you have to be doomed to a nightmare when so many other girls get to be loved?

Someone touches you. No one is supposed to touch you. You jerk away, the world snapping back into focus with a rush of sound and color. You maid crouches next to you, your hand between hers, concern clear in the furrow of her brow. You look around the table, the startled expression of your parents, König's wide eyes. Your lady in waiting swipes her handkerchief over your wet cheeks silently. Are you crying?

"I'm sorry," you smile at the other people seated at the table, "I'm just- just so excited at the prospect of marriage I suppose." Your lady- your friend fixes König with a sour expression, still dabbing at your makeup. You glance at your mother to try and pick up the conversation, maybe salvage this torture. She isn’t looking at you, her eyes set on König. Her expression is placating, her smile as warm as a crocodile’s. Political, just like you are supposed to be.

The air in this room is stifling. Your parents love you, but they care about you only as far as you’re useful to them. Despite your mother’s previous words, a king is too good a deal to pass up. Just like a princess throwing a tantrum in the middle of the night is too disgraceful to mention in the morning. 

“She’s not usually like this,” your mother tells König, her voice sweet, “she must be nervous in the face of a man so…” König raises a brow, despite the full plate of food in front of him, he has yet to remove his mask, “handsome.”

You shove off your maid’s fussing, your skin crawling to be touched by anyone. You’re going to be sick. You hardly mutter an ‘excuse me’ before you’re running from the room.

#cod x reader #x reader #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig #knight!ghost #medieval au #even tho he isn't in this lol #it is Ghost's story #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #könig mw2 #konig cod

[landosfolklore]

say don't go | cl16 (pt. 1)

i'm holding out for hope for you to say "don't go"

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: you're dating ferrari formula one racing driver, charles leclerc. life should be good right? maybe it would be if you got to actually see him more. what will happen if he continues to disappoint you?

notes: angsty, based loosely on the song 'say don't go' by taylor swift, ignore inaccurate timestamps!

જ⁀➴ part 2

─────────────────────────────────

your boyfriend was the complete package. sweet, kind, loving, and a gentleman through and through. you loved everything about him, except for the fact that the two of you hardly spent any time together these days. you knew he was a formula one driver and had to constantly travel for work, and even when he was on break, he had training to do. you were very considerate and understanding of the demands of his job. it's not like you were asking to be with him 24/7 or anything.

it seemed like before the two of you started dating and at the beginning of your relationship, he made time for you. but in recent months, it was like you were in a one-sided relationship, as you made an effort and he seemed unbothered at the thought of not seeing you for a long time.

you mulled over it with your girlfriends who had different opinions varying from "dump his ass" to the more rational "sit down and have a conversation about it". so you decided to take your certified mom friend's advice and speak to him about it.

you wanted this conversation to go a certain way. you knew having expectations weren't a good idea, but this was charles. you would tell him how you've been feeling, and he would apologize. he would make things right. it would all work out. he would tell you he loved you, right?

you went to the market and bought everything you needed and decided to grab some flowers and candles too. you made up your mind; tonight would go smoothly. you and charles would make up, and all would be well.

when you got back to the hotel, you immediately got down to cooking and preparing the meal and dessert. you finished almost everything around 7:40 and went to get ready. you decided on a pretty maroon dress and kitten heels and put on light makeup with your signature red lipstick that you knew charles loved. you went back to the kitchen and started setting everything up at the table.

it was now 8:25, so you plated all the food and made everything perfect. once you were done, you looked at the clock. 8:32 it read. hmm, well, he was occasionally a latecomer. you covered the food in the meanwhile and took a seat to wait for him. you checked the time again. 8:40. okay, what was 10 minutes, right? you had a bad feeling deep down but pushed it away. you had already manifested how tonight was going to go down. nothing would ruin it.

another few minutes passed by, and you sighed, giving in to at least sending him a text.

you sat patiently... or tried to at least. to be honest, you were getting a little annoyed but also worried. what if something had happened? one part of your brain asked you while the other nagging part of your brain scoffed and said he's probably out with friends. you didn't want to listen to the nagging part of your brain any longer.

but as you looked at the clock again and saw it was 9:20, you didn't know what to think. you bit at your nails as you tried calling him. voicemail. and voicemail again. and again. now you were really worried. god, what if he'd been in an accident? or robbed? or... something. you had a tendency to think of the worst possible scenarios; charles always joked that it was a gift. it was more of a curse, honestly.

you put your phone down on the table, biting at your nails again. you battled internally on what to do. you picked up your phone again and called lorenzo, his older brother. he told you he hadn't spoken to charles since yesterday and asked arthur if he spoke to charles. arthur said they had spoken that morning and he said he had a team meeting and was gonna train for a bit after then have dinner with you. you thanked them both and hung up.

you started pacing the room. it was 9:40 now. no sign of him yet. no call. no text. god, please let him be okay. maybe you should run down to reception and see if they've heard anything. no. why would they know anything. maybe you should call joris. YES. why didn't you think of that sooner, you facepalmed. voicemail. what. his phone could not be going to voicemail right now. he always picked up the phone. c'mon joris, pick up the damn phone, you thought to yourself as you called again. but to no avail. all you got was his voicemail again.

just as you plopped down on the couch, running your hands through your hair, you heard the door's keycard beep. your head quickly turned towards the door. and lo and behold, it was charles, being carried in by joris and max verstappen. giggling. fucking giggling as you were worried sick.

max and joris greeted you and apologized for charles' condition. you waved off their apology and offered to take care of him as they laid him on the couch. as max stood up straight, he noticed the table. "fuck, i'm so sorry. if i knew you two had plans, i would've told him to come back to you," he sighed. "shit, charles. why didn't you say anything?" joris glared at the sleeping monegasque man.

he clearly went out tonight. knowing the two of you were supposed to have dinner. you were so angry. but also exhausted because of the stress. you thanked the two men for taking care of him and bringing him home then bid them goodnight.

sighing, you went to the room and changed into your pajamas. coming back to the living room area, you heard his snores. you smiled faintly. he always snored so loud when he was drunk. you exhaled and walked over to him. you shook him lightly to get up so you could help him to bed. he groaned a bit but eventually was semi-awake enough for you to get him to bed.

you helped him out of his clothes, tucked him into bed, then slid in beside him. as you nestled in, you looked at his beautiful face. god, you really loved him. but you knew what you had to do. the only way you would stay now is if he fought for you. you turned to stare at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. eventually, you fell asleep.

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #cl16 #cl16 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #landosfolklore works #landosfolklore #scuderia ferrari