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thef1diary · 30 days

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Little Big Fan | Fifteen

— Little Big Aftermath [aka the end]

Series Masterlist

wc: 3k

we’ve made it to the end guys! I just have to say I never thought I’d complete this story and that too fifteen parts of it but to all those who read it and motivated me to keep writing, thank you. While it is the end of the official story, I will continue to take requests for blurbs on specific scenes you’d like to see. However, there won’t be a set posting date on these blurbs, it’ll be out whenever it’s requested and completed. Once again, thank you so much for those who were here since the first chapter, and here’s to more fic series in the future. P.S lemme know if you want to be tagged in the blurbs.

Your frown grew deeper as you turned in the direction your daughter had pointed, unfortunately spotting Tyler. Luckily, he wasn't looking at you two since he was focusing on the podium celebrations about to happen.

"I didn't know daddy was here, mama." Picking Isabella up, you shook your head, "I didn't know either, angel, but let's focus on Max for now okay?"

She gave a nod of agreement and applauded for the drivers, Oscar and Lando in particular, who finished second and third in the race. She did, however, cheer the loudest when Max, as he has done after almost every race this season, stepped onto the top step of the podium.

He was having trouble finding you and Isabella right away in the crowd, and you could see the slightest frown forming on his face until a smile emerged when he succeeded, connecting his gaze with yours.

Isabella giggled as Max held his hand up to wave at her before blowing a kiss in the air in your direction. His behaviour drew Lando and Oscar's attention to you as well, with the former driver rolling his eyes at Max jokingly and Oscar smiling at the interaction.

However, you didn't realize that someone else was also looking at you because your gaze didn't waver away from Max.

The champagne bottles were popped, and this time Isabella was awake to see it all, watching with fascination as it was the first time she was able to see it in person. "I wanna do that, mama," she pointed at the drivers spraying the alcoholic drink, soaking each other's race suits while laughing. "Maybe when you're older, Bella."

"When I'm 7?" She asked, and you chuckled, "a little more than that, sweetheart."

Once the celebrations were over, a huge part of the crowd dispersed, the teams resuming to their usual scheduled routines, preparing for post-race debriefs and other meetings. "Where's Maxy going?" Isabella asked, watching as he was led away by someone clad in a RedBull uniform.

"He's a little busy with interviews, but he told me that he'd come back as soon as he's done," you explained, knowing that Max had a post-race conference and a few other duties lined up.

Isabella huffed, "but he won the race." She rested her head on your shoulder for a moment while playing with a strand of your hair—the habit formed back when she was a few months old.

"Yeah he did, which means he's very famous right now and so many people want to talk to him," you explained and while she nodded in understanding, she still pouted, "I wanna talk to him too."

"Why don't we wait for him inside his driver's room?" You asked, turning around when she nodded.

You had almost reached Max's driver room—a place he had suggested for you and Isabella to stay to wait for him, but pausing in a secluded area as a familiar voice called out, "Isabella!" then heard your name as well. Isabella squirmed in your lap, wanting to get down after seeing Tyler walk up to you both. You sighed, knowing that you'd have to stop and chat.

"Tyler," you greeted, and awkwardness hung in the air for two seconds before Isabella decided to speak up. "Daddy, you said you were busy, what are you doing here?"

Despite her hesitance to stay at her father's place, which she still hasn't done since the day she was discharged from the hospital, she frequently spoke to him over the phone.

Unfortunately for him, Isabella rarely forgets promises. While he was busy playing the "good father" role after your ultimatum, he had make false promises, agreeing to everything she asked for without hearing her out properly. In that conversation, she asked about the promise he made of taking her to a race before she had met Max.

While you and Max had taken her once, she still wanted to experience the thrill with her father since he was the one who introduced the sport to her.

He glanced at you, silently asking if he did in fact claim that he was busy, and frowned when you nodded. "Oh Bella, sweetheart, I didn't know that I would have the time to be here, it was an unexpected decision or else I would've brought you along, but you're here anyways!" He tried to uplift her mood, but instead of hanging on to every word he spoke like she used to do, she just shrugged.

Deciding to divert the topic of conversation, Tyler asked, "did you enjoy the race?" He stepped forward, kneeling down to be closer to her but on instinct, Isabella moved away, clutching on to your hand tightly.

He frowned, once again glancing up at you after noticing her behaviour, but you didn't let an ounce of emotion show on your face. "I'm so happy Maxy won!" She exclaimed, her mood improving for a moment as she thought about him.

Standing up to his full height, Tyler looked at you, "why don't we sit and chat for a moment?" Pressing your lips together in a tight smile, you replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He scoffed, then shrugged, "fine, have it your way like always." You were not in the mood to indulge his stupid comments which would eventually lead to an argument, in fact you were here to enjoy the weekend with your boyfriend who you dearly missed in this moment.

His eyes widened briefly when you didn't respond to his comment, wondering how you changed so much in a matter of a few weeks that you couldn't care less about him anymore.

"Hey Bella, why don't you show daddy the caps that you got?" You prompted another topic, that Isabella quickly agreed to. Tyler's gaze remained on you for a moment, understanding that you truly had no intention on speaking to him longer than necessary. The conversations you did have were only necessary due to your daughter, but even those texts and calls started becoming less and less frequent.

Isabella took off her Red Bull cap, which had autographs from Max and Checo, to expose a Ferrari cap with two more signatures from Charles and Carlos, and then a McLaren cap that undoubtedly featured two signatures from Oscar and Lando. She caught up to Lando and Charles, who had given her their hats earlier, as well as their teammates, to obtain signatures. She then wanted to get autographs on her RedBull cap as well. When she asked Max and Checo, they chuckled with the latter claiming she had them all at her beck and call, but they nevertheless signed the cap.

Isabella ended up stacking all three caps on her head because she couldn't choose which one best matched with her outfit. She began explaining the story behind the signatures, and Tyler intently listened, asking a few questions in between as well.

"And then-" Isabella's gaze wandered off, eyes lighting up in excitement as she spotted, "-Maxy!"

Without any hesitation she ran up to him, colliding with him as she tried to wrap her arms around him, earning a low, "oof" from him.

Picking her up and settling her on his hip, holding her up with one arm, he held up his other hand that had a medal hanging from it. Max placed the medal around Isabella's neck, which he received on the podium earlier along with his trophy. "We won, princess," he commented, smiling as wide as she did.

She held both of her hands up, imitating the action Max did as he held his trophy on the podium, causing him to laugh. You watched the interaction with a smile on your face, and could hear their laughter from a few feet away.

Walking towards you as Max was initially planned on doing, he noticed a man next to you, which based on your descriptions was Tyler. He decided to overlook him for now, instead greeting you with a kiss to your cheek.

Tyler held his hand out, "great race, congratulations on the championship. I'm a huge fan by the way." Max, nodded politely, still holding Isabella in his arms but shaking his hand nonetheless. "Thank you," he prompted, waiting for the man to introduce himself to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, so you're Tyler." Max glanced at you for a moment, watching as you tried to hide your smile behind your hands because of his antics. "Why do you say it like it's a bad thing?" He questioned, and Max was quick to retort, "well, it's not really the best thing now is it?"

"I don't understand," he trailed off, and your boyfriend shrugged, "I figured you wouldn't understand, it's okay," he patted Tyler's shoulder in faux consolation. You had to take a step back so Tyler wouldn't see your expression, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

Tyler was quick to catch on to the condescending tone Max spoke with, looking at you—after you composed yourself fortunately. "So what, you get invited to one race and you guys are best friends now?" He asked, a hint of jealousy you were familiar with revealed in his tone.

"More like she's my girlfriend and they're here to support me," Max clarified. Tyler looked at Max, then Isabella, finally understanding why she was always so enamoured by him.

He scoffed, "oh great, enjoy my sloppy seconds then mate, I will warn you though, it's not worth it because a few months later she'll show you a positive pregnancy test and force you to be a father."

Your jaw dropped, instantly responding, "in front of my daughter?" You glanced at Isabella who was in fact hearing all the words spoken, only frowning due to yours and Max's expressions as she didn't understand the full context of the words her father had said, just knowing that it wasn't good.

Max wiped his hand over his mouth, jaw clenching while his warm gaze turned cold within seconds. "Apologize, now," he instructed, trying to hold himself back from causing a fight.

"Now why would I do that? It's true." Max placed Isabella back on her feet who quickly shuffled over to you, standing behind your legs. "How dare you stand here claiming to be my fan yet talk shit about the person I love?" The driver placed his hand on Tyler's shoulder again, but this time you could see the fear bubbling up in his eyes as his grip tightened.

Still, Tyler managed to scoff, "love? Bold claims there. Sorry to break it to you but she's probably just with you for your mon-" he couldn't finish his sentence because he was punched square in the jaw by your boyfriend.

"Max!" You shrieked, and watching the interaction, Isabella held on to your hands tightly with tears welling up in her eyes. You picked her up again, noticing that Tyler was fuming in anger. "Gonna fucking sue you for that," he spit out some blood, but Max only shrugged, "try me."

Fortunately, you guys were stood in between the team motorhomes, which meant you were slightly hidden away from public eye due to the buildings covering the scene.

Readying himself for another punch if needed, you shook your head, "it's not worth it, Max."

"Yeah Max, listen to your girlfriend," he taunted, angering you in the process. "Will you ever shut up?" You shot back. Max glanced at Isabella who had hid her face in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you. Although he couldn't see her face, he guessed that her eyes were tightly shut.

Nodding as a silent agreement with Max, you decided to walk away from the scene as you didn't want to expose Isabella to any more of this argument than what she has already heard. Glancing at Max once more, you hoped that your expression was indicating something along the lines of, "don't do anything too bad."

However, you could hear Max's words as he began speaking to Tyler, "listen here you little shit..." but you didn't stick around to hear the entire conversation, smiling to yourself knowing that Tyler would finally be put into his place—that too by his favourite driver.

Finally entering his driver's room, you sat down on the couch sighing in relief. Isabella was still in your lap and you ran your hand up and down her back in a soothing motion because you could feel her sniffling against you. "Bella," you murmured, wanting to see her adorable face.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, sweetheart." You kissed her head before brushing your hand through her hair. You heard her mumble but didn't catch her words, "what was that?"

She lifted her head to look at you, and you frowned seeing the tears staining her cheeks. "Why is daddy so mean? I don't like him."

"Some people are just mean for no reason, and unfortunately, your daddy is one of them," you explained, no longer covering for him knowing that after what Isabella witnessed, she wouldn't want to be near him no matter what you said.

She frowned but didn't respond, leaning her head against your shoulder again. You didn't disturb her peace, knowing that after the eventful day, she needed some quiet time.

Max entered the room a few minutes later, and he smiled to greet you but it fell flat. He pointed at Isabella, then put his thumbs up to silently ask if she was okay, but you shrugged.

"What did you say to him?" You asked, knowing that whatever conversation followed probably wasn't kind. "I told him that I'd ban him from future races if I saw him anywhere near you or Bella, and he left."

You knew that it probably wasn't that easily done, but you didn't ask for more details.

You had thought Isabella fell asleep since she hadn't moved in a while, nor could you see her face, but she lifted her head up to look at Max once she heard some shuffling about in the room.

He paused as soon as his gaze connected with hers, unsure of how to initiate a conversation because he did literally punch her father. Isabella wiggled off your lap, and both you and Max thought that she would walk away further into the room so her next action surprised you both. Running towards Max, she held her arms out, engulfing him in a hug.

"You're better than my dad, Maxy," she muttered, and he audibly sighed, the stress wrinkles on his face disappearing while wrapping his own arms around her smaller frame.

"Thank you, princess," he whispered back, and she pulled back to kiss his cheek. Isabella looked back at you, smiling when she saw you smile as well. "Thank you for taking care of my mama," your daughter told Max, and his heart warmed at her words. "Always."

The ring of your phone interrupted the beautiful sight in front of you, but your eyes widened when you saw that it was your mother calling. As soon as you pick it up, you're greeted by hearing your full name.

"Hi, mum," you stood up and walked further away just in case you were about to get a scolding although you had no idea what you could've possibly done. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"Tell you what?" You answered with a question of your own, knowing that she could be referring to anything at the moment. "That you have a boyfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, "how do you know that?" She chuckled, "because a friend of mine called me and told me that she just watched you kiss someone on live television, some racer guy."

Covering your mouth with your hand, you thought back to the moment Max kissed you in front of the huge crowd after getting out of his car, and of course there had to be cameras capturing the moment. "Max, he's a Formula 1 driver," you explained.

"Wait, the same Max that Bella talks about?" You hummed, "the same one."

"I'm glad you finally moved on from your daughter's father, but I'm also sad that you didn't tell me sooner and I looked foolish because I didn't know until my friend told me about it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think my relationship would be broadcasted live. Plus, I think the chapter with Tyler is finally over, for both me and Isabella."

"That's good to hear, she doesn't deserve a father like him. Is Max good to you?"

"He's the best to both of us, she lights up with joy every time she sees him." Your mother hummed as she heard your response, "then me and your father have to meet him one day."

You heard some laughter in the next room where Max and Isabella were, and you smiled at your mother's words, "I hope we can come by soon, I'd love to introduce him to you and dad."

After saying goodbyes and promises to meet soon, you returned to the room Max and Isabella were in, pausing in the doorway at the sight in front of you. Just like how Isabella was sitting in your lap earlier with her head against your shoulder, she did the same to Max.

You were about to make your presence known when you heard your daughter's question. "Maxy, why do you call me princess?"

Max's gaze found yours, always finding you whether you were standing in the corner of the room or in a crowd. "Because your mama is the queen," he responded casually, as if he was stating a fact.

Isabella lifted her head, "does that make you the king?" He shrugged, "I guess it does."

She giggled, "and does that mean we get a happily ever after like the storybooks?" Max reached his hand out towards you, asking you to join them which you obliged to easily.

"Ours is better than the storybooks," he stated, placing a kiss on Isabella's forehead before pecking your lips briefly.

The End.

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#little big fan fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff

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maidragoste · 5 months

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Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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sailor-aviator · 5 months

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Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Smut (fingering, p in v), Dirty talk, Language, Flirting, Miscommunication, Fluff, Romance, Jake being an idiot. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Wow, okay. I told myself I wasn't going to be emotional, and yet here I am. Crying. This has been such an incredible journey, y'all. This fanfic got me through my lowest this year, and to finally see it finished now that I'm in the spot that I am? I am truly without words. A special shoutout to @goldenseresinretriever who is not only my fan club president, but one of my dearest, dearest friends. I hope I continue to do justice by these two, but I know you'll be there to make sure I do! And a shoutout to @fanficfandomlove as well! Thank you for all of your support, and I'm so lucky to count you as one of my friends! Friendly reminder that I have two writing challenges going at the moment! My Christmas Challenge and my Playlist Challenge are both still taking entries! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The house was still when you entered, the afternoon light streaming through he windows and illuminating the room in such a way that it made you question reality for a moment. You clung to Jake who stood beside you, his arms strong where they were wrapped around your frame. He had almost died. You had almost been too late to save him.

You collapsed to the ground with a shuddering gasp, a sob escaping seconds later. You clasped a hand over your mouth to try and stop the noises coming from you. You had to be strong. You needed to be strong. But the sobs kept coming, wracking your body and you were vaguely aware of Jake kneeling down next to you.

“Scout,” he said gently, running a hand through your hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m safe.”

“I know,” you sobbed, reaching over to cling to him. “I know, but you almost weren’t, Jake. I almost lost you, and there would have been nothing I could have done about it.”

He was silent for a moment, letting you calm down before he continued.

“But you weren’t, sweet girl. You never gave up on me, and you made it. I’m right here with you, okay?” He cooed, helping you to your feet. He gently wiped your tears away, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But if you ever pull something like that again, I will take you over my knee, do you hear me?”

You balked, pushing away to look at him. He was grinning, but there was a look of seriousness in his eyes and you began to splutter.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am, honey girl.”

“Jake Seresin,” you growled, “I just saved your life.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer to you, and you felt your cheeks warm at the proximity.

“And while I’m very thankful for that, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes growing dark as he looked you up and down, “it doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself in danger.”

“Unbelievable,” you groused, pushing past him and towards the stairs. You made it up the first three steps before he grabbed you, causing you to let out a shriek as he threw you over his shoulder. He gave you a swat on the rear, chuckling when you yelped.

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble one day,” he murmured playfully, walking up the stairs and towards your bedroom. Once inside, he tossed you down onto the bed where you landed with a bounce. He was on you in an instant, molding his lips over yours in a kiss that you eagerly returned. The kiss was one of desperation and relief, knowing that the both of you were alive and safe and just needing to feel one another. He nipped at your bottom lip as he pulled away, chuckling when you chased after him with a whine. He placed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away once more.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He rumbled, green eyes meeting yours. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as you got lost in how dark his eyes had become. He clucked at you disapprovingly, shaking his head. “Need to hear that pretty voice of yours, honey girl. Let’s try again. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You swallowed thickly, shifting slightly under the weight of his stare. “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He smirked. You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze with your half hooded one.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be a good girl for you.”

He hummed, leaning in to steal another kiss from you. His tongue delved between your parted lips, licking languidly into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, reaching your hands up to run your fingers through the soft locks of his hair, tugging slightly. It was Jake’s turn to moan, and he pulled away, breath coming out in pants as he looked at you.

“Strip for me.”

You moved out from underneath him to stand, turning to face him as you began to undress. Jake watched you with hungry eyes as you slowly revealed yourself to him, stopping once you were standing in only your chemise. Without breaking eye contact, he moved to his feet, taking slow steps towards you. He ran his fingers over your cheekbone before cupping your jaw and kissing you once more.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered, voice low and gravelly. “But when I say strip, sweet girl, I mean all the way.”

Your breath hitched, eyes going wide and face heating with embarrassment. This man had seen you before, but somehow this time felt different, filled with more anticipation than nervousness like the first time. He cocked an eyebrow at you before slowly kneeling down and taking the hem of your chemise in his hands.

“Here,” he murmured, mischief in his eyes. “Let me help you.”

He slowly peeled the garment off of you, moving to stand as he did so. He pulled it gently over your head, tossing it towards the corner as he looked at you. You could practically feel the trail his eyes took as he gazed hungrily at you. He began to unbutton his own shirt, untucking it from his trousers as he gestured towards the bed.

“On the bed, Scout.”

You did as instructed, watching with hooded eyes as he stripped bare before you. Once he was finished, he crawled up the bed towards your waiting arms, meeting you in a passion filled kiss. His right hand crept up to palm at your breast, causing you to mewl into his mouth.

“Can practically smell how wet you are for me,” he growled as he pulled away, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers once again found purchase in his hair, desperate for something to cling on to.

His lips left a trail down your chest until they enveloped your nipple, alternating between sucking and licking. You let out a keening cry as you arched into his mouth, hands holding his head steady.

“Feel good, sugar?” He smirked up at you, nipping at the surrounding skin. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Jake!” You cried, eyes clamping shut as you squirmed beneath him. He pressed more of his weight into you in a bid to keep you still, the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

“You feel what you do to me, honey girl?” He murmured, moving back up to capture your lips with his. This kiss was all tongues and teeth as you bucked up into him. “Feel how hard you make me?”

“Jake, please,” you whined, eyes begging as they stared at him, letting out a gasp as he snuck a finger between the two of you to press against your slit. “Need you.”

“You have me,” he cooed, pressing his finger into you slowly, earning a high-pitched cry from you as he began to slowly pump in and out. “Let me make you feel good first.”

“Jake,” you gasped, fingers moving from his hair to his shoulders, surely leaving scratches behind. “More, please.”

He slipped another finger inside of you slick entrance, scissoring them before crooking them in search of that special spot inside of you. You cried out as he found it, stars in your eyes as you called out his name, practically wailing when his thumb circled your clit and sending shocks of pleasure through you.

“Can feel how close you are, sweet girl,” he whispered, placing chaste kisses against any piece of skin he could find. “Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. God, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock. Need you to come first, though. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

“Jakey,” you cried, the coil inside you snapping as your vision went white, a soundless scream on your lips.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him slip his slick soaked fingers into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“Taste so good, honey girl,” he murmured as he looked at you, the greens of his eyes practically swallowed by his pupils. “Gonna taste you-”

“No,” you said breathlessly, causing him to frown. You shook your head as you fought to control your breathing. “Want you inside me. Please, Jakey.”

A grin broke out over his face at your words.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he chuckled, already moving to line himself up at your entrance. He ran his length through your folds, coating himself in your slick before slowly pushing in. You sucked in a breath as your nails dug into his shoulders, Jake groaning at the combination of pain and pleasure you were provoking in him.

“Shit, baby,” he gasped, head flying back as he continued to slide into you. “Can feel you sucking me in. So wet and tight. Shit.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist once he was fully seated inside of you. The two of you basked in the feel of finally having each other so close, the emotions of the past two days catching up with you. You didn’t even notice that tears began to fall until Jake was wiping them away, still seated inside of you.

“You okay?” He asked, eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded, cupping his face in your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, nodding once more. “Need to feel you. Need you to move.”

“I’ve got you, honey girl,” he smirked, thrusting slowly into you. You gasped out, head thrown back as he built a rhythm, finding an angle that worked for the both of you.

“Always feel so good,” he groaned, nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as his thrusts became harder. “So wet and warm. Always such a good girl for me, yeah? Made just for me. Love the pathetic little sounds you make as you’re creamin’ all over me. Makin’ a mess of the sheets as I ruin you.”

“Jakey,” you whined out, barely able to form a coherent thought as he rutted into you, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He smirked, pulling back to look at you and brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Too cock drunk to answer me? Am I makin’ you feel too good?”

He pulled out of you, and you cried at the loss. His hands landed on your hips as he flipped you onto your stomach, positioning you on your knees. A crack sounded in the room and you let out a gasp as Jake’s hand landed on your ass.

“Jake!” You exclaimed, eyes going wide as he landed a second blow to the other side. You could practically feel yourself grow wetter, and your cheeks heated with shame.

“You going to stay out of trouble from now on?” He asked lowly, kneading the flesh of your ass greedily. He landed another blow when you didn’t answer, and you jolted forward, but his hands held you in place.

“Jake, please,” you whined, pushing back against him in a bid for him to slip back inside you. He tsked before landing another light slap to the other side, soothing the sting before answering.

“You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? I can do this all day.”

Two more smacks resounded accompanying your moan of pleasure. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sheets below with how wet you were. Tears of frustration began to prickle at your eyes the longer he kept you like this.

“What’s this?” Jake mocked. “Is my honey girl a slut for pain?”

“Jake!”

“Answer the question, Scout.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m a slut for pain.”

Another smack landed on your ass, and your head fell forward onto your arms as you let out a sob.

“Are you going to stay out of trouble when I tell you to?”

“Yes! Yes, please Jakey!”

He hummed as he leaned back, admiring his handiwork. You were sure your ass was as red as it felt, and you hung your head in shame as his fingers ran through the slick that was running down your thighs.

“Who knew you’d love being treated this way,” he rasped, leaning in and licking a line up your slit. You cried out at the sensation, your hips surging back to seek out more. He chuckled as he ran his length through your folds once more. “Who knew the prim and proper lady from Baltimore was just a cock hungry slut. Is that what you want, sugar? You wanna be filled up, nice and full?”

“Yes,” you hissed, arching your back as the tip of his cock slipped into you. “Want you to fill me up.”

“As you wish,” he smirks, slamming back into you. His pace was relentless, hips slamming into yours with a force that nearly knocked you over. Jake gathered your hair into a ponytail, using it to guide you back until your back was flush to his chest. His hand drifted down to wrap around your neck, squeezing slightly and earning a debauched moan from you. He slowed his pace until he was gently rocking into you. He pulled your head to the side to face his, hooded gaze meeting hooded gaze.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you did as he said. Jake spit into your mouth, and a part of you knew you should be disgusted at how he was treating you, but another, larger, part entirely craved it.

“Swallow.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing. You opened your mouth without prompting, earning a wicked grin from the man behind you.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, one hand moving to guide your hips back onto him. “Love having you like this. I’m gonna fill you up so full, you’ll be leaking me for days to come, you hear me? Can’t wait for you to be all round and swollen with me, with our baby. Gonna keep you full for as long as you’ll let me. You like that? You want me to fill you up? To breed you?”

“Please,” you gasped, feeling the coil tighten in your belly for the second time. Jake released your throat, snaking his hand down to toy with your clit. You keened as the precipice approached, and you could feel him begin to twitch inside you.

“Need you to come for me, honey girl,” he rumbled, pace faltering as he neared his own high. “Need to feel you squeezin’ me and milkin’ me dry.”

You flew over the edge with a cry, the coil snapping once again as you came harder than you thought possible. Jake groaned behind you, hips stuttering as you felt spurts of warmth fill you, triggering another, smaller orgasm as you continued to flutter around him. Moments passed as the two of you rode out your highs, breathing slowing to a calm.

Jake slowly lowered the two of you to the bed, rolling to the side as you turned to face him. His skin shone with sweat in the afternoon sun, his hair sticking up every which way as he smiled softly at you. You were sure you looked a similar state, but you couldn’t find it in you to care as he cupped your jaw and pulled you into a slow, sweet kiss. His tongue ran gently over yours, and you sighed as you basked in the feeling of being there with him. He pulled away, but stayed close enough to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“I love you,” he murmured. You couldn’t help the grin that broke out across your face as you placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too.”

“I meant it, you know,” he started, eyes uncertain as they watched you. “I want to have a family with you. We’ll get married, and I’ll build us a new house. One where you and I can grow old together.”

“Do you promise?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. He nodded earnestly.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life. Your aunt and uncle already gave me permission to marry you.”

“They did?” You asked, brow shooting up in surprise. You thought back to your trip those weeks ago. “Is that what she whispered to you before we left?”

“That?” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, they gave me permission after the first week of us bein’ there. No, Aunt Jo told me…”

“Told you what?” You pressed as he trailed off. His eyes held confusion as he shook his head.

“It didn’t make much sense, but she said ‘Adeline would approve.’”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, and tears flooded your eyes once more. Jake looked panicked as the tears began to fall.

“Scout, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” He asked frantically.

“No, not at all,” you laughed, wiping the tears away. “Adeline was my mother, Jake.”

He froze, eyes growing wide as he took in your words.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “And she’s right. She would have liked you. Both of my parents would have.”

“You think?” He questioned, eyes hopeful.

“I know so.”

You sat at the bar of the saloon, head buried in your hands as you let out a frustrated sigh.

“I just don’t understand,” you said for the umpteenth time, raising your head to look at the girls that surrounded you. “Why hasn’t he proposed yet?”

“Are you two fighting about something?” Birdie asked. You shook your head.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right time,” Penny suggested. Nat snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Knowing him,” she started, fixing you with a look, “he’s just being an idiot.”

“You don’t think he’s changed his mind about me, do you?” You whispered, fear gripping at you at the possibility. You knew that Jake had never had any intention of marrying before you came along. Maybe he had grown tired of you? Was the thought of marriage and a life together too much for him now? Things had seemed fine between you, but you were now into spring, and still no proposal. You fidgeted with the pendant around your neck. After your reunion, Jake had been quick to put it on you, chest puffed out in pride every time he saw you wearing it, which was always.

“No!” Penny assured you, resting against the bar top. “No, that boy is smitten with you, Scout.”

“You know,” Bunny spoke, causing all eyes to turn to the usually quiet girl. “If you’re really doubting his feelings for you, maybe you should try pulling back. You know, to see if he does something.”

You were quiet for a moment as you all pondered her words.

“It could work,” Penny conceded thoughtfully. “Jake is new to this kind of relationship, and asking him directly might not work. Try it Bunny’s way and see what happens.”

You nodded, moving to leave.

“And let us know what happens!” Nat called after you, earning a chuckle.

Another week had passed, and you had effectively been avoiding Jake at every turn. Every kiss dodged, every moment alone averted, and every conversation kept to a minimum. You could tell it was driving Jake crazy, but you knew he needed to be the one to confront you. How else were you supposed to know where his mind was at? Jake was kind, and perhaps he was trying to find a way to spare your feelings? No, he needed to be the one to say something.

You were carrying a bucket of feed into the barn when someone grabbed you and pushed you up against the wall. You let out a gasp as the bucket fell from your hand with a clang, your arms trapped between yours and Jake’s chest. His hands were on either side of your head as he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. You kissed him back with fervor, hands gripping onto his shirt. You had missed this. This week had been just as hard for you as it appeared to be for him.

You shoved him away, Jake stumbling back a few steps as you attempted to calm your racing mind, the both of you panting and glaring at each other.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He growled, eyes running up and down the length of you. You swallowed thickly, straightening to your full height.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do,” he snapped, pointing a finger at you accusingly. “You have been dodgin’ me left and right all week, and I wanna know why.”

“Are you tired of me?” You blurted out. All anger drained from Jake’s face as it was replaced with confusion.

“What?”

“Are you tired of me?”

“Scout, that’s a stupid question,” he huffed. When you didn’t say anything, he rolled his eyes and fixed you with another glare. “No, of course I’m not. Why would you think that?”

“Then why haven’t you proposed yet?” You murmured, bottom lip wobbling as you fought to keep your composure. “It’s been weeks since everything happened, and you still haven’t asked me to marry you.”

Jake looked at you incredulously, taking the few steps until he was standing right in front of you.

“Well, shit, honey girl,” he chuckled. “I gave you the necklace, didn’t I?”

“What?” You blinked up at him.

“I gave you the necklace,” he continued, picking up the pendant and toying with it. “Figured that was as good as declaring we were gonna get married one day.”

You stared at him, his words slowly running through your head. You shoved him back again, this time following him as you slapped at his chest and shoulders.

“Ow, hey! Scout!” He hollered, grabbing your arms to stop you. Once you realized you were immobile, you stamped your foot, glaring up at him.

“Jake Seresin,” you shrieked, cheeks warm from exertion, “giving me the necklace does not equate to a proposal!”

Now it was his turn to stare. His bewildered expression melted into one of mischief and wonder as he ran his thumbs up and down your wrists.

“Alright, honey girl. You just wait. I’ll blow you away,” he smirked, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You hummed, melting into his touch as he released your arms to wrap his own around you, swaying the two of you side to side.

“You better,” you muttered, a ghost of a smile on your lips. You felt him place a kiss to the top of your head as he held you tighter.

“How are you feelin’ now?” He asked, running a comforting hand up and down your spine as the two of you continued to sway.

“I’m happy,” you whispered, closing your eyes and pressing your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, a sound you’d never tire of.

“Yeah,” he hummed, resting his cheek against the top of your head now. “I’m happy too.”

Coming January 2024...

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fir3ylolol · 6 months

Note

Hello :) I saw your requests are open and wanted to request MK1 Raiden/reader where she works at Madam Bo's and he frequents Madam Bo's just to see her. And then he finally works the courage to ask her out? Turns out she's also been eyeing him everytime he visits. They share a first kiss on the date too. Can get smutty if you want I just love Raiden and your writing hahaha thanks 💕 I may be back to request again 🫣

lightning in a bottle

pairing: Raiden x Reader

summary: you've been working at madam bo's for a while and noticed one young man who comes in a lot. it doesn't hurt that he's cute and nice. that is, until he starts acting a little weird one day

tw: mentions of drinking, surprise date, first kiss

a/n: my first non-johnny fic! this was requested (obviously lol) and it was so much fun to write! also, expect a second chapter, i'm not done with raiden just yet ;)

word count: 1.53 k

pt. 2

Ao3

This was the 10th-no-11th time he had come in this week, and you were starting to worry about him. Sure, he was cute and always tipped well, even complimenting Madam Bo directly every time. But eating here multiple times a day wasn’t going to be good for his body. Or his wallet. Yet, you said nothing like that to him and his friend. You had a system at this point. He would walk in and flash a smile, bowing slightly to you as you bow back. You would show him and his friend to their usual tables, not even bothering with menus at this point. You put in the order for their usuals and get back to your cleaning duties, sneaking looks back at him. You can’t help yourself, it’s hard to get sweet, handsome customers who aren’t drunk off their asses.

That seemed like the same thing was happening again, the bows and warm smiles shared between you too. But he was alone this time, no friend following shortly behind. As you start walking to the table, you hear a cough from behind you and you turn to realize he’s not with you. For the first time in a while, you hear him say something other than “The usual,” “Yes, please,” “Thank you,” and “The food was incredible, Madam Bo.”

“I’d actually like to sit over there if that’s okay,” he points to a small table on the other side of the restaurant. “Yeah, of course!” You smile and pick up a menu, not wanting to assume again and lead him over to the sun-baked corner. He sits as you set the menu down, smiling with an expectancy of an order. But he just smiles, grabs the menu, and says, “Some tea, please,” before browsing his options.

You walk away, half-stunned, and find Madam Bo. She looks up at you, ready to hear the usual. But as you walk in, a confused look on your face, she grabs a glass of water and forces you to sit. “What’s wrong? Another drunk idiot mean to you?” She pats your back slightly as you look up at her. “He didn’t want the usual. He just wants some tea.”

“What??” She looks just as stunned as you but suddenly bursts out laughing. “Oh, I know what’s going on. Good for him, hm?” She forces you back on your feet, shoving a warm teapot and glass in your hand. “Go on, he’s getting thirsty without you.” You shake off how weird she was, even weirder than usual, and walk back to his table. As you pour the tea for him, you ask with as much confidence as you can muster, “Do you know what you’d like to eat?”

He clears his throat and looks behind you quickly. You turn after him, noticing Madam Bo leaning around the corner with a wink, disappearing a second later. Turning back, he stood up and pulled a chair out. “Could you sit, please?” Normally, you wouldn’t. He’s a customer. But he’s so kind, and he said it with such confidence, that you sit down across from him. He plants himself back down with a large grin. “Thank you. I know you’ve served me quite a bit, which I appreciate. And I know your name because…” He gestures vaguely to where a nametag would be on his chest before continuing, “But I don’t think you know mine. I’m Raiden. I’ve been coming by a lot lately, and I figured I wasn’t getting younger. Also, Madam Bo told me to. But, I think you’re really cool, and attractive, and I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Now, if that's alright with you.”

“H-huh?” You take a long minute to process what he’s saying. “Madam…Bo?” You turn around again and see her waving at you, with a wide, conniving smile. You turn back to him, his smile starting to falter slightly. But honestly, you did need a break and you had noticed how cute he was for a while. When else would you get this chance? “Well…yeah, I’d love to.” You smile at him, which gives him another surge of confidence. “Great! Do you care what we order, or?” You shrug, untying your apron from your waist, “I’m not picky, I’ve tried everything twice.” He nods to Madam Bo behind you, hearing her shuffle away quickly. “Really? Are you a big fan of Madam Bo’s cooking?”

“I guess you could say that,” you smile at him, he’s even nicer than you thought. “So what spurred this on? I’m assuming that it wasn’t all her doing,” you say with a general nod in Madam Bo’s direction. “Oh, no! I’ve been by a lot lately, and it’s mostly because of you. Not to sound creepy, but you’re quite attractive and nice and…well, I just think you’re cool.” His nervous smile widens, pouring a cup of tea for both of you. “Why, thank you. You’re pretty cool too. But I was wondering where your friend was.” He laughs slightly, “Oh, Kung Lao? He was busy with training today.”

“Training?” You tilt your head slightly, taking a sip of tea. “Yeah, Kung Lao and I are training under Madam Bo in various fighting styles. You know, Shaolin Fist, Nan Chuan, Jujustu.” “I only know one of those,” you laugh out slightly. “But you do a lot according to Madam Bo. Is she your grandma or something?” He coughs slightly, choking on the sip of tea that is in his mouth. “Oh, no no no. She’s just a good teacher.” “That I am!” Madam Bo appears out of nowhere, holding a large tray of food and placing it down. “You better eat up! I made this just for you two.” And she’s gone as quickly as she got there. Raiden looks at you and gestures at the food as if he’s asking you to eat first. And who are you to deny such a tempting request?

You both end up eating slowly since you can’t stop talking. He’s very humble and funny and genuinely likes hearing about you and your life. You learn more about him as well, that he’s a farmer and that he’s the Champion of Earthrealm. That sort of confused you at first, but he started telling the most incredible stories about another realm of fantastical beings and beautiful scenery, the backdrop for a massive showdown. You found yourself captivated by him, his words, and his charisma. Much too soon, the food is done, and you can feel Madam Bo shooting daggers into the back of your head. “You know, my shift is well past over. I should probably head home,” you say while standing up, grabbing your apron, and bowing slightly to him. He scrambles up after you, following as you walk towards the door, “Well then, allow me to escort you.” You giggle at his eagerness but nod slightly. “Alright, just follow me.” You wave to Madam Bo as you leave, her smile even wider. As you walk out the door, you hear her call out, “I knew you would be cute together! Lots of cute babies!” You hear Raiden cough next to you at how blunt she is, but you can’t help but laugh at her words. “What a typical elder! Only focused on what we can bring her, which is more kids to dote on.” He laughs along, glad you see the humor in it, “She just can’t help it, can she?”

You both walk down the dark street, shoulders bumping against each other and laughing quietly in the dark of night. You finally reach your house and lean against the door frame, looking at him sweetly. “You know, I had a good time today. I’m glad you asked me out. I’d love to do it again.” He lets out a sigh, a content smile on his face, “Oh, I’m glad. I don’t mean to sound weird, but I’ve noticed you for a while, and…I wanted to shoot my shot.” You reach your hand out, lightly tracing down his arm until you reach his hand, “You’re not the only one, you know. I’m always happier when you come in.” He twists your hand slightly, finally interlacing your fingers lightly and pulling you closer slightly. There you are, mere inches away from him under the moon, heart racing faster. His breathing is heavy, intense eyes looking into yours, and you finally close the gap. Leaning closer, you meet his lips with yours, light and gentle, which he gladly accepts. His free hand cups your face, pulling you closer. You’re lost in the moment, your hand against his chest, as your senses are full of him. You only feel his touch, smell the dust from the fields, hear your heartbeats synced up, taste his lips on yours. And then, when you pull away for air, all you can see is his gentle face, eyes lit up in joy. “We should do this again, yeah?” You whisper, still slightly out of breath. “Yeah, we should,” he whispers back, resting his forehead against yours with a smile.

#raiden #raiden x reader #mk x reader #mk1 #raiden mk1 #fluff

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lightsoutletsgo · 2 months

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P L A Y L I S T (cl16 x singer!reader series) vol.4 - monaco

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

hi everyone! here's the next part! they finally meet in person! I'm really vibing with writing this rn so I have a couple of chapters already drafted so I'm hoping to upload the next few pretty regularly! happy reading love, mimi taglist currently: open! @whatsupstark

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Monaco

Y/N didn’t know much about F1. But as she wandered through the ‘paddock’, as Charles had called it, she found herself being swept up in the hype and excitement. Celebrities mingled amongst team investors and sponsors and mechanics. Already she’d seen a few friends and acquaintances. Y/N stopped suddenly at a call of her name, turning round she saw Charles and a man who she was pretty sure was called Carlos. He was dressed the same as Charles so that seemed like a good indicator. “Y/N!” She couldn’t help the grin that overtook her features and she felt Carlos stare at her knowingly from opposite her. “Charles, hi!” Her answer was breathy as he got closer, stopping just in front of her. Neither of them spoke for a second but both of them could have sworn it was longer than that. ‘God his pictures didn’t do him justice’ she thought as, ‘she’s even prettier up close’, ran through Charles’ mind,

“So are you going to introduce us or…?” Carlos chimed in from next to his friend. Charles cleared his throat as Y/N took a step back, “Uh yes! Carlos this is Y/N.” Y/N smiled at Carlos warmly as he extended a hand for her to shake, “It’s lovely to meet you.” His accent was warm and his face was very handsome. Y/N mused to herself if good looks were also a necessary qualifying trait for F1 too.

“Your concert in Rome was incredible!” Y/N was dragged back to the current conversation by Carlos’ compliments, “Thank you so much! We loved every second of it.” “I know Lily will be so excited to know you’re here today. This way, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Carlos continued as he held his hand out to guide Y/N towards a larger group of people and Charles had to bite back a frown. She was his guest today, he had invited her here so he could get to know her and maybe spend a little time with her. Why did he need to share her with everyone else too? “Are you not coming with us Charles?” Y/N’s sweet voice and concerned look made his tummy flip and he nodded dumbly at her before trudging along behind the pair, ‘there’ll be other opportunities’ he told himself firmly.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” Greetings were exchanged and fangirling was done (though Lando refused to admit he had squealed when Y/N shook his hand) and before Charles knew it, he was being called to the garage to prepare for the start of the race. “I’m sure Lily will be more than happy to let you hang around with her!” Charles nodded towards Lily who was almost vibrating where she stood. Your face fell ever so slightly, “Oh… Yes of course, thank you.” “Is that okay? I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” “No no it’s okay! I uhhh…” She trailed off, “I guess I’d just hoped that I’d be able to watch it from the Ferrari garage?” Charles felt himself turning as red as his Ferrari team uniform at her confession and he nodded, his tongue feeling heavy, “That’s more than okay, yeah that’s cool... dude,” He gave her a thumbs up and immediately facepalmed mentally. He cringed as he heard Lando snort from behind him and saw Max cover his mouth to hide a laugh out of the corner of his eye. “I-I’ll walk you there.” Charles strolled with her through the paddock, doing his best to pretend that Carlos was not tagging along behind them. She asked him questions as they walked; how long was the race? Was he nervous about today? Did he think it was going to rain? How fast would he be going? Charles answered each one with careful thought and consideration and he felt his heart swell a little at the way she took such genuine interest in him and his job.

“Well, here we are!” Charles led her into the Ferrari garage, greeting each team member he passed and wishing them good luck for the race. Y/N smiled at the interactions, clearly Charles was a kind person. Something fluttered in her tummy as she saw his dimples appear again and again. He handed her a pair of headphones and helped her find a place in front of several large screens. “Have a good race!” She said enthusiastically before cringing internally, “sorry I don’t know what you usually say before a race… I'm guessing I shouldn't really tell you to break a leg…” Charles’ head tipped back as a full laugh came from deep in his tummy. God she was adorable, “Just good luck is enough!” As he turned to leave for the grid, he suddenly stopped at the feeling of her hand gently taking his wrist. “Charles!” His eyes flitted down to look for a second before he looked up at her, she hesitated for a second and he watched as a look of realisation flashed across her eyes before she was dropping his wrist and stuttering out her next words, “I-I just wanted to say… umm…” He took a step towards her, “Yes?” “Drive safely? Please?” A soft smile spread across his face and those damn butterflies were taking flight in her tummy once more. “Always.” He gave her hand a squeeze for reassurance before he was swallowed up by the bustling garage and out of sight.

Y/N’s lack of F1 knowledge was showing as she did her best to follow along with the race. Part of her wondered if she should have gone with Lily after all. It may have been easier to follow along with her experienced commentary, but Y/N was glad she’d chosen to support Charles a bit more closely. After all, she was his guest. As she watched the cars lap the track again and again she thought back to their conversations. How he’d, albeit quite awkwardly, flirted with her. He’d made her smile that was for sure. Even through the exhaustion of the tour, she’d found herself staying awake a little later just to reply to him. So naturally when he’d invited her to be his guest at Monaco this weekend, how could she say no?

She watched the screen intently, eyes searching for a red car with each new camera angle. Once or twice she sensed the TV cameras on her, ready to catch her reactions and so she did her best to appear smiley and calm, despite feeling nervous at her surroundings but also nervous for Charles.

78 laps later and the race was finished. Y/N didn’t know much about F1 but she knew that 6th wasn’t a bad place to be… it just wasn’t the result Charles wanted. She felt bad for him, having sensed through their conversations that week that he added extra pressure onto himself when he raced at Monaco. She understood, she alwasy felt more pressure when performing at home too. Nevertheless she was waiting there for him with a smile when he reached the garage. “Congratulations!” Charles gave a small smile but she could tell he wasn’t feeling as good as he had before the race. “Thank you.” “Well you didn’t crash so I’d say you did a good job! I doubt I could even manage the simplest corner!” Another smile pulled at his lips this time, more genuine. She could tell even after a short while of talking to him when his smiles were genuine or not. His dimples were always deeper and his eyes a lot brighter. “So what happens now?” Charles inhaled before letting out a heavy sigh, “I have a few interviews and then debrief before we pack up and do it all again somewhere new next week!” She giggled, “Sounds just like tour!” Y/N joked before Charles bit his lip, suddenly turning nervous “Hey uhhh, I have to go and do these interviews but if you want, we could… maybe go and get dinner later? I can take you to Lily so you don’t have to hang out alone!” Y/N was silent, Charles felt himself growing embarrassed, “But if you’re busy it’s fine I totally get it and-” “No no! I would like that…” Y/N nodded as she bit her lip shyly, her head dropping to look at her feet as Charles nervously brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Acorss from them at the entrance of the garage, Lando and Max stood in conversation with Carlos, all three of them watching the pair intently, “I bet you 50 they’re together by the time we get to Silverstone.” Max nodded completely convinced he was right, “Silverstone? Nahh mate, more like Canada…” Lando said assuredly, “You’re both wrong!” Carlos shook his head, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall, “End of the season.” He said confidently. “End of the season?” Lando raised an eyebrow as Max scoffed, “They’re both two blind idiots with feelings.” Carlos justified, “You have a point…” Max conceded.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably as she felt someone’s eyes on her, looking around she spotted Carlos, Lando and Max and she felt her cheeks get warm as she realised they’d been staring at her and Charles. Charles followed her gaze and rolled his eyes, “Just ignore them, I think they’re still a little starstruck. Shall we go? I’ll drop you off at Williams on my way.” The pair made their way out of the garage and down the pitlane to the Williams garage. Lily smiled warmly at Y/N as she made her way through the circus of mechanics and engineers and higher ups, “I’ll look after her, don’t worry” Lily sent her a wink which made her giggle, feeling less nervous about not having Charles around. She turned and he smiled at her reassuringly, “I’ll be back in a little bit - I’ll come and find you outside hospitality!” Y/N nodded before turning back to Lily who still seemed a little dazed that she was standing next to her. “I’m so glad you managed to come to the concert!” Lily smiled widely, “It was incredible! I think a few of us are going to go to a few more concerts before the season is over!” Y/N laughed as Lily led her out of the garage and towards hospitality, “You know, I was pretty surprised that Charles decided to join us.” “Oh really?” Y/N said taking a seat with her at one of the tables outside, “Yeah, he’s probably admitted this himself but he had no idea who you were when you guys first met…” Y/N giggled as Lily shook her head good-naturedly, “it’s crazy how you guys bumped into each other like that twice!” “I know!” Y/N’s eyes widened “Did you talk about it with him at all?” Lily asked curiously before Y/N nodded,

“We did actually! He apologised for not recognising me and assured me he wasn’t trying to kidnap me!” She said with a fond smile, “And I apologised that I’d scared him so much - twice!” The two girls collapsed into fits of giggles before Y’N’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Can I ask you something?” Lily nodded, “Is it true he kept googling all the lyrics through the concert?” Lily let out a loud laugh as Alex and Logan approached the table, “What’s so funny?” Alex asked, taking a seat, “Y/N was just asking me about Charles googling the lyrics at the concert, “How did you hear about that?” asked Logan, “Oh I see everything on twitter,” Y/N said with a smirk, “my fans keep me very well informed!” Lily gasped, “Does that mean you’ve seen the videos of me crying and dancing along?” Alex snorted as Logan coughed to cover up a laugh, both of them remembering how the sight had looked in-person right in front of their eyes. Y/N nodded, her face turning solemn as she placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder seriously, “I’m so sorry Lily but… I don’t think we have a space for you as a backup dancer on this tour.” Lily played along, looking down and clasping her hands together as her eyebrows furrowed, “It’s a brutal industry…” The table fell into laughter before Y/N saw Charles approaching.

“What are we all laughing about, hmm?” Charles was curious as he reached the table, “Oh we were just discussing the outcome of Lily’s audition.” You nodded, face becoming serious once again, “It wasn’t the outcome she wanted…” “I just can’t believe my dancing wasn’t good enough.” “Dancing? Is that what you’d call it?” Alex gave Lily a playful nudge as she gasped dramatically, “Y/N you see how mean he’s being?!” Charles gently placed a hand on her shoulder before leaning down to stage whisper dramatically, “We should leave before this gets nasty!” With a stifled giggle, YN stood up from her chair, making sure to give Lily a hug and exchange her number before following Charles away from the business of the paddock and down a small quiet side street.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, looking around as she took in her surroundings, “There’s a great spot I know a little out of town. It’s kind of a hole-in-the-wall place but they make some of the best pasta I’ve ever had.”

“Pasta? Sign me up!” Y/N gave an enthusiastic reply as Charles unlocked his car, taking her bag from her shoulder and holding it as he opened her door for her. She slid into the passenger seat and took her bag back, placing it on her lap as he closed the door and jogged round to the driver's seat. As he turned on the engine and the car roared into life, the sound system came on automatically. A familiar voice drifted out through the speakers and a rhythm that her body knew by heart filled the car. “I-is this my song?” Charles found his cheeks matching the colour of his team brand once more as he scrabbled to mute the volume but just turned it up louder in the process Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at him, as she began giggling harder than she had all day. “I was just… it was… research?” Charles scrambled for an excuse as Y/N continued giggling, hand falling away from her mouth as her head tipped back in laughter. And as they sat there in his car, her song still quietly playing in the background, Charles realised he didn’t mind embarrassing himself and would happily make a fool of himself over and over again if it meant he got to see her laughing like that once more. “No no no, don’t be embarrassed.” Y/N sighed, her stomach sore from laughter, “I think it’s cute you were researching.” Charles’ cheeks heated up again, ‘she called me cute?’ he screamed at himself in his head. “Okay, honestly? I haven’t been able to get that song out of my head since I heard it at the concert, it’s really catchy!” Y/N nodded, “It gets stuck in my head too sometimes - and it’s my song!” “It’s definitely one of my favourites.” Charles admitted and Y/N found herself having to look out of the window to hide how big her smile was. Charles cleared his throat, “So! Shall we go?” He began to drive, fighting to contain his excitement that you were in the passenger seat, “Don’t go driving as fast as you did earlier!” Y/N joked, Charles smiled, eyes darting to look at her for a second before fixing his gaze back on the road once more, “Never. Not when I have such precious cargo in the passenger seat.” Y/N bit her lip and looked out of the window once more, but Charles could tell she was smiling to herself, he caught it in her reflection in the window.

It suddenly dawned on him as they drove that he didn’t feel as down as he expected to after the race. In fact, he rather felt like he’d won.

₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

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#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ playlist series #mimi.writes #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fic #f1 smau #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc instagram au #f1 series #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc fluff #f1 fluff #Spotify

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jayden-killer · 9 months

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DREAMS ARE MY REALITY. (pt.2)

part 1

What would happen if your favourite fictional character appeared in your bed...?

A/N: hellooo! Part 2 is finally here! 🙌 exams finished!! So now, full focus on my tumblr blog, heheh. This time chapter is longer. As always, just the reminder that I'm not a native English speaker, so you might find some errors. If you do, point them out to me! Enjoy the reading.~

Warnings: mention of the traumatic life of Miguel (both comics and movie), kinda derealisation if you hint it?, angst haha :)

Taglist (write me down in the comments if you want to be added!): @strxngegirl @d1lf-loverrr @laysmt @musicalhistorical @souichi-sbitch

☆

«You!»

I pressed the pillow against him, ready for any movement from the muscular man in front of me. His unkempt hair and a remnant of drool at the corner of his mouth confirmed my previous suspicions: he had fallen asleep in my bed. But how could he be divine even in that way? My eyes fell on his clothing: the holographic Spider-man suit was still on the young man. And he noticed my gaze fell there, then brought his attention back to me.

«Why are you pointing a pillow at me? It's not even a weapon».

«Ha, ha» faked a laughter, «That's is...amusing. How did you end up in my house, Miguel O'Hara? Did you fly with your webs through the window? Do you come from the roof of the building?»

And how do you know that my name is Miguel?" The man slowly approached me, losing his self-doubt demeanor that he had until recently, and I threatened him again with the pillow, lifting it up more as a reminder. «Stop there» My finger pointed to a precise point in the room, «First: what are you doing here. Second: how can you be real?»

«Are you answering my question with another question? Seriously?» Miguel's hands found place on his hips, and his eyebrow rose. I felt I was being watched too much by his eyes, which menacingly scanned me from head to toe.

«I'm in charge here, whether you like it or not, I make the rules here. Now, answer»

A snort left Miguel's lips. He rolled over more than once, shaking his head as if he was trying to find the right words. Well, a clear and comprehensive explanation didn't seem bad.

«Alright. I don't know how it happened, apparently my Gizmo started showing signs of instability as I traveled through the multiverse. The destination was marked for Earth-42. At the last minute, this maldito reloje decided to take me up to Earth-199999» Silence fell between us. I pushed the pillow aside, sitting on the edge of my bed to better focus on Miguel's bizarre story. The man seemed to mutter something in Spanish, but it was hard to decipher what he had said. He continued to look at me without looking away. «I was catapulted into this universe. The portal threw me onto the hood of a truck and the driver, seeing me, almost threw the truck into the wall. Luckily I managed to fly out of there with my webs».

«May I know then why did you come to my house?»

«I'm not done yet.»His eyes narrowed. I gulped fearfully. The man took a deep breath and continued to tell his story. «As I was saying, I flew away immediately. I wandered the streets for a while, and I saw how different your universe is from mine. The means of transport, the buildings, the people. I was tired, my strength was out of me. Your building was the closest. And your window was open. Besides, I would never hurt you. I'm a Spider-Man after all.»

«Yes, but you still attacked a fifteen-year-old boy because he didn't listen to you.»

«What?»

«What?» I laughed embarrassed. «Okay, I get it big boy. So you had a good sleep in my house, good, but now you should reall-Hey! What are you doing?»

«How can I be a giant poster hanging on your bedroom wall?» His was more than a legitimate question. I would have felt uncomfortable (and also quite lost) if I suddenly saw a poster with my face on it. I wouldn't have liked it at all. Even though Miguel was handling it well. I noticed how his head didn't move an inch, but he instead showed a surprised look at finding himself in poster form.

«Well, it's a long story...» I began.

«I have all the time in the world».

At that moment I looked at Miguel, then at the poster again and heaved a long sigh.

«What I'm trying to say is...you shouldn't be real». I put much more emphasis on the last word. Oh, God. Things were taking a turn for the worse. How could he believe what I was about to tell him? He had always felt real, but to me, he has always been part of the fictional world. It was just a drawing, yet he was here. How was all this possible? He was way beyond the multiverse.

«Miguel, I know it may seem strange to you, but you're part of a movie, you're a comic book character. You're...».

I couldn't.

I didn't want to make him feel like someone out of this world. I already understood what he had been through before. The loss of his mother, his brother Gabriel, the abuse from his father, and even the loss of his daughter, Gabriella. To tell him that it was just pure fiction, an invention of some brilliant mind would have been... not right. But Miguel wasn't stupid and he immediately grasped what I wanted to tell him. His gloved hand curiously and delicately traced his figure on the piece of paper. He shook his head, almost as if I were telling an unfunny joke. I couldn't blame him. I would have reacted way worse than the man. It was at that moment that I noticed the man in question ran a hand through his brown hair and swallowed hard, his back to me the entire time. In the meantime, worried, I was playing with the edges of my nightgown, with the fear that he might tear me to pieces.

«I feel real». His voice boomed off the walls. And I looked up to notice strange movements. «I am true. Even if all this creates a lot of...confusion for me».

«Miguel, you deserved to know...» I broke into the conversation, trying to find valid explanations. «I had to...»

«No». He held up a hand to stop me. A moment of silence followed. «You did the right thing. Being Spider-man also leads to these consequences... doesn't it?». It didn't seem that the sentence was addressed to me, but more to him.

«Maybe you need to take a shower, yes?». I tried to change the subject, my tone going from concerned to persuasive. «I have some clothes left here by my brother in case of an emergency. Maybe they'll fit a little short on the shoulders, but they'll have to go».

Without saying anything, Miguel nodded, then asked me where the bathroom was, so he could freshen up.

«Take your time, so don't rush-»

Slam!

Shit. What did I do?

#miguel ohara #miguel o hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman across the verse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara x you #marvel imagine #mcu #sfw #fan fiction #fanfic

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neewtmas · 1 year

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hi!! i was wondering whether i could request a george x reader with she/her pronouns? maybe the reader is an assistant at lockwood and co and george is really protective over her bc she’s super sweet. maybe after the joplin incident she keeps having nightmares and george goes and comforts her, and lots of cute fluffy stuff :)

Nightmares

A/N: first off, thank you so much for your request! I had such a great time writing it. I hope you don't mind that I expanded on your idea a little, it just inspired me a lot. There is quite a lot of angstiness in the first half, but I made sure to include lots of fluff in the second half :)

I hope you enjoy it because personally I think this is one of the best things I've written so far and I'm very proud of it <3

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

masterlist

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You had just finished the first chapter of your newly acquired book that you had gotten from the library this morning when it knocked at the door and Lockwood stuck his head in. "We're leaving now," he said. You put your book aside and followed him out into the hallway. Lucy was waiting at the door in a beautiful royal blue dress. "Where's George?" you asked.

Lockwood gave you a tightlipped smile. "He's staying here. Says he's not done with the research yet."

"Is that Joplin woman still here?"

You grimaced at his nod. A part of you felt bad because you were genuinely happy for George. He seemed to have found someone who shared his passion for research, but at the same time, you couldn't help but be creeped out by this woman. Something about her just didn't sit right with you. When you had brought it up to George one time, he had just dismissed it with a 'researchers are just a little weird, I mean, look at me'. You didn't agree at all but decided to just let the topic go.

After Lockwood and Lucy left, you weighed your options. Either you could go back into the living room and continue your book, or you could join George in the kitchen. Usually, the answer would have been obvious: join George in the kitchen with your book. But with Joplin in there… You sighed, walking back and resuming your place in the armchair.

The next time you put your book aside was when you heard a commotion from the kitchen and then a door closing. "Is she gone?" you asked, stepping into the hallway. George turned around. He seemed exhausted, pale and with dark circles under his eyes. "Yes, she, unfortunately, had to leave already", he said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You didn't say anything, but apparently, your expression said enough. "I know you don't like her, y/n, but she just … cares a lot." A moment of silence. "You wouldn't understand." Your chest tightened at his words. If he just knew how much you cared.

You smiled weakly, not wanting to argue with him. In the kitchen, the entire table was covered in books. Some were opened, others piling up. Pieces of paper scribbled full of notes and diagrams and timelines were scattered all over. George cleared the table of the tea cups and brought them over to the sink. You noticed a packed duffel bag next to the door. "Are you leaving now?" you asked. "Yeah, meet-up time with Flo is in twenty minutes," he said after a look at the clock. You watched him gather his things and put on his shoes and jacket until he was standing by the door, ready to go.

You went up to him and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around you, and you stayed embraced like that for a while before he gently pushed you away. "I have to go now." "Please be careful, okay?", you whispered, and he nodded. "No George, you need to promise me. That you're gonna be careful" you repeated, your tone urgent. He smiled down at you. "I promise, y/n."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The next few hours you alternated between reading a few pages, and then pacing around the house when you couldn't concentrate longer than a few minutes before the anxiety was too bad. You knew how dangerous their mission was, and it killed you inside that you couldn't help them. But you also knew that Lockwood was right when I told you that you wouldn't be of much use, seeing as you currently didn't have much practice with a rapier. So you had no other choice but to stay home and wait for them to return, hopefully, all in one piece.

It was several hours past midnight when the sound of a key turning in a lock made you jump. You had nodded off at the kitchen table, too tired to keep your eyes open after a while. The kitchen door flew open and Lockwood and Lucy came in, both dripping wet. Lockwood had a cut on his temple, face all bloody. You rose from your seat.

"Where's George? What happened? Are you okay?" Frantically you hurried around the table, quickly checking to see if they had any other injuries, but they seemed to be fine. "George should be back in a while, he went to drop off the mirror", Lockwood said tiredly, taking one of the biscuits off the plate you had prepared for their return. You could feel yourself relaxing a little. All was well, they got the mirror and it was probably already safe with DEPRAC. "And we took a little bath in the Thames." Lockwood didn't smile, and the comment didn't roll off his tongue as effortlessly as usual. You could tell he was still tense. Lucy had been quiet, water dripping from her hair down her dress and making a puddle on the floor. "You two should take a shower," you said. "I'll wait here for George."

Soon you were alone in the kitchen again, but now any trace of tiredness was long gone. The tight knot of anxiety in your stomach had returned quickly, tugging on your insides. You knew it was part of the plan that George didn't arrive here with Lockwood and Lucy, but you couldn't help that your mind was running a million miles a minute, imagining every possible way something could have gone wrong.

You busied yourself with preparing a fresh kettle of tea and some sandwiches, and when you were done, you sat back at the table. That's when your eyes fell onto a thin, black book that was lying across from you, completely unassuming. You immediately knew that this was what your colleagues had risked their life for tonight. You picked it up, inspecting it from all sides. It had a simple black cover, and when you opened it, the pages were thin, almost brittle to the touch, and yellow at the edges. You quickly flicked through it and scanned over the pages before you froze. There was a picture of a man holding a mirror into a woman's face. That seemed promising. You hurried to read the text that accompanied the illustration, almost stumbling over the words in your head.

Yes, I killed him. Shot him with my father's pistol, sealed him with iron, buried him deep. Yet I still see him when I close my eyes, swathed in his velvet cloak, performing his rituals. I shall claim an act of self-defence, a bid to save my soul.

So Mary Dulac killed Bickerstaff. But why? You kept reading.

His cunning servant trapped me. The doctor held the glass before me. One glimpse and I felt my sanity shake loose. For this looking glass was not a mirror after all, it was a window. Only one glimpse, and I am damned. All I want to see is more.

You read over that paragraph again. A window? To where? What did she mean? You inspected the illustration once more, this time more closely. It didn't take long for you to discover the swirling shape inside the mirror, and at once you could feel a wave of cold dread wash over you. You knew that symbol. You knew it very well. With shaking hands you pushed away one of the mugs on the table and revealed what was underneath. The same swirling shape, etched in there by a black pen. The very pen you had gifted George a while back.

You felt your throat close up, the anxiety you had been feeling turning into a full-blown panic searing through your entire body. George must have looked into the glass. And if Mary Dulac was telling the truth, that meant he probably hadn't dropped it off at DEPRAC.

"LOCKWOOD! LUCY!" You wanted to scream, but your voice gave out on you. Wasting no time, you sprinted upstairs, colliding full force with Lockwood who was on his way downstairs.

"Woah, y/n" He caught your wrist, furrowing his eyebrows at your dishevelled state. "What's the matter?" "The mirror is not a mirror and George looked into it and now he's obsessed and he -" You stumbled over your words, unable to form a clear sentence.

Lockwood brought you back down into the kitchen and Lucy managed to calm you down enough so that you could explain to them what you discovered. "We need to go back to Bickerstaff's grave" decided Lucy, already starting to throw chains into a duffle bag. You jumped up from your chair. "I'm coming with you."

Lockwood looked at you as if you just suggested you throw yourself down the staircase. "Absolutely not," he said firmly. "But I have to! George is in danger!" Your voice was high-pitched, and you were still shaking. How could Lockwood possibly think that you would just stay here when George - your George - was in a situation like that?

Lockwood grabbed you, fingers digging into your arms, forcing you to stand still as he looked at you with a grim expression that you had never seen on him before. "y/n, listen to me. Yes, he is in danger. And no, you're not coming with us." "But -" "No buts. George would rip me to pieces if I were to let you in harm's way so carelessly. He would quite literally kill me and probably put up my head next to those ghost masks in the hallway. And he would be right to do so. You are not trained right now, and as your employer I'm telling you right now, you're staying back."

You were stunned. Lucy pushed Lockwood aside, embracing you tightly. "It's gonna be fine, y/n. He's gonna be fine. And you know that he would never want you to risk your life for him."

You knew she was right, but you also knew that George would not hesitate a single second to go save you if the roles were reversed.

"I can't just stay here and do nothing," you said weakly, voice wavering. "You're not doing nothing", Lockwood reassured you. "You can make preparations for when we come back. George's probably gonna be out of it. And if things go south and we're not back in the morning, you call DEPRAC and send them after us."

You decided not to argue with him over the fact that if they were not back by morning, they were probably all dead anyways. You knew that Lockwood would not change his mind.

The next few hours were the most agonizing in your life. If you thought you had been anxious before, that was nothing compared to how you felt now. Your whole body felt stiff and weak at the same time, and you could not stop your hands from shaking. After accidentally dropping a mug (it was one of Lockwood's favourites, but you decided it didn't matter after the way he dismissed you earlier), you just left the kitchen and curled up in George's favourite armchair in the library, staring at the ceiling and willing for the minutes and hours to go by faster.

Finally, after what felt like several eternities, the sound of the doorbell rang through the house. You scrambled to get up, getting caught in the blanket you had thrown over yourself and almost crashing into one of the bookshelves before regaining balance and dashing to the door.

You ripped it open, and as you saw George standing in front of you, looking tired but unharmed, you collapsed into his arms with a sob. He caught you and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that for a moment, you couldn't breathe. But you did not care. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Let's get inside", he said softly, and you reluctantly let go of him. Suddenly you felt exhausted, all the tension from the night falling off you at once, making room for relief. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you made no effort to stop them. George's gaze softened as he looked at you and he gently wiped away some tears before hugging you again and placing a kiss on top of your head. "I'm okay, y/n. You don't need to cry."

That night, or rather morning, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next day was spent recovering, and Lockwood, George and Lucy filling you in about what exactly happened last night. Knowing how they narrowly avoided death several times made you feel horrible, especially because you still felt so useless. While they were out there, risking their life for each other, you had just sat at home, doing nothing but panicking. George had assured you multiple times that you did the right thing, and that all he wanted was for you to be safe, but you couldn't quite shake the feeling.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

That was when the nightmares began. It started with you jerking awake in the middle of the night, tangled up in your blanket, your hair a mess and your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin. Your heart was racing so fast you thought it might explode in your chest, but you could not remember what you dreamt about. All you knew was that you were filled with a great sense of terror every time you woke. But every night, the dreams would get clearer, and worse. Each one featured George, dying a more gruesome death every single time. Shot by Joplin, suffocated by the vengeful ghost of old Bickerstaff, driven into madness by the bone glass.

It didn't take George long to notice the dark circles under your eyes. One morning, a few days after the incident, he stopped you on the staircase. "y/n, what is going on with you?", he asked, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. "You look like you haven't slept in days." You smiled at him, trying hard to not appear as tired as you were. "I'm doing fine. Just not sleeping very well." You didn't want to tell him that you weren't sleeping well because you saw him die in your dreams every night. Knowing George, he would blame himself, and that was the last thing you needed him to do after everything he went through.

That night, you went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Next thing you knew, you were awake, the scream that woke you up still on your lips, shaking worse than any night before. You gasped for air, taking deep, long breaths trying to calm your racing heart. Your fingers were gripping the blanket so tightly it hurt, and you willed yourself to release them before getting up slowly. You were weak in the knees, but after a few seconds, you felt steady enough to make your way downstairs. With your mouth feeling dry like sandpaper, you wanted nothing more than a glass of cold water. You slowly took one step after the other, careful to avoid the ones that creaked when you stepped on them.

The staircase was dark, only illuminated by a few beams of moonlight cutting through the darkness, so you did not see George standing at the door to his room. "Where are you going, y/n?" You flinched, clasping your hand on your mouth to stop the startled yelp. "I just want something to drink." Your voice was as raspy as if you hadn't talked in days. George extended his hand. "I have something in my room." You didn't have the energy to argue, and if you were honest with yourself, in this moment there was nothing you wanted more than to be with George. Just to know that he was alive and well and all your dreams were truly just that: dreams.

You took his hand and he lead you into his room, to his bed, where you sat down. He poured you a glass of water from the carafe on the bedside table and handed it over to you. While you were sipping, he shuffled around somewhat awkwardly, before sitting down next to you. "Can you please just tell me what's going on with you, Y/N? You're worrying me. You've barely eaten the last few days and you look so tired." You didn't reply. "Plus I heard you screaming just now", he added quietly.

Something about the way he said it, the way he sounded so sad, made all your resolve crumble. You tried to blink away the tears that threatened to spill over your lashes, looking away from him so that he didn't see your tears.

George gently took the glass out of your hands, put it down on the nightstand and then wrapped his arms around you without saying a word. You buried your face in his chest, finally allowing the tears to fall freely and the sobs to wrack your body. He gently caressed your back, not letting go until your sobs slowly subsided.

When you sat back up, your eyes were puffy, but you already felt better. You hadn't realised what toll it had taken on you to bottle your feelings up like this. George's hand rested on your thigh, where his thumb was rubbing soothing little circles while you drank the rest of the water.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I've been having nightmares", you quietly said. "About you and the bone glass." George let out a long, drawn-out breath, his grip on your thigh tightening. "I'm sorry, Y/N", he finally says, and you shake your head softly. "It's not your fault, Georgie. I just wish I could have helped."

"Y/N. Do you have any idea how relieved I was when Lockwood and Lucy appeared in that catacomb and you were nowhere to be seen? You know how much it helped me, knowing that you are here and that no matter what happens, you'll be safe? You'll be okay?"

Warmth spreads in your chest at the sincerity of his words. "But that's the thing, George. I would not have been okay. If something had happened to you…" you trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. George took a deep breath, then he cupped your cheeks and gently turned your face towards him. Suddenly your heart was beating rapidly again, but this time not because of panic. "But that didn't happen", he said, his left thumb wiping away a few stray tears from your cheek. "I am here, and I am okay, and you have nothing to worry about. Okay?" "Okay."

He smiled at you, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Let's sleep."

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"You can stay here every night, you know that."

He laid down, leaving enough space for you and you cuddled into him. His arms wrapped around you, and suddenly you were surrounded by his scent and his warmth and you just closed your eyes. "Good night, Y/N." was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep.

And this time, there was no nightmare.

#george karim reader #george karim #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood & co x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 11 months

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter eight

summary: you and bradley spend three days in encinitas on your proverbial honeymoon and make a big decision about your relationship.

warnings: smut, fluff, minor angst, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: this is an exclusively rooster x whiskey chapter and gets a little smutty. this is the second to last part, so next chapter i'll wrap up the rom-com of these four. i'm going back to work and very much want to finish this nine chapter adventure before i do. however, i AM planning on writing a more extended oneshot that catches up with these guys a year and a half later so i'm definitely not done with these four.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

Friday

“Look at us! We’re almost normal,” you comment, optimistically as you breathe in the bright California air. Sometimes, when you’re on leave, you can almost trick yourself into believing you’re a civilian. “No one would know by looking at us that you just saved the world!”

“And almost died trying,” Bradley grumbles as a reminder the job you share is rarely ever that glamorous.

Bradley holds your hand in his as the two of you walk along the beach. The drive up hadn’t been long, but you’d been eager to go for a walk after arriving. Once you’d arrived, Bradley had barely been able to put his seabag down before you’d practically tugged him outside across onto deck, past the gorgeous private pool, and off to the beach.

“That’s what I mean! We’re not aviators this weekend. We’re not facing near-death today! We’re just… two normal people who don’t have to worry about deployments or fighter jets or top secret missions funded and backed by the pentagon,” you continue, celebrating the freedom you’re leaning into on this particular leave.

“Probably shouldn’t say that too loudly,” Bradley coughs, scanning the beach for any curious listeners.

“Ahhhh yes, you’re right,” you mumble, lowering your voice.

“But I like where this is going. We’re just… Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chimes in, playing along with you. “You know… the boring ones. Not like... the spy assassin ones.”

“Right, right. Because there’s a fine line, Bradshaw,” you fire back.

He laughs in response with a shake of his head, his eyes full of endearment towards you.

“Okay so… how’d we meet?” you ask, turning to steal a glance Bradley’s way.

“How does anyone meet these days?! On an app?” he answers, in his best well-duh tone of voice.

“No!” you cry out, giving his arm a little shake. He laughs again, giving your hand a squeeze in return. God, no one’s made him laugh this much in a long time. He shoots you a quizzical look as you clarify with, “C’mon! There’s no romance in that! No, we uh… we definitely had a meet-cute.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chuckles as he teases you, giving your hand another squeeze.

“Okay then. Tell me more about this meet-cute.”

“Okay hmmmm… so you’re…” you trail off, before letting the silliest, furthest away from reality thing tumble out of your mouth. “... a yoga instructor.”

“What?!” he yelps, his eyes widening at the ridiculous sentiment.

“And I'm… a chef who’s just recently moved to San Diego to open up yet another fusion restaurant gentrifying small surf towns across the nation,” you continue, making sure your faux-job feels just as silly as his does.

“Wait. Why am I the yoga instructor!? I can’t even touch my toes,” he backtracks, alarmingly.

You laugh, “Because it’s funny! And maybe the furthest thing away from what we actually do.”

“Okay fine. I’m a yoga instructor,” he grumbles, resigning himself to his new pretend-occupation. “But I’m not growing out a man bun.”

“No, the mustache alone gives you enough street-cred. Or rather, hipster-cred, if you will,” you reply, playfully.

“You like the mustache,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I definitely like the mustache,” you smirk. “In fact, that’s how we met. I spotted that mustache across the room in a coffee shop, made sure to let you know that, even though they don’t really do it for me, yours was pretty cool, which of course led you to inviting me to the yoga studio that you own.”

“Which was just an excuse to see you again,” Bradley adds, playing along.

“Exactly,” you giggle, as the story continues to grow more and more ridiculous. “… And well, you know what they say! The rest was history.”

“You are so silly,” Bradley chuckles, releasing your hand as he wraps an arm around your shoulders instead.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Bradshaw,” you giggle, your sliding around his waist. “Oh! That reminds me. We need to go to the grocery store.”

“I thought you said we could stay in bed all weekend,” Bradley challenges, his tone light.

“Fuel,” you shrug, coquettishly.

“Besides, I’m cooking you dinner tonight.”

“Well, you are the chef between the two of us.”

“Now, you’re catching on.”

It’s later that night that Bradley learns that while you gave him the job furthest away from reality, the possibility of you being a chef was a lot more probable. He watches you create a lemon-scented pan sauce, his mind wandering back to earlier when he’d been surprised by your knife skills.

“Holy shit! You really cook?!” he practically exclaims in the middle of the state-of-the-art home kitchen you’re occupying all weekend.

“Guilty,” you answer, as if it’s some kind of confession. “If I hadn’t gotten into the Naval Academy, I was going to go to culinary school. Just one psycho thing for the next.”

You coat the back of a spoon so that you can taste the sauce for seasoning:

Salt levels are good. Shallots are perfectly caramelized. Capers add the right amount of tang to it.

You scoop up another pool of the liquid in the spoon once more, offering it to Bradley.

“Come try this,” you say. “It’s a lemon chicken piccata. I think you’ll really like it.” You hold the spoon up to his lips, watching as Bradley tastes the lemon butter pan sauce.

As soon as the sauce hits his tongue, you watch as he closes his eyes, in total disbelief.

“Holy shit. This is un-fucking-real, honey,” he says, the term of endearment making you blush a little.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

As you pull away, he pulls you back for another kiss before murmuring against your lips, “Though I think I like it better on you.”

Holy shit, is that hot.

As Bradley releases you, it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten to breathe. Your head feels light and you have to remind yourself to take a deep breath.

“I won’t distract you any longer. Sooner we finish up dinner, the sooner I get you naked,” he coos, his hands dragging across your hips as he pulls away.

Jeez, this man is perfect, you think to yourself.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

As you sit down to dinner with your lemon chicken piccata and a funky orange wine, you learn that Bradley can’t cook to save his life. You can’t believe that after two and a half weeks of the craziest of training, you’ve managed to find yourself on your proverbial honeymoon with a guy you’re quite sure is perfect. Sure, he’s got enough baggage to sink the USS Roosevelt, but you’re not sure you mind. He is, after all, who he is because of it.

He finishes telling you another story from his days at UVA and you’re caught in a fit of giggles as you watch how animated he gets as tells you about his college-day shenanigans.

“What?” he asks you, seeing the look on your face.

You know you probably look like you’ve got goddamn hearts for pupils at this point, so your answer is simple:

“The more I learn about you, the more I like you, Bradshaw.”

He blushes.

“I really like you too, Whiskey.”

Saturday morning:

Rooster Bradshaw thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

It doesn’t feel real.

As you stand there in the middle of the kitchen, clad only in his NAVY tee, it’s as if the domestic bliss he’s always craved is right in front of him.

This is all he’s ever wanted.

Bradley’s frozen for a second, paused in a moment in time. Ever since his mother died, there’s been a hole in his heart he’s never been able to fill – not with girlfriends, not with work, not even with himself. It’s this hole in his heart that yearns for a family – that allows himself to be taken care of, to be cherished, to be loved. But he can feel something, this feeling, swelling in his chest as he watches you make breakfast in the way-too-fancy home kitchen after knowing you for barely three weeks.

Now that he’s proven himself in the Navy, maybe he could begin healing his relationship with Mav. He could let himself open up to you. Maybe the part of his healing he’s been missing… is letting himself be loved.

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, but he figures it’s been long enough as you turn back around to him, sending him a curious look.

“Good morning, handsome. Coffee?” you greet him, with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen in his life.

And damn, he loves the way you look in his t-shirt.

“That would be great,” he answers, a lovestruck grin plastered to his face.

You hear the sounds of his footsteps before you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you in close to him from behind. You giggle, turning your head for a good morning kiss. Bradley’s lips are soft – a stark contrast from the rough texture of his mustache – earning another giggle from you.

You nod towards the french press on the counter that holds the coffee you’ve just made. There’s a second mug resting on the table that you pulled from the cabinets for him. He likes that you thought of him – thought to do that. He likes being thought of.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask, plating up two plates of eggs, bacon, sliced avocado, and a mix of berries you’d purchased yesterday.

“Great. How about you?” Bradley answers, a soft smile on his face as he watches you.

You wrap a hand around the edge of the plate while your other hand carries your coffee cup.

“Wonderfully. Why don’t you grab a fork and meet me out by the pool?” you tempt him, sending a wink his way before disappearing, heading towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck.

Instead of following suit, Bradley watches, taking this all in. He takes a few steps so that he can see you through the glass door. You sit down with your copy of today’s paper, while you snack on a few strawberries before picking up your fork to eat your soft scrambled eggs. Bradley swears under his breath, still in disbelief that this is real, before fixing his cup of coffee and taking his plate outside to join you.

“You know… I know we have the same one… but I think I like mine better on you,” Rooster says, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to the one you’ve posted up on.

You can practically feel your heart speed up, as you watch Bradley pop a strawberry into his mouth.

“Listen. I’m just relieved you own something other than the Hawaiian shirts,” you admit, a cheeky smile on your face.

“What’s wrong with my Hawaiian shirts?” he teases you with a wink.

“Absolutely nothing. But… it’s not like I can bring you as a wedding date in a printed shirt and jorts,” you tease him back, playfully.

As much as he likes to banter with you, he’s more focused on the fact that you’re thinking of ahead – thinking of the future with him.

“How do you feel about eventually making our way out to the beach today?” you propose, continuing with your breakfast.

“If we make it out… yeah,” Bradley replies, suggestively.

You smirk, “Well in that case, finish your breakfast. You’ll need the energy.”

You enjoy the poolside breakfast with him, handing him the sports section of the newspaper so that he can check out some of the baseball stats. You swap: the arts section for the sports section when he mentions maybe seeing if there’s a show you both could go to – making plans that you most likely won’t make anyways.

After breakfast, you pull Rooster’s NAVY shirt over your head, revealing your barely-covers-anything bikini you put on earlier.

“You wanna-?” you start asking, with every intention of getting in the pool.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing your hand.

Before you know it, Rooster’s thrown his empty breakfast plate on the small end table between both lounge chairs, pulling you back towards him. You follow, more than eager to explore exactly where this is going. As he pulls you down on top of him, you sit over his hips, just to feel how excited he’s gotten from seeing you in your bikini.

“You are such a tease,” he growls, bucking his hips up into you.

“I think you like it,” you smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his.

“Uh huh,” he answers, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Already, Roos?” you ask him, a devilish smile on your face as you grind your hips against him.

He hisses, pushing his hips up again as he answers, “Baby, you’ve had me this hard all weekend.”

You giggle, your lips finally meeting his, your tongues easily tangling together as your lips move in perfect time.

“I like these,” he says, his fingers dancing over your hips as works to untie your bikini bottoms.

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes filled with lust.

“Yeah,” he answers, untying one side completely.

Rooster sits up, flipping you over so that you’re now laying back against the lounge chair, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. Eagerly, he pulls your bikini bottoms off, tossing them somewhere on the deck as he covers your body with his in this new position.

“Rooster,” you moan, his mouth moving lower.

His lips and tongue are everywhere: your shoulders, your breasts, and rapidly making their way down your abdomen.

His hands pull your legs apart to make room for his shoulders as he watches you with a fire in his eyes. You know exactly where this is going, waiting impatiently for him to touch you. Bradley licks a broad stripe up your already wet heat, his tongue stopping to move around your clit as you throw your head back, his name on your lips.

“Bradley.”

“God, you taste so good, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, the hot sun kissing the both of you as he eats you out, right on the freaking pool lounge chair. He works at your clit, tracing little shapes around it as you moan his name, trying to remind yourself not to be too loud since your friends do have neighbors. As his tongue moves further down, his mustache bumping up against your most sensitive spots, your hands move straight into his brunette waves, bucking your hips up against his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cry as you feel him begin fucking you with his tongue. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You feel him smile against you, your words having unleashed something within him. From here forward, Rooster is relentless. He’s holding your hips down, pulling all kinds of sounds from your body as he continues to bring you heavenly pleasure with his tongue and his fingers.

“Fuck!” you cry, feeling that tight feeling in your abdomen as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yes. God, yes. I’m so close!”

And it’s all he needs to hear to do whatever it takes to get you to cum, pulling you past the point of pleasure you thought you could feel. You come with a strangle moan, and before you know it, Bradley’s folding his body over yours once again. He presses his lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him, earning a moan from him as you kiss him with desperation.

“I hope your friends don’t have cameras out here,” he chuckles, in between kisses.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease.

“Jeez, sweetheart. If that’s what you’re into….”

You were going to be the death of him.

And, he decides, what a lovely way to go.

Sunday:

“Bradley!” you gasp, feeling that all-too-familiar tightening in your abdomen, as Bradley winds you up.

“You gonna cum?” he grits out, his hips driving into at a rapid pace. “Go ahead. Let go for me, baby.”

“Yesyesyes,” you’re practically chanting as you feel him so, so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Bradley. I’m gonna-,” you pant, and he groans, feeling you squeezing around him. “Please make me cum.”

“God, I love it when you beg me. Shit. Holy shit, baby. Fuck,” Bradley grunts out, his face buried in the crevice of your neck. He whines your name so sweetly as he releases, finally stilling the motion of his hips.

Bradley lifts his head, still inside of you as he leans down to press a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Holy shit. How is it possible that it just keeps getting better and better?” you sigh, your back hitting the sheets as you catch your breath.

“I don’t know but… if we get any better at it I might go into cardiac arrest,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you.

“No!!” you cry out, dramatically.

The two of you settle into a quiet intimacy, as you turn over onto your side, wrapping yourself up in the sheets. Bradley notices a shift in you, but remains on his back as you prop your head up on your hand.

“I want to be with you,” you blurt out, causing Rooster to turn his head in your direction.

He can’t even hide the smile on his face as he hears your words.

“I want to be with you too, Whiskey,” he grins, his eyes as soft as the morning light.

“Oh thank god!” you say, letting out a sigh of relief, eliciting the most amused look from Bradley. But you pause, and he can tell that you’ve got something else on your mind as you continue with, “I just-, I guess I’m just wondering if-. Do you… think we’re moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, curiously, rolling over onto his side so that he can match your body language with his own.

“I don’t know…” you hesitate with an ambivalent shrug. “We haven’t known each other for that long. Is it… totally wild to feel this way about someone after only three weeks?”

Bradley takes a beat, his chocolate brown eyes warm and filled with confidence.

“Maybe. But stranger things have happened and… Whiskey, I-. I think I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time,” Bradley answers genuinely.

“I think so too. Is that crazy?” you reply softly.

“If it is, then at least we’re both in it together,” he reassures you, pulling you over to him so that you can cuddle.

“Okay.”

“What do you want to do today?” you ask him, shifting a little to something more lighthearted.

Like you’d predicted, despite every intention of doing so, neither of you had made it out of the house this weekend aside from the occasional beach walk and for dinner last night in Leucadia. Not that you were complaining. The hot non-stop sex-a-thon and staying up to talk till the early hours of the morning were absolutely heaven… but you knew at some point you’d both have to resurface.

“I think I might go for a run,” Bradley replies, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“You haven’t gotten enough cardio?!” you practically shriek in surprise.

He chuckles, “Can’t take too many days off or I’ll lose my stamina, honey. Wanna come with?”

“Hmmm… I think I may just stay here… take a shower. Unlike you… I’m not a psychopath,” you joke.

He laughs, “Okay, okay. Then how about when I get back, I’ll take you out to breakfast and we can go from there.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree with a totally lovestruck smile.

After a few more kisses, Bradley manages to unwillingly pry himself out of bed to get ready for his morning run. He’s right. You both have to return to reality at some point, and it’s not a bad idea to try to work in some of your routine before you’re back on base. You might’ve even agreed to go on a run with him, but selfishly, you’d like the alone time because you have to call Nat.

Once Bradley is out of the house, you slip a t-shirt left on the floor from the night before, hurrying into the master bathroom. You quickly FaceTime Natasha, praying that she picks up, considering this is the first time you’ve had a moment to call.

“Hey! Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you till you got back,” Nat says as soon as she answers the call.

“Oh my God, Nat. I am in love with this man,” you say, incredulously.

“Are you talking about Rooster?” she asks.

“Yes, of course I’m talking about Rooster!” you exclaim, with a laugh.

“Jeez, Whiskey. How much sex are you guys having?!” she teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You… don’t want to know the answer to that,” you answer honestly.

“You’re right,” she nods, her voice dropping. “I don’t. I guess I don’t even need to ask how it’s going then.”

“So well. Too well. I-, we told each other that we want to give this a shot. A relationship,” you fill her in.

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“I mean... Whiskey, I think he’s ready to settle down with someone and… that’s why I wanted to introduce the two of you so badly. Don’t overthink it. Chalk it up to good timing,” she advises.

“Okay yes, but do you think this is too fast?” you ask, nervously.

“It’s… fast, sure. But it’s not like you’re getting married or anything,” she reassures you, before pausing. “You’re-... not getting married-.”

“Of course not!” you interrupt her, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You know what the proverbial they say: when you know you know,” Nat adds, trying her best to offer up a little more reassurance.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to check in with myself. Make sure we’re being realistic, you know?” you vent. Truthfully, your hesitations have nothing to do with Rooster and everything to do with the fact that you haven’t chosen the best partners in the best. But Rooster? He’s near-perfect.

“Have you told him about your deployment yet?” Nat asks you.

You shake your head, “Not yet. I didn’t want it to be another thing to raise the stakes, you know? But I’m… I’m kind of nervous to.”

“Rooster knows how this goes. He’ll be fine,” she replies.

You nod slowly, “How are things going on your end?”

“Uh… good. Just waiting for you guys to get back before I head back up to LA,” Nat replies with the most casual tone in her voice. You eye her suspiciously, knowing that that can’t just be it.

“And Jake?” you ask, curiously.

“What about Jake?” she asks back, earning a funny look from you.

Okay, Trace.

If she needs it spelled out, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Have you guys talked or are the two of you still just fucking each others’ brains out?” you rephrase, putting it bluntly.

Natasha rolls her at eyes at your crass comment before answering, “More so the latter,”

“Got it.”

You take a beat, not wanting to overstep, but then again this is the woman that quite literally parent-trapped you and Rooster.

“It would be okay, Nat… if you had feelings for him,” you begin, cautiously.

“Whiskey, I don’t-,” but she can’t finish the sentence. She knows she can’t finish that sentence because it would be a lie. And when has she ever been able to bullshit you? If anything, you’re the person who knows both her and Jake the best.

She takes a beat before opening her mouth to say something else, “I don’t know if I’m ready. For that.”

You nod slowly, “And that’s okay too. You’re just gonna have to tell him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs, dissatisfied with the resolution she’s come to. She changes the subject and you talk about a few other things. Who else is going on the next deployment from the Dagger Squad. Having lunch solo with Halo. That Maverick and Penny seemed to be a thing.

“Hey uh… I gotta run but, we’ll talk. When you’re back,” Natasha says, as she realizes what time it is.

“Yeah of course,” you agree.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she smiles, signing off.

“Bye, Nat.”

You take a breath after hanging up the phone with Nat. Maybe you wish that she and Jake could just figure it out, but you also know that they’re not exactly those people. They’re actually the most stubborn people you know. You run the shower for a minute or so, waiting for it to come up to temp before stepping in, letting the water help you think through things.

You and Bradley were different. Both of you were looking for something – a relationship – and had found a connection with each other that felt good. It felt right to be with him, even if the idea of falling in love with him terrified you – even if it felt like the two of you were on the fast track. But Jake and Natasha? You’ve always felt like they were more similar than either of them would admit. They’d have to really want it, really want to be together to make it work, and it doesn’t seem like either of them are there yet.

You finish up your shower, enjoying a little you-time before Bradley gets back. You haven’t exactly had that much since you got here, but you know you’ll have plenty when you return to Lemoore. After shutting off the water and drying your hair as best as you can with just the towel, you wrap a second towel around your body before heading back into the bedroom.

Only, you see something you’re not expecting – something you weren’t quite ready for.

“Bradley…” is all that comes out of your mouth as you see him.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tanned skin glistening from his run while he holds loose papers in his hands.

Papers.

Those papers.

Your papers.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asks, looking up from your deployment papers.

“Bradley. I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice shaking a little.

You take a few steps towards him, stopping so that you can sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I don't know…” you answer, honestly. “I guess I just thought-. We've clouded our judgment with hot sex all weekend….” You laugh nervously. “... and all of this has just been so intense – between the mission, and you almost dying, and… – I didn’t want my deployment to change the outcome of this weekend.”

You wait for him to answer, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he listens to you. You’re right. The parameters of the mission, your hookup, all of it has been so high stakes. He’d be a fool to deny it. But it doesn’t change how crazy he is about you. He thinks he’d feel this crazy about you if he met you in the supermarket, not in training for a suicide mission.

“I understand,” he says, his voice low as he turns to you. “But I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have changed anything for you?” you ask, stealing a glance his way.

“No,” he reassures you, his voice softening. He slips an arm around your bare shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “I just-, I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d have more time before we had to deal with… all of this.”

You nod, “I know. I should’ve told you earlier.”

“You still want to do this?” you ask again, with a nervous flutter in the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah, of course,” he admits with a smile. “But it’s not going to be easy and… I guess… these papers just reminded me of that.”

You turn your body towards him so that you’re facing him, no longer sitting side by side. Bradley runs his fingers through your wet locks, eventually moving to cup your face. There’s a sadness in his eyes and you can see that the reality of your jobs has set in.

“I kinda wish I was still a yoga instructor and you were some hot shot chef,” he chuckles, trying his best to make light of the situation.

“Me too,” you agree. “It’ll only be a month. And… then maybe once Cyclone has all the data he needs… they’ll make our detachment official. We-... won’t have to be apart.”

Bradley nods, “Yeah. We’re gonna figure this out together, sweetheart. I know it.”

You smile in response. How is this man real?

“How can you be sure?” you ask him, hopefully.

“I can just feel it,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. He touches his lips to yours before pulling back to ask, “What would you say to getting back in the shower?”

You smirk, “Lead the way, handsome.”

read: chapter nine

#call sign tennessee whiskey #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x phoenix #hannix #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix top gun #rooster x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin #top gun maverick smut #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw smut

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gabriel-xander · 6 months

Text

I Wish You Died Instead Ch. 4

[Scaramouce x Fem!Reader]

A/N: I started writing this before all of his lore came out/Before the last Sumeru Archon quest, so there will be a handful of inconsistency later on. My advice to you? Just go with it!

{Also on Quotev, Ao3, and Wattpad under Gabriel Xander}

Chapter 4: You are an Embarrassment

The trip was a bit awkward in your opinion. Not once have you had to endure Scaramouche's company alone. Never had he allowed an expedition with less than five subordinates (NOT including yourself) with him, let alone just you.

You two matched in terms of immediate attire: long, thick coats that reached to your calves, the seams lined with thick fur. Neither of you had your hoods up, in your boss' case, it was because he was wearing his big ass hat. Your fatui mask was getting uncomfortably cold against your face.

It was silent the entire trip, minus the few, quiet swears from the cold, and frustrated grumbling from you as you took this time to review new reports.

The budget from a recent mission you had was smaller than you expected, so you were trying to do the math quietly. You were trying to determine how much of a percentage raise you'd need to include for next time. Your usual deployment was a consistency of five different Skirmishers and two Mirror Maidens.

Including yourself, that's eight mouths to feed, eight wardrobes to prepare, eight bodies to equip weapons to, eight people to provide efficient funds to-

"Oh!"

You cheer suddenly as you scribble on the paper with lead. It's a material that had originated from Fontaine: a thin, wooden stink with black graphite in the center. It was a lot more convenient than inks and brushes.

You hope you're actually writing though, night had just arrived so it was hard to see what you're writing.

You continue to babble out loud without realizing: "I just need to add 13%, then an additional 20% for the send-off fee-"

"-Shut up."

"You shut up."

…

Wait.

FUCK!

The materials from your hands disappear into the aether as you frantically wave your hands in defense, stepping away from the pissed off Scaramouche.

"WH-I-I DIDN'T MEAN IT! I-I AM SO SORRY, MY LORD! I-IT'S A HORRIBLE HABIT I HAVE WITH MY COMRA-"

"-You're dead."

"I'M SORRRYYYYY."

You don't waste a fucking second before you're running the fuck away. Lucky for you, you've done more traveling in Snezhnaya than Scaramouche has. Running in the thick snow was a breeze for you as you had learned the hard way on how to tread these lands.

Scaramouche on the other hand…

"Get back here right now!"

The poor dude was stumbling in the cold with uneven footing that helped the winds push him around. You think you can fire not too far-

"OW!!"

Hot, white pain shoots up your spine, causing you to drop to your knees. You look back at the Balladeer with so much judgement in your eyes.

"DID YOU JUST FUCKING ZAP ME!?!?"

"Get the fuck over here!"

"Not until you calm down!!"

You scramble back to your feet only to get fucking tackled by the damn Harbinger. Unfortunately, neither you nor Scaramouche realized that you were right by a cliff; you both fell over and rolled down the snow.

Instinctively wanting to protect the Harbinger at all cost (despite the fact he wants to kill you), you hug him tightly to your body while forcing your shoulders back into the snow. The friction does little good to slow you down, but it keeps you two from rolling like dumb-asses.

And all too sudden, your body hits a particularly sharp rock. It does manage to stop you and Scaramouche, but you also feel it pierce through your thick coat.

You survived, but at what cost?

You won the battle, but lost the war.

Your entire backside is unbearably cold, and you think you can feel blood beginning to seep from where the rock is jabbing.

You relax your arms from Scaramouche, panic that he's not moving (but he is breathing slightly fast). You noticed his hat had fallen off, but it was okay since you could see it slowly slide down the hill, bumping against your feet.

Shit. Your mask is gone too.

But first things first…

You awkwardly tap his arm, "Are you oka-"

"-Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

You tilt your head back into the snow to see who the fuck it was. It was 3 men with heavy coats. There was a brunette with blue eyes with a bandanna covering the lower half of his face.

The other two had black hair and looked almost identical, most likely twins. The only difference was their eyes: one had light green eyes, the other had a heterochromia of light green, and medium brown.

You chuckle nervously, "Ah-ha, hi there. Um… we kind of… fell."

"We saw." The heterochromia eyed man grins, "Funny shit."

"Well… that's just embarrassing, huh?" Scaramouche chuckles weakly.

You wince when he pushes himself off you, a small smile gracing his features. You know that face and tone: it's "nice" Scaramouche. The facade he uses around those who are not to know you're Fatui.

As you sit up, you check Scaramouche for any injuries. It amuses you how he tenses up at the attention, he has to keep the act up and not pimp slap you in front of these people. You sigh in relief when nothing seems to be wrong, already brushing the snow off the Harbinger

"At least it's just these nice folks, and not some stupid hilichurls." You said softly, noting the Balladeer's fists are clenched on his lap.

"The hell are you two doing out here?" The brunette furrows his eyebrows, "The nearest town isn't for miles, and I doubt you're dumb enough to take a romantic stroll in this weather."

"Actually, we-ACHOO!!"

Oh so violently, you sneeze into the crook of your elbow. You groan quietly as you and Scaramouche stand up from the snow.

"Ugh, excuse me," You chuckle humorlessly.

Scaramouche takes a few steps away to take his hat that's getting buried in the snow.

"We should get going now," Scaramouche says, "You're going to get sick at this rate, and I-"

"-Well, why don't you two rest with us for tonight?" The twin with green eyes offer with a smile, "There's actually going to be a rough storm in-"

As if the Gods themselves were timing it, lightning strikes in the far distance. A light drizzle begins to settle.

"-Right now, actually." The man continues, "I'd feel really guilty if we just let you continue like this when you're getting sick."

You tense up and shake your head, "Oh, no! That's not-I-I mean, I don't want to impose! Plus, your friends might not-"

"-It's fine," The brunette shakes his head, "It's just until the storm clears up."

The twins nod simultaneously.

"It's not a problem at all."

"It's no problem."

"Hm… Okay," Scaramouche sighs, "Sorry for the intrusion."

"Sorry f-ACHOO!!"

Damn, you're embarrassing yourself.

"Oh!" The twin with green eyes pipes up with a grin as he gestures towards himself, "My name is Ivan, and this is my brother Isaac!"

You all look at the brunette with blue eyes who had the bandana still covering half his face.

"...I'm Noah."

You laugh lightly as you begin walking first, "It's nice to meet you all! You can call me [Y/n]!"

Scaramouche refrains the urge to frown, "Call me Kunikuzushi."

Kunikuzushi? How did he come up with that name so quickly? And you noticed the way he presented that name: he was talking to ALL of you. Letting you know that you're supposed to call him that, as well.

"Kunikuzushi?" Noah scoffs under his breath as he leads you to their camp, "That doesn't sound like a local name."

"I'm a vagrant from Inazuma," The Harbinger flawlessly lies, "It's certainly colder here, that's for sure."

"So," You scrunch up your nose as you feel another sneeze coming, your voice quickly rising in pitch as you talk faster with every passing word, "What are you aLL DOING OUTINTHISWEATH-ACHOO!!"

Smooth.

Ivan laughs at your misery, "We're just traveling. When we noticed the storm, we decided to stop for tonight."

You smile in gratitude, "Well, thank you for the hospitality."

----

"My Lord."

"What."

"I am… so sorry."

Ivan, Isaac, and Noah are inside their huge ass tent to get you and Scaramouche thicker blankets, something hot for you to eat, and medicine. You and the Balladeer were sitting by the fire that was quickly dying out.

Well, if it weren't for Scaramouche that is. He was tending to it with a watchful eye on a log close to the fire. Occasionally, he'd zap the wood with his mysterious Electro ability, that he's capable of using without a Vision, to keep it hot. But there was a metal rod stuck in there, he mainly used that to tend the fire.

"Whatever. You're bound to say "shut up" by reflex now since you work for me." Scaramouche shrugs.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, "Huh? No, I'm not sorry for that."

The Harbinger snaps, "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry for getting-ACHOO!... Sick." You groan, completely ignoring his previous offense, "And for um… getting us knocked down that hill."

Scaramouche doesn't bother correcting you that it was actually HIM who knocked you both over.

"Gods, and I lost my mask. It's so unprofessional."

Scaramouche almost wants to say it's not a bad thing, that your face is a sight for sore eyes. But fuck that noise.

"On the bright side," You continue after sneezing again, "Noah is a good name. He's a member of the Treasure Hoarders we're after. I don't know about Ivan and Isaac, though."

Scaramouche stays silent for a while, so you assume the conversation is done.

You sink into the log you're sitting on, sighing into the thick fur coat you were given. It smells… like something. Maybe it's one of those guys' scent? Can't say you hate it, though. It's… it's actually pretty good and comforting.

"[L/n]."

"Hm?"

You haven't realized you closed your eyes, but you ain't about to open them. You're just basking in the coat.

Ah, you might fall asleep, you feel so tired and weak. Maybe it's because you failed to inform anyone of the wound on your side. You don't think it's bleeding anymore, but it's not even cleaned or wrapped.

"[L/n]."

"Yes, My Lord?" You repeat yourself.

"Sit back up," You can hear the eye-roll Scaramouche gives you, "You can rest after those morons come back with your food and crap."

You reluctantly open your eyes and sway in your spot, "Yes, sir."

"And don't call me that now. If they overhear you, it'll be hard explaining yourself."

"Yes, si-erm, Kunikuzushi."

"..."

"I just told you not to fall asleep."

Oh shit, you didn't realize you closed your eyes again.

"But I'm tiredddddd," You whine childishly, "And this coat is so warm and it smells good."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You open your eyes to see Noah walking up to you, eyes colored in amusement. Noah still had that bandana covering his mouth, but you just know he's fucking smirking. He has a small blue bottle, spoon, bandages, gauze, and a large white bottle sitting all on top of a folded blanket.

"Ugh, please ignore that. That's so embarrassing," You sink in the coat to hide half your face, "I just-you know, I'm sick. I don't know what I'm talking about."

Noah shakes his head, "It's fine. I won't tease anymore. Move over, won't you?"

You do as you're asked, looking at Scaramouche with a pointed look. Keep an eye on Noah.

Noah places the blanket down on the ground near the fire. He then looks at you and tugs lightly at your coat.

"Take this off, let's clean that wound on your rib." He instructs.

"You… How do you know-"

"-I saw you bleed through your coat," Noah explains, "It wouldn't do anyone good if you died or got infected. And I wouldn't be able to sleep at night without a clear conscience."

You sigh through your nose and begin taking off the coat. You fold it onto the log on your side. You begin to unbutton the coat you had on previous, only for Noah to stop your hands with his.

"Uh, maybe wait until I leave," Noah clears his throat nervously, "Your boyfriend looks like he'll kill me. He can clean you up since your wound is pretty… uh… yeah."

Boyfriend??

Very nervously and very hesitantly, you look over to Scaramouche. He was fucking glaring at Noah for no reason. He was leaned over and everything, being very obvious with his glare.

You're about to deny that Scaramouche was anyone close to you, but you never get the chance to.

"Exactly, just give me 10 minutes," Scaramouche stands up and slowly stalks over, "You're not touching her."

… Hah?

Noah nods and gets up, waving before he walks over to the tent where Isaac and Ivan were in.

You blink owlishly, "Was… that necessary, Kunikuzushi?"

"You said so yourself that Noah is someone we have to watch out for." Scaramouche frowns, "As if I'd let my best ass-kisser get poisoned carelessly."

You roll your eyes, "Fine, okay. I'd prefer addressing my own wounds, anyway."

Scaramouche throws his head back, "HA! As if! Move over, I'll do it. I already said I would anyway."

"I-... O-Okay…" You resume stripping your coat with reluctance, "But… was going along as my boyfriend necessary, too?"

He deadpans at you as he sits next to you.

You shake your head: "Never mind. It's-really not important."

"No," Scaramouche mutters, "it's not."

#fanfiction #reader insert #original character #female reader #genshin x reader #geshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #wanderer #short story #IWYDI Fanfiction #No Childe mention this time #sadge #Anyway I should probably clarify now that there's gonna be a LOT of time skips in this story #it's not meant to be something eleborate

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dayseedrawz2 · 2 months

Text

This is gonna be in my drafts until I at least get out every design for [Ring-Misstress] so Idk how much time I got-

So yeah I decided that I'm gonna write this AU in chapters so that it makes more sense when I make content about it, and yall can ask about it ig-

This all takes place after the events of the real series (that of which we have yet to see, so anything different can just be part of an alternate timeline)

Without further ado... Let's get to it!!

[R-M Chapter 1: The Relaunch]

Dialog guide:

Narration

*Perfoming an action*

"Thinking"

Pomni

•Caine•

°○Bubble○°

◆Ragatha◆

Jax

~Gangle~

Kinger

Zooble

Flinally!! After what felt like forever!!! With help from the others, Pomni and Caine found something groundbreaking!! The Games source code! Mostly, everyone was there to look for the exit, but they ended up finding something else...

*sigh* There's nothing here... can we go back now??

Yeah, honestly, this was a complete waste of time...

◆Come on now, guys! I'm sure they know what they're doing!◆

~Wait, look! They're back out!!~

*Pomni and Caine exit a jumble of One's and Zero's*

It's not much, but I think we found something!! But... I'm just not sure what it is... *She hands a small glitching object to Caine*

•Huh... It's... it's a developer's note! I haven't come across one of these in a while!•

Wait, what!?

Oh dang, that's right, it forgot this was even a video game-

~What's it say??~

*Silence fell as Caine read the text out loud*

•Let's see... "With the noticeable decrease in 'Bugged characters', the game should be ready for relaunch soon!" Oh...•

What... does "Oh" mean..?

•...huh? Oh yes! Uh, you all know how we have a designated place for Abstractions so that they don't destroy the place... and you?? How you have helped prevent some altogether?•

Yes..?

•Well I only implemented it after people stopped working on this game. They still think the game is okay to publish!!•

And? This is great news!! People play the game, realize we are stuck in here, and then we get help!! What are you yapping about??

•That's the thing- If more people, who for one are mostly children, come across this, they won't be able to help, and if worse come to worse, get trapped with us!•

◆oh... oh my, that does sound awful...◆

•Normally I'd be ecstatic, but I don't think it would be good if that many more people got trapped at once... let alone kids...•

Gee, missing kids in a video game. How tragic...

~Hey!~

•Wait, there's something else on here to- a "debugging code??"•

Did someone say something about Bugs??

•No, far from it... hey... this is a copy of the code for my "Ringmaster powers!" Interesting...•

Really? That's what you call em??

•Why yes!! What else could they be?? Anyways... now what do we do about this approaching situation of ours...•

Well, we're not just gonna have a ton more people in here being watched by one incompetent AI!

•... You're absolutely right, Pomni dear! Your little remark had given me an idea that might just work! Now... just how does one copy this...•

To be continued...

[Yippee, finally!! Part 1 done!!]

The second part is right here! (As well as the link to Caine and Pomnis blogs!):

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #caine #tadc pomni #showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #[ring misstress au]#tadc au

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

Text

this is us ~ jjk | 16

six months later and you're still not over jungkook, and when you finally hit rock bottom, you realize you have to pick yourself up because no one else can do it for you.

✨ title: this is us | (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, bff's younger brother ✨ playlist | AO3 & Wattpad ✨ a/n: if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n 2: hello, hello! can you believe we're almost done with this series? it's been a crazy journey for these two, hasn't it? lol. well, i'll just say the angst is strong in this chapter but! this is the last angsty chapter, which i'm kind of happy for myself, my readers, and the characters lmaooooo. i hope y'all enjoy it and now it's only going up from this point out!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ✨ 17 ~ one year later

chapter 16 ~ so maybe you're not okay | wc: 5.4k warnings: time skip (6 months later), angst, reader is reflecting on her past actions, language, alcohol consumption, *some* tough love, self-deprecation, depressing thoughts, mentions of throwing up smut warnings: kissing, touching, groping, breast play

~ six months since the breakup ~

Six months have passed since you and Jungkook split up. Sometimes, your heart ached continually, and you wondered when it would stop or ever cease. You almost gave in and called to check how he was doing or what he was up to, but you didn't. It was foolish to believe he'd want to talk to you since he, too, was hurt. You had shattered his heart for the second time, and you shouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to hear from you again.

Your heart skipped a beat anytime his name was uttered, whether it was Jin or Yuna. A part of you wanted to know if he was doing well or if he was as unhappy as you, but you were hoping for the latter. He deserved happiness, and you wanted him to find it even if you weren’t a part of it.

As much as you wanted to run away from responsibilities, you couldn’t. Your show was the only thing that kept you going—for now, at least. Critics and audiences alike praised the first half of the season, but as the season proceeded, numbers began to fall, making you doubt your talent and career. Could your writing be suffering as a result of your breakup? It did take up a lot of your mental space these days.

You wanted to hide under a rock and never come out again, it was virtually impossible because your phone rang nonstop day and night, attempting to put out fires—executives, producers, and writers breathing down your neck, never letting you take a breath. You just wanted everything to halt, and you just wanted no one to need you. But you were reminded of that whenever you stepped into your apartment. You didn’t know which was worse anymore.

The show's last day couldn’t have come any faster, and Kenji wanted to go big and celebrate the filming wrapping. You arrived at the beautiful modern building, which hardly looked like a restaurant.

“Hello, darling.”

You turned to your ex-boyfriend, his arm snaking around your waist. He could never help himself, but you smacked his arm away. “Kenji,” you said with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, love—habit.” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s celebrate,” he said, holding his arm for you to take, though you didn’t amuse him by doing so. You were tired of his antics.

Because it was a party and you were practically the face of the project, you had to put on your best smile and pretend everything was fine—better than okay, perfect because you had gotten what you wanted out of your career, you had worked your ass off to get where you are. Still, none of this mattered if you didn't have the most important person by your side, but you didn’t dare utter his name.

If there was one thing you hated about being in this industry, it was the mingling aspect. Of course, you cared for your crew but showed it differently than how Kenji wanted to. You preferred intimate gatherings, taking a few groups to talk and catch up.

Though, at this point, you didn’t want to be around anyone anymore and just wanted to eliminate the noise clouding up your mind and space.

“Hey, babe. Are you doing okay?” Hyunie asked, pulling you in for a hug.

You loved your friend, but you swear to God if she asked you one more time if you were okay, you’d explode. “I’m fine,” you snapped, closing your eyes.

Having Hyunie by your side throughout this project was a godsend, and you couldn’t have done it without her. As Yuna was busy with baby Indie, Hyunie became your right-hand gal, almost waiting on you hand and foot.

She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to make sure,” she muttered, ready to walk away.

“Wait, Hyunie—” You turned, grasping her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re stressed. I’ll leave you alone.”

God—were you always this bitchy and cranky? Or had you unlocked a new part of yourself that you’d only discovered after breaking up with Jungkook? Either way, you’d lose your friend if you didn’t stop.

You had stopped counting how many glasses of wine you had accepted from the server as he passed by with his tray, but it had to have been more than enough for you to want to kiss the next person you saw.

Aimlessly, you stared at your wine glass. Are you the only one like this? What the fuck are you doing with your life? Pretending to be okay when you weren’t. Shit—you were so fucking pathetic.

Every day, the same thing, over and over again. Mindlessly, alone. You were gradually losing yourself in your innermost thoughts.

Tomorrow may be better. Maybe it’ll be alright. But who were you kidding? They were nothing but lies. You were too far gone, too broken. And it didn’t look like it could ever be reversed.

“So, you’re the big boss, hmm?”

You looked up to see a handsome man donned in an all-black outfit, his honey-skin chest practically on display, the deep V of his silk shirt leading your eyes down to his lower half. “That’s me,” you muttered, swirling the last of what was left in your wine glass.

“Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.”

The man flashed a beautiful smile before going behind the counter, reaching underneath to pull up a bottle of wine.

“Are you supposed to be back there?” you asked, raising a brow because he wasn’t a crew member from your show. Actually, you had never seen him before.

He chuckled. “I’m Jung Hoseok, co-owner of Onjium.” You held your glass out for him to refill.

“It’s a beautiful restaurant, and the food is immaculate.”

“Ah, why, thank you,” he remarked. “Should I return the favor and praise your show?”

You tried to suppress your smirk by sipping the red wine. “I’d rather you praise me instead."

Hoseok's tongue darts to wet his lips, biting the bottom. "I can do that."

It had been too long since you had kissed anyone, alone let anyone even touch you. But Hoseok’s kisses from the column of your neck trailing towards your collarbone made you realize how horny you were—and your vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t sought out a fuck buddy in the first place. It would’ve easily taken your mind off everything and relieved some stress.

His hardened length brushed against your clothed heat, his soft lips continuing to mark your body, his hand on the small of your back, eliminating the distance between you. “Fuck—you’re so sexy,” he kissed your lips. “Why isn’t every man dropping to their knees for you?”

You throw your head back, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Do you always flatter every woman who walks through your restaurant’s doors?” you ask, tugging at his belt, unfastening it with his pants.

He grins and shakes his head. “I never do things like this,” he lies through his teeth.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you quip back. “So you’ve never fucked anyone on this couch before?” You found it hard to believe—a good-looking man like him, not fucking every beautiful that walked into his restaurant?

“Nope, never,” he laughs, coming in for another kiss, his hard length pressing into your lower abdomen, making you ache and crave what’s hidden beneath those briefs. “Can I?” he asks, toying with the thin straps of your dress.

“Please do. I’m at your service to be praised and adored.” You were hardly ever this bold or confident. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, coinciding with how shitty you’ve been feeling these past several months.

Hoseok’s slender fingers drew imaginary circles into your skin. He studied your face—eyes closed, mouth agape, and head lolled back. Savoring every moment as you bite your bottom lip, just waiting for him to continue as he pleased. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Honestly, at this moment? Anything—anything to relieve the ache that was building inside your body.

He hums, waiting for your answer.

You opened your eyes and straightened your posture. He still hadn’t removed your straps, so you did it for him, agonizingly slow, of course—just as he teased you, you did the same to him. But your stupid bra stood in the way until you unfastened the hooks, freeing your breasts one at a time. His attention is now diverted from your eyes to your chest, taking in the perfect view.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned in, whispering, “I want you to fuck me so hard that you have to take me home and then fuck me all over again.”

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself, then gripped the soft flesh of your ass through your black slip dress. His hands roamed the sides of your body. His eyes fixated on your breasts before palming them in his hands. “Fuck–yes. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His hand reached the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips against his erection. Faint whimpers leave your lips when his fingers pinch your stiff peaks.

“Fuck–Kook. I need you inside me.”

“Name’s Hoseok,” he says between kisses.

“Don’t–don’t talk.”

“Anything you want, princess.”

You pulled away with a deadpan expression, breathing a loud sigh.

“You just ruined it.” Of course, he couldn’t have known that you hated that pet name, but that pet name also brought you back to reality.

You drew the strings of your dress back over your shoulders, proceeding to grab the rest of your things. “I’m sorry, Hoseok. I shouldn’t have done this,” you say, looking around for your bra.

“Was it something I said?”

Technically, yes, but also, you were stupid for trying to sleep with a man you had just met. This wasn’t you. You didn’t go around fucking random strangers–you much preferred being in a loving relationship, not one-night stands with men you’d never see again.

“No–it’s me. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, you left the crime scene, slipping into a taxi, still holding your bra because you couldn't put it back on without someone stopping to talk to you. With eyes closed and a loud sigh, your head lolled back on the car’s headrest. The angel on your shoulder was berating you for making bad decisions. The devil told you to return to the man who wanted to sleep with you and show you a good time. Right now, you didn’t want to listen to either of them.

You open your eyes and straighten your posture, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview. The person staring back was unrecognizable—having sunk to the lowest of the lows, unsure if you could pick yourself back up. At this point, you wondered how your friends could even put up with you. You didn’t even want to be around yourself—a pitiful mess you were.

Sundays were brunch days at Yuna and Namjoon’s. It was a tradition the group had organized since the new parents had their hands full.

But you lay in bed, thinking of the many excuses you could give to your best friend to get out of this brunch you had started to loathe. It reminded you of your mother’s family reunion dinners.

You 9:27 AM *cough*cough* I’m not feeling well. I think I drank too much.

Yuna 9:29 AM 😒 Get your ass over here. I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed.

Tae 9:30 AM Dang—mama don’t play. You tell her, Noona!

Hyunie 9:30 AM Seriously, taetae? Why??? Why are you like this? 😑

Joon 9:31 AM I’m making my infamous avocado toast.

Jin 9:32 AM Namjoon cooking? *cough*cough* I’m sick too.

Yuna 9:33 AM Oh! Don’t make me slap all of you through this phone. Everyone be here at 10:30! OR ELSE.

You 9:33 AM Fine…

Jin 9:34 AM Okay—MOM.

Tae 9:34 AM Or else, what? You’ll spank me?

Hyunie 9:35 AM Someone come strangle my husband before I do!!

Even if you were on your deathbed, huh? Apparently, you still had to attend this infamous Sunday brunch.

A notification bell came through your phone, illuminating your screen.

Jin 9:37 AM I can come pick you up.

You 9:38 AM Why? You don’t trust that I’ll go there?

Jin 9:38 AM Nope 🙃 See you soon friend.

The car ride to Yuna’s consisted of nothing but radio silence. Jin looked over, watching you mindlessly observe pedestrians, deep in thought about who knows what. He wanted to interrupt many times but didn’t want to appear insensitive.

“You look like shit,” Taehyung remarked, sitting at the table.

“Thanks, Taehyung. I really appreciate your honesty,” you faked a smile before letting it falter. “FYI—this is what I look like, hungover.”

“You seem to be drinking a lot these days,” Yuna couldn’t help but comment.

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking,” Namjoon responded as he was focused on smashing the avocados in the bowl. He looked up to see his wife glaring at him. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, as long as it’s done in moderation. We don’t want anything bad to happen to our bodies.” He looked over at Yuna again, who was pleased with his answer.

“Maybe just slow down on the mimosas today, babe,” Hyunie interjected when you picked up the tall, slim glass and sipped. Whoever made it went a bit overboard on the champagne. It wouldn’t be your fault, it was whoever made this.

“I’m fine,” you noted. “I’m a big girl, and I can care for myself.”

With her tongue in cheek, Yuna tuts as she spreads the butter on the piece of bread, preparing the pan for the avocado toast.

You wanted to let that slide because she had been like this for the past few months, making snide, snarky comments or saying things under her breath. Maybe motherhood was taking a toll. Maybe she hadn’t had enough sleep. Maybe she, too, was pissed off at the world.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” You set your glass down, folding your arms across your chest. Maybe you were feeling confident after the sip of orange juice and champagne.

Everyone quieted down, pretending not to let this conversation become awkward, trying to do other things to distract themselves.

Yuna placed the bread into the warm pan, letting it sizzle, but she didn’t answer you. She had wanted to talk to you privately for a while now, but everything was bubbling up to the surface, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Namjoon clenched his jaw and lightly elbowed her, giving her the staredown of the century, mouthing, “Not now.”

“Why not? Hmm?” she answers aloud to her husband. “She needs to hear what I have to say.”

He looks at everyone whose eyes are now on the couple in the kitchen. “There’s a time and place if you want to talk, but not in front of everyone,” he said in a hushed tone, quickly glancing at you, then back to his smashed avocados.

“Yuna, if you have something to say, just fucking say it.” You were tired of all these side eyes and unspoken words.

She sighs and then turns off the stovetop, removing the pan from the heat. “It’s been six months, Y/n. Six months since Jungkook left.”

“Yeah, you don’t think I fucking know that? I have to live with that knowledge every day. Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone and let me drink in peace?” Picking up the glass, you took another sip; the bubbly drink fizzled down your throat. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Sometimes I just want to wallow in all the shit I’m feeling, okay? And be fucking depressed, sad, and hurt. Am I not allowed to do that?”

Hyunie steps closer, grasping your arm. “Of course, you can, but we’re just worried about you and want you to talk to us.”

“What do you want me to say?” You look around the room, trying your best to hold it together. Your tongue darted to lick your lips, teeth nibbling your bottom lip, but the yearning in your heart welled to the surface, just waiting to erupt. “You want me to say that I fucked up? Instead of pushing Jungkook away, I should’ve tried to work through it. That I should've gone to LA to get him back? Well, it's too fucking late. I can't do shit now. He's probably moved on with his life and is doing ten times better than I am."

You let go of Hyunie and sat in the dining chair. "God–I'm so pathetic." You wiped the tears streaming down your face. "I feel so numb, so broken," you said with a shaky voice. "I just want to wake up from this stupid nightmare, but I can't because this is my fucking reality. I know I have no one to blame but myself for this mess."

Everyone looked at you with pity and remorse. Practically watching you fall apart. You didn't want this to happen but knew it eventually would.

Yuna sympathized with her best friend, and she did. But she also had her baby brother to worry about as well. She knew how he was doing–which was much better than you right now, and you were right. He had moved on and was in a better spot, mentally and emotionally.

She walked over to you, placing her hand on yours, gently rubbing the top of your hand. Yuna softly sighed, “I love you, I do. But sometimes I just wanna give you a good smack.”

“Jagi!” Namjoon quips, setting down his fork.

“In a loving way, of course,” she pauses, “I'm sorry things turned out the way they did with you and Jungkook. It hurts me to see you like this–living life so aimlessly. If you want him, go get him. If you don't, then move on.”

“It's not that simple,” you said, turning to her.

“I know—but you have to try. Take it one day at a time. Do something fun. Try something you’ve never done before. Get your mind off everything,” Yuna suggests.

She was right. Since your show had wrapped up and nothing else lined up, you could do as you, please. Maybe you could find a new hobby or travel—it’s been a minute since you had a proper vacation. Honestly, traveling to a secluded place seemed like a dream. But would it be a ruse to run away from your problems, or would it help you move on? Could it be a bit of both?

“I’m sorry, guys. I am.” You look up to your friends who have been supportive these past few months while you were at rock bottom.

Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung grunted or hummed, acknowledging your apology before distracting themselves with something else.

Hyunie comes in for an embrace. “You’re gonna be okay. I know it.” She pulls away, the corners of her lips curving into a reassuring smile.

“I don’t deserve you guys.”

“You don’t,” Jin jokes, in which Namjoon glares at him. “What?” He stuffs a blueberry in his mouth. “Just saying.”

You were conscious of your choices and actions and aware of the consequences; nevertheless, accepting and coming to terms with them was another matter.

Regardless, if you wanted to get out of this deep, dark hole you’ve dug, no one could help you unless you helped yourself.

With nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one to see—your life felt like it had no meaning, no purpose.

Do something fun.

Yuna’s voice echoed from the day before. Fun? You didn’t even know what you considered fun anymore. What did you even like besides writing and working? No new films were interesting, at least not enough to make you want to pay to sit in front of the big screen. And you just knew you’d be scrolling through Netflix for hours trying to find something to watch before ultimately giving up. There was no point, you thought.

And since none of those things were riveting, you again found yourself at the bar. At least, it was the first time you’d gone this week. Well—to be honest, the week had just begun.

“Another Moscow mule, please,” you inquired, waving down the bartender. It was only your third one of the night, but given that your speech was becoming unintelligible—you’d be cut off soon.

The bartender nodded, acknowledged your request, and began working on your drink.

You held onto the black straw, mindlessly stirring the ice in the copper mug. Your eyes laser-focused on the bottle sitting behind the bar back—Highland Park, single malt whiskey. You preferred cocktails over straight liquor. You didn’t think you could handle all the alcohol content; hell, you could hardly hold the ones in cocktails.

Next to the shelf of liquor stood a mirror, but you couldn’t recognize the person in the reflection. Who was she? Six months had passed since the breakup, and the person in the mirror looked grim and unhappy. You couldn’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled or even laughed, and you had forgotten what true joy felt like.

This past year drained you emotionally and physically. You weren’t sure you had even gotten through all of it, and storing these traumatic, unpleasant memories in your amygdala only to resurface when you drank, forced you to deal with your emotions and feelings—things you didn’t want to touch. They were too painful and tortuous. It was easier to leave them be, brush them off, pretend that life could go on—but you had to face these memories and feelings sooner rather than later, or you’d never be able to pull yourself out of the hole you had dug.

The soft murmur of your name broke your focus on yourself in the mirror. You turned to see Min Yoongi beside you in a black button-down with a turtleneck underneath.

“Why do you look like you just sat down to be interviewed for a documentary?” You ask without regard to how he is doing or what he was doing at the bar.

Yoongi laughed at your abruptness. “I just came from a meeting with a colleague and came here for drinks, but he had to head out; then I saw you sitting here, so here I am.”

“Mmhm, here you are.” Your eyes lit up when the bartender handed you your drink.

“Can I get a single malt whiskey? Neat.”

You chuckled because you were looking at the bottle the bartender picked up.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, sitting beside you, his knee slightly brushing against yours before swiveling away in his stool.

It would be easy to say, ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ and go on the rest of the night indulging in small talk, but did you want to open a can of worms?

You gave your attention to the new Moscow mule sitting before you, stabbing the lime with the black straw and pushing it down to the bottom. You turn to him, “I feel like I’m gonna break down and cry at a moment’s notice.”

For some reason, it felt easier to bare your soul to someone who knew nothing about your life because all your friends quickly judged you and your decisions. But not with Yoongi. He knew the bare minimum about you.

“It’s okay to cry. Just don’t cry alone,” he simply said before thanking the bartender and sipping his whiskey.

Honestly, you hadn’t cried in the past few months. You felt more numb than anything, but the accumulation of your relationship with your mom, infertility, and Jungkook was enough to make you want to break down and give up on everything in life. The weight of it all was coming to a peak, ready to erupt.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he teased, to which you rolled your eyes. He took another sip, waving for you to continue.

“Do you ever ask yourself what the fuck you’re doing with your life?”

“All the time,” he chuckled. “It’s normal to ask that question. Think about it—we’re living, breathing humans that live on a rock floating through time and space.”

“Yes! Oh my god! I think about that all the time. Why do all of my problems seem so big in my little world? But compared to how big the world is, it seems silly, minuscule, and unimportant. I mean, the person walking down the street probably has bigger problems than me.”

“Mm, that could be true, but don’t minimize your hurt and feelings. It’s important to recognize and learn from those things and let them shape a better you.”

“Why get a shrink when all you need is ‘Min Yoongi’ in your life?” You finally take a sip of your drink, the ice already melting in place, the condensation pooling a rim on the napkin.

He chuckled at your joke. “I’m hardly a therapist. I’ve just—I’ve been where you are, and I’m sorry it sucks, but give it time. You’ll be okay.”

“But, like, how do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t,” he took a swig of his whiskey. “I mean, there aren’t many things in our control, but for the things that are, it’s important to do what we can. We can only manage what’s right in front of us. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, next week, or three months from now. Just worry about what’s happening right here, right now. That’s all you can do, you know?”

You recognized the truth behind Yoongi’s words and wanted to believe it. You did. But it was always easier said than done. Maybe you just needed more time, time to find yourself again. Maybe find joy in the little things, in yourself, and become comfortable in your skin without the dissonance of your friends. This time in your life would be as good as any since you had nothing lined up for you, work-wise. There was no one to keep you here in Seoul. You could go anywhere if you wanted to. Would now be the right time to uproot your life and go wherever your heart desired?

Yoongi could see you pondering his words, maybe letting the reality of it all soak in. He chugged the last of his whiskey, setting the glass down. “Come on, let me take you home.”

You lifted your finger, ready to key in your apartment's code, before returning to Yoongi. “Do you wanna come in?”

He hesitated before answering, “I shouldn’t.”

“You’re not going to tuck me in; make sure I don’t drown in my vomit?” Yoongi snickers. “Sorry, I’m not in my right mind right now. You don’t have to come in.”

“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“I just gave you an out. You can leave if you want, but if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, will you be ready to live with that guilt if something happened to me?” You could’ve easily eliminated the last line but couldn’t help yourself. Let’s blame it on the alcohol for the sudden confidence.

Yoongi’s tongue darted out, licking his lips, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. He nodded toward your door. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked in.”

“I just want to lay on a nice, warm beach. Or I guess I’ll try to dream of it tonight.”

Yoongi followed you into the bedroom and lunged forward to keep you standing straight before you plopped onto the bed. “I have a vacation home in Phuket if you ever need to get away from here.”

“You do?” Your eyes widen in delight, almost wanting to take up his offer.

“Yeah, Tae and Hyunie went there recently, and I’m only ever there occasionally. Feel free to use it if you’d like.”

“Is this the part where you plan to murder me, and no one will ever find my body?” you joke, referring to when he said he’d take you home the first night you met, even though you hardly knew him then.

“I think you’ve been watching one too many Law and Order episodes, huh?”

You shrug. “You can never be too careful, you know!”

Yoongi laughs. “If I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it already.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re waiting for the perfect moment. Like when I’m all vulnerable in my bed.” He shows off his gummy smile, a feature you’ve come to appreciate. “You should smile more often. You have a really pretty smile.”

He shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle as he turned away from you. Through the short time, he’s known you, you were never this honest with him.

You sigh. "Can I skip to the part where everything will be okay again?"

Yoongi kneeled by your bedside and flashed a closed-lipped smile before scanning over your features. Apparently, you were just full of questions tonight, but he didn’t mind. "Where you are now is not where you'll always be."

He seemed so positive and empathetic toward your situation, which you were grateful for. It's possible he was just being kind, but he had plenty more to say. He was almost like your personal fortune cookie, always ready with an answer.

"That's easy for you to say." You snuggled deeper into your fluffy pillow, pulling the duvet under your chin.

"Mm–yeah, it is," he chuckled. "Well, there's a high chance that the future you want never happens, and if you put too much meaning into it, it'll torment you."

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“You know what I mean.”

You stick out your tongue in protest, pulling the duvet over your head. “Just say I’m being pathetic. I can handle it,” you lie, muffled through the sheets. You were one step away from losing your shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat, lifting the duvet so he could say goodbye. He could see the sadness in your eyes when you looked back at him, and he only knew what you were going through because Kim Taehyung had a big mouth and shared whatever details he knew about you and your ex-boyfriend. But he never wanted to press you further unless you wanted to share.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. It looks like you’re tucked in safely and not dying, so...”

He proceeded to stand, but you sat up, grabbing his hand, your hand lingering longer than usual. Your eyes focused on his plush lips, then you moved in, closing your eyes for a kiss, but he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He stood, taking another step toward the door. “You’re cool, but I don’t kiss people when they’re not sober.”

Your cheeks become warm, your gaze avoiding his. “I’m sorry. As you can probably tell, I’m not in the right mind frame, and I’m very susceptible to handsome men when they’re sweet.”

Yoongi flashed a thin smile. “It’s okay. I’ll pretend nothing happened,” he remarked, waving his hand again before leaving you alone in your bedroom.

When you heard the front door closed, you grabbed your pillow and screamed into it. Why was kissing someone always your answer when feeling shitty about yourself? At this point, Yoongi probably found you as foolish as one could be. He probably wondered how and why Hyunie and Taehyung continued to be friends with someone like you.

You set the pillow aside, sliding under your covers, thinking about the question you asked Yoongi earlier at the bar.

What the fuck are you doing with your life?

So much of your adulthood was spent trying to survive your childhood and the trauma that came with it, and as you became an adult, you hoped the person you had become would be the person you needed when you were a child. But in reality, you felt like an imposter. The adult version of you was trying her best to be what that little girl needed, though ultimately, you failed her.

You knew deep down inside that you needed to stop whatever this path of destruction was, stop blaming others, not wait to be rescued, and most of all, stop refusing to participate fully in life. You had friends who became like family to you, who loved you no matter what you did. Was that not enough?

Inevitably, you were aware that no one could save you but yourself. You’d spent your life stuck in this endless cycle that no one had created but yourself.

You stopped before you started. You gave up before you even attempted. You talked yourself out of it before you got into it.

In retrospect, you knew you were also at fault regarding Jungkook. You sabotaged your relationship because you couldn’t bear the pain. But what if you had tried and given everything, and it worked out?

But as Yoongi said, it’s better not to dwell on a future that may not happen. Otherwise, you’d continue this endless cycle of torment.

✨ a/n 3: so, how are we doing? how are we feeling? do we have any theories on what'll happen next? what do we think about yoongi? let me know (:

also! i still plan on doing the podcast episode, so start thinking of questions, comments, rambles/rants (:

✨ next ~ 17 ~ one year later

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader

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calcedon79 · 2 months

Text

I was bored

Okay, to prevent total withdrawal, I'll serve you guys from the mine crew a little treat from a nonsense story I write on from time to time. It's only roughly translated and not stylistically polished (and it's late). So have mercy.

Boli, this opening chapter was heavily inspired by your Mud story, but somehow our chaos-blorbos have to run into each othe

Random acquaintances

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sifo-Dyas brushed a few sweaty strands out of his eyes. His hairband had fallen victim to a low-hanging branch. (Message to self: pack a second one for next outing)

"Of course," Jocasta Nu gasped stubbornly, struggling the last few meters up to the ledge of the old castle wall, "Master Sinube did say we could look around a bit."

"Yes, but we were supposed to stay in sight," grumbled the third of the group, his normally immaculately groomed initiate tunic soiled and torn in one place. (Stupid thorns)

" We are, Yan." The petite girl took a deep breath and put her arms on her hips. " We can see the big plaza from up there."

"I don't think that's what he meant," the slender Minashee boy dared to disagree.

"Mmmpf. Then he should phrase it better next time." She stared calculatingly up the half-collapsed defensive wall. Why did all the masters thought that Jocasta was the voice of reason in their trio? (Laughable!).

"Come on, exploring an old fortress like this is much more exciting than listening to lectures about textiles all day."

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "True enough."

From the courtyard of the old fortress, there was the sound of metal hitting stone.

"Let's go and have a look."

"Jo, do you really think that's a good idea?" Sifo-Dyas made no secret of his skepticism.

"Oh, don't be such nunas." The eldest of their group rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's go and see what this is."

"If we ever die trying out one of your ideas, I won't say another word to you," was Yan's reply as he walked past her.

After all, it had also been Jo's idea to bypass the fuse on the old turbolift and travel to the lower levels of the temple. (Maybe they should have checked the power supply first. Their two-week stay in the Halls of Healing had been no fun - neither had the trouble they'd gotten into with Master Sinube).

Jaster lowered his Beskard. (Okay, actually, it wasn't his.) Why did ba'buir have to take this job? No fighting, no proper libraries, how dull!

"That looks interesting," a friendly voice interrupted Jaster's exercises.

In front of him were three other children his age. Locals? Although, the other people's clothes were much more colorful than those of the newcomers. Maybe it was a school uniform or something. Jaster shrugged inwardly.

"Did you hurt yourself?" the tallest boy asked cautiously, taking a step towards him. "We didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no. Everything's fine." Jaster hurried to his feet. "I just didn't hear you coming."

"It's important to always keep an eye on your surroundings." The second boy's dark eyes scrutinized him coolly. At least until a blow to the back of his head from the girl sent the little guy staggering forward.

"Yan! Behave yourself and be polite," she hissed, to which the black-haired boy immediately muttered an apology in Jaster's direction.

Wow, the petite figure had her companions well in hand.

"Uhh, no problem. No harm done," Jaster waved it off. "My name is Jaster Mereel, by the way, and who are you?"

"The tall one with the long hair is Sifo-Dyas, the rude one is called Yan Dooku," introduced the girl with the turquoise ponytail. "And I'm Jocasta Nu."

Before any of the boys could make a sound, she continued: "Is that a traditional Midrim sword? I didn't know swords were used here. What metal is it made of?"

"What?" Jaster blinked, caught off guard by the volley of energetic questions. "Uh, no… it's a beskad and it's made of beskar."

"Beskar?" the boy introduced as Sifo-Dyas now asked with interest. "Ohh, that super cool Mandalorian metal."

"How did you get your hands on a weapon like that?" the Dooku boy wanted to know with narrowed eyes.

"How do you think?" Jaster rolled his eyes. They were asking strange questions. "I am a Mando'ad." "Uhh… Mandalorian?" he added slowly. Stupid basic. Jaster still had trouble with some words.

Oh.

Mandalorian?!

Dooku exchanged an alarmed glance with Sy. "'Mandalorian'?!"

Like in "Mandalorians - the enemies of the Jedi Order"?

Jo didn't seem to share their concern. A sparkle appeared in her eyes, showing her two companions that she had caught fire for a topic. Oh oh!

" Mandalorian? How exciting. I thought all Mandos wore armor."

"But not from the beginning," protested Jaster - horrified by so much ignorance. That couldn't be allowed to stand! "You have to earn it bit by bit. Look, I've already got bracers and a back plate. And my beskad."

"Yours? It's much too big for you." Oh, did this Yan know his way around swords? As professionally confident as his words sounded, that seemed to be the case.

"Well," Jaster admitted. "It's not mine. My ba'buir lent it to me."

"Your … ba'buir?" Sifo-Dyas tried to repeat after him and tilted his head questioningly.

"Ba'buir means … mmh grandparents in Basic. He is my grandfather"

"And he just lets you go off on your own with that?" The tall boy seemed taken aback by this.

"Of course." What was the problem? On safe planets and as long as he was back at the ship at the agreed time, he was always allowed to do what he wanted. Apparently this was a foreign concept to his new acquaintances. Poor things. "Ba'buir has to work, after all. How else am I supposed to practise? Besides, ba'buir always says it's too dangerous to go out without a weapon."

Okay, that was pretty sensible of said grandpa. The youngsters nodded in understanding. Children were kidnapped and sold into slavery all the time. That's why they were also allowed to take their training swords with them on their excursion. These weren't as dangerous as real lightsabers, but at the highest level they could still inflict quite serious injuries.

"Hmm, can beskar really withstand a lightsaber?" Jocasta suddenly wanted to know.

"A Jetii kad'au?" Mereel looked at her questioningly, as if he couldn't imagine how she had come up with this idea. "Hmm, I don't know."

"Maybe it should be tested." Jocasta's scientific interest was obviously piqued.

Yan didn't even bother to shield his alarm in the Force. "Yo! I don't think it's such a good idea…"

"Testing?" Jaster interrupted him curiously. "How is that supposed to work?

"Well, with this." Jo nonchalantly pulled out her training sword.

Cursing, the other boy flinched and then stared at the three of them like a Tooka in a thunderstorm. "Jetiise!… ah Jedi…. You're Jetiise?"

"Well, not quite yet," Sifo-Dyas clarified sheepishly, deliberately ignoring the other boy's raised weapon. "Strictly speaking, we're initiates. At the moment, anyway. You can only call yourself a Jedi once you've become a Padawan, built a proper lightsaber and then passed your knight's trial."

"Ohh." From one moment to the next, Jaster seemed to have overcome his shock and he lowered his sword again. "There are different Kad'aue … ah lightsabers? And how do you become a Padawan? Can anyone become one or do you have to fulfill certain requirements? How old do you have to be to take your trial?"

"Did you have a good day, ner ad?" Athas Mereel added the last of the spices to the boiling stew. A balanced diet was important for children. He may not have been the best chef in the galaxy, but he insisted on serving his grandson fresh food as often as possible. Ration bars were for emergencies. "Did you experience anything exciting, meet other children?"

"Hmm," Jaster barely lifted his head from the datapad, whose contents he was studying intently. Good boy. So studious. "I met some nice kids. We exchanged our com numbers."

(Communicators that the little Jetiise were apparently not allowed to have. "Don't you dare call us, Mereel. Only write, understand? Otherwise we'll get into real trouble with the masters.")

"That's nice," Athas nodded happily. Sometimes he was worried: Jaster was a bright boy, clever and resourceful, but he had a hard time making lasting friends. They had moved so often in the last few years, and each time his boy was forced into a new routine. Jaster's initial enthusiasm for adventure and new places had waned considerably in recent times. The new contact could only do him good.

On the other side of the planet, Sy, Yan and Jocasta didn't get a chance to talk about their Mandalorian encounter. When they returned to their quarters far too late, sweaty, tired and with dirty clothes, a highly annoyed Master Sinube was already waiting for them.

(Before the next outing, Yan would remember to pack some ration bars. Being sent to bed without dinner after a two-hour meditation was not acceptable to him or his body).

#sifo dyas #yan dooku #jaster mereel #jocasta nu #bolis virus #headcanon #wip #my writing #⛏️⛏️⛏️

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weepingfromacedartree · 10 months

Text

Surviving the AO3 Drought

Hi friends!

We're coming up on almost an entire day of AO3 being down. Since I'm sure most of you are like me and going insaneee with the blackout, I wanted to share this incredibly ROUGH draft of chap 1 of my current Polin WIP for anyone desperate for content.

A few warnings:

This fic is nowhere NEAR being done (emphasis on this being a ROUGH draft). It will most likely be a few months until I start posting the finished chapters.

This chapter (and the fic in general) deals with issues like grief and neglectful parenting, so TW for anyone who might not want to read about that.

Most of this chapter depicts Penelope and Colin as children. It was annoying to write. Might be annoying to read. I promise, they're teens/adults in all future chapters.

I do not condone children taking in stray cats and keeping them as pets. This fic is not meant to be a tutorial of any sort.

Ok if I didn't scare you off... please enjoy!!

Chapter 1: First Pet

Today: April 29th, 2023

Relationship Status: Dating (Semi-Secretly)

꙳

“Gregory just texted to ask if we’re dating. I didn’t think he had my number.”

“That little arsehole probably sent it to himself when he stole my phone.”

It’s Saturday. Penelope and Colin are sitting on the floor of his flat, a few containers of chinese food littered between them. It’s not a particularly unusual setting to find either one of them on a Saturday night. However, some things are different now.

Two weeks ago, they would not have been playing footsie. Not this shamelessly, at least.

“I assumed that Eloise’s ‘vow of secrecy’ would involve her immediately telling Benedict… And that Benedict would tell Anthony… And that Anthony would tell Kate… But I don’t know how the rumour managed to spread to Cambridge in…” She glances down to her phone again. “Six hours flat.”

“‘Rumour?’” he echos, a smirk on his face. “Surely, you’re not trying to keep this sordid love affair hidden from me as well.”

“‘Sordid?’ God, Colin. You make us sound so dirty.” She kicks his foot away, turning her attention back to the shrimp fried rice. “And I’m not trying to keep it from anyone. We both knew what would happen the second I told El.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised Greg didn’t text you sooner.”

Colin tries fixing his attention on the kung pao chicken in hand, but it unsurprisingly wanders.

“So… What are you gonna tell him?”

Penelope quirks an eyebrow, a look of uncertainty making a quick appearance on her face.

“Well… I was going to hold him in suspense a little while longer. Maybe take the ‘no comment’ approach at first. Then — I don’t know — the truth?”

“Which is?”

Colin watches as uncertainty turns to downright confusion.

“Yes?”

Internally, Penelope wonders if Colin is teasing, or if there has been a miscommunication of monumental proportions between them. The look on his face confounds her, though. Neither option seems to be the correct one.

“‘Dating’ is a bit too casual a word for us, I think.”

Penelope’s confusion fades away as a familiar tingling sensation lights up her stomach.

“It’s only been a week. What do you suggest we call —”

“We should get married.”

“What!?”

He’s teasing. He’s teasing. He’s —

“I said we should get married.”

Penelope waits for him to expand on this insane notion, but all she gets is that smug little smirk.

“Okay. Why?”

“Why does anyone get married?” Colin says matter-of-factly. “I love you. I wish to continue loving you forever and ever. Ergo, marriage.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“It —”

“It was a proposal.”

“Colin.” She uses the sternest voice she can manage to muster up, which happens to be quite shrill at the moment.

“Pen.” At least he has the decency to drop that stupid smirk. He also drops his kung pao chicken, leaning forward to place a hand on her knee.

“Just, think about it for a moment. We didn’t meet a week ago, we just finally said the thing we should have told each other a decade ago — at least. I’ve been in love with you forever. ‘Dating’ you just feels like an unnecessary step to the rest of forever.”

Penelope feels at war with herself. At her core, she is sensible. Logical. Reasonable. She knows — objectively — that skipping straight from friendship to marriage is illogical and senseless.

But is it truly reasonless?

At her core, Penelope is also a romantic. A willing fool. An idealist against her better judgement. And in her heart, she holds twenty years worth of love for Colin. Would it really be so crazy —

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Penelope tentatively — regretfully — brushes his hand off her knee. At the loss of her touch, Colin’s lip juts out in a pout.

“People date for a reason. It’s an institution — it has a purpose. It’s like a test run for marriage. Different than friendship. Teaches you different things about a person — things that set you up for a successful lifetime together.”

“Friendship is not so different than dating. At least, not the way we did it.”

“Colin —”

“You’re right, Pen. Dating is like a trial period where you decide whether or not the person you love is suitable enough to spend the next lifetime beside. You —”

“Do I really sound that unromantic?” she interrupts. Something about hearing her words on his lips makes them sound so clear.

Colin laughs. “I think pragmatic is the word you’re looking for. But seriously, can you name a single thing you don’t know or feel unsure about me as a partner, after twenty years of friendship? What’s holding you back, Pen?”

Nothing. That’s the truth. There’s not a single thing about Colin that she feels unsure of. Not anymore.

But still… Even if there love has lasted decades, that sense of assuredness has only existed between them for a week. She’s spent more time wrestling on whether or not to cut bangs (and the answer always ends up being not).

Still…

“Let’s consult the experts.” His words break her from the daze Penelope hadn’t realised she fell into. In those few measly seconds, Colin’s eyes broke away from hers and has rested on the phone gripped in both of his hands.

“What are you doing?” she asks him. Her voice sounds far away.

Colin taps something on his phone, out of view from Penelope’s curious eyes. Then he clears his throat.

“Ten milestones every couple should celebrate before walking down the aisle,” he reads aloud. “Number One: Your First —”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asks again. This time, a laugh escapes her lips as she does so. Something about the seriousness on Colin’s face reminds her of the absolute absurdity of this situation. That it is a joke, even if it was intended as such.

“I know you think this is all very funny, but I’m being serious. I know you better than anyone else in the world — you know me better than I know myself! I have loved you more than half my life and spent so much time delaying the inevitable. Why waste any more of our time by ‘dating’ one another? It just seems silly.”

Colin stops ranting briefly, as if to allow Penelope to get her rebuttal in before he has the chance to make his point. When she stays silent, she can’t help but notice a hint of a smile crawl back up his otherwise serious face.

“And while I know the romantic in you is buzzing to say yes and run down to city hall right now, I know the realist in you needs some convincing.” He briefly holds up his phone to display the article he pulled up. “So we will go through this list, which details everything you need to accomplish during the dating stage of a relationship. If, at the end, we realise that we checked off every single to-do item while we were still just friends, we will make the reasonable decision to get married.”

If there’s one thing Charming Colin Bridgerton can do, it’s make a convincing argument. The realistic and romantic on each of Penelope’s shoulders suddenly go quiet.

“And where exactly did you find this scholarly article you are basing such a life-altering decision on?”

He looks down.

“TheMarriageExpert.blogspot.com”

“Colin!”

“They’re an expert, Pen!”

After her giggles finally let up, Penelope sighs. He has convinced her to play more tedious games before…

“Fine. You have yourself a deal, Bridgerton. What’s first on that list of yours?”

Finally, that serious expression on his face drops completely. He grins at her in that way that always makes Penelope’s heart skip a beat.

“Number One: Your First Pet As a Couple,” he reads aloud. “During the course of your marriage, you and your partner will come to share many things together. Finances, homes, memories, and a million other things you cannot even begin to fathom now. A pet will help you prepare for those shared responsibilities. It will teach you both about the importance of…”

As Colin continues reading, a frown pulls at the tips of Penelope’s lips. When he finishes, she attempts to cover her disappointment with a shallow laugh.

“Game over, I guess.”

His eyebrow arches. “Pardon?”

“We’ve never shared a pet, so…”

Colin’s mouth falls open. He pulls his free hand to his chest, underscoring the aghast look on his face.

“Pen… Did Mr. Whiskers mean nothing to you?”

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

Twenty Years Earlier: July 21st, 2003

Relationship Status: Sister’s Best Friend // Best Friend’s Brother

꙳

How did I get here again?

It’s Monday. The first real day of summer holiday. For most kids, that means the start of freedom. Six weeks of fun, followed by real life crashing down on them when the fall term begins. But for Penelope, it means the loss of structure. For six weeks, it is up to her to determine how — and more importantly, where — she spends her time.

She didn’t want to spend it at home. Not this morning, at least. So she went to Grosvenor Square.

At just eight years old, there aren’t many places Penelope can run off to unaccompanied. Even the Square, just two blocks away from her home, is hard to get away with. Her mum only allowed it because she was under the impression that Eloise would be joining her — that between Penelope’s sense and Eloise’s toughness, the two girls would be safe in the nearby park. But when Penelope ran across the street, she learned from Anthony that Eloise was not available for a morning stroll in the square.

She could have just gone back home, but she really, really didn’t want to. So she went to Grosvenor Square. Alone.

She was walking around the park, careful not to step on any cracks in the concrete. She moved to the grass when she realised that everyone was walking around her (even for an eight-year-old, her legs are rather short); she did not want to pull too much attention to herself and have someone question where her parents are.

She was listening. To the birds chirping. To the nearby traffic. Mostly, to the people.

Two teenagers were fighting. She was mad, he was sorry. She said something about him cheating, but after that, their shouts turned to whispers and Penelope couldn’t make out the rest. She wondered what type of exam he could have cheated on.

A little white dog barked at her. His owner looked apologetic.

A neighbour of hers walked past her, pushing a stroller. Penelope thought about hiding behind the nearest tree, certain that Mrs. Abernathy would notice her and say something. Thankfully though, the baby started crying and distracted her.

Just as Penelope was about to turn the corner and listen into the couple’s fight again, she had heard something different.

“Meow.”

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but when she walked over to the nearest bush to investigate, a two giant blue eyes stared back at her.

Oh, right.

Penelope looks down at the kitten currently sleeping in her arms.

He had white fur with little patches of black around his ears and nose. His whiskers were long — so long that they didn’t look like they were placed on the right cat. He was so small and scrawny — Penelope couldn’t tell if he was actually a kitten, or just a cat who spent too much time with too little food in his stomach.

Without a collar or any family in sight (she had spent over an hour looking for them), Penelope decided to take him home. She spent 20 minutes taking the 10-minute walk home. She slowed her steps. She took unnecessary turns and waited too long before crossing crosswalks. She held the kitten tightly to her chest, shielded slightly by the nest she made out of her yellow cardigan. She practised what she would say to her mum.

“Penelope. Anne. Featherington. Get that rodent out of my house!”

It had not gone well. Although, even before she landed back on the front steps of her home, Penelope had suspected that there was nothing she could say that could convince her mum to let them keep him.

She followed her mother’s instructions, fleeing from her house with the kitten in hand. Penelope didn’t have much of a plan once she hit the pavement outside, but like they so often do, she found her feet walking in the direction of the home across the street. But they stopped before they could reach it.

Ever since Mr. Bridgerton died last summer, Penelope’s mum had warned her about showing up at their house unannounced. There are eight fatherless children in that house now — the youngest of which never even got to meet her father. They have enough going on as it is.

They have enough going on as it is, she repeats again and again.

That’s how she got here. Sitting on the edge of the pavement outside the Bridgerton household, a cat sleeping soundly in her lap.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” she tells him. She wonders if the kitten can sense the hesitance in her voice.

Silently, Penelope wonders what the right thing to do is. Where the right place to go is. The first place she thinks of is an animal shelter. Surely, that is the most logical place to bring a lost kitten to. They would know how to take care of him, how to find him a home with people who want him. The only problem is that Penelope does not know of any actual animal shelters in Mayfair.

The second place she thinks of is the fire station down the street. Firefighters save cats, don’t they? Or was that —

“Pen?”

Colin, her mind registers before she even has the chance to turn around. When she finally does, she attempts to smile, while also shielding the contraband from his view. Colin, in turn, throws her his usual smile — bright and true. The one that always manages to make Penelope’s stomach flip over inside herself. It does so now, even with the fresh sting of disappointment still welling up inside her.

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the kitten she clearly failed at hiding away from him. Before she has the chance to answer, he sits down beside her on the curb.

“I found him in Grosvenor Square. He was all alone and I didn’t know where else to go…” Her voice trails off, once again contemplating what a responsible person would do next in this situation.

“You gonna keep him?”

“No.” Disappointment is evident in her voice. “Mum won’t let me. She hates cats.”

Penelope takes her eyes off the kitten to look up at Colin. While only two years older that her, he stands nearly a head above her (he’s tall for his age — she’s short for her’s). Even sitting, she has to tilt her head up just to look him in the eyes. As usual, his brown mop of a haircut hangs so low that it covers his eyes somewhat, but Penelope can still see the blue-green colour peaking through. She’s always quite liked that colour.

Colin tilts towards her a few inches, then raises his hand to gently pet the kitten’s head. “I’d take him, but mum and Daph are both allergic.”

Penelope can feel her eyes go wide. Mr. Bridgerton was allergic to hornets…

“Not that kind of allergic,” he reassures her, seemingly reading her mind. “They won’t, like, die or anything. Their skin will just get all red and scratchy if he gets anywhere near them.”

“Oh — sorry. I should just go.” Pulling the kitten out of Colin’s grasp, Penelope stands. She starts to turn away from him, but is once again reminded that she has no idea where she is supposed to go.

“Wait — no. Where are you gonna take him?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Where are you supposed to take stray cats?”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Okay. I —”

“But I have an idea.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The Bridgertons live on a gold mine. Metaphorically. Literally, they live on nearly an acre of land in the middle of Mayfair. Their back garden is massive compared to the neighbours that surround them, a feat that is only possible due to the home being passed down from one Bridgerton to the next for so many generations. That’s the same reason Penelope’s family is still able to reside in the house across the street, but their garden is not nearly as sprawling.

“Where are we going?”

She and Colin hadn’t gone through his house, rather, they went around it. Now, he leads her towards the very back of the estate, a few steps ahead, one hand on the wall to their left. His index finger traces the cracks between the stones.

“Have some patience, Pen.”

“I — I do.” And she does. Usually. Usually, Penelope is a remarkably patient girl. Well-mannered. Quiet. She usually wears those attributes on her shoulders like a uniform. But for some reason, they tend to slip away from her whenever Colin is near.

Penelope’s eyes flick right, towards Colin’s family home. It seems purposeful, that they’re walking along the shadows of this wall.

“Is Eloise home yet?” she asks, for no other reason than to fill the silence between them. Usually, Penelope prefers such silence. But not right now.

“Uh, no. Ben took her into the city for her, uh… Her doctor appointment. They usually don’t get back until supper time.”

Out of Colin’s view, she nods. For the past year — ever since Mr. Bridgerton died — Eloise has been seeing a doctor in the city pretty regularly. Penelope’s mum told her to never ask any follow up questions about these visits… but silently, she’s always questioned what type of doctor is able to fix an ailment like heartbreak.

“Are you doing anything for the summer holiday?” she asks, another attempt to just fill the silence. She already knows the answer. They always travel up to Aubrey Hall for at least a week, this time of year. Always.

“Nah. Just staying here, I guess.”

“Oh.” Dread appears suddenly and sits heavily in Penelope’s stomach. Mr. Bridgerton died at Aubrey Hall last August. Of course they’re not eager to return. “Us too.”

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

She feels her cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah. Cool,” she says, hoping her voice does not expose the growing warmth on her skin.

Without a word, Colin breaks away from the stone wall beside them and walks towards a particularly dense cluster of trees. When Penelope follows, she finds Colin standing next to something she’s never seen before, despite the many years she’s spent playing with Eloise in this yard. It’s a wooden shed of sorts. It’s wide and just about as tall as Penelope.

“What is that?”

“Some old shed. I dunno… I think they used to store firewood in here, back in the olden days.” He kicks open the latch with his foot. “Empty now, though. I don’t think anyone else remembers it’s here.”

“So…”

“So, your cat could live here.”

Penelope looks down. At some point in the last few minutes, she had somehow forgotten the kitten held tightly against her chest. She had forgotten her whole point in being here.

“Oh! Right. That’s, um…”

She steals another glance at the shed. It certainly does look like it was last used during the “olden times.”

“That’s really kind. But how would he — how would that work?”

“We get him a bed, milk, food… Everything a cat needs to survive.”

Penelope’s brow furrows. “Those things cost money…”

Colin shrugs. “I’ll steal a $20 out of Anthony’s wallet.” A smile erupts on his face when he sees shock overtake Penelope’s. He didn’t know a child could open their mouth that wide. “Kidding — I’ll just tell him I’m sad. He’ll probably hand me a $20 and tell me to go fix my feelings with ice cream.”

“Oh — okay. But…” Her mind stalls, searching for another flaw in his logic to voice aloud. There are just so many to choose from. “Mum always says we can’t get a pet cause they’re too much responsibility. You have to take care of them, feed them, make sure —”

“Hey — we’re both very responsible people. I help keep Greg alive, and that kid thinks licking an electrical socket is a fun pastime. If I can do that, keeping a cat alive will be nothing.”

“So we would, um…” She steals another glance at the shed before them. She can’t help but look at it and see a cage. “We would just lock him in there all day?”

“No!” He says quickly, a bit nervously. “We’ll keep the door open — or I could even cut a cat-sized hole in the side. You know, so he can come and go as he pleases.”

“But if he’s able to leave that easily… Won’t he get lost again?”

“No. If I know anything about cats, it’s that if you feed them, they’ll always find their way back to you. And since you found him hanging out in Grosvenor Square, clearly he’s an outside cat, not an inside cat.”

Penelope looks down at the kitten again. His attention has turned away from her; his round eyes dart back and forth wildly as he takes in all the space around them.

“I thought only strays went outside.”

“No. A cat can have a home and not want to stay cooped up in at all day long.” Colin takes another step towards her. He raises his hand and scratches behind the kitten’s ear, who immediately starts purring. “Clearly, this little badass wants to roam free.”

Yet again, Penelope can feel her cheeks burn pink. She’s lived in London her entire life, she’s heard words far worse than “badass” a million times before — but never from Colin’s lips. In fact, the two of them had never really been alone like this before. He was her best friend’s brother — a friend of sorts, but tangentially so. He was only ever in Penelope’s company through her friendship with Eloise. She isn’t used to having this much of his attention on her.

“Here.” After what feels like hours, she pulls the kitten away from her chest and nearly shoves him into Colin’s. “He seems to really like you.”

“Oh — okay.” Unsurprisingly — and annoyingly quickly — the kitten settles into his arms. Clearly, Colin’s natural charm works on animals just as well as it does on people.

Colin finally takes his eyes off of hers, turning around to show the kitten what could be his new home. With his gaze finally off her, Penelope’s mind flushes with panic. With words she had brushed off just moments before. Colin offering to spend his own money. To cut a hole in the shed. To take care of the cat, himself.

He has enough going on as it is.

Penelope looks up to see Colin setting the tiny creature down in the shed. Then, without much thought, she steps forward and takes the kitten in her arms again.

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in this.” She turns away, pulling the kitten closer into her chest. “I’ll drop him off that the fire —”

“Pen, stop.” His hand falls on her shoulder, then squeezes it once, gently. Although she is not very experienced in receiving such small physical gestures, Penelope can tell that he meant it to be reassuring. “He’ll be fine here, I promise.”

She turns slowly. His hand drops. By the time they face each other again, her blush has almost abandoned her cheeks. Almost.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?”

He laughs. Genuinely. Kindly. Just as he always does.

“No.” Gently, Colin pulls the kitten out of her arms again. “How could this little guy ever be ‘too much?’”

Pushing away all thoughts that scream that this is a bad idea, Penelope pushes her shoulders back. She stands tall (metaphorically, of course).

“I’ll do half the work — at least. I can check on his bowl every morning. Make sure he has water and food and whatever else he needs. Maybe you can do the same at night. And if you ever can’t, just let me know and I’ll help. And if it ever does become too much, I can find him somewhere else to live.”

When she finally closes her mouth, Colin’s smile returns. Then, he extends his hand towards her. “You got a deal, Featherington.”

Tentatively, Penelope raises her hand to seal said deal. But before she can make contact, Colin’s hand moves, as if to signal her to “stop.”

“Once last thing. We should just keep this whole thing between us, or ya know… Anthony will send both me and the cat to the nearest shelter.”

“Colin! I —”

“Kidding!” He laughs again, which has a surprisingly good effect on Penelope’s nerves. “But really… It’s simpler if we don’t tell anyone else. Not even Eloise — she can’t keep a secret for her life.”

She tilts her head again, stealing a not-so-quick glance at his eyes (through the mop of hair still obscuring that blue-green colour). Since as long as she can remember, Penelope has always wanted more of Colin — in some ways that she will not be able to define with words until she is much older. But even at just eight years old, Penelope knows she wants to be around him. She wants his attention. She wants to share a secret with him. Even if she knows it’s a bad idea.

“Deal.” With that, Penelope shakes Colin’s hand and seals their fate forever.

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 5th, 2003

꙳

It turned out to be a rather easy secret to keep.

Penelope was good at staying unseen — at blending into the shadows. Every morning at approximately 7 AM, she snuck into the Bridgerton back garden. And every morning at approximately 7:10 AM, she snuck out without being noticed by anyone other than Colin. Not that has mum or siblings would bat an eye if they happened to find Penelope back there. Before Edmund died and her own mum warned her to keep herself scarce, there were times that Penelope spent more time at the Bridgertons’ home than her own house. And despite Portia’s warnings, they would gladly invite her inside, any day.

Colin was also quite good at escaping his family’s notice on his own daily task. Every night around dusk, he would sneak into the kitchen or bathroom, fill an 8-ounce bottle with tap water, then hide it in the front pocket of whatever hoodie he happened to be wearing that day. They kept the cat food in the shed, in a locked container Colin bought at the pet store down the street (with money he had stolen from Anthony’s wallet — although he never admitted that he followed through on the theft “joke” to Penelope). The longer time went on, the less effort he put into sneaking out of the house everyday. The longer time went on, the more obvious it became how easy it is to disappear from a house with nine people. Especially when the one person everyone searches for is no longer around.

The only conspirator that ever put them at risk of being found out was Mr. Whiskers (a name Colin had thought of, after Penelope complained that they couldn’t just keep calling him “little guy.”). Three times in two weeks, Whiskers had loitered around the Bridgerton’s back steps, meowing for attention. Colin had caught him the first time and shooed him off. Daphne caught him the second time and screamed bloody murder. Anthony caught him the third and nearly called animal control, but thankfully, Benedict had stepped in to tell their older brother to “chill out.” Thankfully, Whiskers seemed wary of coming close to the Bridgerton household after that last encounter.

A routine formed. Penelope would sneak into the garden in the morning. Colin would sneak out of his home at night. Mr. Whiskers would come and go as he pleased between meals. Their paths rarely cross. Until tonight, when Colin spots someone running towards the back of the garden in the moonlight from his bedroom window.

Someone quite short.

Less than five minutes later, Colin runs along the same path — far less cautious than he usually is at dusk. He prays his mum or siblings are not watching out their windows like he was his. That they’re asleep — not pacing circles in their rooms in the middle of the night. He knows the risks are there, but the further his feet carry him, the more faraway they feel.

He hears crying in the distance. Quiet, but persistent.

He sees her before she sees him — sitting criss crossed on the entry of the shed, Mr. Whiskers climbing into her lap tentatively. She does not notice him until he is standing but a few feet away.

Colin had felt distinctly uneasy since the very moment he spotted her in the back garden. But a wave of fear strikes him cold when their eyes meet. Hers go so wide that he swears he can see the moonlight reflect off of them. She does not immediately speak; even her crying goes silent when she realises she is not alone.

“Pen, what’s wrong? How can I help?”

“Noth — nothing.” She sounds scared. At least the fearful look in her eye is somewhat obstructed by nightfall. Her words cut clean through the darkness.

He steps forward, now standing only inches away from her. Instinctively, his hand raises and gently grips her shoulder. He feels her flinch beneath his touch, but not enough to remove herself from it.

“Pen, whatever it is, you can tell me. I can help.”

She averts his gaze, focusing intently on the cat still sitting in her lap.

“It’s nothing, really. I — I just wanted to see Mr. Whiskers for a little bit.”

Colin doesn’t say anything, too busy internally trying to make sense of the words she spills and the worry in her voice. They do not fit together.

“I’m sorry,” she continues. She uses the back of her hand to wipe at her nose. “I shouldn’t have — I’ll just go.”

“Don’t go.” Before Penelope can move, Colin squeezes her shoulder again. His mum does the same thing when he gets so upset and that he needs help calming down.

Slowly, under Colin’s grasp, Penelope’s shoulders stop heaving. Her breath evens out. She meets his eye again.

“What happened?”

“Honestly, nothing.”

“Pen —”

“Nothing that isn’t, like, normal, I mean.” He does not know what she means. He can’t imagine a single normal thing that would cause someone to run away crying from their home in the middle of the night. Especially someone as small and defenceless as Penelope.

“Mum and dad were just fighting,” she confesses after realising that Colin’s look of concern will not fade unless she tells him the truth. “A bit louder than usual, I guess. But it’s not like I haven’t heard them fight a million times before.”

“That’s —” Not normal. But he doesn’t say that. He can’t say that. He’s suddenly — alarmingly — struck by the fact that what he deems “normal” might not be the same for Penelope. That there are “normal” things in his life — all of which came about in the past year — that other people would scoff at and tell him are unimaginable for a kid to deal with at his age.

That’s not right, would be more accurate. But he doesn’t say that either. Instead, he simply asks: “Do you want to come inside? El is probably asleep, but I could wake her —”

“No — thank you, but no. I should actually get going.” With that, Penelope slips out of his hold. “Mum will kill me if she realises I slipped out.” She places Mr. Whiskers back in the shed before turning to leave. She takes four steps before Colin finds his voice again.

“You don’t have to do deal with this all by yourself, Pen. I’m here. I want to help.”

At his words, Penelope goes completely still. Deer-in-deadlights type stillness. Then, before he knows it, she’s walking towards him.

Her arms wrap around his torso. Her hands land firmly on his spine. Her forehead falls on his shoulder. Without a single thought, his body reacts. His arms wrap around her and his jaw settles on the crown of her head. For a moment, it feels like its just the two of them in the world. Until Colin feels something furry cross his ankle.

“I guess Whiskers was feeling left out,” he says. Penelope laughs and Colin feels a bit lighter. That lightness is quickly followed by something hollow when Penelope pulls herself out of the hug to pick up the kitten meowing at her feet.

“He keeps trying to follow me home after breakfast.” She giggles softly. “Clearly, he doesn’t remember meeting my mum, or else he would stay away forever. I think she thought he was a rat that day I found him.”

Colin chuckles, and it’s only somewhat forced. “Yeah, he tried sneaking into my house a few times. He met Anthony last time, though, and I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget that.”

She giggles again. “Was he mad?”

“His face was red — literally! Although, I’m starting to think that’s just how is face normally is and that it takes great effort for him to appear like us normal people, if that’s how he reacts to a cute little kitten hanging around our back door.”

Penelope scratches Whiskers behind his ears. Eyes not leaving the cat, she whispers: “I don’t know how people can see something so sweet and get so mad.”

Colin’s eyes don’t leave Penelope when he responds, suddenly a bit deflated: “Me neither.”

Slowly, she lowers Mr. Whiskers back to the ground. The cat does not appear to be very keen on leaving her side just yet, but Penelope still insists: “I should really head back now. Before anyone notices I left.”

Colin spares a glance over his shoulder, towards the family home he had nearly forgotten about. It’s likely past midnight already, but there are still a few lights on upstairs.

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Me too.”

Penelope nods. She looks like she’s about to turn and leave when Colin blurts out: “You wanna meet here again in the morning? When you feed Whiskers, I mean.”

She doesn’t immediately respond with words, but rather with a very confused expression lit by the moonlight. “I thought —”

“Our system’s like efficient and all,” he cuts in, “but we haven’t exactly seen each other much since we started taking care of him. I dunno, I guess I just thought that we would hang out more.”

“Oh!” Her voice registers barely below a squeak. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I…” She pauses so long that Colin wonders if it is his turn to speak again. But right before he can blurt out something again, Penelope says: “I’d like that.”

For the first time in days, a smile creeps up on Colin’s lips.

“Cool. See you tomorrow.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 14th, 2003

꙳

“I’m not sure I understand the rules of this game.”

“It’s our game. The rules can be whatever we want them to be.”

Penelope stands with the tips of her toes and the palms of her hands pressed neatly against Colin’s matching sets. There’s a piece of cat biscuit placed between her right palm and Colin’s left. There’s a tiny kitten peering up at them from where their shoes connect. He looks just as confused on the parameters of this game as Penelope feels.

The rules, they eventually settle on, are these:

Before getting into the aforementioned position, one person briefly presents the biscuit to Mr. Whiskers (taking turns to avoid leading the cat towards favouritism of one player over another).

On the count of three, one person takes the biscuit into their hands, both turn around and run in opposite directions.

Mr. Whiskers follows whoever he believes holds his treat.

Penelope ends up with the biscuit three times. Colin ends up with it five times. It falls to the ground between them eleven times. Each time, without fail, Whiskers immediately takes off after Penelope.

“This isn’t fair!” Colin calls out from behind a tree on their twentieth attempt at this so-called ‘game.’ “It’s not my fault you bonded with him first.” He points a finger at the cat currently pawing at her ankles. “I feed you just as much as she does — traitor!”

“Shhh, Colin!” Penelope whisper-yells. “Someone might hear you.”

“Oh, who cares?” he says nonchalantly, retreating back towards the shed.

I care, Penelope thinks. She doesn’t want any one of Colin’s many siblings to stumble upon them back here. She’s not ready to give up this secret. She’s not willing to end this game. Not yet, anyway.

“Mr. Whiskers cares. I doubt he wants to be evicted from his home just because you’re a sore loser.” She picks the kitten up and plops him down on Colin’s lap, now sitting criss-cross in the shed’s doorway.

“Well, he should have thought about that before picking sides.” He sticks his tongue out at Mr. Whiskers, who continues to appear unphased by his surroundings.

Like she has come accustomed to doing over the past two weeks, Penelope sits down on the other end of the shed’s opening. His body is turned towards her, but she keeps her positioned outwards, as if to keep watch. Her legs cross in front of her at the ankles, her nails scratch into the grain beneath her, and, sitting upright, the crown of her head brushes the wood frame. Colin is — obviously — slouched in his spot beside her.

After a moment of quiet, Colin clears his throat.

“You know, you can come over for dinner tonight, if you want.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” Penelope says quickly. Dismissively. “Mum will expect me home soon. I think we’re having stew.”

“Yeah, but what about tomor—” It’s a pretty uncommon occurrence for Penelope to see a blush pass by Colin’s typically unblemished face, but right now, it hits his cheeks in an instant. He turns away. “Well, not tomorrow. Obviously. But another day.”

The mention of tomorrow brings a feverish feeling to Penelope’s chest. Much different than the warm feeling she usually feels in that same spot when she’s around Colin.

“I can’t. I — I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t.” He finally looks her in the eye again. “You wouldn’t, I promise. When you have eight kids, one more mouth to feed hardly makes a difference.” His eyes travel to the side again. They point towards his house, partially obstructed by the scattering of trees they’ve found themselves in. “El would be happy if you stopped in. Mum too.”

Penelope tries to push out her mother’s voice from her head when she says: “Yeah. Another day. Soon.”

“Good.”

After another moment of quiet, she pushes herself forward and lands with two feet on the grass.

“I really should head back now, though.”

“Okay, I’ll —”

“But, Colin?” She interrupts — a truly rare occurrence for Penelope Featherington.

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking… Maybe I could feed Mr. Whiskers breakfast and dinner tomorrow. I know we have our system, but… I just — I don’t want you to have to deal with taking care of him on top of any… family stuff.”

Colin, now holding rather tightly onto Mr. Whiskers in his arms, considers her offer for a moment. His brows furrow. His eyes glance downward. He starts forming a word on his lips and Penelope expects to hear the word “no” escape from them shortly after. But instead, he nods and says: “That’s kind of you to offer. Thanks, Pen.”

Kindness isn’t something that Penelope has ever been thanked for before. She had been rewarded for it in other ways, but not like this. Kindness had always been something that was expected, not appreciated. Now, she feels hesitant to accept thanks for something as small as offering up a few minutes of her time for someone who has gone through more grief than she can even imagine. So instead of accepting it outright, she simply nods and says: “Goodnight, Colin.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 25th, 2003

꙳

When Penelope walks towards the shed at approximately 6:55 AM this Monday morning, the door is shut. This is strange. The door is always open. Penelope had convinced Colin not to cut a little cat door on the side of the shed (he had wanted to use a saw from their garage), so the door always has to be open for Whiskers to come and go. Always.

The closer she gets, the harder it is for her to take another step. Her head is already filled with the image of an empty cavern on the other side of that door. It couldn’t have close on its own; the latch is locked. Someone closed it.

Just as her hand grazes that metal latch, Penelope hears footsteps. Quick and increasingly loud footsteps. She jumps (literally) around — heart pounding, eyes wide — and sees…

“Colin! Where’s Mr. Whiskers?!

“In there.” He points to the shed behind her, still shut tight. Once he gets close enough, he reaches over he shoulder and finally undoes the latch. Just as promised, the cat is there, curiously looking up at them.

“He keeps trying to follow me back into the house after I feed him. Last night, he was scratching at the back door. Thank God I got to him before Anthony.”

“So he was just locked in there all night?”

She spares another sideways glance at the shed’s interior. It’s not nearly as bare as it had been that first day she looked inside. There’s two containers. Two bowls. Two electric lanterns. A blanket. A few cat toys. And a few human toys she assumes once belonged to Colin. To an animal as tiny as Mr. Whiskers, it might seem huge, but to Penelope, it all feels very claustrophobic.

“Yeah, but… Sometimes it’s just safer to stay put for a little while. Even outdoor cats need to be reigned in some nights.”

Penelope doesn’t know whether to agree or disagree with his words, so she tries her best to ignore them. She climbs into the shed, gives Whiskers an affectionate bop on the head, then fills his bowl with breakfast.

“I wanted to wake up early and let him out, but… I guess I slept in.” Colin’s out of her view, still standing just outside the shed, but she can guess there’s a guilty look creeping up on his face.

“You’re not wrong,” she finally settles on. When Whiskers finishes his meal, she finally looks back to Colin. Just as expected, guilt is evident on his face. “But maybe Mr. Whiskers isn’t an outside cat after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to follow us back to our own homes.”

“I thought that was just because he loves us.” Leave it to Colin Bridgerton to transform guilt into charm in under 30 seconds.

“Well…” Penelope turns back to Mr. Whiskers again. As usual, he’s peering up at them with a transfixed — maybe even loving — stare. “Maybe you have a point.”

“I usually do —”

“But still — do you really think this is what’s best for him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…”

She bites her tongue — literally. All of this started because of her own selfish wants. To keep the cat. To occupy Colin’s attention. To have a reason to get out of her house every morning. But the more time has gone on, the harder it has become to see past the potential consequences of her selfishness.

“Summer’s almost over. We have to go back to school and can’t look out for him all day. It’s gonna get cold soon…” Colin’s face looks serious now. More serious than she’s used to seeing it. She looks away. “What if he gets sick? Or needs a vet? I just don’t know if this is really his best option.”

Penelope points both hands towards the shed. Towards the small wooden structure that completely transformed her summer. Towards the only home Mr. Whiskers has ever known — dim and claustrophobic as it may be. She expects Colin’s eyes to follow her lead, but they don’t. For a moment, it feels as though her presence completely slips from his view. His eyes are fixated on something in the distance — something in the opposite direction. Then —

“Shite!”

His arms hastily wrap around Penelope’s waist. It takes everything in her not to shriek in surprise as he practically throws her into the shed. Thankfully, Mr. Whiskers jumps from the doorway to the back of the shed in an instant, or else she surely would have crushed him on impact.

“Colin! What —”

“Shh!” Colin climbs in and shuts the door behind him. Thank God those electric lamps are still (just barely) holding onto life and dimly illuminating the space, or else Penelope would not have been able to discern him mouth: “Anthony.”

The tips of their toes touch in the limited space. Penelope wonders if he can feel her shaking through the plastic tips of her yellow converse. The concerned look he throws her way tells her that he must.

“You okay?” he mouths.

She thinks about nodding. She briefly wonders if a nod can count as a lie, or if lies can only be spoken aloud. But she doesn’t do anything, except stay frozen in her spot.

Everything is quiet. For a brief moment, Penelope thinks they may have actually gone unnoticed. Then, she remembers that the latch — the flimsy piece of metal that keeps these doors shut — is on the other side. When Mr. Whiskers paws at the wood beams, the door swings open. The morning light nearly blinds her, but not enough to miss Anthony Bridgerton’s very mad — very red — face.

“Colin — what the hell?!”

Just as Colin had thrown her into of the shed mere moments ago, Anthony now pulls Penelope out of it by the shoulders. Just like Whiskers, she somehow manages to land on her feet.

“I knew it! I knew you were irresponsible, but this —” He bends down and grabs Whiskers by the scruff of his neck. “This is insane. Even for you.”

Anthony turns to Penelope, as if he has only just now discovered her presence beside Colin. In mere seconds, she watches his face turn from anger to shock to annoyance. He turns to his little brother again.

“I will be the responsible adult and make sure this — thing — finds an actual home and doesn’t continue living on the streets.” With a near-growl caught in his throat, Anthony tells Colin: “We will discuss this later.”

He turns to leave, but stops. “And Colin, do not mention this to mum. Or anyone else.”

He starts then stops again. “And Penelope, please do not let my brother’s bad influence rub off on you. A nice girl like you has enough trouble as it is being friends with Eloise.”

It isn’t until Anthony has properly stomped away, Mr. Whiskers securely tucked in his arms, that Penelope seems to regain control of her body and mind. Slowly, she turns towards Colin. She uses every second between then and the moment she looks him in the eye to begin preparing an apology. For getting him in trouble with his brother. For getting him caught up in this mess to start with. For being a bad friend. But the moment that their eyes meet… Colin does not look like he is expecting an apology of any sort.

He laughs.

“Did you see the look on his face?!”

“Uhh. I don’t —”

“He looked like a tomato! I swear one day he’s gonna burst and —”

“Colin,” she says, concern in her voice, too low to break through the noise of his continued laughter.

“— marina sauce is gonna go flying —”

“Colin!” she says again, a bit louder this time. Thankfully, it seems to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“Oh god, Pen. Don’t be sorry.”

“But —”

“But your — your brother —”

“I should be apologising for Ant— even if you and him were both right about Whiskers needing somewhere else to live.”

“Yeah…” As much as she will miss her tiny, furry friend, this is for the best. For Whiskers, at least. “But Anthony was so mad at you. And I —”

“He’ll get over it. That’s the great thing about having seven siblings — wait five minutes and someone will do something even stupider than you. Daph and El are probably inside getting into a fist fight as we speak.”

The mention of her best friend temporarily draws Penelope’s thoughts away from her internal pity party. She saw Eloise plenty of times over the past few weeks, but not nearly as much as she did during previous summer breaks. Before last August.

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Colin asks, breaking her from her thought spiral.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he smirks, “do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know… Anthony seemed —”

“Don’t worry about Anthony. He’ll get over it — and you heard him, he’s not even going to rat us out to my mum.” He takes a step forward, then places his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. He squeezes it once. “It’ll be fun. Everyone will be excited to see you.”

Not for the first time — and certainly not the last — Penelope feels at a loss for words. All she can manage is a tiny nod. A nearly imperceptible movement.

Colin smiles.

“Good. Just so you know, the door is always open. Always.”

Finally, little Penelope Featherington finds her voice again.

“I know.”

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

Penelope tries to hide the smile on her lips by shoving another fork full of shrimp fried rice into her mouth. Colin — of course — sees right through her attempt.

“So…”

“Anthony was right. We were awfully irresponsible that summer. He was better off after Danbury took him in and he became Lord Whiskers.”

“Hey — give us a little credit! How many 8 or 10-year-olds do you know who could keep a cat alive for a summer all by themselves?”

“The only impressive thing we did that summer was keeping our little secret hidden from the rest of your family.”

“What are you talking about?!” Colin says, unable to keep his ever-charming laugh from escaping his throat as he speaks. “Do not downplay our role in raising that cat. You rescued him from the mean streets of London. I —”

“I found him hiding out in a bush in Grosvenor Square!”

“Exactly! And I —”

“Colin!”

“I built him a home,” he barely manages to get out through his laughter.

“That’s a bit over-dra—”

“We fed and took care of him for over a month. We were just kids — that’s pretty impressive. That means something.”

In her heart, Penelope knows that — obviously — it means something. But does it mean what Colin wants it to mean? That they should get married? Even with the rules he set forth, it seems like an insane connection to even consider.

“I don’t know…”

“For five weeks, he was ours. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Penelope does consider it. She thinks about who Colin was to her before she found Mr. Whiskers. A friend — of sorts. Her best friend’s brother. A neighbour. A crush. Someone she looked at and longed for. After, she thinks of who Colin was to her on that morning Anthony found them hiding out in that tiny wooden shed. A friend. A fellow kid. A conspirator. Someone who saw her cowering in the dark and asked if she was okay.

So what, if their hypothetical marriage hinges on a technicality? People have married on flimsier grounds before.

“Fine,” she relents. “It counts.”

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Colin’s grin grows even wider.

“Of course it does.” As Penelope attempts to cover her own grin with a scoff, Colin picks up his phone again.

“Let’s see…”

#im an atheist and im saying a prayer for ao3 tonight #fanfic #bridgerton #fanfiction #polin #dancing around the truth #weepingfromacedartree #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 #archive of our own #edit: just realized I wrote 'marina' sauce instead of 'marinara' sauce #and I'm not fixing it cause that shits funny #shout out to my girl marina

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procuder · 4 months

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Let's see some of what they have sacrificed (a whole chapter lol I'm almost crying no I'm crying so hard rn I won't shut up about it) for that 'I want to be his friend' (my ass) scene! (I'm only choosing my favorite)

So, only after both of og lloyd and suho were on the train, before og lloyd got reincarnated btw ☺️ so we will see. What we were robbed just for half of chapter.

"Seriously? Are you still sulking?" Lloyd lifted his brow. "..." "What? Why? What? Don't look at me like that. Speak." "..." Ghost frontera didn't speak. But its gaze at Lloyd was distinctly different from a while ago. There wasn't anger, resentment, frustration, or any of the negative emotions that played across its eyes as it blewoff steam at Lloyd. The corners of Lloyd's lips rose slightly. "Hey, you're grateful but embarrassed for getting angry at me earlier, right?" "..." "I can see you flinching in guilt." "Oh, tsk... Come on." "If you're thankful, just say it. Don't curse me out."

And what's more funny is how suho cares for og lloyd lmao this is the proof that shows us how good person he is. And. You know. Yeah I'd rather not talking about how they portray his character out like that I cannot shut up.

"Hey, tell me if you feel motion sick." "Why?" "I'll remove the trap. That way, you can stick your head out and vomit." "I might as well just kick you out of the trap," growled Ghost Frontera. "Did you forget already how i beat you up after you tried to do that?" "No, I didn't, bastard," huffed Ghost Frontera. "Then let's just go reincarnate like a good boy. Anyway, how do you feel? What does it feel like to be the passenger of this monumental train?" "Well, nothing much." Ghost Frontera roughly scratched its jaw. "I want to get a drink. It's been a while."

Man...the more I write, the more sad I become when these good things are replaced with something. I don't know, you thought it was boring so you changed it? Even if it's just an unnecessary conversation but you know what? That allows readers to get to know the characters more. Get to know the character's attitude more. And can also relate more to that character...but...sigh. just. Sigh.

So I'm going to share my views on og lloyd right here. Tbh, he's a trash. Yes, he's inherently bad. And some people are just that bad no matter how good their family is. But if you try to analyze it through lloyd's pov on his home and his family. It's another kind. He finds his place boring and he is always dissatisfied with it. But with the little information we've gotten about what he was like when he was very young, and things he's noticed, even he considers them very boring. Of course, even though this bitch is a trash lol I never forgive him for what he had done (like-hate relationship for me and him lol)

Okay so. Hear me out. He did care for his family (*ahem* JAVIER EXCLUDED!!!!) but instead of changing himself he chose to let it be....yeah ykwim🤷‍♂️ As I've said before, he cares about his family and he knows he shouldn't have done that in the first place. But he was not the one to even say it because he thought he would do it in his next life. What makes you think that he'll do whatever tf he does in the webcomic? Lmao let me grab your collar and have some private discussion!!!

"You're heartless bastard. Don't you miss your family back there?" "No. My parents all passed away." Ghost Frontera paused for second before saying, "They say your family is always with you as long as they're in your heart. Cheer up, scumbag." "What are you saying?" Lloyd frowned with a smile. "Forget it. What about my parents? Are they well?" "Of course. They are as healthy as a horse." "Really?" "Yeah." Lloyd stared at Frontera. Then he continued in honesty, "Come to think of it, I'm relaying this news late. The Frontera family is no longer a barony." "What? What do you mean?" "It's county now." "Whaaat?" Ghost Frontera's eyes windened. "Surprising, right? I'm surprised too. Anyway, the count has resumed his hobby recently too." "Wood carving?" "Uh-huh. There are a bunch of wooden sculptures in the study already." "Then what about Mother's garden?" "It's still there. Oh, it has doubled in size. But I'm slightly worried about the count's back and knees." "What's up with that old man's back and knees?" "He's helping out with the gardening. He insists on crouching and giving a hand when he's not used to the work." "Tsk. I guess the man is still senseless as always." "Aren't you going to ask about Julian?" "Don't have to. He's a smart kid, so I'm sure he's doing well on his own."

And ;) they replaced these precious conversation with that. Changed long ass heartwarming conversation into 3 speech bubbles just to sped up the story and ooc'd literally every characters. I'm so okay sir. I'm completely okay.

This is just a part of chapter 243 you know TT you know how much we were robbed right? I am okay right now. It's not like I'm going to talk about how they manage to portray my king hellkaros like that too. Yeah I'm to tally okay with it!

Anyway, it's true that og lloyd cares about his family but, dumbass. he hated javier so much you know lee hyunmin-nim you already have read ch 408 how the hell did you manage to understand that 'wow this guy is actually a good person maybe he even wanted to be friends with javier too!' How????????????? He cared for his family, yes. And javier was there too? No. He's scumbag? Obviously. So he's a good person? NO DUMBASS. LOOK WHAT HE HAVE DONE TO EVERYONE AND TELL ME HOW.

Or are you just not good at writing complex characters? lol Not even mentioning what he was reincarnated as...

Qidjwkwiduiqoq I'm ; ;;; arugh. qidjqkqodk okay sir. well done.

I'll draw og lloyd and suho conversation soon ^^ watch me draw what it supposed to be soon! Watch me!!!!!!!

Also, how the hell again did you think he cared for his estate may i ask some simple question.

#tged #tged spoiler #ch 243 #God I love Hell arc so much that I cried #og lloyd frontera #lloyd frontera #kim suho #do you know the reason why I stop here?#you guys...it's better to read the whole arc yourself it's so good^^#i am not dragging myself to talk about hellkaros here or else i'll going insane #i don't care who tf is webcomic hellkaros is now i'm done #the only good webcomic hellkaros has is he's fucking dilf and hot grown ass man that's all #which is i don't even want to think that this mf is my gorgeous hellkaros ofc #i'm totally fine okay??#lol guys read the webnovel please!

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hyperactive-cowboy · 4 months

Text

So that's the second chapter of the landoscar christmas series, I have literally no idea of how to make a link between this chapter and the first one, so if you want to read it then you'll have to search it yourself, but it is my last post so no big problem. You have probably realized it, but I got inspired to write this story by "All I want for Christmas", so the titles of the chapters are part of the lyrics. As always if you have suggestions or there are issues with the story don't be shy kidsss. Oh and if someone can tell me how to make the link I'd be grateful for my life. ENJOYYYY

Make my wish come true

Warnings: like one curse word at the start and one at the end (I don't even know if those are considered curse words), the littlest angst and fluff. Some words are translated with google because english is not my first lenguage. It's not beta read because I don't have the energy to do it right now as I had planned on finishing the series in 2023 but here I am.

Ship: F1 involved!Lando Norris × not F1 involved!Oscar Piastri (established relationship)

Wc: 3.3k

Chapter 1, 2, 3

Summary: Max and Logan help Lando in his little gremlin plan to propose to Oscar during their christmas party.

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Max's phone rang in the exact moment his dream was at its climax, waking him up without letting him know the finale of it.

Max looked at who was calling at such an hour in the morning.

It was Lando. Then probably it wasn't important.

Max deactivated the sound and left the vibration on, trying to fall asleep again just to see the end of his dream, but the buzzing wouldn't stop.

With a mix of frustration and malcontent for his not-well-started Wednesday morning, Max took the phone and answered his best friend.

"What do you want" he asked abruptly

"'Morning sunshine, I also miss my best friend so much" Lando answered sarcastically and Max could perfectly picture in his head the wide tooth-gaped smile his best friend almost certainly had on his face.

"It's not a good morning when it starts like this" Max returned.

Lando, on the other hand, laughed at his friend's distress. Max knew that, sooner or later, he would've killed his best friend.

"Anyways, I'm sorry for your pain, but I've just got an idea" it surely wasn't a good start. Every time Lando said stuff like that, it didn't end well.

"Oh god"

"I want to propose to Oscar"

"OH GOD"

Suddenly Max was sitting on the bed, totally awake and vigile.

He didn't know what to say. Well actually there were too many things he wanted to say but couldn't choose which one to say first. Between the "when?" The"where?" and the "Why?"s.

Instead, his mouth (apparently not connected with his brain) deliberately and on its own expressed all his emotions at once.

"What the fuck"

"Yep it was pretty explanatory"

Neither of them knew how to behave. Obviously some people they both knew have got married before, but neither Lando nor Max have ever experienced a crazy idea like that.

"So… when?" The moment Max started to metabolize the news, he also began to like it in some weird way.

He knew the two have been together for some time and (at least for Lando) have also been pining over each other for even longer, so it was logical that one of them would've done the big step in a short time.

"Okay, well, that's my plan…"

Lando started to explain The Big Plan to his best friend, who was more excited every new sentence he heard.

Max had known him for so many years and has always thought of him as more immature and childish than other people their age, but he was sure Lando would've made the perfect husband to Oscar.

This train of thoughts continued and extended in every direction that included memories of Lando, the emotions took over him and made his eyes water a bit. But thinking about it, those words were good, he should've taken notes for his best man's speech.

"Let's recap it from the start once again" Max read on his phone. It was at least the 25th time Lando had asked him to repeat The Plan. He was sure he could've acted even other people's parts in the show.

"Dear god I only have to say yes when he asks me about the party" Max texted back.

"It's not difficult" then he added just to emphasize the pointlessness of Lando's worries.

"Don't you dare make fun of me I'm just anxious, it's normal I guess" Lando's answer arrived in no time

Max smiled to himself shaking his head. Some things never change, he thought while unfolding all the memories with his best friend and rewatching every time Lando acted anxious. There were a few.

"If your calculus are right, he's calling me in ten minutes, so maybe I should get ready to answer him?" Max asked, trying to find an excuse to not leave his friend on seen in this particular situation.

Lando texted just a "yeah you're right" and then left the chat.

Max sighed and closed his phone, just to get his hands on his face and rub his eyes.

"Hey Osc, long time no see" is the sentence Max and Lando have accorded for him to say, and he did it spectacularly. As if he hasn't repeated it for the past twenty minutes without a single stop.

"Yeah it has been a tough period. We were planning a christmas party at our place on wednesday, are you in?" Oscar asked him.

"But isn't Lando away?" He was trying really, really hard not to abruptly laugh and scream at Oscar's ear.

"Yeah, in fact we wanted to do this thing together, but then he was called away and we can't postpone it anymore" Max thought he sounded a little exasperated.

He felt his lungs expand and contract without an order, his cheeks had become red and swollen, in his eyes there were tears for holding it back, but then he couldn't take it anymore.

Max let out a soft giggle, but that giggle meant to him like the most powerful and exorbitant laughter he had ever had, mostly because he felt (he could literally touch it) the importance of his position in there.

"Yeah I think I'll be there"

"K, thanks mate" Oscar sounded pretty hesitant with his answer. "And you can come with who you want" he then added.

"Great, thanks. Bye" Max hung up just right before exploding in what he thought was one of the biggest laughs of his life.

He didn't know the cause of this, but that situation was so funny to him. Maybe it was just the stress. Most probably it was just the stress. But why should he be stressed? It wasn't even his proposal. What would have happened when it was HIS time to take the big step? Max didn't even want to think about it for a minute.

He jumped back to reality and immediately opened his and Lando's chat to update him.

Max rang the doorbell of his best friend's house and waited for his best friend's boyfriend (and next-to-be fiance) to open the door.

"Never saw you awake this early"

Oh right! Oscar's humor was something he could never forget about.

"I'm happy to see you too" Max stated with the biggest smile stamped on his face. He patted the boy's shoulders with both his hands and looked him down, trying to imagine the guy with a different surname (something like Norris) and a different look (a smoking might be ideal, and maybe a golden ring on that finger could be even better).

"Yeah" Oscar mouthed with a raised eyebrow and a confused expression.

Max entered the house without needing a welcome. He treated it like it was his, he didn't care if the actual owner was okay with it. At least he could say the same happened every time Lando and Oscar were at his place.

"What are you doing here?"

If there was another person in the room, they could've heard three voices ask the same question at the same time.

"No no no. I asked you first" Logan yelled at Max getting up pretty fast from the couch he was previously lying on.

"Well yes man, but really why are YOU here" he repeated.

"I'm here to help Oscar. And you?"

"I'm too"

Max and Logan looked at each other with a slightly confused stare, narrowing their gazes and tilting their head to one side or the other.

Oscar cleared his voice behind them and just then he realized he couldn't tell Logan what he was about to. ("Well, actually I'm here to help Lando" would've been his response).

"Max, can I ask you to get away from my home? I already have enough help" The youngest boy looked exhausted. It must be tiring to project an event like this almost alone and with his boyfriend hundred of miles away from him.

He could not understand, but he surely could pity him.

"I'm very sorry Oscar, but I'm not leaving this house until tonight"

"Okay then" he looked more exasperated every sentence.

"Don't worry. This will be the best party you've ever been to"

"Do I have to remind you this is MY house? Maybe I should be the one preparing it" Oscar pointed out almost ironically.

"We will be better than you, trust me" Logan, who has been silent the entirety of the time, had stepped in the conversation to support him, and Max couldn't be more grateful.

With all due care, Oscar left his house in his friend's hands and headed to work.

Max and Logan had only six hours and a half to transform that house into a HOUSE.

"So why are you here really?" Logan broke the silence, leaning on the shopping cart as he pushed it.

The two were at the mall searching for cute items and classic christmas stuff to hang here and there in the house to make it look more comfortable.

They have given themselves a specific and perfectly timed list to follow religiously: the times were calculated per second and the both of them had certain works to complete.

"Lando wants to propose Oscar tonight" Max let out.

"LANDO WANTS TO WHAT?'' Logan cried out in the middle of the cheese island, standing up like he was electrocuted and launching three slices of gruyere into the cart.

"SHHH why are you screaming?" Max whisper-yelled at him.

"Oh ya know? It's just my best friend getting married to yours, why aren't YOU screaming?" Logan replied in the same voice tone.

"I've already had my screaming session a week ago" he explained.

Max looked at his clock and calculated there were two minutes of delay in their schedule.

Logan looked around himself in disbelief, pinching his own cheeks to make sure he was not living a dream.

He looked at Max right in his eyes for the first time in their entire lives.

"Then we have to make sure we do the best of it" Logan stated resolutely, speeding even more than before, driving his shopping cart like a formula 1 car.

"You go bake the cookies, I'll get the house aesthetically ready"

Max nodded at his newfound friend and sprinted into the kitchen to prepare all the ingredients he needed.

Right after putting on his freshly-bought apron, his phone started vibrating.

Max boringly looked at the screen and would've even hung up, but noticing Lando's nickname on it, he thought it was preferible answering, after all that work.

He accepted the call and put on the speaker while calling Logan to make him participate at the "meeting".

"Everything's okay?" Lando's altered voice sounded more worried than Max had ever heard him.

He took a moment to appreciate the fact that his best friend was giving this plan all his soul. You could know how much he cared about Oscar (or generally about his loved ones, even if he didn't show it that much) just by hearing his preoccupied voice.

"Yep, we're almost ready" Logan answered, just as joyful as Max.

"Wait, who was that?"

"It's Logan. I know everything and I couldn't agree more with you on this decision" his face was stamped with a smile from ear to ear and his eyes shone brighter than the stars.

"Oh hey Log sorry, didn't know you were there too. Does he suspect anything?"

"There is absolutely no way he could. We were silent as a grave" Max answered, almost kicking his feet like a schoolgirl.

"Well then-" Lando's sentence start was interrupted by a not a little hasty Max, who was sure he was about to scream.

"Now that you have secured yours and our wellbeing, can we finish our work? We have a pretty full agenda to follow"

"Oh okay then, I'm halfway there anyways"

"Yeah yeah, you know where I keep my second set of keys" and without another word, he hung up the phone just as fast as they both came back to their respective jobs in the house.

"Hey that chocolate dough looks fantastic" Logan laughed entering the kitchen, looking at a totally covered in chocolate dough Max.

"Where? I thought I cleaned everything" Max responded.

Logan sighed and continued his laugh, then threw a clean kitchen towel at him, telling him where he was still dirty while taking a seat to taste what they had prepared during the evening.

"It's not that bad" he exclaimed, chewing the biggest bite of cheese and ham toast Max had ever seen.

Logan raised the volume of his phone when he heard the first bits of "Last Christmas" were playing.

By then, the trust between the two was near to the one in a years-long friendship, after all those hours spent together and a common goal in mind. For this sole reason, Logan felt confident enough to start singing his favorite Christmas song.

Max turned around with a shocked look. Not because Logan's singing skills were terrible, well not only because of this, but because he didn't think Logan was one to start singing around what was a stranger until a few hours before.

And again his emotions changed, his heart melting a little. Logan singing like this in front of him meant that he trusted him enough to show him his silly side.

Max decided to match his energy and start wiggling his hips and dancing a little around the room.

The two were so lost in the moment they couldn't hear the owner of the house entering firstly the place, and then the kitchen.

"What in the world you two?" Oscar looked totally agape.

Max and Logan fastly looked at each other and the american jumped between his best friend and his new one to try protecting him from any crazy action the Aussie could have done.

Max and Logan both knew Oscar wasn't one for physical contact, (everybody around him knew it) and because of it they were used to him never touching them. This was why, when they saw him coming this close so fastly, they were scared Oscar was about to stab one or both of them with a random pointy ornament found in the home.

It must've been a particularly shocking period for Max.

First Lando's announcement, then Logan's new friendship, and now a hug from Oscar.

"Thank you for everything" Max and Logan heard Oscar's muffled voice buried in their clothes and both moved a little because of the little gesture.

"That's no problem mate, really" Max assured him.

"C'mon now, there's people arriving here to party" Logan tried to lighten up the mood, receiving the tiniest and cutest laugh from Oscar.

"I don't think it's the worst idea you've had until now" Max whisper-screamed at his phone in his best friend's kitchen while everybody else, including Oscar, in the living room was living their best life.

It was at least the fourth phrase he had heard from Lando about what he thought could be the best starter of his proposal-speech.

"Well, at least not the weirdest" he continued.

"Ehy!" Lando laughed at him, but still his stress wasn't relieved, not even a bit.

Max, for the fiftieth time, didn't know how to act.

Like, what did he have to say? Something funny to let the pressure decrease? Or something meaningful to be That One friend for once?

He decided that saying nothing was the best option. For both, him and his friend. He was, actually, not a hundred percent sure about it, but on the spot he failed to think about anything better.

"I think it's better if I go now" Max admitted after a few moments of silence.

He received a "yeah" as an answer and immediately hung up.

Max was totally sure there were more mature things to do than he, seconds after, did. But, unfortunately, less mature things are usually the more spontaneous ones.

This is why, when his phone turned on again, seeing the new message from Lando and texted him back, the only natural thing to do that came to his mind was to start jumping and giggling, just like a schoolgirl.

He got only one thing not calculated in his mind: the fact that Oscar might be keen on entering his own kitchen for whatever reason.

So when he turned around to face the exit, he found there on the door an astonished Oscar staring at him.

Max couldn't tell what was open wider: Oscar's eyes or his mouth.

Anyway, he had to think about a not-too-much- suspicious reaction on the spot. And surely he had never been good at thinking on the spot.

That's the reason why the first thing Max did was rebuking him, closing the door on his face.

Just a single moment after he thought that maybe his actions were more suspicious than anything else he could have done.

With a worried expression folding his eyebrows, Max took his phone from the marble table's surface again and fastly texted to his friend he might have done something wrong.

"I'm here"

This was the message he had been waiting for the entire time, but now that Lando had sent it to him, Max was starting to get agitated again, knowing exactly what it meant.

"Is everything ready?" Was the following text he received, to which he answered with a "gimme 5 mins"

The only three things he had to do were: inform Logan, inform every other guest and prepare Oscar.

The guests heard the news with surprise and loving eyes, while Logan started to sweat a bit.

Last point on his list was to take Oscar in front of the entrance and then his work would be done perfectly.

But where the hell was Oscar? He had asked Liam, Max (the other one) and even Niran, but they knew less than him. So he searched in every room of the house, even the bathroom, but when he had knocked on the bathroom door, Logan's voice had answered him.

Max asked his and Lando's long time friend to text the next-to-be fiance and tell him to wait.

He tried to think about what could have happened: Lando would have rang the doorbell and Max would've opened the door instead of Oscar and Lando would've found his best friend instead of the love of his life in front of him (already on one knee and with the ring box open and about to repeat the speech he had been talking about for weeks) and then Lando would've asked him "what the hell?" and then he should have answered him with something like "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we have lost your future husband, we apologize for the unease" and what could've been Lando's reaction to it all?

Max's morbius thoughts were taking such a part of his brain, he didn't realize Logan had taken Oscar all the way in the living room, just right before entering the entrance.

When Max turned around and saw him, immediately looked at his friend Niran, winking at him as a way to give him the signal for Lando to ring.

All the guests were ready with their phones in their hands, faking sending and receiving messages or searching for something on google. Actually they were all about to flash the lights of their phones to make the atmosphere, using the devices just like in the 70s they used lighters.

Except for Charles: he was the one in charge of recording the video, in fact he had the best position of sight.

Max got out of the kitchen as the doorbell rang and Oscar (in a new outfit) rushed to open the door.

"My guest must've arrived" he announced looking at the young Aussie.

From his point of view, Max couldn't properly see all the scene, so he moved through the tangle of guests to crouch down one step away from Charles.

From there, Max could see everything perfectly: Oscar's (flabbergasted, he might add) expression, the fabulous ring, and most importantly his kneeling best friend and the biggest smile he had ever seen on his face.

#f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #landoscar fic #landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastrixlando norris #oscar piastri #f1 fic #logan sargeant #max fewtrell #max verstappen #f1 fluff #fluff

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