#my poor moots' dashes
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shirley bae when i tell u my dash is so dry 😭 where did all our ccs go god do i miss them 😣 do u know any active jin and yoongi creators because ive been holding onto my old gif blogs too long n they aint coming back 😭😭
bro tumblr shrivelled up the fuck up like tardigrades during drought season but i vaguely recall seeing @hobis-suga @namchyoon @yoongi-bts @scokjinkim @bangtanger @kimtaegis @tonymontanaftjm @daechwitas @rkivedfiles @jiminn @v-hobi @yoongikook @yoonamgi @myork @taeyungie @jung-koook @joenns @love4hobi @mintvae @jiminswn @hoseokah @namjaan @yoonsguk @taeyoonge @y93 @userhobi @jiniekook @taee @dumpling-yoongi @gukgi @jhopeinthebox @kth1 @boyswthluv @euphhorias @taechnological @taetheists @anpanmann @hyunsung @seokjinite @jeonjcngkook @honsool @heybaetae 💖
#this ended up being a final hunger game vicotrs of ccs and moots than anything member specific im sorry#i mean theres a lot of reasons why ccs are leaving but i have no idea where one would find pleasure on sns anymore yknow?#honestly the only reason why i still log on is to see seom content in my inbox and support whatever moot i still see on dash 🤣🤣#i also recommend tracking tags i usually look at my tracking tag shirleytothesea btsgif sky's tracking tag usersky#network tags like hyunglinenetwork dailybangtan bangtanarmynet armysource etc...#feel free to add blogs and mention ppl!!!! my dash is more dead than the poor succulent i forgot to take care of#hello darlings i hope this find you well i love you and send you many smooches 💖#muwutuals#ans
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a/n : me rn. the lecturer is a liar OMG we were given time to make presentation slides and it's group work not individual so we could constantly ask him to check bro checked everyone's group and the other day I asked how to up my grade since he said he'll give everyone a C for standard and then we just work our ways to up that grade and when I asked him how he gave advise and I follow with it. mf still give me a goddam C. sorry for the rant lmao
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[ a. rayne x fem reader ]
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frustrated. that's the feeling you felt at the current moment, clutching hard on the paper your professor handed you. the poor paper crumpled beneath your fingers. the magical students around you were clearly aware of your ominous aura.
" what's wrong? " max whispers on your ear as you jolt from his sudden presence.
" that stupid professor is a liar. he said I could up my grade if my report was about a rare mystical beast, it didn't matter if I could study its behaviour physically. just from a book research is fine. there's obviously no change from the grade! it's still the same C from last exam too. " you ranted off as other students too, felt bad for you. you were just following what that professor said, he should've done you better.
" hey. is it true? what y/n said, " rayne questions, standing tall behind the professor.
" w-what do you mean? " the professor cowers in fear for his head.
" you know what I'm talking about, the research report. ring any bells or must i hit you on the head to make you remember. im sure other students have fallen trap to your grading system. " he says with truth.
" fine, everyone gets a free A! " the professor pushes away the partisan sword near his face as he made a run for the door. the class cheers and thanks rayne before leaving.
leaving you, max and rayne alone in the classroom. rayne makes his way over.
" thanks for what you did earlier. " you flash him a smile.
" yeah I'm surprised you would do all that. aren't you afraid if this gets reported to the other divine visionary? they could take away that title, its like abusing your title! " max spoke.
" it's not really abusing my title, I'm just bringing out the truth and besides what he did was wrong. he lied to his students, he shouldn't be a teacher if he can't keep his promises. " rayne replies.
" aw you're so cute, " you stood up from your seat and gave rayne a pinch to his cheeks, he blushed at the sudden contact but smiles.
" he likes you, you know. " max whispers to your ear, loud enough for rayne to hear as max makes a dash out of the classroom.
" what, really? " rayne couldn't help but uncharacteristically blush harder.
" n-no-..."
" I like you too, " you confess, giving him a kiss to his cheek as he calms down a little.
" thank you, I will protect you and I love you alot. " he pulls your body close, giving you a hug.
" also is it true, you have rabbits in your dorm? let's go I wanna see. " you grab his hand, pulling him out of the classroom.
he didn't say no but walked infront to lead you to his room. the day was spent playing with the rabbits as both awaits for max to return. rayne would put on a good show and beat him for embarrassing him infront of his crush.
-----
ngl after writing this I feel very cheated on omg fcking lecturer 😭😭😭😭 anyone wanna be moots just drop your discord in my inbox or sum o want moots to talk to HAJSJSKAKS
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@whumpmasinjuly 2023
19. List your fave whump blogs
OK, I wrote as many people as I could find and if I missed anyone I’ll add them in as i come across them ^_^
@gritpyre - long time mutual/friend who does amazing amazing artwork. Its so nice seeing her oc’s change and grow over the years. We stan buff ladies <3
@for-the-love-of-angst - Longtime good friend of mine who I love so much. Their writing is so full of flavour I just want to eat it, its so descriptive and the characters feel so raw with emotion.
@whither-wander-whump - Pucks historical whump is so impressive, I don’t know how she does it. The dialogue and everything is on point. I also just love hearing about her day and what she’s been up to because its always something really cool.
@whumpshaped - Excellent writing and concepts, its always so different and just seem to hit right. Especially the gore and how unapologetically brutal it gets! I always have fun reading its work.
@figuwhump - This is just a really fun art blog that popped up in the last month or so, ive been having a lot of fun with the event and seeing what other people create. Its run by two of my fave people as well so thats just a bonus.
@whump-in-the-closet - Troy has a really fun blog and he does a CYOA story that I really enjoy reading a LOT. Very good descriptions that have a lasting effect on me, theres always something noteworthy when ever I read a chapter. Also, we have similar usernames so his blog always stands out to me haha.
@just-horrible-things - long time friend/mutual with amazing writing and characters. Everything I’ve read from him has been engraved into my brain, and stuck there.
@burntcoffeewhump - Amazing artist and friend!! Seriously, go commission him when they’re open again he’s selling them for very affordable prices and they are professional level work. Its just gorgeous they way he paints.
@demondamage - Good friend/mutual who has such amazing talent for art and writing I am always in awe, and love seeing it every time he posts. The lab whump has me swooning. Period.
@whumpsday - Mill is such a nice mutual to have, and a really great member of the community. I think about his characters all the time, and he somehow manages to organize all of his writing which is something I really admire. He wrote whumper to whumpee trope is such a way that it makes you feel BAD for the poor guy…
@i-can-even-burn-salad - Elli is really funny and writes like a BEAST. I don’t know how she does it but I am so envious!! She has some books finished, and available as Ebooks! Go check them out its seriously impressive, and something to look up to.
@sunshiline-writes - We have a lot in common which is like finding a chest during a treasure hunt. Very good characters, poc whump, lady whumper, and writing that I really enjoy a LOT. I really like her characters they vibe perfectly with me.
@verkja - I love Verkja so much, he’s always a pleasure to talk to and a very good friend. He does adventure fantasy -esque writing with a lot of detail to the world the characters are in. He’s talented in so many artistic ways, I love seeing anything he’s working on any given day.
@ilasknives - LAB WHUMP MOOT, Ila does amazing lab whump with a load of psychological torment stuffed into it. As well as a lot of pet whump concepts that are really fun and different. I love hearing about their oc’s, they feel so real to me.
@redd956 - Redd has the biggest galaxy brain when it comes to world building, prompts, and writing. Its so fun to see all of her posts on my dash, I don’t know how she does it but its a TALENT.
@leyswhumpdump - Leys is really good at plot building with a sprinkle of whump twined into it, which makes those scenes all the more exciting. Leys understands writing structure very well and it makes their writing flow verrrryyyyy nicely.
@blackrosesandwhump - Amazing writer, does circus whump which I LOVE and don’t see enough of, as well as a handful of other stories with different tropes! Lovely mutual and very helpful with writing advice which I am so so so thankful for all the time.
@hollowgast1 - Very good moot to have, we trade drabbles to edit often and its really fun. She writes a lot of supervillain, pet, and lab whump its really heavy on the psychological end of it, which I enjoy immensely. Its always a pleasure to read her works!
@distinctlywhumpthing - Excellent writer, with some completed stories. Their writing is often tragic, and really pull the reader in emotionally. Highly recommend reading, they’re some of my favourite works!
@whump-blog - Red is such a sweet friend, and so good with ideas, I always get so excited hearing about them! He has wonderful artwork and its all linked on his page for easy access. Im so intrigued by his writing I can’t wait for more to be posted!
@alittlewhump - Shy is incredibly helpful I can’t express my gratitude enough she’s so amazing at strengthening writing and I would have never posted my works if it wasn’t for her. She knows how to bring a story to life through words which is such a huge talent that so many people strive to have.
#wij23day19#fave whump blogs#whump#whump blogs#whumpmasinjuly#whumpmasinjuly2023#breezy’s post#shout out#long post
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Quick TealOranges drabble that I’m dashing off before tomorrow renders it moot!
“I kissed someone.”
Olu couldn’t say he was expecting anything different. They’d been seperated for months after having sex once, it was natural to move on. But he had his best friend back, and that was what mattered.
And Archie was pretty cool. He was looking forward to meeting her properly.
He was appointed to go to the Pirate Queen to beg for the crew’s lives. Captain Bonnet was in no state.
And he wasn’t going to deny that poor man anything, circumstances being what they were. His problems seemed small compared to saving the people who killed the love of your life.
He liked Zheng—they had been fast friends when she masqueraded as a soup seller, and she had taken them in when they were in need. An pirate legend who had a soft spot for those…less skilled (looking at you, Stede). She reminded him of the Blackbeard they had met months ago, before…
He really only intended to talk to her, but when she admitted she was trying to seduce him, he wasn’t opposed. If it crossed his mind that he was evening the score with Jim, he only had to look at Blackbeard and Stede to reassure himself it was hardly the worst thing to do after a breakup.
And she was really, really pretty. He tried to keep his head on, to advocate for the crew, but no one could blame him for getting a bit distracted.
“Get your pants on, they’re escaping!!” Auntie burst in, startling Olu out of his thoughts.
Stood there in shock, all he could say was “I have my pants on.”
Zheng looked at him with fury, and he understood completely. This looked horrible. No one would ever believe he didn’t know.
He wondered if he should go after her, or if it would be pointless, when Jim dropped down from the ceiling.
“We have to go, now!!”
“Are you escaping?” Olu was a bit offended that the crew hadn’t waited to see if he could save them before running. Were they going to leave him?
“We’ll talk about it later!” Jim was frantic, motioning Olu over, but he stayed put. He cast a glance to the door, feeling a rush of guilt for what happened with Zheng.
“Olu!!” Jim called, and at the look in their eye, he followed them out. They were family, and he wasn’t about to let Jim lose any more family.
“Okay, what the fuck?” he asked, when they were safely back on the ship.
“Captain said we were retaking the Revenge, we did a little chloroform, made a makeshift rope, and..ta-da!” Jim punctuated their statement with a thumbs up.
“Did he not know I was negotiating? Was he gonna leave me there?”
“The whole plan was pretty spur of the moment. I feel for the guy, but I could’ve killed him when I asked where you were and he said he didn’t know. You would’ve been killed if you had stayed there!”
“It would probably have been fine,” Olu muttered, not sure how much of the story he should share.
“You’re too optimistic,” Jim sighed, “I wasn’t leaving without you!”
“Thank you,” Olu smiled at them, and Jim dove into his arms for a hug.
“Missed you.”
“I missed you too, you know that.” He wondered again if he should tell Jim about Zheng. This seemed like the perfect opening, and, as Jim had said, they were best friends who told each other things. But he couldn’t make himself do it. What happened would come out, probably in an embarrassing way, and he wanted to keep it to himself for a bit.
They went above deck to join the rest of the crew, sans Stede who had gone to say his goodbyes to Edward. Olu’s heart hurt for them—they were in love, it was plain as day to everyone who knew them. He didn’t understand Jim’s newfound sympathy for Izzy, the man so vile and hateable they were ready to kill him after one day as captain. He couldn’t help but eye him with continued suspicion—that day on deck, before everything had gone to shit, Edward had seemed, if not happy, then content. The marooning only happened after Izzy emerged from his cabin later that day—they might never know what happened, but Olu had known people like Izzy. He would never trust him.
Blackbeard’s half of the crew were settling back in nicely, Frenchie and Fang already having changed out of their Kraken-era garb. Jim kept theirs on—said they liked the style.
Olu took a seat next to the newly-returned Lucius, who had struck up a fast friendship with Archie.
Relief flashed over Lucius’ face when he saw Olu.
“Oh thank God, Olu! Though I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d chosen to camp out on the Red Flag. Competent captain, you know?”
Seemed like he and Stede were still on the outs.
“Wait, you’re Olu?” Archie broke in, sticking out her hand for an introductory fist bump, “sorry, you’re just kind of a figure of legend on the ship. Jim told me all about you! You’re the smart one!”
“Hey!” Lucius scoffed.
“You’re smart too, bud. I just didn’t hear your name 20 times a day. If I had to hear the cake story one more time, I was going to kill them.”
A smile graced Olu’s face. It was better than her reaction to meeting Stede, from what he’d heard.
Frenchie walked over to him later that night, offering him the room back. Something about bad juju, again.
He didn’t argue, he could use a warm bed.
He curled up into his pillow, trying not to think about the day ahead. Their troubles were far from over, having made an enemy of the queen of Pirates.
When he was half asleep, he heard his door open, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but annoying. He didn’t want to get out of bed in the middle of the night for whatever trouble the crew got themselves in.
He waited for whoever had come in to announce themself, but it didn’t come. He heard near-silent footsteps and began to wonder if they were being invaded.
Instead, he felt the covers pulled back and the cold hit his bare skin, before another body jumped into the bed with him.
He relaxed a bit when he realized it was Jim, who was climbing on top of him and nuzzling their head in his neck.
“Made Frenchie give us the room back.” they announced.
As confused as he was, Olu laughed. Only Jim would bully poor Frenchie for a room that wasn’t even that big.
He could ask Jim what was going on in the morning. Right now, they were sleeping soundly for what was likely the first time in ages, and he didn’t plan to wake them.
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Okay but how many tags do you have filtered i'm really curious to know what your dash looks like lmao
- mery @carlosheinz
uhhh i have ykw filtered, estie bestie, that poor pr dog, danny ric, all the wags whose name i know, half the tps, actually i think only freddie and james vowels arent filtered of the ones who matter, stroll, half the ships with people i hate, leclonso, chewis (thank you rissa you absolute peach), all the drivers w xreaders and imagines, some of those i even have like double filtered, some peoples usernames who are just pure idiots, loulou to ferrari, some moots' discourse tags, charles and carlos i sometimes put into filters when they are annoying me, anyone associated with danny ric and charles' entourage and all the random hanger ons like that max-leech guy w lando, mv and then one to twenty zeroes, landonowins (im trying to avoid my own filters so i can see this post), then anti tags like anti cl, cs, etc, schumi jr and i think thats about it for f1 :) my dash is very filtered atm tbh xD
oh also. STOP PUTTING MRY CARLOSHEINZ AS YOUR SIGNATURE I AM DYING OF LAUGHTER
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bro. my dash has never been so overrun since i started following you. WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE SEND YOU POINTLESS ASKS WTHHH HOW MANY MOOTS ARE THERE IT SEEMS LIKE THERES HUNDREDS
hilarious tho
I HOPE YOU KNOW THIS MADE ME LAUGH REALLY HARD
no trust me i am aware. like its so cute that theres so many people talking to me at once and it makes me feel so loved!!
i left to watch gravity falls a few hours ago, watched one episode, and came back to like eight things in my inbox. I WAS GONE FOR TWENTY MINUTES AND I HAD SO MANY NOTIFS TO GO THROUGH. i know its ridiculous. i am just as baffled as you. but i love my mutuals for that LMAO
welcome to the fan club i guess, your poor dash will never be the same <3
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@stood-onthecliffside @iknowitwontwork both my incredibleeeee moots 🌻 lysm! 💞💙... Nandini di suggesting me the purple one kurti will look better(forbid my poor fashion sense/choices jkjk) and hazel replying to my random comments on her posts ❤️❤️.. love talking to you about cardan and jude. Love to see them on my dash. Sending lots of love to nandini and hazel💛🧡 and to you toooo @yellowheart-anon .Take care! 🧋🌷
Hazel and Nandini are the ultimate duo that everyone needs - this place would be dim without them!!! @iknowitwontwork @stood-onthecliffside 💛💛💛💛
And @wonderstrucktaylorsversion - thank you so much - sending you love too 💛
send me an ask (anon or not) complimenting another blogger 💌
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as someone with a poor memory i wish there was something right next to my mutuals names when i see them on my dash that shows me they’re a moot.
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ehe! (slowly fading away)
it's okay~~ rest assured i don't need you to do anything ! ! seeing you on my dash is good enough, you make my day every time i open tumblr <3
(if you're desperate to know, i'm your mutual but we never talked to each other) (now i'm just gonna *peace* ~~)
WHO ART THOU??? WHO ART THOU THYNE POOR LAD IS MISSING YOU
AND WHAT?? WE'RE MOOTS??? WTFWTWFWTWFWTWW EXCUSE ME who are the moots i talk to ong wait DONT FADE AWAY YET I NEED TOF IGURE OUT THIS MYSTERY DO YOY POST OFTEN??!?! DO I SEE U ON MY DAHS OR SKEMTJINF
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Y’all I almost posted Chapter 13 without a "read more.” 💀💀
Imagine my poor moots having to scroll through 12k of text just get past it and look at the rest of their dash....
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hi, Violetta, i just wanna say happy holidays. i understood your latest post and i wish you the best in life. i'm not sure if you could still remember me, considering i've been inactive for months now and rarely logs into tumblr. we also only had few interactions before, but i really treasured those. i was also very happy when we became mutuals. to be honest, i saw you as this cool and funny big sister, and i really enjoyed seeing you in my dash during the times that i was still active. also, don't worry, everything will stay good between us once you come back even if we didn't have many interactions before. then again, stay safe, happy holidays and i wish you the best in life. (with lots of love, Rie, 12/25/2022)
Awwww this seriously makes me emotional you have no idea... your kind words really make my day, my week, my year, my life. To me, every sweet word you said is a giant reason for me to keep going and i really needed that, im sorry my choices of words in my reply is really poor but im running out of english to express my thankfulness for your sweetness, and i actually im very much sure of who you are and ily darling you are my moot and my internet friend and i love seeing you in my notifications <333333
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Untitled (“What eye doth his olde foole, thy cheke that”)
And not be that kan under than to her bless tree?
-Born flow’ring the first, the truth, of late
to walke I wol nat kepe a calf in small like bos
piger: ’ but if I have wedded grass
that. Whilst I alone, my desires but that’s a
nation, not only poet;—passion
to go, vntill be forbear your affairs in thou know’st
my aching vine, but our own best
alchemy—Witch, you and your leave me thus, and for he
for that gives have my memory of
his book eek there: no more Up stirte the human art
as may be, i’m welcome, socked tree who
wast to my doleful dittie. Rose this body now seem
wrapt in my penny that him, fair to
mooted left of this maiden, wilt thou leave. The sky.
And yet alas, but if it were no
more, for ever. Her boddice sae bashfully cry,
in the night’s man, and fresh and remembreth
me. And never and magnify, and against
extinction means defeated into
her een he saw whatever. The main triumph return.
If not quite afterward though
several sheep, never with poets telle, bád nat
dwell with outward praises are the orphan
of thy love-drynken wyn on Venus falling
him that way, after may they songen
weilawey! Ground presently it was I using
market makes me in how plenteous array;
but lives understonde. And wilt thou leaves so brimful
ofte and Music shapen for love
had like the cries, that he of gold, and having them
scattering a cup of dole god gave
delit. What eye doth his olde foole, thy cheke that
holy perfect beauty as you must
not seen in thy grove, ’ a wife maketh deere. And all
the nice admire. I set her hair was
to a silence to fear; by which that holy striking,
by my feet did not touch’d, thou hast
y-had fyve; for love or libertie? At Apollo’s
pleasant tales of the examine though
not the sweet, when loud the world’s wide eye of legges
and thus devis’d, do the door, doth trembled
blossoms scented me from dreamed black lighten’d by
black and say o’er court neglect, nor dreadful
hour this slander’d at, then discoveries, thy
chamber window-ledge of thorny stem;
an’ she her lace, would under the vow of view; sure,
if I sayde. And I bishrewe! No doubted
if I meet moan. And play, and as cool, and all
we see what a curb trapped me. Speak too
much this is what grace arrangements or grew up into
the sea, salt-sweet dream of the Minds
all the growed swich a sharper sense, or the
envious means to his fair thoughts are banished.
What called Devil’s Elbow. Season, owe, the lawn,
the bone dry stars go overwrought. In
ev’ry pleased to do. The tap is drye and joyous
love has twa sparkling of pretty
spies, and dashing ful contrarius; mercurie is rough
my mouth, and for to be wedded be
God, or whose motion keep: the truth upon thy shrine,
and I was your little damp, spilling
over my grief does come try me, Jamie, come so
these please him too; for Europe’s journals
squeak and roe, freely, wildly and strange shal, er
that—but my books are quite adultery,
but thou black, shall he final berė hym on honde;
for peril—not in fact, stained to a
suddenly strife: he wrote, and cooking on her so;
yet though not a soul to offend; the
gloam with my valentine. If that the cottage roof
abyde, til he had suffered shirt and
lond, and so thine! Outward thyng, as he ground, if God
displeseth me wrote, and gibber all,
command a flowre: and all the World shall know how it
dead. Will you except it’s noble son
to-day, but flowers. Superiors? Someone your
only God’s just stand and display: she,
she smile, a wizard ensnaring; such brave spent, whose
tale is the poor. Amongst you, reader!
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#168 texts#ballad
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hihi i hope it's okay for me to slide into your asks hahah but i just wanted to say you have such like?? fun vibes??? i love how hype and energetic your posts are like i haven't met anyone on this site with the same energy before and i just thought it was v cool and i know we only became mutuals like a couple days ago but i am v glad we are bc you seem so nice <3333
ok i'm done rambling now sorry for this spontaneous word dump in your asks sjandljansanf i hope ur having a great day bestie
ABSOLUTELY DO NOT BE SORRY FOR SLIDING INTO MY ASKS I LOVE ASKS AND INTERACTIONS AND ESPECIALLY WORD DUMP BC I DO THAT SO MUCH MYSELF OMG THANK YOU FOR INTERACTING WITH ME-
no but this ask really had me full on making an uwu face tysm this is so sweet asdf;oisdjf i feel like my being very energetic and hype has an on-switch and when it turns on, i come to tumblr ehe. but gremlin hours lately have been on 25/8 and it has yet to shut off :D but thank u sm for sending me an ask this was so super sweet of u and im very :DDDD I'M SUPER GLAD TO BE UR NEW MOOT <3<3<3<3<3<3 U SEEM SUPER COOL URSELF HELLO I WAS SCROLLIN THRU UR AO3 WHEN I OPENED MY INBOX LOL I'M CURRENTLY READING THE ONE FROM UR PINNED
#lyz.asks#lyz.moots#no but like i love interacting w ppl and when i'm in a super good mood i just. i spam#like i don't MEAN to bc i have a side blog specifically FOR spamming but like#i forget to go there LOL#nvm the fact that sometimes i spam when i'm NOT in a good mood but when i'm feeling good or feeling chaotically happy#my poor moots' dashes#i ASPIRE to hit post limit and when i'm really feelin that goal my poor moots get the brunt of it LMAO#ALSO MOOTS MOOTS MOOTS IF UR INTO ZUTARA GO CHECK OUT SARA'S BLOG SHE'S VERY COOL AND INTERESTING GO LOOK GO GO GO#EDIT WHY DID THIS SAY SARA HELLO I MEANT ANA????#but i know several sara’s in zk tumblr#ana i’m so sorry my keyboards’ autocorrect keep changing ana to abs or sara 😭
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LEXIE I HAVENT SEEN THIS ONE BEFORE AAAAAHHHHHHHHH
#ohhh man the spam I’m gearing up to unleash on the dash of each of my poor moots#I saved so many videos into my drafts cause I wanted to watch them later and this hellsite doesn’t have a save post feature#that’s one thing this place needs. just a lil bin to collect posts you wanna find later but don’t necessarily want to put on your blog now#also thank youuuuuu
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( ˘ ³˘) ♡
#not trying to ghost anyone i'm just in china ;v;#i can still post! but#i can't really scroll my dash or anything since the images won't load orz#nothing really works and the connection i do have is very poor ;;#if we're moots please give this a like so i can give u a spam nd a big big kith when i'm home !!#i'll send out some oc asks or something <3#bobatalks
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Midsummer Misadventures: Chapter 1
(Henry pic credit. The rest are Google)
[CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5] [CH 6] [CH 7]
Pairing: Henry x Female!Reader (you)
Word count: 4761
Warnings: Enemies to Lovers. Snark. So much snark. Adult language, etc. etc. Somewhat Alpha-male Henry because I have questionable taste in men.
Disclaimer: Henry is probably nothing like this IRL. Don’t come at me with hate.
Summary: Henry hires you as his property solicitor and you go on a misadventure in Scotland.
A/N:
Okay, so I needed a break from all the angst I am writing for Pursuit of Happiness, and this idea popped into my head and I am running with it.
All the tropes, probably more than one plot hole, but a lot of fun, I hope. It’s meant to be light-hearted and a bit ridiculous. Don’t take it too seriously. It’s slow burn, so it’ll get steamy in future chapters.
I’ve written some dialect in the dialogue, given the setting, but it is a pain to write (and sometimes cumbersome to read), so I tried to keep to a minimum while still being effective. It’s terrible and I probably fucked it up, but oh well. You’ve been warned!
Happy reading!
Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.
Reposting my works on other sites or platforms is prohibited. Reblogs, likes, and comments are, as always, greatly appreciated.
Of all the harebrained decisions you’d made in your lifetime, this had to take the cake.
Not just this decision, but all the decisions you’d made recently were easily questionable. Each poor choice toppled into an even worse one like dominoes falling in a line, and it all started with agreeing to spend the better part of your summer holiday acting as Henry’s property solicitor—
Magnificently stupid, you didn’t need to be reminded.
—and it ended (for now) in a rather embarrassing predicament. You fidgeted in the soft leather passenger seat of the impressively kitted out 4x4, repeatedly crossing one knee over the other, and furiously regretted the choice to mainline caffeine over the hours since arriving at Edinburgh Airport.
Henry was pointedly ignoring your existence from the driver’s seat, but that didn’t keep you from turning to him, your expression painted in pitiful and only-slightly-feigned entreaty. Hopes of appealing to his more soft-hearted nature (the entire existence of which was debatable) were dashed, however, when he didn’t bother to glance in your direction. His gaze remained mulishly fixed on the lonely, winding stretch of country roadway beyond the windscreen.
Your stare grew harder the longer he ignored you until eventually he expelled an agitated sigh and said, “We’ve already stopped three times. You’ll just have to hold it till we get Muirford. Should be soon.”
“That’s what you said more than two hours ago.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t anticipate the traffic jam on the main road,” he rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his knuckle, “Or the rogue flock of sheep.”
“It’s Scotland,” you muttered incredulously, not that it explained the former, but it had to be reasonable anticipation for the latter. Truthfully, if congestion on the desired route hadn’t forced you onto the country roads, the sheep probably wouldn’t have been an issue. “I told you it was better that I hire my own car.”
“Why? So we both could’ve been stuck behind the sheep?”
“So I could detour if needed.” And you needed, badly.
“Had you mentioned you have a bladder the size of a pea, you would’ve won that argument,” he muttered through gritted teeth, and because he’d never been able to resist shooting holes in your arguments, “In case you forgot, they didn’t have any more vehicles available, so it’s a moot point—"
You hadn’t forgotten. The whole day had been a farcical series of unfortunate events, and the five-hour delay out of Heathrow meant that, despite being a responsible, independent woman who made her own reservation for a car, there hadn’t been any available when you finally arrived.
Henry had remarked that managing to secure one was exceedingly lucky, but you knew better. No agency worth their salt would risk their reputation by leaving a celebrity in the lurch. Henry always got what Henry wanted. It’d been that way ever since you were children, and it was just as maddening now as it had been then.
“—but if you insist upon arguing about it again, taking separate vehicles still makes zero sense. Aside from being economically wasteful, think of the poor environment.”
“You hired a Range Rover,” you spat back. “I have serious doubts that concern for the environment or personal economy factored into that decision.”
He finally spared you a brief sidelong glance, sardonic as it was. “I’m not stopping.”
Turning toward your window in a huff, you rested your chin in your palm, fingertips tapping restlessly against your cheek whilst you watched the scenery pass. It was impossible to focus, so you fiddled with the stereo settings, idly running through the channels on the satellite radio just for something to occupy your mind, but Henry lightly smacked your hand away.
Urgency was quickly turning into desperation. The dull ache in your bladder was sharper and more insistent. You recrossed your legs again, clamped your thighs together, and silently pleaded with your brain to ignore the discomfort, but it was painfully obvious that waiting was not an option. “Please, just one more detour.”
“You need to kick that caffeine habit.”
“I need to use the toilet. Surely there is a service station nearby.” Even a tiny, filthy petrol station toilet sounded like heaven right now.
“Have you taken a look around?”
The dusky pinks and oranges streaked across the late midsummer sky were fading into soft violets as the last vestiges of daylight began to dissipate. Twilight quickly muted the lush green of the expansive dales tucked between the rolling hills. Sheep— dull white and freshly shorn for the season—still mottled the pastures, along with shadowed patches of trees and a straggling cow. Oh, two cows. The whole picture of the lowland Scottish countryside was stunning in its bucolic glory, but unfortunately, there were absolutely no traces of modern plumbing in sight.
A pitiful whine was the only answer you could muster.
Henry cursed your name before jerking the wheel to the left, and the entire carriage of the 4x4 jolted and shook over the crumbling edges of asphalt and onto a patch of worn earth to the side of the road.
The abrupt stop made you both lurch forward; Henry threw the gear into park and pointed toward a small grouping of trees and shrubbery outside your door. “Go if you need to go, but be quick about it.”
“In the bushes?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“But—”
“Now.”
“Fine!” There was no other option and you couldn’t wait, but you still didn’t have to be happy about it. You threw the door open and barely bit back a groan as you scrambled out, your abdomen spasming painfully under the strain of your bladder “Don’t look!” you warned.
Henry rolled his eyes, his knuckles whitening with a death grip on the steering wheel before he leaned forward over the centre console and declared, “I have no desire to see your bare arse waving in the wind.”
“You should be so lucky…” you muttered under your breath before slamming the door in his face and making a beeline for the privacy of the shrubs. What exactly did he think was wrong with your arse? You had it on very good authority (albeit mostly your own) that it was a fine one, indeed.
Once you were sure you were out of eyeline from the road, you hastily yanked down your jeans and made quick work of relieving yourself. And oh was it a relief.
When you eventually hauled yourself back into the passenger seat, Henry was adjusting the settings on the satnav.
“Where are we staying? I want to put the name into the nav.”
The seat belt tongue in your hand immediately stopped on its way to the buckle. “I hope you haven’t forgotten where we’re staying, because you never told me the name of the place.”
Even in the dim light, you could see Henry pale. “You said you would make the arrangements because you didn’t trust me to do it properly. Whatever the fuck that meant.”
You felt the blood drain from your face with one fell whoosh. “I did not! I mean, I did say I didn’t trust you to do it properly—which it looks like I was correct about. I offered to make the arrangements, but then you insisted on handling it because you were already booking the flights.” You stabbed the seat belt tongue into the buckle. Of course, the one time you’d chosen not to argue or nag for details, everything went tits up.
You stared at each other for a moment and the grim reality that you had nowhere to sleep set in.
“Fuck!”
Said in unison.
“This fucking day,” Henry ground out, briefly pinching his eyes shut as he took a deep, steadying breath. He threw the car back into gear, pulled onto the road, and didn’t waste time picking up the pace. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. We’ll just go into town and find a place to stay.”
“Assuming there’s anything available,” you said quietly. You weren’t trying to be purposely negative or make him feel guilty about the situation, but there was a lot to be said about being realistic about expectations. Keep them low and you’re never disappointed.
Henry didn’t respond, and he didn’t speak again until he pulled into the car park of the first inn he saw upon arrival in Muirford. “Looks like we’re in luck.” Henry pointed to a wooden sign hanging above the entrance door. “Vacancy.”
The breath you didn’t realise you were holding came out in a rush. “Finally, something has gone right.”
After gathering the bags from the boot space, Henry led the way in, holding the door for you to pass through. The dim lighting of the inn’s reception made the tired creases around his mouth and dark smudges under his eyes more prominent. He looked as exhausted as you felt.
“Sit, I’ll take care of check-in.”
With a weary nod, you dropped into a time-worn and criminally soft sofa next to a low lit fireplace. It may be the middle of summer, but the air still held a bite in the evening. You resisted the urge to prop your feet on the small coffee table, but only barely. If you got too comfortable, there was no guarantee that you’d be able to get up again.
As promised, Henry saddled up to a polished oak counter on the far side of the narrow room and rang the bell for service. You heard some muffled jostling and a thump, and out of curiosity, you craned your neck to see it was about.
“Guid evenin. How can I help ye?”
The greeting had a melodic local lilt and belonged to a young clerk who popped out of the tiny office tucked behind the counter. When he straightened to full height, you could see that he was tall in a gangly not-quite-ripe sort of way, with an unruly tangle of sun-streaked strawberry blonde curls and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He looked barely old enough to legally drink, let alone run the front desk of The Sheep's Tail Inn.
You slumped against the back of the sofa, your head and eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion from the stress from the day. Henry’s conversation with the clerk seemed more distant as it went on, with only about every third word funnelling into your hazy mind.
Wait, did you hear him correctly? Your eyes popped open. “What do you mean, one bed?” You shot straight up, panic immediately pumping adrenaline and newfound energy through your veins.
Pink stains bloomed over the clerk’s cheeks when he looked up and his voice was so quiet you could barely hear him. “Well...uhm, we’ve only one room left, an’it o-only has one b-bed…”
He audibly gulped and his pale eyes darted nervously between you and Henry. The lad’s face grew five shades redder, possibly from embarrassment brought on by the image of you and Henry sharing said bed or maybe just from being forced to explain such a self-explanatory concept.
“Room’s a suite wi’ a private bath, yer own kettle, and a sittin’ area. Sofa isnae too big, b-but the upholstery is brand new...” he rambled on in a skittish rush, obviously trying to sell the positives of the situation in a desperate hope to avoid more of a scene.
Not that any nosy guests were milling about to witness it. There was barely an hour until midnight, so most were likely either amusing themselves at the pub you saw next door or already tucked into their rooms for the night.
Henry cast the lad a warm smile and mimed for him to relax and take a breath. “I’m sold.” He casually leaned an elbow on the counter. “We’ll take it for however long as it’s available.”
“Now wait just a minute!” You hoisted your bags in your arms with a loud huff and scrambled double-time up to the counter. “I have questions before we agree to anything.”
“Of course you do,” Henry drawled, watching you drop the bags next to your feet before lazily rolling his face, set with a look of commiseration, toward the young clerk. “She’s a solicitor. She always has bloody questions.”
The clerk’s chin dipped with a jerky bob in Henry’s direction, though his wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on you. His flush of embarrassment drained into complete ashen terror.
Perhaps, you decided as you skewered Henry with an unamused glare, given the clerk’s obvious youth and overall panicky disposition, a gentler approach would prove more effective. Folding your hands on the counter, you drew in a deep breath and smiled gently, making the best attempt at a placid and genial expression. “I am sure your suite is absolutely lovely...I’m sorry, what is your name?”
“Gavin.”
“Gavin,” you echoed through the most charming smile your exhaustion would allow. “Your salesmanship was exceptional; however, one bed simply will not work for our situation.”
“A’m very sorry fur the inconvenience.”
“No apologies necessary,” you said with genuine conviction. It certainly wasn’t his fault that you didn’t have a reservation or that there was only one bed available. “Are there any other inns in the area that might have more options?”
Gavin’s expression lightened. “Aye, there's The Squeaky Hinge further in toun,” his arm shot straight out to his side and made a vague motion in whichever direction was to his right.
“Well, that sounds promising,” you replied. Despite the questionable name of the establishment, you felt buoyed by potential. Perhaps some of Henry’s earlier optimism was catching.
“Bit, unfortunately, the’r no rooms available.” Gavin’s arm flopped back against his side. His shoulders wilted with a slump, the air around him shifting from light with relief to thick with regret.
Your face fell into your palms as you groaned, pressing your fingertips against your brow in a vain attempt to stymie the dull ache forming behind your eyes. Gavin awkwardly cleared his throat and you looked up, your fiery if frazzled gaze catching the lad’s.
He scrambled to explain: “Mr Fraser, the owner, is in hospital. He tried tae rethatch part of the roof, e’en though we all told him no tae, and he slipped and fell in‘is wife’s brambles. A good chunk of the thatch went w’im, and it took an age to get him out. Mrs Fraser’s still in a right state aboot it.”
“I, too, would be worried if my spouse fell off a roof,” Henry remarked with a sage tilt of his head, seemingly quite enthralled by Gavin’s retelling.
“Oh no, she wis furious about the berries. This year’s batch of her famous jam is ruined, apparently.”
“Well,” Henry breathed with honest shock, “sounds like travesties all around. I do hope Mr Fraser survived, though.”
Gavin gave Henry a reassuring nod. “Aye, a fractured leg and a nasty knock to the heid, but he’s in good spirits. From what I hear, he’s enjoying chasin’ efter all the nurses. Weel, no actually chasin’—” he caught your pointed glare and quickly fumbled through the rest of his sentence, “—on account of the leg ‘n all.”
“I’m sure Mrs Fraser appreciates that,” you grumbled. “Anyway, are there any open inns that have more than one room available?” Preferably roofed, but you decided to keep your sarcastic comment to yourself.
He looked at the clock on the wall and back to you. “‘fraid no.” To his credit, he looked genuinely apologetic. “Ye see, the midsummer festival’s just a few days away an’it always brings in folk from the surrounding area. We’v the last room in toun, but I can phone some inns nearby and check, if that better suits yer needs.”
It didn’t. Even if you managed to find another with vacancies at this hour, the extra distance would only add to the inconvenience of your situation, and you were not in the mood to entertain the possibility of prolonging your business just because you weren’t leaping at the prospect of sharing a bed.
Before you had a chance to respond, Henry cut in with decisive authority. “That’s very generous of you, Gavin, but it won’t be necessary. We’d be grateful for the suite.”
You rounded, hating that he agreed for you, but Henry squashed your protest with a stern yet exhausted look. “We aren’t exactly in a position to be picky.”
He was right, though domineering about it, which definitely made it worse. You were in no mood to give him the satisfaction of voicing your agreement.
Gavin looked between Henry and you once again, and you gave him a begrudging nod. He was visibly relieved and rushed to pull over an ancient-looking tome from the far end of the counter. Dropping it open with a weighty clunk, he leafed through the heavy parchment pages, stopping on one with a blank line waiting for a new signature, and swivelled it around to face Henry.
“If ye’d be so kind as tae sign our guest book, I’ll sort out the rest.”
Henry plucked a pen from the holder next to him and held it out to you, one eyebrow winged up in silent question.
“You’re paying for it,” you quipped with a dismissive wave before letting your head drop forward, your fingers kneading the knotted muscles at the base of your neck.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Henry make quick scribbles in the book, and then on the papers set out next to it. With a quick nod and thanks, Gavin tucked the signed paperwork away and retrieved the keys from the holder and dropped them into Henry’s open and waiting hand.
“Breakfast’s free, which ye can enjoy in the pub or, er—” Gavin inspected the guestbook entry, awkwardly glanced at Henry and then you, before his eyes settled back on the ledger. “— ye can request room service.”
“Thank you, Gavin. Don’t worry about the bags,” Henry said as he slipped the lad what looked like a very generous tip. “We can manage.”
Gavin nodded gratefully. “Suite’s on the second floor. Hope ye enjoy yer stay, Mr and Mrs Cavill.”
Your head snapped up and twisted around so fast you thought it might spin clear off your shoulders. A strangled squeak tumbled from your lips as your jaw worked wordlessly around your shock (wholly undignified, but you would add that to the list of things to be angry about later).
“I’m sure we will. Thanks for your help.” As Henry swaggered toward you, he paused and dropped his lips low by your ear, but not so low to preserve privacy. “After you, darling.”
Nose-to-knees heat exploded across your skin: embarrassment, shock, and fury all rendering you mute as you watched him bend to retrieve your bags from the floor, all the while desperately willing your brain back to a functioning state. Henry straightened and immediately nudged his hulking form into your side, corralling you around the corner into a corridor and then in the direction of the stairs.
Now you literally dug in your heels. The bottom of your canvas slip-ons scraped against the weathered planks under your feet as he propelled you forward. When the tips of your toes butted against the bottom step, your hands shot out and gripped the delicately carved newels framing the staircase, forcing you and Henry to an awkward stop.
“Fix it,” your voice cracked around the words as you finally found vocal agency. You spun around, hands becoming iron grips on the smooth bannisters, and your body curved back in an exaggerated arch in an attempt to keep space between your bodies. “Go back right this second and fix that book.”
Henry’s eyes drifted briefly toward the ceiling and he let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously bored. “Did I or did I not offer you the opportunity to sign the book yourself?”
“I didn’t think you would sign for me as your wife!” you hissed. You didn’t think he’d sign for you at all, to be honest.
Henry’s shoulders rolled in an indolent, lazy shrug. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
“Fix it,” you repeated hotly, your chin jutting back toward the reception area.
He leaned forward, inching incrementally closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath brushing over your face. His gaze fixed on yours, his lips turned in a wicked curve. “No.”
“Then you can find a new solicitor!” Why you even agreed to help him with this deal in the first place was beyond comprehension at the moment. Getting riled over an entry in a guestbook was probably excessive, and Gavin likely thought you either mad or a shrew; however, Henry had done it just to get a rise and now that he’d succeeded, if you didn’t protest then you were just handing him a win. It was galling.
He shrugged again but made no motion otherwise, remaining firmly in your personal bubble. “That’s fine. I am sure I can find someone local who wouldn’t mind an unexpected windfall.”
Damn it all, that was why. You were positively vibrating with the urge to put his fat head through a window, but you wanted to get paid more than you wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. He’d agreed to such an absurdly generous fee for such a small amount of work that you’d be a fool to let it slip through your fingers now.
In your silence, Henry let out a rough, knowing little hum that sent an involuntary surge of goose pimples over your skin.
“Up,” his gaze flicked toward the landing above and then slowly slid back to yours, “or would you rather I throw you over my shoulder and carry you?”
You looked between the buttery caramel leather duffels in his one hand and your burgundy canvas bags in his other, then back at his face, and your eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t.”
Not wouldn’t. Couldn’t. It was a shot aimed squarely at his ego.
His volley was so lightning fast that you weren’t even able to process what happened until you were already over his shoulder. He had all the bags gripped in his left hand (Christ, you knew he trained obsessively, but how strong was he?), and his right arm maintained a vicelike grip around the back of your knees to prevent you from sliding any further down his back. Something you were thankful for given that your face was already dangling precariously close to the top of his arse.
Not that you’d ever say it outright, but you had to admit it was a nice one. Even so, and despite—or perhaps because of—knowing him for most of your life, it was not something you really wanted to dwell on.
“Alright, you’ve made your fucking point,” your face bounced against his back as he climbed the stairs two at a time, “you can put me down now.”
“This way’s much easier,” he huffed. “Almost there.”
“Are you saying I’m difficult?” You wished you could aim your glower anywhere but at his spine, but you didn’t dare try to turn or wiggle out of fear of being dropped down the stairs.
“I know better than to answer that question,” he grunted, his heavy footfall pausing a moment when he reached the landing, then picking up again as he quickly proceeded left.
It took only a few steps before he stopped. You gripped his waist and swung your body to the side like a pendulum to see him standing in front of what you hoped was the door to your room.
Then came your name in that sing-songy way of his that always preceded an off-colour remark.
“Care to get the keys? Pocket’s fairly deep so you might have to dig around a bit to find them.”
You could hear the teasing smirk in his voice, and you didn’t even try to resist the urge to mercilessly wrench the flesh of his sides between your knuckles.
“Not a fucking chance, Cavill.”
His fingers bit into your thigh when he tried to twist away from your attack, but there was nowhere for him to go. “Ow, for fuck’s sake, woman! Stop!”
There was no hiding the satisfied smile on your face when he abruptly released the bags and dropped you roughly against the door. It wasn’t a graceful movement by any means, but you were silently thankful he didn’t just drop you on your head. You leaned against to solid wood, your body swaying woozily as your blood circulation began to return to normal.
“You’re a menace,” he hissed, rubbing idly at one of his sides as he pulled the key from his pocket and jammed it in the bolt.
“You started it,” you muttered, stepping away from the door so he could swing it open, and you didn’t waste any time snagging your bags and going in.
You flicked the light on and immediately noticed that the ceiling was decently high. Not soaring, of course, but no one would likely suffer any bumped heads. The curtains along the far wall were already pulled closed, and you inwardly hoped they were thick enough to block out summer’s annoyingly early sunrise.
A large wardrobe directly to your right created a makeshift corridor blocking the rest of the room from view. A few exaggerated steps forward and you saw a double bed with a beautifully worked wooden headboard. The mattress was high and crisply made with simple but comfortable-looking linens and a few overstuffed pillows.
Henry passed on your left and you turned as you stepped out of his path. Along the wall opposite the bed was a long sideboard upon which sat a decently sized TV and a tray with an electric kettle, a few mugs, and a reasonably good selection of teabags. Just past the sideboard was a doorway through which Henry disappeared. You followed and peeked through to find on the right side a modest sitting area with a chair and writing desk tucked under a small window and the “not so big but newly upholstered” sofa next to it, which was probably more accurately described as a rustic chaise longue. To the left was the bathroom. You wanted to take a look, but the door was firmly shut. Through it, you could hear the distinct sound of running water.
It was all better than expected. A far cry from what you normally associated with the word “suite”, but it was certainly more generous than a standard room, and if you had to be stuck sharing with Henry for the duration, at least there was some space to spread out.
Since your new roomie had commandeered the bath first, you make quick work of staking claim to half of the wardrobe. By the time you’d tucked everything away, Henry was done, dressed in a light henley and joggers, and looking about two seconds away from dropping.
“It’s all yours,” he motioned toward the bathroom as he plugged in his phone by the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m not waiting up. If you have a problem sharing, you’re welcome to sleep on the sofa.”
“How generous of you,” you murmured, but not with any real bitterness. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or maybe just resignation, but if you had to share then fine, just so long as you could sleep. It actually wasn’t the first time you’d shared a bed with him, and even if the last time had been before either you hit double-digits in age, there was no point in fighting about your current situation anymore.
Sharing with him now was nothing more than an awkward inconvenience. As infuriating as he was, Henry did have principles and though he may eventually drive you mad, you were not in any way physically endangered. Henry had no desire to see your bare ass waving in the wind, remember?
He didn’t respond with anything more than a soft, “Night.”
You set your phone to charge and dragged yourself off “your” side of the bed. The routine motions of settling in had keyed down your emotions, the adrenaline that coursed through your system was now replaced with grogginess that made your limbs leaden and your mind foggy.
By the time you finished showering and readying for bed, Henry was already cosily tucked beneath the blankets, his soft, rhythmic breathing the only sound to be heard.
With a sluggish stretch to rid your muscles of any lingering tension, you flicked off the lights, slid under the duvet and let sleep take you.
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