#this is said in a non-rude way too

[maddy-ferguson]

Genuine question is a non-rude way, how did sadie get robbed off from a nomination? most of her nice acting happened in vol1. both sadie and millie were already eligible for vol1 nominations as far as i know, but they still did not get nominated. there is just no way for them to be nominated especially when you put them in a competitions against other actresses like Julia Garner and Patricia Arquette. ST is just not that great of a show to be nominated for anything anymore aside from editing/sound/stunt double stuff that are side-nominations rather than main. And it certainly doesnt deserve to win even in editing department with that shitty cgi, sorry not sorry.

well i said she could've been nominated not that she would've been and idk i think the piggyback is a really good episode for her acting too

#wait also we should be talking about this year actually the cutoff was like three days after volume 1 so when i talk about it i mean had #they released volume 1 in this emmy year since it was so close. like it's so dumb omg this year she totally would've had a chance #but also maybe not because they love the white lotus so much as i was saying yesterday when talking about sophie nélisse. but also yk #hypotheticals are useless what's done is done... #this is said in a non-rude way too #robbed was the wrong word but i just think it's stupid because she would've had more of a chance #they nominated sydney sweeney twice like #and she's not a bad actress or anything but if we're talking about how good a show is...euphoria s2 is euphoria s2 #ask

[pierregazly]

every lifetime with you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x leclerc!f!reader

part 2 to but mama, i love him

warnings: charles is kind of ignorant (in a jerk big brother way), oscar is so disgustingly in love (aka tooth-rotting) [wc: 2.1k]

the one where oscar finally faces family dinner with the leclerc's... and it goes exactly how everyone expected. (oscar just really loves his girlfriend, and really doesn't care what her brother's say about it).

Sunday night dinners, when everyone was able to attend, were a staple in the Leclerc family home. Even as a young girl, one thing you always remembered was Pascale ensuring everyone promised to be home in time for dinner on Sunday. And of course, no one wanted to disappoint Maman.  

Things had, of course, changed as Charles’ and Arthur’s involvement in motorsports grew, as Lorenzo became more involved in his own line of work. But you always put the effort in to make your way back to your childhood home, even if it was just Maman and yourself.  

When Oscar slowly started integrating himself into your life, Pascale was the first person to find out; interrogating you over Sunday night dinner, learning everything she could about the young Australian who had taken over her only daughter’s heart. She always encouraged you to invite him to Sunday dinner, insisting that the boys would be on their best behaviour, and there would be no blood or tears shed - from anyone.  

Which was exactly how you found yourself here, Oscar staring out at your childhood home, his hands steady with a tight grip on the steering wheel in front of him.  

“Maman would not be too happy if you brought the steering wheel in with you. She doesn’t enjoy car talk on Sunday’s, mon amour,” you said, tapping one of his tense hands with a finger.  

Unlacing his fingers from around the wheel, Oscar turned towards you with a timid smile.  

“You see Charles weekly; you practically grew up alongside Artie. It’ll be fine, Osc.” 

Shaking his head immediately, “I’m not concerned about your brothers. They don’t scare me.” 

Quirking an eyebrow at him, your only response was a shrug of your shoulders as you pulled yourself up and out of the car. Following your lead, the two of you walked up the driveway, passing your brother’s cars in the process. Pushing open the front door, you were instantly greeted by the variety of smells that could usually be contributed to Sunday dinner, the aroma invading your nostrils and prompting a smile to pull across your lips.  

Pascale Leclerc’s face greeted you the moment you turned the corner into the foyer, a happy grin across her lit up cheeks. 

“Oh, mon bébé! Regarde comme tu es belle,” she said, wrapping her arms around you tightly. (Oh, my baby! Look at how beautiful you are.) 

Eagerly wrapping your own arms around her, you inhaled her comforting scent, happy to be home and in the arms of the most important person in your life since birth.  

Turning towards Oscar, the large smile on Pascale’s face did not waver. “Oscar, hello! It is so lovely to finally meet you.” 

The moment of hesitation on Oscar’s part meant Pascale had already wrapped her arms around him before he could even blink, pressing a kiss to each cheek and then pulling back with a smile.  

“Lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Leclerc. Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Oscar said.  

Pascale waved him off, loud voices filtering into the foyer as the three Leclerc boys made their presence known. 

“Regarde ce que le chat traînait,” Arthur said, his eyes pinning onto Oscar’s frame. (Look what the cat dragged in). 

“Non, we will not be speaking French tonight. You know the rules. Do not be rude, Arthur,” Pascale admonished, sending a glare to her youngest son.  

“What do the English say? Execution by fire? Best way for Oscar to learn, non?” Charles said, looking towards his brothers for confirmation. 

Snorting at his words, “No, you idiot. It’s baptism by fire. Don’t be a jerk, Cha.”  

His eyes swiveled over to meet yours, a mock glare present on his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. My apologies, perhaps if I’d be able to speak French, I’d be able to use the actual sayings.”  

Pascale’s glare whipped towards her middle son, her hand gently tapping on Oscar’s shoulder as she directed him towards the dining room.  

“Charles Marc Hervé, I’d encourage you to watch your tone. Your ignorance is not appreciated, I’m sure your sister has already begun teaching Oscar French, you of all people should know it is not easy to learn a new language as a young man. Do not be rude.”  

Almost immediately, the scolding evidently struck a chord in Charles, his cheeks brightening as he mumbled out an apology.  

“Certaines choses ne changent jamais, hm, Charles?” you whispered in his direction, sticking your tongue out at him. (Some things never change, hm, Charles?) 

“Ma petite fleur, don’t antagonize your brother.” Sticking his tongue back out at you in response, Charles skirted away as you moved your hand to smack his shoulder. 

The table had been set like all previous Sundays before that, the only difference being the extra setup beside you, cutlery and plates laid out for the Australian’s benefit.  

“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. Leclerc?” Oscar said, ignoring Arthur as he silently imitated him, a grin falling onto your brother’s cheeks as he plopped down in his unofficial seat. 

“Just Pascale, s’il vous plaît. And non, Alexandra and Charlotte kindly helped with everything already. You are too kind to offer, Oscar,” she responded, a large smile overtaking her lips.  

“You are too kind to offer, Oscar.” 

“Don’t be rude, Artie. Maman can still take you out of this world, right, Maman?”  

Nodding her head in agreement, Pascale whacked the man in question over the head with a tea towel. Placing the final dish of food on the table, the matriarch of the Leclerc family gestured for everyone to sit, all remaining members of the room taking their seats.  

The usual pre-dinner rituals were conducted, Oscar politely engaging in all of them to the best of his ability.  

As the chatter began to pick up around the table, you could feel your anxiety spike every time your eyes wandered over to one of your brothers. For the fact two of them had driven alongside your brother more than once, all three eyed him up every opportunity they could. 

“So, shall we discuss the elephant in the room?” 

“Is it the toxic smell of your cologne, Cha? I’ve been wanting to talk about it for years,” you quipped.  

Lorenzo stifled a snort at your words, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth as he eyed the both of you.  

“Shut up, you know what I mean. Oscar, what are your intentions? Is this some secret McLaren sabotage thing?”  

You couldn’t tell if Charles was serious, your eyes widening as you scrambled for what to say in response. 

“Not everything’s about racing, mate. I could care less about McLaren or Ferrari or whatever, when I’m with your sister. There’s more to life, evidently,” shrugging at his own words, Oscar continued to shovel food into his mouth. 

You could barely contain the internal swooning at his words, your hand gently squeezing Oscar’s thigh as you smiled at him in response. Lightly squeezing your hand back, both of you looked up at the sound of a groan from across the table.  

“This is going to make me throw up, truly. Maman, please let me speak French to articulate how disgusted I am at this,” Arthur mockingly gagged, his eyes pleading for his mother to accept his request. 

Pascale ignored her youngest son’s dramatics, turning her head in Oscar’s direction instead. 

“Oscar, dear… I’ve heard the story of how you and my daughter began dating from her view, I must hear it from yours as well. It’s such a lovely story,” Pascale practically cooed, prompting instant eye rolls from all her children sitting around the table. 

“Yes, Oscar. Tell us all how you corrupted our sister. Please.” 

The urge to hit both Arthur and Charles grew with every little quip and comment they felt necessary to make. Before you even had the opportunity to retaliate, you saw Charles wince, his head swiveling towards his girlfriend in dismay.  

“Enough, mon amour. Tonight is not about you,” she said, a smile being directed towards you after the fact.  

The Australian beside you cleared his throat before he began, gently squeezing your knee in the process.  

“I’m sure she tells it far better than I do, but I can give it a whirl. Racing with Arthur for so long, I think we knew of each other but didn’t really… know each other? Obviously, we had run into each other at different racing events throughout the years and exchanged polite small talk, but it wasn’t really until the Monaco Grand Prix last year where we really had the opportunity to get to know each other.” 

Oscar was quick to shovel more food into his mouth before continuing his story. 

“I was trying to avoid all the interviewers and Sky Sports presenters on the Grid and ended up running right into her. All I knew is one second, I was running, next second I had barreled someone over and was holding their head from smacking against the concrete,” you could hear Alex and Charlotte cooing out soft ‘aw’s’ from their side of the table at his words. 

“Thank those quick driver reflexes, hm?” Arthur joked. Multiple heads around the table nodded in response. 

“I guess it sort of went from there. She, of course, had to give me a hard time for trying to ‘kill her’ as she so kindly says all the time. I offered to make it up to her... we ended up going for dinner after the race, and I suppose the rest is history. Thank God for Monaco, of course.” 

“Oh, so you’re the reason my sister didn’t attend family dinner after I got knocked down for supposedly impeding your teammate?” Charles quipped. 

Huffing towards your brother, before you even got the chance to snap at him, you were cut off. 

“Charles, shut up. We didn’t have family dinner after Monaco, you were miserable and I’m pretty sure you said some very nasty things to our family group chat which almost had Maman in tears. We didn’t have family dinner for weeks after that, so shut up, and let Oscar finish his story. Merde,” Lorenzo said, shooting a glare towards his youngest brother. 

Oscar looked towards you, silently questioning whether he should continue or not. Squeezing his knee in confirmation again, the Australian continued. 

“She ended up coming to visit me during summer break, and things became official from there. It’s been the best seven months of my life, I couldn’t imagine my life without that day in Monaco, now,” he looked towards you as he finished his story, a soft smile on his lips as you looked back at him adoringly. 

“I’d let you run me over in every lifetime, mon amour.” 

The two of you were caught in your own little world, your eyes locked on one another’s, small smiles gracing both of your lips. Missing the small look between your mother and brothers, Charles begrudgingly accepting defeat, Arthur eager to find some way to make a joke at the expense of both of you, Lorenzo simply content to see his baby sister happy.  

Maman, though... the sheer delight was evident in her eyes, a small sheen covering them and her lash line as she watched the two of you silently interact.  

The night continued, the honeymoon phase between you and Oscar so obvious, so prominent. He took advantage of any chance he could get to press a kiss to your head, to your head, to your cheeks, and especially to your lips. All respectfully, of course, but he couldn’t take his eyes or hands off you.  

Charles took his chance to corner the younger driver, threatening a world of hurt and sabotage if anything were to ever happen to you, physically or emotionally. Oscar’s nonchalant response of “Yes, alright mate. Whatever you say, of course,” further antagonized your brother.  

It was Maman’s acceptance that Oscar was most concerned about though, eagerly asking you once the two of you were back in his car, whether you thought she liked him. You were positive the answer was a resounding yes, especially after watching Pascale squeeze him tightly in a hug, pressing a kiss to each cheek again – and then proceeding to whisper in your ear how happy she was that you had found a man who loved you so incredibly much.  

Later that night, when both of you were curled up in bed, your legs intertwined, and your head pressed against his chest, his heart beating below your ear... you knew. There was no place you would rather be. No person you would rather be in love with or loved by. 

“In every lifetime, Osc, I want to be the person you’re in love with. Promise me that I will be?” 

“I already promised you every lifetime, mon amour. I will choose you, always.” 

sorry but oscar is absolutely the one guy on the grid who loves his girlfriend so much and would probably actually die for her... so he's a total simp and would take on all three of the leclerc brother's for lerclerc!reader.

anyways i hope you guys loved this, as much as i loved writing it 🫶🏻

as always, my requests are currently closed but if you have any recommendations for things you'd like for me to write... i'm happy to take them on. please feel free to interact with me whenever you want also!!

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #mclaren #f1 #formula 1 #my writing #fic #imagine #f1 fanfic

[wp-blaze]

A Note on Memories: Birthday Cakes Made by Mom

There is nothing more perfect than a mother that spends hours crafting a magical birthday with every cent and ounce of time she can spare.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am i the A-hole for trying to protect a women focused space?

I'm the mod from the super one sided retelling of the "Refusing to change OC's sexuality to bi/pan" situation. Shin (the person who wrote that post) know i don't use tumblr so of course he bring the drama here so that people would judge "Laura" and me without knowing the full truth. Thankfully, a dear friend of mine who followed this blog told me about this and was kind enough to allowed me to send this ask using her account.

First of all, it's pretty clear that Shin is lying about his identity. Shin said he is a trans man but he admitted that he don't want to transition beside wanting flat chest. Shin also said that he is south east asian but his display name and his OC's name are all japanese, which is a huge sign of white weeb fetishizing japanese culture. The fact that his english and understanding of slangs is way too good to be south east asian.

Secondly, Shin joining this server knowing that 90% of the members are yumejoshi, he should be grateful of the fact that we even allowed those yaoi characters invading what basically a space for women. I know we advertised the RP as a non-shipping focus death game story but you should have read the room and know what type of people this space is catering to and not bring your gay character in if you didn't want him to be shipped with women.

Thirdly, if Shin was uncomfortable then he should have made it clear from the start instead of letting "Laura"s character flirting with his, like having him respond rudely or out right rejecting her or something. Shin said he is having undiagnosed autism in his bio then he should have understand how it feel when people don't state what they mean clearly. His OC still being nice to "Laura"'s OC even if he didn't like the flirting, of course she would misunderstand that his OC developed romantic feeling for her OC.

Fourthly, Shin said before that he didn't count alternate timeline versions of a character from a visual novel he likes the same as the original timeline version because of their different life experiences then why can't he do the same to his OC? Why can't he just agree to let "Laura" make an alternate version of his character if in his logic they are completely different people? Hypocrite much?

And finally, "Laura" was very upset about this and it took her a while to move on, she could have hurt herself back then because of you. Also, we had to revised our server's rules and banned all the non-yumejoshies, which cut several RPs short.

So who is really the A-hole here?

#aita #am i the asshole #misgendering cw

[narcissistshandler]

Can you write a yandere Sae x male reader smut where reader is flirty with others and makes Sae jealous and bratty? So then reader fucks the brattiness out of him.

𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x sae itoshi

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 light yandere!sae, light violent thoughts (not between sae and the reader), brat!sae, amab!reader, dom!reader, sae calls the reader sir, public, fingering (sae receiving), spanking (sae receiving), some swearing and insults, jealous!reader&sae, voyuer, non-consensual voyeurism

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 nothing to say, just that this was supposed to be much, much shorter (I'll edit this later, so ignore any errors for now)

“'This is so high I can't reach it, can you help me?'” Sae's voice loaded with poisonous sarcasm filled the distance purposely placed between you two. His beautiful green eyes were darkened with a shadow that could alert anyone but you and his arms were crossed in front of his chest, confronting you, mocking you... demanding an explanation.

You held back a sigh as you reached out with one hand to grab Sae's arm and finally close the distance between you. Sae stepped back, avoiding the touch.

“She needed help and I helped, no big deal,” you explained for what felt like the twentieth time since it happened. Maybe it was.

“She was flirting with you,” Sae pressed, his anger an icy, sharp thing. “And you flirted back,” it was an accusation that if was intended to anger you, so it succeeded.

Your temple throbbed with the onset of a headache and you brought your hand back to press against the spot, genuinely trying to understand what part of your interaction with the unknown woman had been seen as 'flirting' by your boyfriend.

The poor woman, who looked barely younger than you, who was kind, gave you a toothy smile and who seemed to follow you down the supermarket aisles for a while before she worked up the courage to ask you for help, wasn't flirting with you by God. And you promptly helped her and then let her engage you in a suspiciously long conversation about how the woman was single and preparing a party to celebrate her new status, believing it would be too rude to cut her off.

Until the figure of Sae, who was completely ignored by the woman, despite standing right next to you, began to analyze the woman from top to bottom, in that way as if pondering how she would react if he put his hands around her neck or broke her fingers - fingers that she continued to touch your arm with - or how easy it would be to find out her address and then... That's when his eyes darkened and you finally ended that conversation.

It wasn't flirting, you thought. You were just being nice, trying to get to know the new neighborhood.

“Don't be childish, Sae,” you said, knowing it was the last thing that would make him calm down.

“Childish?” Sae repeated, his voice rising in tone, seeming not to remember that you two were standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, or maybe he just didn't care. He wanted to embarrass you, you realized. “You shouldn't have even paid attention when she spoke to you!”

“That's not how the real world works.”

You continued, elbow resting against the shopping cart:

“I moved to the furthest house from the city that we found, don't think that just because I agreed now I'm also going to stop making friends or chatting around. You act like a spoiled child when he receives a new gift, just before breaking it.”

Sae's face turned to stone.

“I'd rather break you than let someone else have you,” he said, as if it were the most normal and passionate thing to admit.

This conversation wouldn't go anywhere, you knew, so instead of standing there and arguing with Sae, you sighed deeply and started pushing the cart. Even without turning back, you knew that Sae was following you, still keeping that pathetic distance between you. Sae's feelings towards you weren't normal, even though most of the time your relationship was as normal as any other. But you saw his darkness, you discovered that all the accidental encounters you had with him and all the familiarities between your and his tastes and hobbies had been faked and yet, you chose to stay.

“You can't just end the conversation at will,” Sae said, without even coming into your line of sight, still stuck on the previous topic. He was angry, so you should be angry too, that's how his reasoning worked. “You know I hate it when you turn your back on me.”

That's it. You snapped.

The cart slid on its wheels a few inches as you let go in favor of turning to face Sae. There, in his eyes, was defiance. And when your hand grabbed the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin beneath the curls of his hair, you saw something else stir there, fear.

“Shut your mouth up,” it was an order.

“What else would you do if I wasn't there? You already let her touch you and rub against you, what was the next step? Fuck her right there in the middle of the market while I was at home or participating in a match?” He stirred faced with the sudden order. Sae was like a wild animal, trying to shift your grip while making the accusation, testing your dominance, testing how far he could go, how hard he could bite you. “You're no better than a whore who can't keep the dick in the pants-”

The anger was heavy and immediate, falling like a stone into your stomach.

“Shut. Up.”

That shut Sae up, but you knew it wasn't enough, that in a few minutes, hours or even a few days later he would bring up the subject again. He needed to be put in his place.

With a firm hand grabbing the back of his head, your other hand fell to Sae's belt, but then, seeing the look of panic that filled his face, a thought crossed your mind and you pulled your hand away. Sae, however, didn't have time to relax before the order came:

“Unbutton your pants.”

“We are in public,” he said, the voice that had once been so loud and commanding now quiet. You both knew how famous Sae was and that even in this small town someone could recognize him. That would end his career.

“I gave you an order, didn't I?”

Sae's hands went down to his pants, the green eyes searching around the empty aisle as his trembling fingers released the button and lowered the zipper. Despite the fear and anxiety on his pretty face, it didn't take a command for him to fit his thumbs into the band of the pants and push them down, as well as his underwear. Obedience under the anxiety and embarrassment, the anger still there even when he asked please. Sae knew how to move his pieces, but you knew how to move him.

Standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle, with his lower body naked, his softening penis hanging between his long, slender legs, Sae was embarrassed. The same embarrassment he wanted to make you feel when he started an argument with you and told you all those poisonous and sharp things.

“[n-name],” he muttered, eyes still roaming around. “Let's go home... ple-please.”

You ignored his whining, that just sounded anxious, not genuine. “Turn around. The faster you comply the faster you can put your pants on and stop someone from seeing your naked ass.”

Sae looked once more for invading looks before obeying. He pressed his hands against the shelf in front of him, his small, round ass facing you.

Your hand fell to one of his pale cheeks. The sound of the slap echoed around. Sae seemed to bite back a grunt.

“I don't need to tell you how bad you were, do I? You know that.” A second slap, in the same place where the previous one had landed. “You chose to irritate me, you chose to insinuate that I would cheat on you with the first person who appear in front of me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. A hard and fast sequence of your hand connecting with his soft ass cheek. “Do you think I'm afraid of you?” you inquired, your tone full of mockery, treating Sae exactly as he was: a spoiled brat.

No response other than grunts and bitten moans came, the hyperawareness of being in public seeming for the first time to do the magic of preventing him from trying to answer you. Sae's slender body seemed to try to run away from the hits, pulling away from your hand, but he didn't get very far between your body and the supermarket shelf. The shirt pooled around his waist, the dark color contrasting with the pink that bloomed on Sae's pale ass.

Your hand rubbed the soft flesh, feeling the skin burn beneath yours. Your fingers dug into his ass, without care or gentleness. And when you squeezed harder, you could see the place between those round, firm cheeks glisten with moisture.

Your laughter sounded like bells under the noise of footsteps, wheels and movement of the supermarket. “Is that why you're all angry and upset and talking to me like that? Because you want to be fucked?”

Sae's ears burned. “Don't treat me like a-” He was interrupted by your index finger pressing against his soft, lubricated hole, previously prepared for you before left the house that afternoon.

“Like what? A whore?” You punctuated the mocking question with your finger plunging inside him hard. “You better lower your tone if you don't want anyone to see us.”

His hole was already relaxed, opening easily to the intrusion, the walls wet and tense just from the current situation. You pulled your finger back and pressed two in, stretching them inside him. Sae made a small whimpering sound in response, his pink cock now hard between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto his own pants, like the pathetic little thing he was.

Sae was muttering something under his breath, a jumble of words and phrases, among which you could make out a 'who do you think you are', but which shortly afterwards turned into a 's-sir... please' when your fingers curled inside him and rubbed against his prostate, eliciting a twitch in his cock.

Your own cock was hard between your legs, pulsing and demanding release, but you knew this wasn't the time or the place, it was pure luck that so far no one had walked in this aisle, and that there was no security camera nearby. Deep down you wished someone would see him, and recognize the famous player now being fingered in public like a cheap whore. And that selfish desire flared up when a small, shocked sound reached your ears.

A third finger sank inside Sae as you recognized the woman Sae accused of hitting on you standing right there at the entrance to the aisle, shocked eyes darting from you to Sae, still completely oblivious to the new spectator as he struggled to be silent while your fingers fucked him the way he loved: hard and deep.

“We have company,” you warned Sae. It took a whole few seconds for him to understand your words and move his face, trying to understand what you were talking about. As soon as his eyes met the woman's, his hole suddenly became tense and tight around your fingers.

“This little pig,” he muttered under his slightly panting breath. There was no shame in any inch of him though - shoulders still high, lips pursed, body still willing under your touch -, it was something different, it was pride. A phantom feeling of being better than most people, but especially better than that unknown woman who had tried to hit on you.

The woman didn't move, feet still on the floor, eyes going from Sae to you, then back to Sae. She seemed to be finally putting the pieces together, regretting offering you her phone number right in front of your boyfriend. But there was also desire beneath it all. She looked at Sae like most people did, as if she was mesmerized by his beauty.

Sae however was jealous and possessive and all he saw there was her wishing she was in his place; have your fingers inside her. “I-I want you to make me cum, sir,” Sae asked, sweet and obedient when faced with a 'rival' and dark and petty at the same time. “So she knows she can't have you. You are mine. You can only touch me this way.”

He was a spoiled brat. But his words made your dick get even harder and you pressed your hips against his ass so he could feel your hardness, to let him know that only he made you hard and hot like that. You thrust your fingers with recovered strength and speed into and out of him, eliciting the most beautiful moans and sighs from Sae's mouth, calling him 'mine', 'good boy' and 'pretty whore' while rubbing your digits against the sweet walls, attacking his prostate.

The display of passion and eroticism could have lasted minutes or hours, until Sae's legs contracted and his hole tightened, erratic hips rocking back against your fingers and when you pressed your pinky against the wet, supple rim, Sae came. Clear liquid splashed from the pink head of his cock, hitting his pants, which had fallen to his ankles, and the supermarket floor. The wetness of the lube covering his hole as if Sae had produced lube on his own, just for you.

Sae's eyes, however, were not on the spectator when he came and neither were yours. You only had eyes for Sae, especially when you saw him feeling pleasure. And Sae only had eyes for you.

Just as the tremors of orgasm shook Sae's legs, however, and his hole began to convulse around your fingers, you leaned in to place a kiss on the side of his neck, feeling the salt of his sweat and the bitter of the perfume - your eyes went briefly to the woman standing a little distance, who faced with reality blushed and ran away, but not before you saw wetness dripping from beneath her skirt.

“I think she had a little too much fun with our show,” you said to Sae, fingers moving in and out of him again with delicious slowness. “But she can't have you.”

“Ah- she can't have you too,” Sae said back, almost daring you to say otherwise, the wobbly legs forcing him to lean on the shelf.

Maybe that was why Sae never scared you, you were starting to understand. You were a lot like him in some ways. You rubbed his ass where the impact of the slaps had already softened from red to light pink to match his cute hole.

“No. She can not.”

#x male reader #x male top reader #x top reader #x top male reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock smut #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x male reader #sae itoshi x male reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #tw yandere #yandere male #male yandere

[overtail]

Sick - Sokka x Reader 🔞

🪃💢

Summary: Sokka gets hurt after (Y/N) distracts him during a battle, setting off an argument. They make up in an... unusual way..

Reader Info: Female, Non bender, competitive

Warning: NSFW, Cursing, slight sexism, rough sex, underage, oral, fingering, both subs because they're teens for gods sake

A/N: This is my first time writing smut......

...

(Y/N) sat next to Katara as the light from the campfire reflected onto her face, creating a warm glow against her skin. She picked a piece off of her cod flounder, throwing it in her mouth and chewing quietly.

Aang and Katara were chatting, Toph Joining in every few seconds. They were talking about something aimless -- a conversation they wont remember in a week's time.

The air was uncomfortable, especially with Sokka's glaring. Every so often, (Y/N) would glance across the way, only to see Sokka giving her a nasty side eye.

She was getting tired of it -- she wasn't one to take disrespect like that. Sokka may think that he was some big, strong, scary man, but (Y/N) could make him cower with one yell.

"Right, (Y/N)?"

Katara elbowed her, bringing (Y/N) out of her brooding.

"What?"

She looked to the ground with embarrassment from the lack of listening. Katara isn't one to care, but there was still the shame.

"Oh, me and Aang were just-"

She began, looking down at my slumped over figure. Before she could finish, she was interrupted.

"She's probably thinking about how to sabotage me again."

(Y/N) looked up at Sokka as was barking out the rude comment, rolling his blue eyes. Katara crooked her neck to glance at him too, raising a brow at his remark. (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed, head tilting to the side teasingly.

"What did you just say to me Sokka?"

She knew damn well what he said. She just wanted to know if he had the balls to repeat himself. Sokka stood up walking, a bit closer to the log that (Y/N) and Katara were sat.

"I said.."

(Y/N) got up, making her way over to Sokka.

"You're probably thinking about how you're going to sabotage me again."

(Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Sabotage you? Why can't you just accept that you suck at fighting?"

She barked back, leaning closer to him. She poked his chest, pushing him back a little bit. (Y/N) looked at the black eye he had gained from the 'sabotage'.

"Oh no, no, no. Do you find joy in my pain?"

Sokka avoided the question, turning his head to the side. (Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, looking at her feet and back up at Sokka again.

She pushed him back, emiling angrily.

"At this point, i really do. Your face looks better with that black eye."

(Y/N) teased, pointing at his purple bruise. Sokka just scoffed, pushing her back. He didn't care one bit that she was a girl -- that was clearly established when she said she was better than him.

"You're just jealous. Jealous you're a horrible person, sick girl who doesn't know how to get better."

(Y/N) was actually taken aback by this, like she was being stabbed in the back by his words. She heard a gasp from Katara, and a light giggle from Toph. (Y/N) grinned. She began to laugh, looking at Katara and to Aang. Sokka looked at her cautiously, watching as she laughed like a crazy person, tears running down her red cheeks.

"Jealous? Me? Jealous of you? I'd have to be the most pathetic person to want to be like you, Sokka."

(Y/N) walked past him, into the wall of trees that was behind him. She kept on laughing, shaking her head in disbelief at the words. She didn't quite know how to feel, but she just wanted to be left alone. To cry and scream in her faraway tent, to drown in her emotions.

But of course, Sokka had to always get the last word in.

She heard his footsteps getting louder and louder as her laughing faded into soft cries, her legs shaking as she tried to get to her tent as fast as possible. She needed to hide away, and she didn't want Sokka out of all people to see her broken heart.

"(Y/N), this isn't over!"

Somka said, grabbing onto her bicep. She ripped her arm from his grasp, avoiding talking to him. Tent. Get to your tent.

"(Y/N)! Come on-"

She tried to ignore his calling as much as she could, reaching out to the entrance of her tent. Before she could unclasp the buttons, she was whipped around, coming face to face -- well, face to chest -- with Sokka.

She looked up to his face, face full of rage. Somka had never seen her like this before, even while fighting the people she hated most.

"What could you possibly need to say that is so important you need to follow me to my fucking tent!"

(Y/N) yelled, her eyes shutting tightly. A few furious tears escaped her glossy eyes, falling onto the dirt in front of her feet.

"You know, you're a real piece of work (Y/N).."

"Guess what? You make me SICK Sokka!"

"Can you just shut up already?"

She scoffed, pushing Sokka once again. He stepped closer to her, reaching behind her neck and bringing her close.

"I'll give you another black eye-"

"Just shut up!"

Before she could react, before she could say the next rude comment, Sokka's warm lips crashed into her's. She didn't even have time to react, only instinctively leaning into his touch.

(Y/N) felt Sokka's hands fall from the tape of her neck to her lower back, bringing their flush bodies together.

She reached up to grab his shoulders, bringing him down so he was pushing against her even more. Before they both ran out of air, Sokka broke the connection, quickly leaning back and his face growing red.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N)-"

(Y/N) reached up, gracing her fingers across her lips in surprise. She wasn't even looking at him, just at her chest rising up and down slowly. She glanced up, watched as Sokka stammered out an apology.

"It's.. It's fine."

She was also red, smiling nervously at his gaze.

"I mean if it wasn't.. i wouldn't have kissed back."

(Y/N) looked to the ground bashfully, which was such a strange sight for Sokka. She was abrasive, aloof, and very strong hearted -- but this, this was different. And he didnt quite know how to feel about it.

Sokka stepped forward slowly, reaching up to place his palm on her face. He brought her chin up, looking to the ground on his left. God, he was nervous. What was he doing?

(Y/N) looked at him, smirking slightly. She was back, and Sokka felt a flutter in his stomach.

This time, the kiss was soft, slow, and tender. It was much more calm, which was good for both of them.

"Do you want to go inside my tent?"

(Y/N) said in a semi whisper, raising both of her brows. Sokka nodded, not quite knowing where this would go. (Y/N) let go of him, turning to unclasp the entrance of the tent behind them. She crouched down, stepping into the flaps and disappearing into the tent. Sokka stood there for a moment, trying to process what was really going on. This was something from his dreams; the nights he stayed up with his hands in his pants, whimpering her name as images flashed through his mind.

Sokka got on his knees, shuffling into the tent. As he glanced into the warmly lit place, he was surprised to see (Y/N) shrugging her shirt off, her shoulder exposed as well as her bra.

"Oh- sorry-"

(Y/N) laughed, turning around to grab his hand before he laughed.

"I'm doing this so you can see, stupid."

Sokka blushed, nodding his head cautiously. He sat on the felt that lined the floor of the tent. Rubbing his hands over the familiar feeling over the cloth, his attention was caught by a cold hand on his shoulder. He looked up, only to see (Y/N) nervously sitting on her knees in front of him in her undergarments.

"Oh.. oh spirits.."

He said, drinking in her body. His eyes glanced over every curve, every perfect imperfection, every freckles and every mole. He smiled, looking at her onxe again before giving her a deep kiss.

The two leaned back onto the make-ship bed, his hands caressing her sides. (Y/N) tugged at his shirt, causing him to break the kiss.

"You okay?"

Sokka didn't really know what he was doing. Hes only kissed a few girls before, like Suki or Yue, even girls back at home, but anything past that was untouched territory.

"You think you should take your clothes off? At least the over clothes."

(Y/N) suggested nervously, smiling softly. Somka let out a quick 'oh yeah', before leaning back and taking his shirt off. He kicked off his boots, taking his pants off. He shuffled his shirt off.

When he looked back down at (Y/N) he saw that she wasn't quite staring at his face, or even his chest. It was just a quick glare, but he knew what she was looking at.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that.."

The painful warmth in his crotch only grew more at the sight of her looking at his erection. She just laughed slightly, rolling her eyes.

"It's a good thing, Sokka."

Sokka smiled, shuffling over to where (Y/N) laid. He dipped down, his lips being placed against hers in an instant. He gripped her waist, dragging her closer to his hips.

The kisses were messy, sloppy with spit and their tongues lapping the sides of each others mouths. Both Sokka and (Y/N) wanted more; no, needed more.

"Sokka, can we try something?"

(Y/N) whispered against his lips, and was only greeted with an eager nod. She grabbed one of his hands that was on her waist, bringing it over to her crotch. He placed it on her underwear, not quite knowing what to do.

She grabbed the side of her panties, moving it to the side to expose her. Sokka's eyes widened at the sight, it being the opposite of what he expected. He looked over the folds, the bud at the top, and of course, the inviting entrance. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Okay so.."

(Y/N) grabbed his hand, making a fist with his fingers. She grabbed his ring finger, showing it to him.

"You want to put this in there."

She gestures to her hole, which was wet with her slick.

"O-okay."

Sokka stuttered out. (Y/N) let go of his hand, and he took a deep breath. The tip of his finger grazed the entrance, before quickly delving into her. He eyes widened, thighs almost closing at the intrusion.

"So, you're gonna want to curl-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sokka curled his finger, his long digit reaching the right spot. (Y/N) let out an unexpected moan, slapping her hand over her face. Sokka grew harder at the sight, and then did it again. She was more quiet this time, but the sound still made him feel amazing. After a few minutes, she was a squealing mess. Without asking, Sokka added his middle finger, causing (Y/N) to moan aggressively.

The sound was amazing, like something you could listen to over and over again and never get tired of it. He repeated the motions, eliciting groans from her sweet mouth.

(Y/N) began to grow aware of Sokka's painful erection, and no matter how good this felt, she knew this would feel better. She grabbed his wrist, which woke him up from his trance.

"Do you want to.."

She said, looking at his member. Sokka blushed, nodding quickly. He removed his fingers from her, glancing up before grabbing the band of his boxers. He slipped them off, and felt the relief of the cold air on him.

(Y/N) was staring. Staring hard. Was he too small? Did he not look right? Was there something wrong?

"Holy.."

Sokka had a good 6 inches on him, which was great for a teenager. (Y/N) was pulsing at the sight of him, her slick dripping down her ass.

"Okay, so.."

(Y/N) sat up, moving so she was on her hands and knees and her ass was facing Sokka.

"I think this is how you do it."

Sokka nodded. This was the most quiet shes ever heard him be, a whole new side of the boy.

He shuffled forward, grabbing his dick with his hand and lining himself up with her.

"Now, don't put it in my- augh!'

Her sentence was interrupted with a moan as he shoved himself in aggressively. He whimpered audibly, not used to the new feeling.

"Oh my spirits.."

He groaned, pulling himself out before sliding back in. (Y/N) moaned again, gripping the felts beneath her hands. Sokka repeated the motion, speeding up every time. Soon, you could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin, (Y/N) letting out small 'ah, ah, ah's. Sokka was letting a stream of curses fall from his lips, a familiar knot in his stomach forming.

"(Y/N).."

He moaned, grabbing onto her soft waist.

"I need to tell you- AUGH- something.."

(Y/N) tightened around Sokka, which only made his growing orgasm arrive sooner.

"You can be rude to me- ah- later!"

She said in a strained voice. Everything felt so otherworldly, like they were the only teeo people in the universe.

"Not that."

He said with a grunt, his hands tracing over her ass as he grinded harder and harder.

"Im-"

He began but realized he was about to cum. He jolted forward, trying to hold it back. That single movement pushed (Y/N) over the edge, shaking and moaning with her orgasm.

"I'm in love with-"

As the words slipped out, so did his arrival. She grabbed her waist tight, enough to bruise, and pushed into her.

"-youaughhh.."

His words were mixed with moans, his white liquid coating the inside of her. He pulled himself out, and saw his cum dripping from her pussy. He asshole was pulsating, her legs quivering, and her waist had tiny fingerprints from his grasp.

(Y/N) flopped down onto her bed, not caring about cleaning up. On the other hand, Sokka was trying to grab a hand towel as fast as he could. He reached over, softly wiping the white liquid from her and her bed. She sighed, rolling over onto her back. Sokka tossed the towel to the side, looking at her panting body from above.

"I'm not a virgin anymore."

He spat out with a toothy grin, making her roll her eyes.

"We're on the same page here."

...

EXTRA!!

Katara rubbed her eyes, stepping out of her tent and into the bright morning light. She had gotten absolutely no sleep last night. Unlike Toph and Aang who could sleep through a tornado, she was kept up all night by (Y/N) and Sokka's 'make up sex'.

She glanced over to the campfire, which occupied Sokka roasted a frog. She stomped over, punching him right in the jaw so he fell over on his side.

"What was that for?"

He asked, looking at Katara like she was insane.

"For keeping me up all night! You deserve two black eyes you little-"

Sokka scrambled up, running into the forest as Katara ran after him.

#avatar the last airbender #fandom #fanfic #fluff #katara #sokka #sokka x reader #smut #make up sex #virginity loss

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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[dailymanners]

If you're like me, you may have had the feeling that since lockdown people have been ruder, more aggressive, and lacking in compassion. The bad news is, you might be right. Some studies and data coming out show that people have gotten ruder and more aggressive since lockdown (x)(x)(x). And the thing is, if even a few people have gotten ruder and more aggressive over the past few years, that's unfortunately spreading. Rudeness and aggression are contagious, if someone feels stressed and upset and like the world is against them because of constant cruelty and apathy from others, they may be likely to adapt the same attitude and spread this attitude even more.

However, there's good news too! Kindness, courtesy, and compassion are also contagious! Acts of kindness and compassion uplift others and inspire them to do the same. You have the power to start a ripple affect with acts of kindness, compassion, and just good manners. You have the power to put the breaks on or even reverse this trend in aggression and hostility that's popped up the past few years.

I made this blog because I'm tired of the constant hostility I've witnessed in public over the past few years. I think we have the power to do better, if we're only reminded.

Now you may be wondering, why do good manners even matter? Aren't they just a bunch of dumb rules made up by old dead people? Well, maybe some manners like "no hats indoors" or "no elbows on the table" are arbitrary and honestly it's harmless not to follow those, but that's why I won't be focusing on good manners that have no clear purpose behind them in this blog. In this blog, I'm going to focus on manners that matter.

By manners that matter I mean, manners that have a clear and definable purpose of showing compassion and empathy to other people. Your words and actions have consequences in how they affect the people around you, manners make sure that they affect others in a good way. Manners are the true social lubricant that makes sharing both private and public spaces with other people better for everyone. Going to work, going to restaurants and shops, and using any public space like roads, sidewalks, and parks is going to be better for everyone if we're all being considerate and compassionate to those around us. And this matters because, just like I said earlier kindness is just as contagious as cruelty, so when you're kind and polite to others it will circle back around to you eventually either way.

This is also why I'll be posting an explanation for every manner I post. I myself an neurodivergent so I understand the importance of needing an explanation behind manners. And even if you're not neurodivergent I understand why you wouldn't want to just blindly follow an old social rule without being given a good explanation. This is why I'll always explain why it's polite to do x. Why it's beneficial to you and/or others.

And always remember for every manner I post, I am not forcing you to do any of these. If you are unable to do any given manner I post for any reason, or you just don't want to, you are free to ignore it and simply carry on with your life. Of course if you're a wheelchair user it's going to be harder to open doors for others or if you're non-verbal it's not going to be possible to say excuse me whenever you accidentally bump into someone. Consider this my disclaimer that any of these that you are unable to do due to a disability you are not obligated to do.

#manners #politeness #courtesy #empathy

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter one

“don’t call me by my name.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: descriptions of reader’s demon form, Alastor uses the chain and withholding your breakfast as punishment, Alastor takes pleasure in your fear, power dynamics, reader worries over being punished, lecherous demons in an alley, non-consensual grab and lick of the face, graphic violence, murder, blood, teeth as a weapon, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.5k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine

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“Why didn’t you bring me a boy to play with?” Niffty pouted, her little foot stomping the carpet. 

She hadn’t been pleased when Alastor broke the news that he had acquired a new maid to help her out around the hotel, and glared at you past his legs. He laughed, seeming to enjoy her tantrum. You still weren’t sure how to feel about this Demon who had taken over your contract. While he had been pleasant enough at the Emporium after Rosie signed you over, he hadn’t spoken a word to you while leading you through the streets of Hell to bring you here. 

“I’m afraid you’ve answered your own question, Niffty dear. Had I brought you a toy, I’m not so sure you’d sustain your productivity. Which is precisely why I brought help.” He turned to look back at you for the first time then, your chest tightening from the eye contact. Alastor maintained contact as he continued, “Sylvie will maintain my quarters for now so as not to take away from your duties, but once the hotel gets busier I expect you to play nice and share. Besides, she’ll need training before we just let her loose around the hotel! We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

He smirked at you and broke his gaze, pivoting to make his way up the stairs. Before the others could get a chance to come talk to you, an invisible tug was at your neck and you hurried to catch up with Alastor.

“I’ll show Sylvie to her room so she can settle in,” Alastor said loud enough for everyone, still facing forward as he continued up the staircase.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That had been a week ago.

Everyone else had been fairly welcoming, Charlie being the kindest. She and her girlfriend Vaggie had made the most effort getting to know you, which made sense being they were in charge of the hotel. Though he wasn’t rude, Husker only spoke to you in short quips. You tried not to dwell on the pity in his eyes any time you crossed by the bar in the lobby.

Angel Dust had been nice too, the few times you had managed to see him and always at the bar, joking amicably that you could almost pass as twins despite quite obvious differences. He was a decent amount taller and slimmer than you for starters. Hell seemed to have turned him into a spider of sorts, and if you had to take a guess, you had spawned here as some kind of milky-colored reptile. No scales, but there was a faint pearlescent pattern of something close to that covering your neck, back, and extremities. 

It was still jarring to see your reflection in the mirror. There were parts you still recognized, though even those features had felt Hell’s touch. To your relief, your face still looked more or less the same. Nearly Human passing, until your newly-added nictitating membrane blinked right-to-left. Though your red pupils and pink sclera were also a dead giveaway (haha, get it?). Something you weren’t sure you’d ever adjust to, but hey, you earned it right?

You had just finished getting into the black collared dress Alastor demanded you wore for work when a dark shadow pooled under your feet. Complete darkness and seconds later, you were standing in the parlor of Alastor’s suite. 

“[Y/N],” Alastor’s low, static voice lingered on it, red eyes boring into you. Something he had gleaned very quickly in the week was how unsettled you got when he used your real name, and enjoyed the opportunities to use it. “I find tardiness to be an irksome trait. Do not make it a habit. Am I understood?”

You fought a grimace, loathing his condescension. The Radio Demon’s smile threatened to tear as he watched you struggle to maintain composure. You hadn’t succeeded completely, but you were making some progress.

“Well?” he goaded.

“Yes, sir,” you managed to say evenly, hands fidgeting behind your back.

You knew better now than to play into his tricks. He was trying to get you to react, a sport he took great pleasure in succeeding at. So when he wasn’t ordering you around, he was complaining about the look on your face. Sullen, petulant, ghastly, he had used all kinds of names. And when you had gotten cheeky with him about it on your second day after hours of scrubbing the area rug in his room that he had dirtied on purpose…

The slight ache in the back of your neck served as a reminder of that. Sadistically, the chain was the only true cold you’ve felt since spawning in Hell and it seemed to burn more than acid rain. It wasn’t hard to remember the weight of it, the sweaty feeling of it on your skin. Alastor had enjoyed it all immensely. 

Denying him his fun in pissing you off probably wasn’t good in the long term, but you had to toe the line in order to find the limit. You wanted to learn as much as you could about the creature who owned you. Eternity was never-ending, but learning how to cope was all you could try to do. Being moved to this hotel had turned out to be a true blessing all things considered, so if navigating Alastor’s moods and demands was the price, you would have to pay it.

“Good!” The expression on Alastor’s face quickly relaxed into a more pleasant one. “Now hurry up and run into town to fetch my dry cleaning, and bring me something from that new butcher shop. I’ll leave it to you to decide, I so love surprises! Skipping breakfast will serve as your warning for being tardy. See you in an hour, dear.”

With that, he disappeared before you in a quick melt of shadow.

He was so. Fucking. Annoying. But you wouldn’t risk throwing a tantrum. For all you knew, he was still somewhere in the room, and honestly, you didn’t have time to waste. The walk from here to Cannibal Town was about twenty minutes and Alastor had summoned you before you had been able to put on your shoes, a five-minute setback at least. He had also made no mention of how you were expected to pay for any of this… 

Time to perform a fucking miracle, you thought to yourself, and made your way for the door.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor watched as you took a deep breath and smoothed your pale pink hair before leaving his room. The small click of the door locking echoed in the silence. He re-materialized near the large window that faced the city, grinning when he finally saw you walking off the premises at a hurried pace. You were so close to coming loose, so close to breaking that unbecoming pout. How he loathed it. He would rid you of the self-pity you wallowed in, even if it drove you to madness. A chuckle escaped him at the thought.

When you spoke back to him last week it had been such a thrill. Alastor closed his eyes, reliving the memory. He had allowed himself a moment to enjoy your insolence before inverting it to fear. Now that was a face he could get used to. The cold sweat on your skin, your red-pink eyes wide with shock. The sound of your hands and knees hitting the floor was music to his ears! Though he would never forget the gasp that caught in your throat from the shock.

He didn’t even need to raise his voice when he told you never to speak to him that way again, a direction you had perhaps taken too much to heart. Then again, you didn’t come across as a fighter. No, you were much too apathetic for that, at least for now.

And you had smelled so lovely in your fear. The usual floral sweetness of your scent had turned warm and nutty. For a moment he was certain he had picked up a hint of bitterness before you had mouthed off, but it disappeared so quickly once you were frightened that he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he wanted to smell it again.

With some luck, that would be quite soon; a little over an hour now if all goes according to plan. The Radio Demon had never expected you to return within the given timeframe.

Setting you up to fail wasn’t fair, but it was certainly fun.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Donner’s Butchery had been absolutely packed, but you managed to purchase the last available pound of liver. Their selection had been so low that you were more concerned with walking out of there without anything at all. Whether or not Alastor would enjoy it was a matter reserved for your return, though you hoped he would since you had to open a tab to get it. 

Thankfully, the dry cleaning had been settled upfront so you were actually starting to feel a little optimistic about making it back in time. In fact, you were now determined to be back in time out of spite. Imagining the veiled irritation on Alastor’s face when you arrived within the hour kept you distracted from the hunger pain in your stomach, and your pace subconsciously picked up. The high was short-lived though once your mind wandered to what other tasks Alastor would surely have lined up once you handed him his clothes and liver.

And what if he hated liver? You were in such a hurry that you didn’t even know what kind it was if he asked about it, which he probably would if only to watch you squirm trying to answer. The hotel wasn’t too far off now and you stepped into an alley to search the bag for a receipt, hoping that the butcher had been thorough enough to write it down. You found the receipt taped to the butcher paper, the words DEER LIVER scribbled with thick, black marker. 

“Thank god,” you sighed quietly, relieved to have peace of mind and placed it back in the bag. You were just about to step back onto the sidewalk when you heard laughter behind you.

“God ain’t here, sweetheart. Haven’t you noticed?”

You turned to see two demons, already standing much closer to you than you’d like. In your desperation to check the bag, you hadn’t heard them approaching. Something that should have embarrassed you, given the sour smell wafting off their clothes, but there wasn’t time for that. You took a quick glance at the clocktower.

Five minutes.

Of course it was… Even if you ran, you’d probably only get to the gate at best and knowing Alastor, that wouldn’t count.

“You got somewhere to be? Hand over the bag and maybe we’ll let you go,” the taller one continued, his plump sidekick snickering, both moving to cage you in.

God damn it… You were so close. So fucking close. Not only that, but were you were hungry and exhausted. All you had done this week was try your best to manage Alastor’s impossible expectations for what? An easier eternity? The creeps standing near you were right, God wasn’t here. This is Hell. Suffering eternal. 

The sanctuary you thought you’d found at the hotel was anything but. Its promise of redemption was the dangling carrot, always just out of reach. A sick joke, just like everything else here. Not that you had ever planned to be redeemed, you knew why you were here, but living in the hotel had lulled you into a false sense of security. Hell wasn’t clean and filled with mild-mannered sinners.

“Look at that, she’s fucking crying!” the plump demon laughed, bringing you back to the moment. “You’ve always liked ‘em scared, Donny.”

The tall one, apparently called Donny, shot his arm out to block you from leaving, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Is he right, baby? You scared?”

You could feel your heart in your throat. Scared? You were pissed. And when Donny grabbed your face and boldly licked a tear off your cheek, you snapped.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The Radio Demon had been hard at work tuning Vaggie out for the last few minutes. He was aimlessly wandering the lobby when she cornered him, seeming to have finally found her opportunity to interrogate him over acquiring your soul. It would have been easy enough to tell the disgraced Angel that it was the least he could do considering the help Rosie had provided them, but upsetting Vaggie was simply too much fun.

She was droning on about how she and Charlie would be taking over the onboarding of any more new employees when Alastor felt a chain rattle, ear flicking in response. Some fool was messing with his property. He reached out mentally to follow the chain and soon caught the scent of almond. He grimaced. Of course it was yours.

“As much as I cherish our conversations, I’ll need to cut this short Vaggie. I’m afraid duty calls,” Alastor said smugly, grinning at the rage on her face from being so casually brushed off before slipping into shadow.

When Alastor materialized in an alley he was met with piercing screams, and it took him a moment to register what he was seeing. You were on the ground straddling the waist of some poor soul, your face covered in blood as you tore out your victim’s neck with your teeth. The creature in question no longer seemed to have much left of the lower half of his face, the remnants of it no doubt lying somewhere in the gore. His death rattle was nothing more than a gurgle and spurt of blood, but it seemed you were too lost in your rampage to notice he was now motionless beneath you.

Alastor didn’t bother with the pudgy creature that had no doubt been your victim’s friend. Well, perhaps not a very good friend, seeing as the coward ran away once he regained his footing. Besides, it wouldn’t be difficult to track the cretin down if Alastor changed his mind about it later.

For now, his focus was on you and what a glorious sight it was. He wished for a moment that your dress had been a different color, just to see how much blood and scraps of flesh had soaked into it. Judging from the mess on your face, it had to be quite a lot.

The sounds coming from you were savage, nearly carnal, and you were relentless in your attack despite the damage already done. When would you stop, he wondered. When there was nothing but bone? The aspect thrilled him to the core and he sniffed deeply, taking in the scent of blood and almond. There it was — that delicious, bitter, nutty warmth. He had been right. Letting out a satisfied, pleasured sigh, he waited patiently for you to finish. After a minute or so you succeeded in decapitating the fool, and Alastor made his approach as you struggled to catch your breath. 

Gingerly tapping you once with his foot, you startled with a growl and snapped your teeth. Alastor let out a low chuckle, taking in the wild look of your face, eyes glowing pink.

“I believe he’s had enough for now, dear. You made good work of him, I’m quite impressed,” he said, giving you a proud smile. “Now let’s get you home before you cause a scene.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello!

How do you leave a good comment on a work when you notice a large error? Or a small error,m I get so nervous to leave a comment nowadays because not many people have clear statements regarding criticism. So, I'm hesitant to point out anything out/ leave a comment that's anything but positive.

I remember a few months ago, on a BNHA work, I corrected the timeline of canon events that author got wrong (because the WIP seemed to be going down that route of "canon adjacent" work that spawn from a canonical event). The author had a message beneath the chapters that "all comments were welcomed," so I thought it was okay to leave the type of comment I did. But I dealt with several aggressive messages from the author and the author's friends about needless critique and how rude I came off as afterwards (I apologized,but I still got messages for a while).

The whole thing freaked me out a bit because I hate any semblance of confrontation ,so now I'm nervous about commenting any work- even those with explicit statements on criticism (welcome ,not welcomed,etc). I leave kudos and such ,but sometimes I debate over whether or not the author needs my comment about their typos. I try to sandwich a critique between two compliments like everyone says,but then I end up with a paragraph-length comment, and I worry about coming off too strongly.

I'm rambling,sorry.

Is there a guide to good comments for criticism in fanworks? Besides not giving criticism when criticism would not be welcomed??

Thank you for your time.

First of all, I'm sorry that you had such a bad experience. I'm sure that was awful for you, and I totally understand why it would freak you out.

When it comes to correcting things in fanfic, there are a lot of things to take into account.

Why does correcting the error matter to you?

How well do you know the author?

How long would it take to make the correction?

There are others, but these are the bigger "buckets" I see most of them fitting into.

If the error matters to you because you get annoyed when you see typos, for example, then that's more of a "you" problem. You can download the fic and edit out the typos and then when you reread it, you won't have to worry about them.

If the error matters to you because you'd be embarrassed if you had posted a fic and there were typos in it, that's also kind of a "you" problem. If the author feels the same way, they'll likely have an author's note indicating that they want to be notified. Otherwise, they're likely resigned to the idea that typos will happen, and if they reread their work themselves, they'll edit them out if and when they catch them.

If the error matters to you because it's non-canonical, this one is more of a wait and see. Maybe the author made the error by accident, but it very well could be on purpose. Perhaps that small change is relevant to the overall plot they're developing. Maybe it's just a thing that they personally hate in canon and have decided that they don't want to include for that reason. Maybe it's a genuine error that they'd be horrified to notice later. There's no way to know.

And that last one is where we come to the second item above. If you know the author well, you can message them and have a chat and bring it up there. I'd recommend just starting out by talking about the story as a whole and what their plan is for it. As I said, maybe what you see as an error is actually a conscious choice that they've made for the story that they want to tell. During that conversation, you'll be able to figure out whether it's actually an error and whether they'd want it pointed out or not.

If you don't know the author well, you could point an error like that out in a comment but then you need to think about the third factor.

Typos take seconds to change. Plot points take hours, days, weeks, or longer. Asking someone to put in a lot of time to make a change to something they've already been working hard on can be really demotivating - even crushing.

For a lot of authors (possibly even most?) they put a lot of work into their fics before they ever get to the point of posting them. They've read, revised, planned, and plotted. They might even have additional chapters already written that are in the revision process and just haven't been posted yet.

Especially in long works, authors look to the comments as a cheering section to urge them on towards completion, so posting corrections or pointing out errors can feel like someone standing up and booing. I think that's what happened in that BNHA situation you referenced in your ask.

That's why the general suggestion when it comes to commenting with corrections is just to not do so. If you want, you can comment about all of the things you like in the fic and then ask if the author wants a beta. That would allow you to have those conversations about their vision for the fic, and it would also allow you to offer feedback before the work is posted and while it's still being edited and worked on.

Otherwise, if it really does bother you, I'm afraid you might just need to dip out and find a different fic.

#asks and answers #long post

[meatonfork]

need me a fluff fic with the entire task force 141 at a club but some men gets handsy with grim and everyone else beats the shit out of them

Hands Off

——————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grin

warnings: alcohol, violence, non-consensual touches, ghost fuming

summary: grim gets touched inappropriately and their boys are not happy

———————————————————————————————————————

your mission was successful. and, with a success comes a reward.

you lot had booked a hotel, and then decided to hit a local club for some drinks. seeing as you were only 20, being in a country that allowed you to drink at 18 was an even bigger win.

you could hold your own. alcohol never affected you too deeply until around the seventh drink. 

you were sat around a table, laughing at something soap had said, when you decided you wanted another drink.

“hey, i’ll be right back. just getting another drink.” you got up with a smile gracing your face. this was the most laid back the guys had seen you. your hair was down in it’s natural waves, and you finally wore something that wasn’t military-esque clothing. some mom jeans and a light colored graphic tee. your converse lightly tapped the bar’s floor below you. 

waving down the bartender, you told her your order and waited patiently for your drink. you all decided to put it on price’s tab without telling him. 

you felt a presence next to you. expecting it to be soap or gaz, you turned with a wide smile. 

it wasn’t soap, or gaz.

in fact, you didn’t know who this man was. he was tall and had a dark beard. his hair was fluffy and hung above his eyebrows. he was fit and seemed to be around 6′2.

you tilted your head, squinting your eyes, “can i help you, sir?” your smile didn’t leave your face, but it did falter a bit when you saw it wasn’t your boys.

“hey, yeah. i think you can, actually.” he bit his lower lip and made eye contact.

“okay..?”

“you mind if i buy someone this pretty a drink?” his voice was gruff, but it sent the wrong shivers down your spine. you didn’t trust him. not one bit.

“uh, actually, i do mind. you don’t need to do that.” your voice was even and soft. you didn’t want to be rude, yet you really wanted nothing to do with him.

“oh, come on. just one drink! you’re too pretty to be buyin’ your own drinks, sweetheart.” he was persistent, you’d give him that.

“no, really. it’s fine.” you were short with your answer. your eyes narrowed and your smile fell completely. 

your brows pulled together when he shifted closer. he lifted a hand to wrap a finger around one of your curls.

“i insist.” he just wouldn’t drop it.

you scoot back, but his hand grips your waist.

you tried to push him off, but his hand slid down to your ass, giving a rough squeeze. ick.

you let out a yelp and his face moved closer and planted the sloppiest, wettest kiss you’ve ever had the displeasure of receiving.

your eyes widened and you kept pushing.

when he pulled back you yelled, “what the fuck! get the hell off me!”

gaz’s head snapped over at the sound of your distress. your small figure was pushing on a man much bigger than you, eyes frantic and full of panic.

“oh, shit. guys.”

“what?” 

gaz pointed to where you were struggling across the bar.

the sound of a chair being pushed back and thunderous footsteps headed your way.

“hey! get off ‘em!” soap’s voice sounded over the music, and the man was pulled back.

“they told you to stop. get off.” price gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side. your vision was slightly blurry from tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“i’m good. i’m good, really.” a whisper left your mouth.

“who the fuck even are you guys? can’t a guy get a nice piece of ass in peace? i mean, look at the ti-” the guy was cut off when ghost wound his arm back and punched him in the mouth. 

“oh, shit. ghost stop!” your voice was shrill with panic and you jumped forward to grab his arm. but, he managed another punch as the guy stood up. you froze, panicked. 

“don’t.” punch. “fucking.” punch. “touch them.” punch. 

you took this as your queue to finally grab his arm. 

“stop. stop. i’m okay. let’s leave.” hearing your voice made ghost still, and he turned to leave. price dug his wallet out and slammed a few $100 bills on the counter and rushed to follow the rest of you, not before spitting on the sad piece of shit on the ground. 

the whole way back to the hotel gaz had his arm in yours, and soap was talking nonsense to get a smile out of you. which worked, by the way. 

once back to the hotel, you changed into sweats and threw your hair up in a bun. you grabbed a blanket and left the room, locking your door behind you.

navigating the halls to a certain masked man’s door, you knocked lightly. “ghost? it’s me, grim. can i come in?”

the door opened and ghost took a step back to let you in. he had changed into sweats, as well as a sweatshirt. his mask stayed on, but his eyes gave away enough to see that he was still pissed.

 you shuffle in and he closed the door behind you gently.

you sat the blanket on his bed before turning and grabbing his hand, leading him to the bathroom. “c’mon, big guy. let’s look at your hand.” you smiled up at him and turned on the light. 

“sit.” your finger pointed to the toilet, and he obliged. grabbing a small towel, you ran it under warm water before standing between his legs and lifting his hand. 

you worked in complete silence, wiping the blood from his cracked knuckles. he studies your face the whole time. you were content. after a few minutes, a small chuckle left your mouth.

“s’funny?” his voice was raspy and you laughed a little harder.

“nothing, really. but, you looked so pissed. thank you, by the way. i really appreciate what you did.” you made eye contact with your gentle giant and gave him a toothy smile.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” he dismissed you, but his eyes crinkled at the edges. he was smiling back. 

you finished bandaging his hands with some small talk here and there.

“movie night?” you sounded tired.

“yeah, movie night.” a squeal left your lips and you ran out the bathroom, flopping on the bed.

a small chuckle left his lips, and he crawled under the blanket you were holding up for him. once he settled, you crawled to his side and put your full weight on his left side, and turned on a movie.

———————————————————————————————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this, loves <3

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #cod #cod mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2022 #141 x reader #task force 141 #grim au

[reqxxyt]

the minute i fell

pairings: charles l. x f!reader

summary: in which Charles and Carlos make a bet to get with the photographer of Ferrari, a reserved introvert, but finally getting the chance to speak to her, Charles realizes he already lost.

warnings: i had no idea how to end this.. very rushed ending

wc: 2.1k

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited]

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The duo sat on the paddock floor, laughing along as others passed them in the ferrari garage not taking into consideration of their conversation. 

“I’m telling you, I am amazing with the women” Charles claimed while Carlos gave him a non convinced look, not accepting his claim. A familiar figure caught Carlos’ eye ready to prove Charles wrong. 

“What about y/n?” Carlos said, a bit quieter as the two turned analyzing her movements as she was adjusting the camera settings, ready to pack and leave. Charles’ gaze longed as he was about to reject the proposal before he heard the spaniard next to him say “Or you could always prove yourself wrong” 

Charles competitive spirit flamed as he just nodded, turning his gaze away from the girl towards Carlos just nodding his head making the other just smirk, already loving the idea of how this would turn out.

It was well known in the garage that y/n didn’t like to be bothered, very quiet and reserved to others. Everyone at some point tried to be friendly towards her but her blunt responses would cause them to turn away, thinking she didn’t like them, didn’t like anyone. 

So when Charles got up he automatically crossed off all of his starter questions knowing it would only end the conversation in 2 seconds. On the other end, the girl was exhausted, having dealt with trying to capture the best moments of the weekend with a constant headache and jetlag. But the job overweight the cons everytime, she was only ever quiet because she was too focused on her job, not allowing anyone to interrupt her during her time. Yes, she already knew most saw her as rude, but she didn’t mind that, at least they stopped pretending to be nice the first week. 

“Capture all the good moments?” at first she thought Charles wasn’t speaking to her, still focused on tuning some camera settings until she heard him clear his throat in front of her finally making her look up. He waited for a proper response but all he received was a tight smile and a barely noticeable nod. The girl was about to gather her belongings, thinking the conversation was done but instead he kept talking to her, “Maybe I’ll get an early preview?”

“Yeah, maybe” she said simply, getting her tote bag and ready to walk out, but Charles didn’t seem to give up almost blocking her exit before she scurried next to him and squeezed outside. 

“What are you doing later tonight?” he ran up to her, catching up to her fast pace clearly catching the hint but refusing to give up this early after Carlos doubted him. Y/n simply shrugged mumbling a soft “don’t know” 

“What if-” he was interrupted with y/n turning and catching him off guard as she finally grew annoyed and said “What do you want, Charles? Seriously, do you find it entertaining to talk to someone who doesn’t want a conversation right now?”

Charles stood, stunned at her questions, finally gathering his thoughts after a couple of moments, commenting “This is the most you’ve spoken. Improvement” the corners of his lips twitch upwards as she sighed, growing more irritated that that was the portion he focused on more. Before he could say anything more on her ‘improvement’ she turned saying a simple “Goodnight” leaving Charles to think to himself while his teammate was trying not to laugh a few feet away seeing Charles’ failed attempt with front row seats. 

A couple of days later

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t hate the plan for today, it consisted of having to do a photoshoot with the two drivers. She was hoping to not have to interact with Charles but the way the past couple of days had gone he would definitely try something. 

She had finally finished adjusting the lighting on the scene, seeing the two drivers walk up to their designated areas and before she  could even wrap around the strap on my neck, she spotted Charles with messed up hair. The photographer looked around, hoping to find their hairdresser but found them nowhere near, with a heavy sigh she walked to Charles and trying to keep the most distance, leaned upwards and adjusted the strands that stuck out not daring to make eye contact or take a smell of his fresh cologne.

Charles tried his best to keep her in that same position, praying her gaze would lower to his own, thinking eye contact could help him with achieving this stupid bet he already began regretting and having doubts of his own, but he refused to accept defeat. Seeing her simply turn around after finishing made him internally frustrated, trying to come up with another idea while she was still here. 

After the first set, Charles subconcecially ran his hands through his hair, not realizing he had messed it up until he heard her steps forward him replacing his hand with her own as she ran through it, trying her best to fix his mess. In that moment, Charles felt his own heart speed up, realizing just how pretty the girl was from up close, with a focused gaze having her nose scrunch before leaning back down. This time, she glanced back at him, making direct eye contact but stepped back forcing herself away from him. 

“Fix your shirt Leclerc” she commented, waiting on him as she walked back to her original position. Charles looked down only seeing it tucked in slightly. His innocent smile grew with curious eyes as he asked 

“Why not fix it for me?” he immediately noticed the way her cheeks got pink, whether that be from the bright sun or his question he doesn’t want the answer to, wanting his own delusions to be the true meaning but she just glared at him, ignoring how the sun somehow made his eyes look perfect at the current angle. 

“That would be considered inappropriate” she said, looking back down, ready to take the next set right after he could fix it but she just looked up at him seeing his innocent smile. She turned to Carlos, asking him to fix it and he did with no obligation, she just smiled to herself afterwards before taking another couple of photos, checking them afterwards ready to take the final set at the next location. 

The two followed the girl to the next location with a safe enough distance where she couldn’t hear their whispered conversation. 

“No luck?” Carlos asked even though already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him and finally admit to defeat but Charles only refused, saying “it’s only been a couple of days”

Carlos just hummed before the two finally caught back up to the girl, waiting for them by the two cars. She instructed them where to stand, giving them simple instructions thinking it shouldn’t be that difficult completely forgetting she was dealing with an irratating Charles today. He stood a couple of feet away from his position, 

“Can you scoot to the left a little, Charles?” she asked, trying her best to appear polite and surprisingly he did as he was told with no obligation. She took the first picture, making sure there was no odd glare anywhere before finally getting back down to take more shots. Taking the final picture, she concluded the day with a simple ‘perfect’. 

The girl was looking through them all, making some adjustments not appearing to notice the Monacan driver walking up to her, only managing to spook her with a simple greeting, only earning a glare right after. 

"Do you need something else" she asked, putting her camera down to face him and while the gesture may have meant little to the photographer it meant an advancement to Charles, making eye contact was his specialty. 

"Just making sure I look good" he said with his charming smile, she only nodded mumbling a barely audible "You always do" but Charles had heard, not so clear but he could make up the mumble, making his smirk grow just by a millimeter. 

"Is it too late for you to fix my hair" he asked with a hint of mischief in his tone but she only stared blankly, not the slightest amused, ready to walk away from the conversation but he grasped her wrist before she could take a step holding her back, sending a strange sensation to both. 

"Terrble joke" he apoligized, knowing he was giving her a hard time. He sighed, debating the options before finally admitting, "Truth is, me and Carlos had this bet going on for the past couple of days, now thinking about it, it was stupid. I won’t bother you again, just please don’t hate me"

"I already knew" she shrugged not appearing the slightest suuprised meanwhile Charles nearly had his whole jaw agape of the reveal. "I was waiting for when you would tell me"

"You knew? Since when?" he didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or stupid. Definetly both.

"The first day" she said ready turn now before saying "Don’t worry, I could never hate the prettiest driver"

The next day had been quite normal, considering Charles stopped bothering the girl, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The girl he couldn’t get, had started off as a bet where he would have her fall for him, turned to him falling for her. 

“Hey, Charles?” Her voice made his heart spike up, turning to see her with a small smile. “Mind helping me with something?” 

He nodded, waiting for her request as she fiddled with her ear, taking out a single earring. 

“I lost my earring earlier, mind helping me look of it?” he noticed her earring, one similar to another he had spotted not too far, a golden stud with diamond specs. He just nodded, observing it in her hand before replying with a simple sure. Without saying much else, he headed to the last place he saw it last with the girl trailing behind him. 

“I think I saw it earlier around here” he informed, starting the search with her. “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry before” he attempted to make a conversation and while the girl hesitated, she decided to reply with interest, “I don’t. Normally I am not allowed to, I only wear them on formal occasions really. But the one time I tried wearing it, i seemed to have lost it”

Charles only chuckled, searching the area with more detail. “It sure looks pretty, gift, I assume?” he wanted the conversation to last a lifetime, hearing her voice made him both comfortable and on suspense. 

“Yeah, my mother gave it to me. The only gift she gave me and I’ve lost it” her voice filled with sorrow and Charles immedietly filled terrible, ready to apoligize for even bringing it up but all she gave him was a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, I just need to find it is all” 

The search continued, lasting an hour before the girl gave a tired sigh, feeling her eyes trickled with water but she refused to cry, at least not in front of someone. She was ready to give up, clinging onto the one that she hasn’t lost yet hoping to anyone that could hear to allow her to find the gift. Meanwhile, Charles refused to give up not needing her frowned expression to be the appearance she gives him everyday because he couldn’t find her precious item. Not too long afterward, he finally spotted it, underneath a rug, he immediately grasped it letting out a soft yell, enough for her to hear him 

“Found it!” immediately, she went to him observing the earring before confirming it and thanking him, excitement struck her as she leaped forward grabbing the sides of his face pushing her lips to his. 

Charles arms fell to his sides, still needing time to react before closing her in his embrace wanting to deepen the kiss, eager for more, still ensuring to keep grasp of the earring. The kiss only lasted a minute before the girl finally brought herself back, bringing her hands to her sides, no longer looking at the earring but needing a positive reaction from the driver she as well was having a headache about the past couple of days. 

Seeing no reaction, she immediately grasped the earring thanking him silently but before she could turn away, he grabbed the sides of her face pulling her back in for another taste, she immediately melted in his arms, almost dropping the earring. After the two separated, their eyes wouldnt dare leave each other for a second, Charles lifting a corner of his mouth, feeling all types of adrenaline while the girl in his arms tried her best to calm down not sure if she was liking the rapid pace her heart was going. 

“Hope this isn’t part of your plan Leclerc” was all she could let out, with a shaky breath. Charles only smiled, reassuring her

“I lost the minute I started falling” 

#charles leclerc #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #fluff

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

#there are so many other words but i use these all the time #add whatever you want! #jumblr #frumblr #jewblr #yiddish #hebrew #jewish #jewish culture #j tag #jew tag

[neopuppy]

Arcade (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader

genre. hmm what’s all this then? anyway…… smut, M/F, pwp

warnings. vaginal/backdoor unprotected rough sex, rimming, non-consented camera use, you don’t have to read Switch+Chain to understand but it might help. minors DNI.

wc. 6k+

now playing. Arcade//NCT Dream

It’s hard.

It’s been hard actually, attempting to commit to some type of relationship while living in the same household as your.. whatever he was.

First love, the man who took your virginity, your boyfriend's father.

It doesn’t help that things have been really tense between you and Jeno ever since your mom refused to move out, claiming Johnny needs to compensate her for uprooting her life with false hope of a future together.

He acquires the guest room most nights, or…doesn’t come home, and you notice— you notice it every time. When he shows up the next day, neck garnished with bitten bruises poorly hidden under his collar, lips swollen red from whatever he got up to. The avoidance he graces you with— never once meeting your gaze as he passes by on the way to his office. It’s been about a month of this; and on top of it all your mother refuses to let you enjoy any alone time with Jeno.

‘I don’t approve of this.’ She repeats daily, shoving between the two of you sitting together in the living room. ‘You are not allowed to date this horrid insolent boy.’

Jeno can’t stand it either, not helping his case with his rude and disrespectful responses, arguing back and forth with her about how this is technically his house and she can leave.

“I can’t deal with your mom anymore.” He whispers. It’s 1am, also the time your mother typically passes out after raiding Johnny’s wine cabinet. Keeping you up later every night as you have to wait to sneak to each other’s bedrooms. “It’s been two weeks.”

Two weeks since you fucked.. in the upstairs bathroom at Mark’s house, some Saturday night kick back. Even then the two of you hadn’t mentioned your.. situationship to anyone. Jeno’s friends finding it peculiar how often he’s canceled on them to hang out with his… whatever you are.

“We can try a quiet activity..” you tease, tickling under his shirt.

“I can’t even fuck you in my room anymore without her breathing down my neck.” Jeno scowls, pushing his nose against your forehead. “Besides, we both know how loud you get, baby.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“I have an idea,” Jeno had already brought up getting a hotel before, foregoing the thought as his bank account stared back at him looking bleak; failing to mention that his father had cut off the weekly allowance he’d become accustomed to after their blow up(you know, the one about you). “Haechan just became a keyholder at that arcade place he works at.”

“You want to play video games, right now?”

“No no, I’m gonna ask him for a favor.” Jeno smiles, pulling you close to his chest. “For us.”

“Where are you going?”

Your foot tracks come to a halt just as you reach the front door, more dressed up than usual. Nothing much, a short velvet dress with lace trimming, something Jeno picked out from your closet without knowing who gifted it to you in the first place.

Placing your hand on your chest in mock-shock, you gasp turning to face Johnny. “Oh my God, I haven’t heard your voice in so long— I’d forgotten you even live here.”

“I remember this dress.” Johnny’s gaze traces down, stopping at your chest for a second too long as his mouth tweaks to one side. “You were supposed to wear it—“

“Yeah.” You interrupt, reaching for the hem floating just under the jut of your buttcheek to play with. “For our next weekend together, you said I looked pretty when I tried it on.”

“You do,” Johnny’s eyebrows come together, trailing down lower to your strappy heels and manicured toes. “You look beautiful, sexy. Gorgeous as always.”

“..do you miss me?” The question comes out unexpectedly, biting down on the sides of your tongue after asking, nervously pinching your thighs together as he nods; hand running through his loose hair and tugging at the ends.

“Of course I do.” Johnny nearly smiles, the corners of his lips pointing up, none of it reaching his dark eyes continuing to stay low and avoid your face. “But you’re going to meet my son right now, aren’t you?”

“No!” You snap to answer too fast, clearing your throat and swiping your hair back. “I’m meeting my friends.”

“You don’t have friends.” Johnny scoffs a laugh jokingly, shrugging half-apologetically. “Your mom asked me to make sure you stay away from Jeno, you know.”

“He’s my boy—friend..” you say hesitantly. “I think..���

“Yes, you do seem to be a pair.” Johnny hums, leaning against the hallway wall. “It’s almost as if your mother won’t leave my son's side and Jeno won’t leave yours. I don’t believe I’ve seen you once without him around ever since..”

“Ever since we broke up?”

“We didn’t break up.” Johnny’s fast to correct. “We were never together, not you and I anyway.” He waves off, more sluggish in appearance now as you step closer and take in his tired expression. “I should have left you alone.”

“What do you me—“

“You should get going, Jeno’s been waiting outside for a while now.” Johnny cuts you off, motioning to the front door. “Probably getting annoyed knowing him.”

“Did you ever love me?” You know you shouldn’t, but Johnny’s right; if Jeno’s not plastered to your back then your mom’s hovering around with her nose deep in your business. Over the last few weeks cuddled up next to Jeno wide awake as he softly snores you can’t stop your mind from spinning, asking questions you never received answers to.

“You still have to ask?” His shoulders fall, slumping further against the wall, hooded eyes falling to his feet. “Of course I did.. I still do. I always will.”

“Then why did yo—“

“What’s taking so long!” Jeno busts through the front door, pausing with his knuckles turning white where he grips the handle hard enough to break off. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Johnny says casually, shoving off the wall to stand up straight. “As we agreed to, nothing at all.” He nods in Jeno’s direction, returning to his usual stature of living without acknowledging your existence, not even a ‘goodbye’ wave before exiting the room.

Jeno grabs the crook of your elbow tugging you back into his chest hard enough to have you stumbling, gasping out of shock. “Was he talking to you?!”

“Huh? Ow! You’re hurting me!” Tugging your arm away at the same time Jeno releases as if you’ve burned off the skin off his palm sends you tumbling forward, saved by his arm swiftly coming to wrap around your waist; eyes bouncing around full of concern and confusion.

“Sorry! I mean..” Jeno’s teeth grind together, softly squeezing you in his hold. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to..”

“Okay.. is everything alright?”

He frowns, ducking in to press his chin against your shoulder, eyelashes dragging down to the side as his eyes fall and lose their usual sparkle. “Yeah, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay Jeno.. let’s get going, yeah?”

“Yeah yeah.” He nods, pecking your skin before moving back to get the door for you. “I didn’t think he was home, swore I heard him leave earlier. Thought he’d be gone for the night fucking some whore.”

Jeno leads you to his car, missing the way you flinch at the mention of Johnny’s reoccurring activities, still sensitive as you try to process the answer you’ve been looking for.

I always will. That’s what Johnny said.. but there was something else.

Jeno’s driving, drumming on the steering wheel to calm his anxiety, the image of your back facing him with his fathers lazy eyes on you as you stood much too close together won’t leave his mind. He’s sick of it really, fighting his own father for the same girl; brainstorming new ways to threaten him. Even breaking into the old man’s home office to look through his patients files for some dirt, completely illegal but what about this predicament isn’t at this point.

“Back there..” you break his thoughts, clearing your throat.

“Huh?” Jeno glances, shifting his tense shoulders to relax and lean back in his seat. “Back there?”

“Your dad.. he said something, about ‘as we agreed to’ I think..” you say cautiously, picking at your cuticle. “Did you guys ever talk? About.. us?”

Jeno steps down on the brake abruptly, hurling your chest forward restrained by the seat belt that tightens up around you. “What?”

At least the lights red, you think, rubbing at your sore chest. “...Ow..”

Jeno sighs, more annoyed now, tapping the steering wheel with more aggression. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Things have been weird, awkward I guess.. ever since..”

“Since he dumped you?” He sneers, pushing down on the gas pedal too hard and revving off down the street, luckily empty at this late hour.

“We weren’t together, not like.. not like how you and I are. I mean—“

“He took advantage of you..” Jeno shakes his head, zipping through intersections without bothering to slow down or stop. “He took advantage of you, and you let him.”

“That’s not—“

“It’s okay.” Hitting the brakes he stops, pulling into a parking spot with ease, using one hand to steer the wheel into place. “It’s okay.” Jeno repeats again, as if to reassure himself more than anything. “My dad, that fucking asshole..”

Pulling the shift into park, he leans back again, the back of his head slamming against the seat frustrated. “It’s not your fault. When I was a kid he used to psychoanalyze me too, used that shit to manipulate me.”

Johnny didn’t manipulate me, your lip twitches to say, folding your hands together as you purse your lips tight.

“He blamed me, you know— for my mom leaving..” Jeno’s tongue drags inside of his cheek, wandering eyes gleaming more beneath the night sky breaking through the windshield. “I never stood a chance against him honestly, even now I can’t trust he’ll leave you alone.”

“He does leave me alone, Jeno.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, turning halfway in his seat to face you, head tilted as he takes in your confusion. “I told him to leave you alone, is that a problem?”

“..and he agreed? Is that what he meant?” You ask wearily, picking up over time that Jeno can’t keep eye contact when he lies, becoming shifty and distracted as he mumbles.

He blinks slowly, tongue poking between his lips in thought without tearing away from your gaze. “I told him that I really like you, and for once in my life I want to have a chance at something genuine.”

Jeno’s playful demeanor you’ve become acquainted with(although still perplexing at times) seems to disappear the more he speaks, concerning you enough to take a hold of his hand. “Hey..”

He mumbles something hard to make out, sinking against his seat. “I hate seeing him around you, I know you don’t see it the way I do but.. he used you.”

Ouch.

How could Jeno so easily ruin your delusional high of believing his father had actual feelings for you with just a few words. It’s not worth discussing, not with him, he’d never see it the way you do.

Understandably so, to him Johnny may as well be the scum of the earth while he consumed your entire world, day to night; continuing to daydream of the future you could have with your boyfriend's dad. The idea alone fucked up enough to make you nauseous now, having to swallow the bitter taste of bile down. As sick as it is, Johnny had made a home for himself in your heart.. at least the parts Jeno hadn’t managed to infiltrate.

Half of you really contemplated choosing stupidity, ruin your chances of getting dicked down tonight. Perhaps spice it up, Jeno had become.. soft as of late, but the distress across his pretty face quelled your hunger for drama, for now.

“So, what you’re saying is..” you bend in closer, jerking his chin up to look at you, hand squeezing around his. “You really like me?”

Jeno’s smile returns, huffing out a laugh, hiding half of his face in the seat. “Fighting my dad for you wasn’t enough? I have to say it too?”

Shrugging, you lean in closer, biting at his earlobe. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear once in a while after years of thinking you hated me.”

“Well..” the sound of keys jingling turns your attention to Jeno’s hand coming up between you, eyebrow lifted suggestively. “I think you like it, actually— I know you love it when I fuck you like I hate you.”

“You’re gonna fuck me in the arcade?” You glance outside, ‘High Scores’ lights up the hood of his car, the rest of the street dim and empty compared to the bright neon light flickering above you. “Does Haechan know you’re risking his job to have sex uninterrupted?”

Jeno laughs, opening his door to get out and grab yours, the nice gestures still taking awhile to get used to.(This is the same guy that made you get out of his car and walk to school just to not be seen with you afterall.)

“Most he said is to not leave a mess behind and make sure I lock up when we’re done here.” Helping you out he pushes your back to the passenger door, gaze back to the excited playful one you prefer. “I can always fuck you here instead.”

Even now the thrill of secrecy reminds you of him... the times he’d pull you into the backseat of his SUV to steal a kiss; softly pecking your lips while mumbling that he needed a little taste of you everyday, thumbing at his bottom lip while he sat across from you during dinner and stole glances at you. The craving for more always lingering.

“Right here? Where anyone can see?” You ask, pretending to be shocked with wide eyes and clutching your chest. “You think I’m some whore you can just fuck on the street?”

Jeno bites down on his tongue, smirking and grabbing your hips. “I knew this dress would look good on you.” He hikes up the sides around your hips, lifting you up onto the hood to sit and make space between your thighs. “I like it when you listen to me.”

It’s little things like this that heat up your chest, stinging from within between guilt and a yearning need. The twisted part of your mind consumed by the thought that Jeno’s so similar to his dad, just younger, a little naive, but he’s definitely not as dumb as you had assumed.

“Do you think I look pretty?” You ask coyly, pulling his hips in closer with a tight squeeze of your thighs. Jeno wraps around your waist, face only an inch away from yours now, his tone lowering to a deep rasp.

“You’re always pretty. You know when I brought you around my friends I had to stop myself from putting Jaemin in a headlock with the shit he was saying.” His hands roam lower as he goes on, smoothing up the sides of your thighs to play with the straps of your underwear. “Had to remind myself that they don’t know about us.. yet.”

“Yet?”

Jeno hums, gathering your underwear to one side to swipe his thumb between your folds; his cheeks rising upon making contact with your wet entrance. “Once your mom gets off my ass it’ll be easier for us. I guess I’m still worried.”

He mumbles with lowered eyelids, grabbing onto your inner thigh to spread you open further. Not quite lying, not quite telling you the truth. “You still don’t trust me, right?

The skin between his eyebrows wrinkles slightly, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks. “Seeing you with him today, I feel..”

“You can be honest with me baby.”

Jeno nods, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening, smearing two fingers over the outside of your entrance haphazardly. “I’m annoyed, I’m mad. I hate that he still gets to see you— to see you look pretty for me.”

“We didn’t talk.” You lie, cupping his face to smooth away the stress tightening his jaw. “He was just passing by.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Jeno asks slowly, also familiar with the way you bite your lip when you lie. Even the smallest movement of biting one corner is enough to give you away.

“I’m not lying.” You say, tugging your lip in under your teeth with a smile, quickly moving to kiss his nose before he can continue interrogating you. Jeno’s eyes drop shut swallowing back his disappointed sigh, hand sliding away to grip your thighs and pull your core closer to his crotch.

“I know we don’t talk about this,” his face dips into the crook of your neck to hide, breath fanning down your throat mixing in with the chilled night air. “..and I know I can’t ask you to ignore him, we all live together..”

“Jeno” you say, pulling back to grab a hold of his face again. “We live together, you realize that? It’s always you, me.. and my mom unfortunately.”

He smiles at that, playfully biting at your thumb poking against the corner of his mouth. “I’m not used to my dad actually doing something nice for me.” Other than funding him with money, which hasn’t been the case as of late. Jeno considers that maybe you were the exchange, no more allowance but hey- I’ll let you have the girl.

Fixing his wind swept bangs to uncover his forehead, you wonder what exactly was said in this agreement; had Johnny really given up on you so easily? How could he say he still loves you and watch another man, let alone his own son, prance around in his face holding and kissing you? It didn’t make any sense..

Jeno shivers, smoothing your dress back down and nodding toward the Arcade. “It’s getting cold, wanna head inside and play?”

He helps you off the hood, taking a hold of your hand and using his other to unlock the front door. “Oh? You know, I can kick your ass at Pac-man.”

Jeno pulls you in, locking the door back up, the inside mostly dark aside from a few strips of neon lights bordering the ceiling. “Is that all you know how to play?” He laughs, drawing you further in with both hands taking a hold of yours. “We both know I can eat you up easily.”

Coming to a stop he flicks on a switch, the room coming to life with lights and mixtures of video game music from different machines. Most of them classic vintage games, a few pinball machines and air hockey table. Nothing much, but a gamers safe haven nonetheless.

“There’s Street Fighter, Ninja Turtles, Super Mario Brothers, Frogger..” Jeno walks around keeping you by his side, chuckling at your lost expression as you look at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Pac-man it is, winner takes it all yeah?”

“What are we playing for?” You grumble, feigning annoyance because this is not what you had in mind when Jeno texted you about sneaking out together.

“If I win, I get to do whatever I want with you.” He beams, eyebrows raising up and down before inserting coins into the game.

“What if I win?”

“If you win..” pouting his lips, Jeno sways in thought, snapping his fingers. “I get to do whatever I want with you.” He says proudly, displaying all of his pearly white perfect teeth.

“Don’t you already?” You say in an annoyed tone, nudging against his side and grabbing onto a joystick.

“There is one thing, actually.” Jeno lowers his gaze scanning down your figure, eyes ending on your backside. “I believe you know what I want.”

“Right now?” You have to splutter a bit, nervously squeezing your thighs together. “Won’t it hurt though?”

He laughs, barely, more of an act to stop himself from replying with ‘That’s the point.’

“No baby, it’ll feel good.” Jeno sticks out his pinky, jutting his pink bottom lip out covered with a sheen of spit. “I prom.”

“Prom?” You question, distracted by how enticing his mouth looks pouting at you paired with a wide glossy gaze.

“Half a promise,” he winks, locking your pinkies together. “It might hurt actually.”

“Jeno!”

“Winner takes it all!” He laughs, returning to focus on starting your game of Pac-man.

“Jeno, what the fuck! This isn’t fair!” You panic, immediately falling behind as his hand seems to blur and you crash into another ghost.

“What can I say? I’m a pro.” He says nonchalantly, the smirk painting his lips growing. “You know what else I’m a pro at eating?”

“Jeno!” You splutter, distracted by the wink he shoots at you as another sound of disappointment blasts from the game's speakers, on your last leg of life attempting to catch up to your opponent nearing the end.

“Winners win.” Jeno’s arms lift up proudly, boasting his victory with flexed biceps. “Losers lose.”

He keeps cheering, arms pumping and pretending to wave at a crowd as the game congratulates his victory. “You didn’t tell me you were good at this game!”

“Well, you said you could kick my ass.” He shrugs, grabbing your wrists and dragging you toward him. “It seems I will be the one beating your ass up instead.”

Jeno taps the pout that’s formed on your lips, disguising how irritated he feels in actuality. Tapping your bottom lip, he hums and leans back against a wall. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Why do you keep asking?” You lilt, tilting your head suspiciously as you reach for his neck. Jeno snaps away too fast, quickly averting his gaze aside before you can catch his disappointment; his palms finding purchase around your waist and manhandling you against the wall.

“No reason,” he whispers, trapping your earlobe between his teeth and knocking his hips along your backside. “Don’t forget who won.”

The sound of his belt unlatching scratches at the back of your skull drowning out the arcade noises around you; with a bicep locking your arms together he wraps it around your elbows. The restraint tightens immediately, locking your arms in place behind your back. “Does it hurt, baby?”

‘Does it hurt badly?’

Pressing your cheek to the wall you shake, quietly muttering ‘no’, the churn in your stomach confusing you with arousal and guilt.

“That’s too bad..” pulling up your dress to bunch at your waist, Jeno slaps your ass softly, stroking his fingers over the roundness of your hips, dipping beneath the juncture between meaty flesh meeting thigh. “I know how much you love when it hurts.”

“Je—“

“Shhh.” Biting down on your earlobe, he tugs until you squeal, knees knocking together from the pain shooting through your ear. “See how you’re so fucking loud?”

Jeno sinks down into a squat gripping the sides of your ass and squeezing. His palms feel hot, heavy, digging his thin hard fingers into your cheeks. He pulls you open watching the thin string of your underwear fail to cover your holes completely, breath suctioning loudly between spit when he hisses and presses forward digging his nose against your barely concealed hole.

“Fuck!” You bite down, struggling to stay still on your toes digging deeper into the sole of your heels, his nose dragging up and down between releasing groans and deep breaths. The moans vibrating between the back of your thighs playing as a soundtrack for his disgusting euphoric high, leaving his mouth popped open, teeth catching onto bits of flesh hidden inside of you.

“So good.” Jeno laps at your rim, soaking up the thin piece of underwear there, teeth biting down and pulling away enough to watch your hole flutter. Slapping at your ass with a firmer hand he tugs the string off to one side, leaning forward to press his pouty lips against your hole. Mouth hot and breathy as he stays there tracing his words against your opening. “Want me to fill your little tight virgin asshole up so fucking bad, just look at the way you’re opening up for me already.”

As if on command slick drips down your inner thigh, rim convulsing around nothing. He snickers, tapping the tip of his finger against it. “So nasty, who taught you to be this fucking nasty huh?”

Oh.

Your eyes wrinkle together, hips jumping back in search of something wet, something to quell your need.

A succession of hard slaps stills your movement, ass stinging under his palm smoothing down, jiggling your cheek against his face. “Can’t even stop yourself, can you?”

“Please…do something.. please.”

Begging, you’re always such a beggar. Jeno can’t stand it, how your writhe and whimper, so desperate to get fucked. Can’t stand how pretty you sound when you beg, when you shout his name with your eyes facing the back of your skull. He can’t stand the way his cock jumps in his pants, twitching against his phone like a reminder.

“Ask for it.” His face rubs side to side, engulfed in your aroma, nose burying in and out of your hole teasingly. “Be a good girl, ask.”

“Jeno.. please,” sniffling, you have to shut your eyes to keep your mind blank. The similarities between two different men sit on your chest, sinking into the hollow, breaking down the bones and muscle protecting your heart. “Please baby.”

“Please what?” Pulling out his phone, Jeno double checks the silent button, hitting record and focusing on your ass sticking out; lower back making the shot from the way you dip in and arch out.

“Please, please fuck me…”

“Where?” He questions, tone falling deep, raspy, scratching up his vocal chords. “Tell me where.”

“My..” breath gets caught in your throat, hole clenching up as embarrassment flows down your face. Breaking out into a whimper at the first sign of moisture reaching the rims of your eyes. “My ass.. please fuck my ass.”

“That’s right,” Jeno groans, smoothing the pad of his finger around your wrinkled hole. “No one will ever fuck you the way I fuck you.”

Spit lands on your rim, the last shot he captures before sending the video off to a text message with ‘Asshole’.

‘Only for me.’

Pocketing his phone again, he focuses on collecting your wetness, swirling it together with his spit. The sounds of your needy whines only egg him on to work fast, lapping at the skin around his fingers until your knees bend and you shove back against his face.

Jeno contemplates for a second, mindlessly prodding the tips of two fingers in and out of your pulsating rim, your wanton cries driving him mad the longer he teases.

It shouldn’t hurt, but you deserve for it to hurt, because you’re a fucking liar, because you’d rather lie to him and allow his mind to wander.

Before he can shake away the worry, his phone buzzes, distracting him for a moment before pressing into your hole to keep you occupied.

‘Ask your little girlfriend about our conversation you rudely interrupted. I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you.’

Jeno can’t believe how fast this fucking asshole replies, nearly crushing his phone and jabbing his fingers into you roughly at the same time.

“Ahh!”

“Shut up.” He growls, shoving his phone away, proceeding to jackhammer two fingers inside your ass. A wad of spit lands around them adding a small amount of lubricant, his roughness forcing your ass to shake around the pressure.

“Baby please, ah!” Struggling to stay still, your toes pinch together, pushing your forehead against the wall with another cry. Tears stain down your cheeks the more he ignores you, muscles rippling up his forearm beneath pulsing large veins. “Please, slow..slow down!”

Another growl is all you hear in response, dipping in to lavv at the tough skin constricting around his fingers, his free hand reaching between your thighs to pinch at your clit and distract your mind from the pain.

Jeno’s ears fill up from the heat surrounding him, forcing another digit inside your hole and groaning at the visual of how obscenely stretched you are around him. Still managing to push in past your resistance, his stare burns, stuck on the little flex and pinch your ass gives with each push inside.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

A startled broken moan slips out of you, caught off guard by how deep, near demonic his vibrato’s fallen to. The surprise has your hips canting back full of fear, excitement, Jeno’s fingers digging deep into your ass pushing against your walls.

“Relax, you’ll make this hurt more than it has to.”

The glide of his nose pressing to your neglected hole has you jolting up, legs pin straight the second his tongue flicks at your clit. His hand reaches around grasping your thigh, strong hold pushing you to sit down on his face. He tongues at your bundle of nerves viciously, nose suffocated by the ridiculous amount of slick pouring out of you, the majority of it dripping down past the consistent small dip in and out of you, trickling a pathway down his thick neck, bobbing and struggling to breathe with his airway full of arousal.

“Ah fuck! I’m close!” Full of urgency you scream, hands twitching like crazy to grab onto something, anything to help you stay attached to reality. He only speeds up, the fat of his tongue dragging along your swollen clit roughly, powerfully working you into a faster frenzy until your thighs quake.

Jeno’s relentless, tongue blurring against your clit with speed, nose stuffed as deep as possible, the three digits curling up and pulling. Pain and pleasure hit a new high, bending your neck back into a deep arch as your climax hits and erupts hard enough to choke him between the wet squirt and weight of your lower half coming down.

Slapping down on your upper thigh, Jeno gags, coughing from the fluid filling his nostrils, fingers crooking up before sliding out and smearing the mess of spit down your leg.

“Come here.” He drags your lifeless body down to his lap, switching to hold his weight against the wall, lips landing against yours in a mess of heat. The drool pouring from your mouth blends with his spit coated lips vocalizing the hunger of your mouths fighting for dominance. “Wanna..”

Jeno pants, licking at every crevice of skin and tongue like a thirsty puppy, eyes glazed over as he gazes at your already wrecked face. “..see you, wanna see you.”

“Uh huh,” nodding you wrap around his neck, forehead landing against his cheek lazily as he positions you over his length. The whole act feels dirty, a memory you’ll recall someday; how silly it is to be a teenager having to sneak around just to get laid(all because you fucked your boyfriend’s dad). “See you.” You repeat breathless, cock dragging between your folds drenched by wet arousal that won’t stop leaking.

“Pussy dripping wet for me, know why?” Jeno’s arm squeezes around your middle, hot mouth dragging up your jaw to whisper in your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut, and all sluts know how to do is take cock.”

The cry you let out shaking your head with denial gets lost, Jeno capturing your bottom lip in a rough kiss and thrusting up to fill you halfway. He grunts, pushing your body lower to bury the rest of his length inside and swallow down your cries. “Slutty fuck hole.”

Eyelashes flutter along your cheek, hot tightness wrapped around his size drawing deep guttural moans out. Hips jerk upward, lodging the entirety of his length inside of you. He’s overbearing, sucking the moans out of your mouth, slapping down on your ass to move and ride his length despite your cries.

“Feel good?” Jeno’s bicep flexes, snaked around your waist tighter than a boa constrictor, making it harder to breathe with the incessant ramming of his hips fucking you up and down his size.

“S-so so so good,” you sigh between tears, scratching your nails through the back of his scalp and sweaty nape. “So good inside.”

He wants to be mean, wants to pull you off him, throw you down on the ground and fuck you like nothing but a useless whore; but he can’t. Mentally cursing himself out, he shifts to lay you down, throwing your thigh around his hip for leverage to grind into you, eyes burning over your dazed expression.

Pretty.

Kissing the backs of his teeth he fucks into you faster, chasing his own need to get off without much concern for yours. This isn’t about you, this isn’t about your glazed gaze, parted swollen lips, the tear tracks rolling down past your jaw following the dips of collarbone rising and falling at a rapid pace, breasts bouncing near out of your dress with each beating thrust.

Jeno feels crazed, hot, throat burning from the inside out from the endless groans tearing through his chest. Bending forward, his weight throttles into you, jostling you to slide up. Palms attaching you to the ground with a vicious chokehold. Teeth grit and grind, wrinkling the skin on his cheeks and forehead, cock fucking in and out, in and out, the loud squelch of wet somehow louder than your pleasured sounds combined.

“M’gonna..” Jeno gulps, swallowing the wads of spit and drool collecting at the sides of his tongue. “Fuck you, fuck you all night. Fuck your ass open, break you.”

Unsure he can even last with how tight you grip around him, Jeno pulls out, shushing the loud whine you let out, pouting and crying harder about how close you were. “Shh..” slapping down between your thighs, he licks at his lips hungrily, entertained by the way you twitch and cry, still lifting your hips for another slap on your pussy. “Turn around.”

Knowing you can’t do much with your arms constrained, he manhandles you onto your front, noting how your flesh folds over the leather belt, sure enough to leave marks behind the more you struggle. He pulls at the leather, shoving your dress to the top of your back completely bunched up, wrinkling the nice material that someone else would have stripped off of you gently..

“Mine.” Jeno swipes his fingers around your exposed rim, lightly laughing at how you jerk forward and arch out more. Cock slapping down between your ass with a hiss. “So pretty like this..”

He’s done bothering to prep you, on the brink of insanity listening to your shattered whimpers, the exhausted, depraved little way you repeat his name. “So mine.” Resting his length on your rim, he reaches lower, scooping a wad of wetness globbed at your entrance, the only extra he’ll spare you, smearing the mess of it up and down his size.

He presses to your rim, biting down on his lip hard enough to break skin and compress the growl trying to escape. “God, fuck.”

Jeno thinks he can’t breathe for a moment, sinking in through the insane tightness, his stomach sucked empty, raggedly inhaling the more inch by inch disappears inside of you.

He thrust shallowly, experimenting with short and fast grinds until every bit of his size can no longer be seen, eyebrows crushed together as he struggles to breathe and crashes a harsh slap down on your ass. The growl escapes similar to a feral animal on the run, animalistic much like each barreling thrust colliding with your ass.

Jeno loses it from there, a string of curses running off his tongue between groans, hammering his hips forward, his free hand reaching for one of your shoulders to press your chest down. The extra hold only enforcing more power behind each slam, burying his cock deeper than you can even begin to fathom. “Gonna fuck your ass all the time now.”

“Hurts! Hurts so much!” You moan, stuttering between each syllable, arching deeper for him to fuck faster.

“You love it.” He bends forward, chest pressed down on your back knocking out your air flow. His other hand trailing from your hip to slap against your cunt, fingers pressing down on your clit and rubbing in fluid motions of figure eights.

“Ah fuck! Baby!”

Jeno knows you’re close, tightening up around his cock making it harder for him to shove in past your resistance. Pussy quivering the more he plays with your clit. “Yeah, just like that.” He pants, thirsty like a dog, tongue wagging out drooling. “Fucking tight, so fucking tight.”

He starts fucking at an unreal speed, rapidly ripping past each clench. The growls behind you akin to a beast, sucking bits of your soul with each thrust bottoming out inside of your ass.

“Jeno!” It’s barely a whimper, too empty headed to process anything beyond the heat coiling down your stomach, toes curling against your heels, the cool wet smeared down your thighs.

A pinch at your clit has you leaking, squirting around nothing and clamping down on the cock filling your ass, Jeno’s hand drenched by your climax pouring to the floor around his fingers.

He can’t believe it, you really came from this, asshole stuffed to the brim with cock for the first time. The thought alone tightens up his balls, jackhammering against your limp frame, falling into sloppy mismatched thrusts until the heat in his chest snaps. Cock crammed down to the hilt jerking and pulsing inside your warm heat. Sticky and obscene, the thick milky cream collecting at the base of his length with each last pitiful thrust.

Jeno finishes up, throat visibly bobbing as he takes in your backside covered in the excess cum, dragging his wet cock on your heated flesh. The white liquid gliding down your soft skin, ass gaped and ruined, his arm reaches around patting for his pants in search of one thing.

Jeno types with one thumb, quickly filming a clip of his hand sweeping up the back of your thigh, rubbing his release into your skin, the last shot ending on your holes.

The text finishes sending, a pleased grin lazily fitting his face before leaning down to kiss the middle of your back.

He mumbles mindlessly against your damp skin, imagining his recipient's face opening the message, pleased by the thought of his father’s enraged face.

‘Only mine.’

#lee jeno smut #jeno smut #nct jeno #neopuppy fics #nct dream smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction

[genshindsau]

Summary: Scaramouche struggles to accommodate to his place in the harem. It isn't easier when some of the other members of the harem constantly try to talk to him or make him spend time with you. He tells himself he doesn't want to, that he is fine blending into the background and being easily forgotten (is he truly?). Concubine!Scaramouche. Empress!reader

CW: Reverse Harem, cursing, sexual implications, nsfw mentioned but not actually described, mentions of Scaramouche's past (as well as other characters), Scaramouche is rather rude in this and can be degrading to the other members, sexualization, literally just Scaramouche struggling with his feelings, non-sexual nudity.

AN: This wasn't exactly what I originally planned, I ended up including a lot about other characters rather than focusing just on Scaramouche and the readers... oh well. There are also a bit of time skips. Dialogue may be choppy as well, especially towards the end. If its to hard to follow please feel free to let me know.

"I'm just saying, when she does the thing with her fingers…" Childe, as he likes to be called, curled two of his fingers in front of Scaramouche's face. He was wearing a cheeky smile, his eyes glittering as he stared at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his eyes narrowed at Childe.

Go away. Please. Go away. He kept repeating these words in his head.

"Oh," Childe leaned forward, his chin resting on his palm. "I suppose you wouldn't know."

His words held no malicious intent. There wasn't any pity either. Scaramouche knew that but he still wanted to scream. He also wanted to punch Childe right in his bright, smiling face. He was getting too much enjoyment out of bothering and annoying Scaramouche.

"There is nothing wrong with not defiling myself."

Childe snorted. "Is it really defiling? I mean," Childe shrugged his shoulders. "She is our wife."

"No, she isn't. Neither of us are legally married to her."

"Exactly," Childe snapped his fingers. "We're concubines; Her concubines. We get all the fun."

Fun? What part about being a concubine is fun? Childe is a mindless puppy who will go wherever you ask, do whatever you ask. Even kill whoever you want. He has had the unfortunate experience of seeing Childe covered in blood and a body at his feet. When you appeared, he expected the worse. Expected Childe to be whipped or scarred. Instead, you ruffled his blood-coated hair and said you deal with the clean up.

Why is he even listening to him?

"Look if you really don't want to spread your legs for her," Scaramouche cringed at Childe's words. He had a feeling Childe was making his words as crude as possible to get a reaction from Scaramouche.

He was succeeding.

"Then that’s fine. But you do a really shitty job at hiding the way your eyes linger on her."

"I - I do not!" Scaramouche balked at him, his cheeks heating up.

"Really?" Childe deadpanned.

"I would not consider it! She already has more than enough people who would let her use them. I will not be one of them."

Scaramouche felt like he needed to defend himself. Needed to make himself stand above the others and not be one of the men who succumbs to his position as a glorified body to use. He lasted this long - lasted through multiple masters without ever having to give them his body. He can't allow that to change.

You've never even touched him, his mind whispered to him. Aside from the time you disintegrated his previous collar, you've never laid a hand on him.

Childe quieted for a moment. It unnerved Scaramouche as Childe stared at him. He felt like he was looking into his soul and he almost wanted Childe to keep teasing him. He'd prefer that to how he was now looking at him.

"She's not like that." Childe voiced out. His voice almost stern.

"If you're really not interested, then whatever. That's fine. But don't assume things about her when you haven't even try to understand her. She may be cruel to her enemies but they deserve it. She would never force anyone - never force her concubines or consorts to do anything they didn't want. Whether that is in her bed or in their personal life."

Scaramouche's eyes wavered at the shift in Childe's tone. Childe sounded dangerous right now.

"Why," Scaramouche's voice cracked. "Why would I even want to know her - or understand her?"

"Our lives are dedicated to her. They belong to her, wouldn't you - "

Scaramouche cut him off " - And you're okay with that? Belonging to someone like her. Someone who is part of the Imperial Family?"

Childe cannot be that daft. Everyone knows about the Imperial Family. Knows that no one should trust them. Knows that they are cruel, tyrannical, and would do anything to be the empress. He doubts that you are any different. No, he knows that you are no different.

"Sure." Childe leaned back against his chair, his tone softening now. "She gives me whatever I want. Lets me have some control over my life. Lets me fight. But she also protects those who belong to her. She's stern and callous and can be this terrifying larger than life figure but that does not mean she is going to go down the same path as her family."

"… you can't be so sure of that."

"Just like you can't be so sure that she will turn out like her family. I believe in what I see. Maybe she puts on a certain façade in front of us but so what if she does? She still treats us better than anyone else would."

Scaramouche cant find it in himself to refute anything Childe says. He pointedly ignores the underlying truth in Childe's words. It doesn't matter if you've never laid a finger on him or even so much as spend time alone with him. You're royalty. You're part of the imperial family. That automatically makes you a terrible person in scaramouche's eyes.

Scaramouche was dragged out of his thoughts by the scraping of a chair against the floor as Childe stood up. He stretched his arm above his head before resting a palm on Scaramouche's shoulder, ignoring the flinch that came from Scaramouche.

"If you want to ask anything? Or If you want to try something? Anything? I'm sure she will listen if you ask. You just got to be brave enough to do it." Childe winked at him as walked out of the room, humming happily.

Scaramouche ignored the subtle blow to his character from Childe. He was fine the way he was now. He was fine staying in his room and being an easily forgettable presence (no, he wasn't). He was fine not getting close to you or the others in the harem. Keeping to himself is how he has survived everything he has been through, so he will do what he has always done.

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Scaramouche kept his eye trained on the plate, ignoring the simmering of anger and something else in his gut that he can't name. It was dinner. He dreaded dinner because he was forced to sit with everyone - with you, even though he is about seven seats away. You barely said a word. If it wasn't for the heaviness in the air he might have been able to ignore you and pretend but your presence always left an uncomfortable weight settling around his body - like your engulfing him; all around him no matter how far away he stands.

He wonders if the others feel it. If they do they don't care; or rather revel in the feeling. It just makes him overly conscious.

His hand clenches around the fork in his one hand, turning pale due to the strength as he has to listen to the incessant chattering of the others. It grates on his nerve, rubbing him raw as he has to listen to the happiness that flits from every voice he hears - yet he doesn't hear yours.

He startles as a hand clasps on his shoulders, a good portion of eyes also landing on him. He blinks a few times barely realize someone was calling him. His eyes land on Childe first because of course it does. He then looks to see Venti (fuck), Heizou (double fuck), and finally Itto (well now the world is just being cruel) sitting across from him.

Childe is leaning back in his chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground. "You really have no filter."

It took Scaramouche a moment to realize Childe wasn't talking to him but rather Itto who had an annoying innocent smile on his face. Venti looked somewhere between interested but closed off. His body curls into itself, his shoulders hunching in such a small move that Scaramouche is sure he is the only one who noticed. In the back of his mind, he wonders if these kind of talks drag up old memories for the other concubine - not that he cared enough to learn anything about the others, he just happened to hear about it in passing. Heizou on the other hand has a shit-eating grin on his lips, teeth bared in laughter.

"I - " Itto gawked for a moment. "It's a perfectly normal question."

Scaramouche tried to refocus, to remember what was said but he couldn't.

"Maybe so but asking at dinner, really?"

"Where else am I going to ask? He scurries off like a little mouse whenever he's spots anyone. It's natural to want to know more about each other." Itto is wonderfully dense at times it seems like both a blessing and curse. Scaramouche wants to curse him out but there is no malice in Itto's tone, just genuine curiosity and his words curl uncomfortably in his throat.

"And asking about the time he spent with y/n? That's getting to know him?" Though it may sound like Childe is admonishing Itto, the smile on his lips says the exact opposite. Childe could careless, he was just enjoying the way this would egg on Itto and annoy Scaramouche.

"Besides everyone know he hasn't spent the night with her - or even an evening with her." Heizou was the one who spoke this time.

"That is none of your business!" Scaramouche sputtered out, his ears turning red.

"Seriously?" Itto turned to Scaramouche with wide-eyes. "Why not?" It was an innocent enough question but Scaramouche wouldn't answer - much less at the dinner table where everyone is basically in love with you and not to mention the fact that you are only seven or so seats separated from him.

"It's no use," Childe shrugged. "I've already asked him about it."

"You didn't ask, you interrogated me." Scaramouche gritted back.

Childe just waved a dismissive hand.

"Why complain. As far as I see it, that means more time for us." Heizou spoke up.

"Well yeah," Itto agreed. "But still… you should be able to experience things with her. I mean, you haven't even spent any time with her? At all?" Itto seemed genuinely curious but all Scaramouche could do was grind his teeth as his eyes narrowed at the plate in front of him. He focus on ignoring the embarrassment that caused him to want to curl up in his seat and well just die. He thinks that would be preferable over what he is currently going through. 

He's thankful that he is sat at the other end of the table. Maybe, just maybe there is a chance you didn't hear any of the conversations, the teasing aimed towards him. Yet he knows you did - that is if you decided it was important enough to listen to, you would.

Without meaning to his eyes flickered down to your end of the table. Your head was angled and he followed where he thinks your eyeline would be and landed on Aether and Tigh-nari who appear to be laughing together about something. You're face doesn't even twitch, your lips don't curve upwards but they don't frown either. It's completely neutral, just like it was when he first met you -  when he still belonged to Ei - but it didn't feel nearly as oppressive.

He didn't understand why. Nothing's changed. Not for him.

"I don't want to." He kept his voice low. "And I do not see how it is any of your business or why you keep bringing it up," He glared specifically at Childe who stared back at him.

Itto gaped at him for a second before he shook his head. "We're not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I didn't mean to imply anything lewd. But… you don’t want to be involved in anything - whether it is with the harem or y/n. You're going to spend the rest of your life here, with her, with us - with all of us, even the people who seem to be the hardest to get to know want you to be comfortable and happy here. Closing yourself off, distancing yourself… maybe you had to do it in the past but the people here,” Itto shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “What I am trying to say is that no one here wants to hurt you or see you suffer."

The last thing Scaramouche needed is to be told this by Itto of all people. He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip his hair out. Most of all he wanted to rip out the longing that wracked through him at Itto's word. It felt like he was peering down into Scaramouche's soul and voicing out everything Scaramouche had pushed down. Tucked so deep inside of him that even he forgot.

When he was younger, that was all he wanted to hear. After he was taken the first time, he imagined  faceless people who accepted him and loved him but as months passed, then years and then he was sold to Ei, he forced himself to get rid of that pathetic yearning. People just weren't like that. People were selfish and cruel.

Yet, he saw it around the harem building and in the palace countless times. Thoma baking treats for the rest of the harem members just because. Venti who stayed up playing the flute for the others who couldn't sleep. Even Ayato - who Scaramouche deemed the most selfish - would cover the other harem members up in a blanket if they feel asleep anywhere. Aether, who knitted blankets in the winter, not only for the harem members but also for servants and staff.

You… you who never raised your voice at your harem members. You who took in a unconventional men - Itto, Venti - and never made them feel less than because of their background. You who carried them to their beds when they fell asleep. You who…

It doesn't matter. None of it matters. 

"You're sheltered. Naïve." Scaramouche forced out between his teeth. "We're not family. We're not brothers. We're all stuck under the whims of a women who could kill us with a thought." His voice increased in tone as he spoke. He wasn't shouting, but he was loud enough to draw attention to himself. "I will never think of myself as lowly as the rest of you do." He squeezed his eyes shut.

He was telling himself to shut up. Screaming at himself inside of his mind but he couldn't stop.

"I won't settle for debasing myself like the rest of you do. Especially for someone who doesn't even love you back."

There was a small cough and Scaramouche froze. It was silent - no one else at the table spoke and he could feel numerous eyes on him. The color drained from his skin as he hastily stood up, throwing the napkin on the table before quickly leaving the table. He didn't even care for protocol or for your dismissal.

As he fled down the halls, tears of anger and embarrassment burned behind his eyes but he didn't let them fall, even as they blurred his vision. The door slammed shut behind him and he collapsed against it, his head thumping against it as he cursed at himself. Cursed at the others for being so kind to him. Cursed at you for not being as horrible towards your harem as he wanted to believe you were.

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No one spoke to him the next day. Not that he made it easy. He hid in his room, ate his breakfast in his room, stared at the window in his room. He only ever saw the two servants assigned specifically for him. They even brought up dinner for him - telling him that you told them to do that. You probably didn't even want to see his face. He lashed out at the others concubines; concubines you cared about much more than you did him.

It still left an uncomfortable burning in his chest. He made himself vulnerable. He showed too much emotion, not just in front of one or two people but everyone in the harem and yourself. He might as well as starting weeping in front of all them as well.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He blinked, lifting his head from the pillow. He wondered who it was. Servants only knock out of politeness once before entering the room, other harem members just barge in at times. For a minutes he felt a tinge of fear thinking that it was you, but you wouldn't knock either - you had no reason to.

Scaramouche moved to open the door so only a sliver of light creeped through. The first thing he saw was the long red hair, pinned back and the red robe - It was Diluc.

"Can I come in?" He asked softly - like he was coaxing a wild animal. Scaramouche nodded and opened the door further to let him in.

Scaramouche bowed his head, his eyes lingering on the embroidered robe Diluc was wearing. His eyes trailed over the golden patchwork. There wasn't a single stand of hair out of place, everything was perfect. He was perfect.

Diluc's eyes glanced around the room but he said nothing. Scaramouche was expecting an admonishment, something about his bed being dirty or the left over plates on the bed but Diluc's eye's just skimmed right over them.

"I wasn't expecting company." It came out harsher than Scaramouche intended. He had never been alone with Diluc before; barely said a few words to him besides the first few days he was introduced into the harem. Diluc was either  busy, bustling about the harem building or he was by your side.

"I suppose I should have sent a servant or someone to tell you beforehand. I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, I just wanted to… see how you are doing."

"You mean after my outburst." Scaramouche forced out, his voice tight.

Diluc let out a soft, sympathetic sigh. "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I wasn't thinking about it as an outburst."

Scaramouche didn't care. If Diluc was here - all he could assume was one thing.

"So you're here to deal a punishment?"  

"A punishment?" Diluc tilted his head, confusion in his voice.

"I insulted the other concubines. I left before I was dismissed. It's your job isn't it? As the head consort - you deal out the punishments."

"You misunderstand." Diluc shook his head. "Can I sit?" He motioned towards a small couch that was placed in the room. Scaramouche nodded and Diluc sat down, his hands smoothing down his clothes.

"I am not here to give out a punishment. You are not the first to resort to insults or get angry at the others. It is natural that it happens when there are so many of us, and with such different personalities." Even as Diluc spoke, there was a small smile forming on his lips. He almost seems like he is reminiscing as he speaks of the harem members.

Scaramouche takes small steps until he is able to sit across from Diluc, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them.

"So you decided to what? Come here out of the goodness of your heart." There was distain in his voice as he tried to figure out Diluc's true intentions. "Or are you here to defend the others? Defend y/n? If you are, you can leave. I don't want to hear it."

Diluc just gazed at him, no malice or annoyance in his eyes.

"I am not here to defend anyone. I am here because I wanted to check up on you. I know we haven't had a lot of chances to talk or even get to know each other - that's no ones fault - but, I would still like for you to be comfortable in the harem. Find some sort of enjoyment in the life you are now living."

Scaramouche stared at Diluc, scrutinizing him.

"Why are you all saying that?" He shook his head. "You, Itto, even Childe for fucks sake. All of you go around, stating that I should be happy and appreciate the life I am given." Scaramouche raised from his seat as he spoke. "But all of you - you guys have no idea about how awful this world truly is. How awful it can be. How things can change in a split second. How can you come in here and - and lecture me about life when you and all of the others are sheltered behind the whims of a cruel woman."

There was silence. Scaramouche words continued to float through both of their minds. If he wasn't getting punished, he definitely would now.

"You don't think we're not aware?" Diluc question is so simple and it sends a shiver down Scaramouche's body. There's no heat to his tone and Diluc doesn't appear to be angry. But the way he says it, the small almost pained smile that graces his face, it leaves Scaramouche stumbling over his words.

"I - I didn't mean - I mean…"

"It's okay." Diluc lifted a hand as if to placate him. Diluc's eyes shifted away, as if in thought, before looking back at Scaramouche. "I grew up in a family with three sisters. They were…. terrible. Terrible people. Terrible wives. I would see my brother in laws hiding bruising, hiding their pain. I would hear the comments my sisters directed towards their own husband - comments so degrading and humiliating that even as a young boy, I wanted to curl up and cry just from hearing their words. They would even let others say whatever they wanted. They never defended them. Never did nothing. In fact, sometimes my sisters would egg others on to say even worse."

Diluc remained poised as he talked but there was a shakiness in his tone that betrayed his feelings. Scaramouche's heart clenched in his chest - though, he is not sure why.

"For the first 18 years of my life I grew up around them. Grew up in a family that basically trained me to be a perfect husband, seeing me more as an investment to getting rich than an actual person." A sigh slipped past Diluc's lips. "What I am trying to say is: I know we have different experiences. Everyone in this harem has different experiences when it comes to our time before we entered the harem but try not to let it define how you are going to live the rest of your life. I can't tell you to trust me, or trust the others, or even trust Y/n, that’s a choice you have to decide whether you want to make or not."

Diluc stood up, his movements effortlessly beautiful. He stepped closer to Scaramouche but didn't touch him. "If you do decide to try, you can start with something small. I promise you that, as long it doesn't pose a threat to you or anyone in this palace, it will be fulfilled."

With a small bow of his head, Diluc moved passed him and towards the door. "I hope to see you at dinner tomorrow."

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Start small. Start small. Scaramouche repeated those words inside of his head before letting out an annoyed, disgruntled sound.

His hands gripped at the strands of his hair, longer than he has ever been allowed to grow it out, as he paced around the room. The only light shining through is the moon and the stars - they are the only one's baring witness to his meltdown.

He doesn't want to. Actually, he does. He just doesn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean allowing everything he pushed down into the small crevices inside of him would come spilling out. One at a time, slowly, over time until he can't stop it and he is overflowing with all the pain and loneliness that he thought he had moved on from.

He wants friends. He wants to be loved. He wants to be cared for. He wants to do things; explore, paint, learn to ride a horse. He wants it so bad that it makes him sick. He wants to be involved. He wants to believe that he is worth more than the shiny collar that used to be fastened around his neck - signifying that he is nothing more than a prize without a voice, without a say.

Not is, he tells himself. Was. He was nothing more than a prize. But, he doesn't have to be. Not if he decides to at least try what everyone else has been telling him.

But what if it goes wrong?

He can handle being dismissed and looked down on right now. He just stuffs the anger and despair down alongside everything else. But if he opens himself up; allows himself to possibly believe that maybe he can fit in and be accepted for himself, and it all turns to nothing… he isn't sure if he will be able to pick himself up again.

It is either do this one thing or don't do it. It's simple. The choice is simple. Pick one, ignore the other, that is all he has to do. It doesn't even have to be a lot of words, just go up, say what he needed to say then leave. If worse comes to worse, he could say the others encouraged him - that Diluc encouraged him. That would at least get you to think before you decided to lash out and punish him for interrupting you with nonsense.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," Scaramouche groaned as if he was in a lot of pain, a string of profanities leaving him, something he would never do in the presence of others.

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

He stared at the bronze door in front of him, his eyes narrowed. He pointedly ignored the guards who stood at each end of the halls. He also ignored the looks sent his way when he entered the hall that led to your room. He wonders what is going through their mind when they look at him.

That he is desperate. Pitiful.

Maybe that he finally degraded himself enough to be used.

He raised a hand, his hands forming a fist as he prepared to knock on the door. He stilled right before he brought his fist down. What is he doing? What if you're not even in there? What if you just send him away without allowing him to say anything?

Nope. He's not going to allow that. He is not going to allow you to not listen to him when he had worked up the courage to come all the way up to your room - a place he spend his entire time in the harem ignoring.

Instead of rapping his knuckles against the door, his hand grabbed the two handles and pushed the door open.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

Well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but not this.

You're room looked every part like it belonged to royalty but there was something else that left it looking almost cozy. In between all the furnished gold, there was tea placed on the table (two cups) and a half-eaten cake. There was a pale-blue silk robe thrown over the couch which he knew belonged to Ayato. There was cushions thrown on the floor along with a blanket. Leaning on the floor against one of the walls he saw numerous painting - some finished, some not - but none of them look like the ones seen hanging up in the halls of the palace.

He couldn't continue to look around the room before one of your personal servant's drew his attention. The servant startled at Scaramouche's unplanned and borderline inappropriate entrance into the room - a resort building on their lips but they quickly clamp their mouth shut as a voice - your voice - echoes from another room.

"Its fine. Leave us."

For a moment he thought you were talking to him but just as quickly the servant bowed to him, though their face screwed up. Their lips pursed like they were looking at some annoying pest. Since you were still in the adjacent room, Scaramouche felt brave enough to send a glare at the servant.

Concubine beats servant - even servants who work directly under you.

He can't lie, it felt nice to do that.

He was left alone in the room now. His feet were frozen to the floor as his eyes lingered on the open doorway, fluorescent light spilling out and into your bedroom. You were in there. You knew he had entered your room and you haven't told him to get out. Not yet at least.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or did you barge into my room without a reason? Unless you finally decided to give up the whole 'Don't talk to me. Don't touch me.' facade. I thought you'd hold out longer."

He flushed as you spoke. Both from anger and embarrassment at being called out. His feet carried him towards the entrance of the doorway, a resort building on his lips.

"I have in no way come here to spend time with you or be... touched."

"But you do want to talk." It wasn't a question. You seemed to already know why he had stormed into your room and now...

His eyes widened.

He had walked right into your bathroom and there you were. You were in a huge tub, naked but the water and suds covered you from the neck down. You still had your eye's covered as well.

His brain failed him. He couldn't form any words and a redness blossomed on the tip of his ears.

"You're leering."

"I am - I am not." He sputtered.

"Wanna join me?"

"Absolutely not."

You shrugged. "Then you're going to just stand there?"

"I - no I am not. I just came to -"

"To what?"

Scaramouche pursed his lips. His eyes flicker around the room, looking everywhere but at you.

"Diluc," he figured this would be the safest way to start. "Diluc said I should come and talk to you. The others did as well."

He trailed off awkwardly, expecting you to say something to him but you didn't. Instead you just leaned back against the tub.

"I wasn't going to."

You just hum.

"I thought it was a ridiculous idea but I just want to make things clear. I - I am not here to be one of your bodies to use. Or for you to assume that I am going to do whatever you ask me just because you're... you. I've spent enough of my life being surrounded by women who try to dictate everything about my life from what I eat to what I wear.

"I have no desire to understand you or get close to you. But I will apologize for the way I acted towards the others - your concubines and consorts, I mean. They - they are not you and just because I don't like you doesn't mean I should have been so... callous with the others and lashed out during dinner."

He let out a shuddering breath, a weight lifting from his chest as he said everything he wanted to say. He didn't realize just how nervous he actually was before coming into your room. His body feels limp.

You, however, didn't say anything for a short while.

In the back of his mind, he bet you enjoyed seeing him shift uncomfortably, a small sheen of sweat forming on his skin.

"Very well then."

He blinked at you.

"So that's it then." He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

"That's it. Why? Where you expecting something else."

"Well no. I just - you're not angry. I mean at me insulting you earlier and then coming in here and basically saying I'll never," He trailed off, not sure why he was trying to explain anything to you - not when you don't seem to care.

You laugh softly. The sound ringing in his ears. "I was angry but not at what you said about me. You think you're words were insulting? They were the truth. Besides I've been called much worse." You shrug. "What I was angry at was your blatant disregard and disrespect for the others. But it appears that you've changed your mind and realize that you shouldn't blame them just because of your hate for me so no reason to linger in the past."

"You almost sound like you actually care about them." This slipped out before he even realized what he said. Perhaps after what he said earlier, after confronting you, he finds it harder to hold his tongue.

Your lips tighten but other than that you don't say anything. You don't agree or disagree with his statement.

"So you don't love them? Even though all of them seem like they are deeply in love with you."

You don't answer and Scaramouche thinks he screwed up.

"Does love have to be the only reason I take care of those under me? Can't there be any other reason?"

"Selfishness? Control? Pride?" Scaramouche spoke without thinking.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Scaramouche swears he see's your lips twitch. "I may not love them but they're mine. I protect what's mine."

So, he was right about some things.

"So it is pride and ego."

"…"

"…"

You shift in the tub, your head falling back against the marble. His eyes flicker down to your throat, watching as a bead of water travels down your skin before snapping his eyes back to your face.

"Most of them are innocent to the truth of the world." You broke the silence after a minute.

"They know men are deemed lesser in this society but they haven't experiences the harshness that the world can offer. Not like you have or Venti or Diluc."

He doesn't see how this answers his previous questions.

"Do I love them? No. I don't believe I am capable of loving anything. But, I care about them. About what they can do - both for me and for themselves. I don't want them to whither away in a society that takes everything from them and become a shell of who they are and what they want to be in the future."

Your fingers drum against the marble of the tub, a small sound echoing in the bathroom.

"You see me as a horrible, cruel person and in some ways, I would say its true. I don't care about the lives of people outside of this palace - not even the people I am meant to. I don't feel anything when I take the lives of others - whether they are enemies or just people fighting because they have to. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. That alone would have everyone labeling me as cruel and even sadistic and I would agree. However, I protect them, ensure they have a good life because I need to. I need their support. But… the people in this palace - they are my people. I want to keep them happy, keep them sheltered, keep them protected; and I'll do whatever that takes in order to guarantee that."

Your head lifts from where it was resting against the tub. He can't see your eyes, the cloth still covering them, but he can feel your gaze penetrating him. The sudden pressure around him is becoming a constant whenever you decide to gaze at him.

"Now, that includes you too. You were a war prize originally, that much is true. You were a means to insult Ei but now you are one of my people. You may just be a concubine but I don't want you clinging to your old life and your old ways of thinking that you need to isolate yourself to survive."

He hated the way you see through him. This is the most you've talked to him - ever; and yet you read him without a problem. It leaves him feeling naked and bared in front of you, even with all of his clothes still on.

"Think what you want about me. I don't care. But the others, they are good and pure and kind. At least open yourself up to them. Each of them will take you in with open arms and love and care about you in ways you may have forgotten."

Scaramouche wasn't sure how to reply to all that. You weren't being vulnerable or even truly opening up to him but there was something in your words that left him shifting on his feet.

"And if I don't want to?" His voice came out shakier than he wanted. His eyes glued to his feet rather than looking at you.

"Then don't. Spend the rest of your time in the harem alone and miserable." You waved a hand like it meant nothing to you.

"I can make sure your fed and healthy but other than that everything else is you're choice."

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #genshin impact #genshin x reader #c:empress #genshin impact x reader #c:scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in Spanish, idiots in love-ish moments (maybe idiots in non-hate?)

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

June 1, 1816 – A few whispers have been floating around about Lord Arthur Barlow’s whereabouts following his escapade with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball, but this author must sadly say that she has no credible information on the subject. The Duke has likely paid his staff handsomely to avoid any news reaching the curious ears of the ton, much to our disappointment. While propriety suggests that his wedding plans to Miss Barrington should be in full swing, Lord Barlow is not particularly known for his propriety, and therefore we cannot assume anything.

Among other Montclair-related news, two of the Count’s children arrived in London yesterday: Lord Philippe Montclair IV and Lady Isabelle de la Torre, accompanied by their respective spouses and children. Is this unexpected gathering somehow linked to Lady Y/N's recent entanglement in scandal, or is it merely a coincidental family reunion?

You wrung your hands nervously in your carriage bound for Hyde Park, not quite able to sit still. Beside you sat Leonor, Philippe's wife, while your sisters, sitting opposite from you, observed your anxious demeanor with growing impatience. Isabelle, in particular, seemed annoyed by your restless gestures, her irritation palpable in the air.

“Y/N, for heaven's sake, it’s not like you’ve been compromised in any way!” said Isabelle, exasperated. “You’ll find someone else, and the Duke’s betrayal will be but a distant memory.”

It was easy for her to say; after all, her own search for a husband had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Unlike the rest of your siblings, Isabelle had had a love match from the beginning, and it only made it easier that Carlos, her now-husband, had strong ties to the royal family. Though her love story had been one for the ages, the fact that it had happened so easily was making her quite unsympathetic to your loss of a Duke you weren’t even properly interested in. 

“I might as well have been! Lady Whistledown is still mentioning my involvement in the scandal, and your presence isn’t helping.” You thanked the universe that your mother was on another carriage with Louis, Carlos, and Philippe, and hadn’t heard you being rude toward your sister.

"And why should we care about the musings of this Lady Whistledown?" retorted Isabelle with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“These English people treat that gossip column like gospel,” said Charlotte, crinkling her nose in disdain. “Though I dare say, Y/N, your predicament isn't as dire as you're painting it," she added, casting you a knowing glance.

"You two can afford to be cavalier about it, being safely married," you sighed, feeling defeated, and turned your gaze back out the window.

As your carriage rolled into the park, Leonor leaned in, placing her hand over yours. “No te preocupes, cariño,” she whispered reassuringly, so only you could hear (Don’t worry, sweetheart). “En todo caso, te vienes a España con tu hermano y conmigo” (In any case, you can come to Spain with your brother and me).

You smiled at her, resigned, but grateful for her offer. As you surveyed the bustling crowd outside, predominantly comprised of eligible men, the allure of Spain beckoned. It would certainly have better weather than London. And at least there was no Lady Whistledown in Salamanca. Though with the seemingly endless sources the woman had, you wouldn’t doubt her abilities to follow you there, too.

Stepping down from your carriage and walking toward the crowd of people in the park, you made eye contact with one of the gentlemen who had called on you yesterday. Though his poem had nearly put you to sleep, you smiled politely anyway. Perhaps he would be the first to talk to you today and ask for a turn about the park, and you would be able to finally relax in the knowledge that at least one person was still interested in you.

Though you hadn’t seen or heard from Lord Barlow since the Bridgerton ball, he still lingered in your mind. He ended up being just like any other man, you thought, annoyed. You hadn’t necessarily expected him to be the picture of attentiveness and love, especially not when you had only known each other a little over a month, but it was still disappointing to see how it had all turned out. 

"Lady Montclair," a voice interjected, drawing your attention to your right. Startled, you turned to see Colin Bridgerton, sporting an uncharacteristically earnest smile.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” you inquired. 

You had thought your dance two nights prior had been a one-time event, a small courtesy on his part, for Eloise, so you didn’t look a complete fool upon your re-entry to society. So why was he here now? Had he come here to resume tormenting you? You weren’t quite sure you had the energy for that today, already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you thought about how many men you would have to impress and the intense scrutiny you would face from the rest of the ton.

“Would you care for a promenade?” his voice, a gentle invitation, broke through your thoughts.

“A prom- What?” you said lowly, careful that no one would hear you. “You already danced with me once, and it was more than enough,” you assured him. 

Colin was fighting an internal battle. He was torn between still being absolutely enchanted by you after one dance, and the larger part of him that was annoyed that you apparently didn’t want to speak with him today. Yet, true to form, Colin’s more combative side won out.  

“Well, I don’t particularly see gentlemen lining up to speak with you today, so I rather think you might need some more help,” he shot back. 

You felt your face flush as you gasped in offense. “That is so patronizing. I’ve barely been here three seconds! I hardly think that amount of time is indicative of whether any suitors would like to speak with me today.”

It was true; Colin had rushed to greet you moments after you had stepped down from your carriage. But aside from the fact that he was embarrassed by his eagerness and trying to cover it up, he was not about to let up, not against you. 

“Do you think, for once in your life, you could engage with me without throwing a fit?” he asked you, anger seeping into his words. 

You were speechless, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Your instinct would have been to get mad at him, but unfortunately, he was right. You were struggling to let yourself be vulnerable with Colin, never mind how good of a time you had had dancing with him. But you were too stubborn to accept his offer to walk with him. You simply stared at him, your eyes swimming with uncertainty, and silently willed him to keep pushing you to accept his help. It was the only way you would allow yourself to do it, and you were relieved when he held out his arm for you to take.

“Come along,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For both our sakes, we should just walk to avoid a scene.”

“Very well, then,” you relented, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his arm beneath your touch. It lit a fire inside of you that you weren’t familiar with, and you suddenly found yourself out of breath. 

“My sister can chaperone,” he suggested, gently guiding you toward where his family was situated. 

You could only nod dumbly in response, the flutters in your lower abdomen only growing stronger when he placed his hand over yours. Vaguely registering Daphne and Simon waving at you, you smiled and greeted them, grateful to have something else to focus on that wasn't Mr. Bridgerton's very well-sculpted arms. 

As you began to stroll, the Bassets a few paces behind you, you felt that your voice was stable enough to begin a conversation. “So, Mr. Bridgerton, indulge my curiosity and tell me more about your travels. Have you ever been lost at sea?”

Colin smiled at you, unable to hold back his fondness for you once again, and his breath was stolen from his lips as he made eye contact with you. You looked back eagerly, staring straight into him, and he was momentarily speechless. But you blinked, indicating that you were still awaiting a response, and he realized he had forgotten himself once again in your presence, an alarmingly increasing trend. 

After clearing his throat, Colin answered, “A few times, yes. Most unfortunate was the time we became lost in the twilight hours when it was freezing out, but the stars proved an exceptionally useful tool in helping us find our way.”

“The stars?” you asked, curious. Could it be that you and Colin had yet another thing in common? It was hard to parse who he had been with you the past few days with the man you had a rivalry with practically from the moment you arrived in England. Who was the real Colin?

“Yes, indeed,” affirmed Colin, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “They’re actually quite a useful tool. Regardless of our whereabouts, we look at the same constellations, albeit from differing vantage points. For instance, if you look up at the sky any of these nights, and you see three stars close together arranged in a line, that’s-”

“Orion’s belt,” you finished for him, your voice soft. Then, seeing his amused, and admittedly curious, smile, you explained, “My governess used to take me outside at night, even in the winter, so I could look at the stars. I know a fair few constellations, and I always like to know which ones are visible to me.”

Colin shook his head in wonder. The universe was a cruel thing, to make you so perfectly suited to him and make you hate him more than you hated, apparently, anyone or anything else. But it wasn’t like he liked you any better, he reasoned.

“I’d wager you’d be a wonderful navigator, then,” he said. “I’m certain you’d never get lost in treacherous waters.” He had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that you go with him on his next trip around the world. 

You hummed softly in response. It never quite felt like you had a grip on where you were going. Usually, you just felt like you were groping around in the dark, desperately trying to find the right way to go. 

The promenade stretched on longer than anticipated, with both of you engaging in pleasant conversation throughout, and more than a few stolen glances. It was a shock, really, when Daphne cleared her throat politely behind you and Colin. You suddenly realized that you and Colin had been walking together for longer than was typically appropriate. 

“It might be time for Lady Montclair to promenade with someone else,” she suggested gently, a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at Colin's crestfallen face. Turning away from you, she leaned over and whispered something unintelligible to Simon as the pair walked away back toward the rest of the Bridgertons, allowing you and Colin a few moments of privacy.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, finding yourself slightly disappointed that your time together was ending. “I’m not quite sure I would have needed your saving again, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Suddenly, you noticed a piece of lint on the lapel of Colin’s jacket. You reached over, almost instinctively, and picked it off. Your fingers barely grazed his chest, and his words caught in his throat as he saw your hand reach toward his chest in slow motion. 

The two of you stood still, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, one of your hands still extended toward him. Realizing your actions necessitated an explanation, you hurriedly brought your hand back to your side again and averted your gaze, avoiding eye contact with Colin.

“Lint,” you explained awkwardly. “On your coat.”

Oh, how could you have done something so brash? And in such a public setting, too, you scolded yourself. 

“I-Th-Well, I-Thank you, Lady Montclair,” Colin stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting from your intimate gesture. But you were already walking away, fists clenched at your sides as he saw you walking back to your family. 

Once more, you were intercepted by what could only be described as a horde of men vying for your favor. But, just like two nights prior, all Colin could feel was a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watched you walk away, your laughter ringing like music in his ears. 

He knew what that was like now. To have you genuinely laugh at something he said. And it was different from how you were with these men. Even different from how you had been with the Duke. His heart warmed when he realized he had something of you that no one else did, and he wanted to bottle up your laugh and keep it in his breast pocket, forever a reminder of you near his heart.

A short distance away, Carlos observed with amusement as Colin stood there, seemingly transfixed by your departure. Standing beside him was Leonor, who had also been privy to the entire spectacle. The two often found themselves together during family outings, enjoying speaking in Spanish for a change. 

“La ama,” Carlos said to Leonor, his tone tinged with amusement at Colin's evident infatuation (He loves her).

Suppressing a chuckle, Leonor discreetly cleared her throat. “Y cuanto tiempo crees que será hasta que se de cuenta?” she quipped in response (And how long do you think it'll be until he realizes?).

---

In the late afternoon, you found yourself seated by the pianoforte, the pleasant notes of your scales filling the room. Across from you, your mother quietly engrossed herself in a book, while Isabelle diligently worked on her needlepoint. Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere of your sitting room was disrupted as your butler made an unexpected entrance. 

“Lady Montclair, a visitor,” he said politely, bowing slightly. 

Your fingers stopped playing and you looked toward your mother, who had a questioning look on her face. 

“I hadn’t been expecting anyone. And at this hour? Is everything alright?” she asked the butler. 

His face flushed slightly. “My apologies, I meant Lady Y/N Montclair,” he corrected himself. “It’s the Duke.”

But he barely had time to announce your visitor before Lord Barlow strode into your sitting room, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He looked positively ghastly, and you wouldn’t have doubted it if he told you he hadn’t slept in a week. 

He was panting and slightly sweaty, clearly having rushed over to your home for some unknown reason, when he took off his hat and crouched next to the pianoforte bench.

“Forgive me,” he addressed the other women in the room. Then, turning back to you, he roughly grasped your hand, placing a wet kiss on the back of it. You slightly cringed in disgust, not particularly wanting this man anywhere near you.

“Y/N, my darling, I am so terribly sorry for what happened at the Bridgerton ball. It was unforgivable. Except that you must forgive me!” he pleaded, voice full of desperation.

You were utterly confused, and more than a little angry. Who did this man think he was, barging into your home at this hour and demanding forgiveness? You shared a look with your mother, who looked equally as scandalized. 

“Lord Bar-” you started, but before you could finish, he interrupted you, grasping your hand even tighter.

“No! Not Lord Barlow. Arthur. Your Arthur. It’s me; I’m here. What happened with Miss Barrington was a foolish mistake, and it will never happen again. Marry me, Y/N. Marry me and make me the happiest man in all of Mayfair. In all of England, even. Please,” he begged. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leonor leaving the room quietly, and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of having to face this man on your own. You breathed deeply, calming yourself with the thought that your mother remained in the room before you addressed Lord Barlow. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “What of Miss Barrington? She will be ruined if you do not marry her.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and shaking his head in annoyance. “What of her? She is not as important to me as you are,” he said lowly. “I do not have with her what I have with you. I need you, Y/N. Please marry me.”

Letting the anger that had been slowly bubbling inside you take over, you snatched your hand out of his grip and stood up, towering over him. “Are you quite finished? You are completely unbelievable. I will not marry you, your Grace, and it is egregious that you would even suggest it. Do you truly have so little respect for Miss Barlow that you would leave her, ruined, as you married someone else? Do you truly think so lowly of me that you thought I would say yes?”

“Barlow, take your leave,” came a commanding voice from the doorway before the Duke could respond to you. 

With a surge of relief, you caught sight of Louis and Philippe standing firm with Leonor at their side, their expressions firm and determined, while she was looking anxiously between you and Lord Barlow. 

But the Duke was relentless, his desperation palpable as he pleaded his case, his words brimming with urgency. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and turned to face your brothers. "You don’t understand. I must marry your sister. I must!"

“I believe my brother asked you to take your leave, your Grace,” said Philippe, voice cold and cutting. “Louis, if you could be so kind as to escort Lord Barlow out.”  

Louis wasted no time, roughly grabbing Barlow’s arm and dragging him away from you as the man protested profusely. But your brother wasn’t going to let him hurt you again. It was bad enough that he had already done it once, but Louis would rather come to blows right now in your home than let the Duke stand in your presence for another second.

As Louis ushered Lord Barlow out of your sitting room, Philippe placed a protective hand in front of Leonor and pulled her behind him. Ensuring his wife’s safety, he turned to you, a concerned expression on his face.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

But you didn’t have time to answer, your father storming into the room with fury in his eyes.

“Was that Barlow I saw in the hall? Can someone give me an explanation?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on your stricken expression.

Your voice trembled as you confessed, still reeling from the shock of the encounter. "He asked me to marry him," you admitted, the words hanging heavily in the air. 

“She said no, of course. And put him in his place,” your mother added, eyes wide and fixed on the doorway still. It seemed that Lord Barlow’s unexpected appearance had been an unwelcome shock for her, too.

Your father placed his hands on his hips, staring at the two of you in disbelief. “Well done,” he finally conceded after a few moments of silence. 

You nodded meekly in response, not quite feeling anything right at this minute. 

“He is not worthy of you, Y/N. A title and fortune are important, of course, but so is honor. And he clearly has none,” said your father, disgust clear in his voice.

You’d heard this speech a million times, but this time the words rang loudly in your ears. A title and fortune are important, his words echoed in your mind. It was what your father always said, but this time you couldn’t help thinking: Colin Bridgerton, whom you had developed an inexplicable fondness for, possessed neither title nor fortune.

But as quickly as the doubt arose, you cast it aside. You reminded yourself firmly that Colin was not the sort of man a Montclair could marry. The reality was stark, and you refused to entertain the notion that such a match could ever be possible. You weren’t even sure that you liked the man, why were you thinking of marrying him?

—

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#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #enemies to lovers #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton fanfic #colin bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton x enemy!reader #bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x you #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #lost in translation #lost in translation: writing

[byhees]

when you have dimples.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 500 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read kissing skinship — more

a/n. because i, too, have dimples :-D

heeseung would melt in a millisecond; they make you look infinitely prettier, if that’s even humanly possible, at that— even the mere sight of them has him caving. and for that exact reason, they, somehow, prove pretty effective during moments where he’s trying to refuse some silly request; he could be shaking his head ever so lightly, stoic expression painted all over his face, in one moment; and in the next, he’d be left crumbling, giving in almost seconds afterwards— it’s near impossible to resist your adorable dimples…

jay would, probably, do anything to make you laugh; after finding out that you, his lovely girlfriend, has dimples, he just created some form of internal agenda to make you happy, twenty-four-seven; would love squishing your cheeks, palms raising to sandwich your face between his hands— “you’re so cute”, he’d say, a smile spreading across his features, the corners of his eyes crinkling…

jake would fall even deeper in love with you; you’re adorable, even whilst doing absolutely nothing— you’re even more adorable whilst smiling; cue horribly executed jokes, just for the sake of seeing you giggle; would love poking your dimples, a smile of his own tugging on his lips…

sunghoon would probably combust from how endearing you look; the mere fact that you’re laughing at his ridiculous jokes, already has him crumbling— the appearance of your dimples? you bet he’s falling even harder for you; would love admiring you, even if it’s from afar— the way your dimples show, even with the smallest of grins, has his heart doing somersaults within his chest…

sunoo would do everything in his power to see you smile; loves peppering little kisses over your face— melts when a soft giggle slips past your lips, your dimples faintly appearing amidst the sweet kiss-attack; “you’re the prettiest person in the world”, he’d mumble under his breath, eyes twinkling with adoration…

jungwon would fall head over heels for you; the mere sight of your dimples has his heart skipping beats, a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach; would poke your dimples— might even press little pecks on said areas, loving the way you erupt into a fit of soft giggles; “look, we’re twinning!” he’d chirp, pointing to his own dimple; loves your pretty smile so much…

riki would probably tease you for them, pointing out how they have a tendency to appear even whilst you’re trying to bite back a smile; if anyone were to comment anything hurtful about your pretty dimples, he’d be the first to narrow his eyes, a little glare being sent to the rude party; blurts out random things just to elicit a laugh from you— his eyes always dart to your face, wanting to see your dimples for just a second longer…

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