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pizzaapeteer · 2 months

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𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Hello, it's been a while, but I finally got a burst of inspiration in light of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge. I used the prompt 'or is it because you're not in love with me?' almost 3k. Mattheo x female reader, fluff, with a hint of lewd thoughts He knew you were off limits, a line he wasn't supposed to cross. She was A forbidden desire, and maybe that’s what made him want her so badly. Despite these feelings, ones that he couldn’t seem to suppress, Mattheo knew it would never end well if his best friend Theo found out he’d developed a crush on his bloody sister. He’d sure have him thrown off the astronomy tower before he could even so much as utter a word of apology. But how could he not, when she was always around, always taking up room in his head. Although she was a year younger than Mattheo and the others, she shared a close bond with her brother. Meaning she spent a majority of her time cooped up in Theo’s shared dorm. She fitted in so well, always making the group laugh, leaving Mattheo often with sore cheeks after spending time with her. It’s not like Mattheo would ever act on these emotions, doubting she even thought about him past another brother-like figure. He cared for his relationship with Theo too much to do anything stupid. Though the temptations were there, whenever she would ask him a question, the sound of her voice like honey setting the butterflies in his stomach on a rampage to where he felt sick. Her smile was so captivating, drawing his attention towards her even on the gloomiest days.

Even away from her, his mind was constantly consumed by thoughts of her. He’d sit at home, running his hands through his hair. It was fucking him up. Doing his best to keep his feelings to himself, always aware of Theo’s eyes on him supervising. His threat constantly on repetition in his head, “If you ever even look at her past platonic, I’ll feed you to a horntail dragon”. His words drive him to act nonchalant around her, treating her like one of the boys. Like a friend who he had absolutely no interest in. Little did Mattheo know, Theo had repeated the near-to-the same speech to her. Theo knew what his friends were like, and while he appreciated the close relationship his sister shared with them, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. His protectiveness for her blinded his view on the way Mattheo seemed to truly care for her. She, on the other hand, had assured her brother that he needed not to worry. Though she didn’t admit it to Theo, she was convinced Mattheo only saw her as his best friend's sister. His demeanor had always been apathetic, showing no other interest in her other than a friend. She was good at hiding her true feelings, but her heart felt contused, hating how he’d deftly crawled his way in. He’d probably done it to countless girls before her, and that fact stung her deeply. That was the hardest part about being around him, knowing she couldn't have him and he'd never want her.

_______________________________________________

It was currently Friday evening. The classic group of your brother's friends had been lounging in his dorm before you had challenged everyone, to who could create the best muggle fort. The room filled with tipsy laughter, everyone having passed around the firewhiskey Enzo and Blaise had sneaked in. The group was divided into two, with you being partnered with Blaise and Theo. You had thought the three of you were doing well despite your disadvantage of one man down, Mattheo's absence due to another detention. But your optimism was dropping as you watched for the third time as the fort collapsed, with Blaise accusing Theo again of being a useless twat for misplacing the pegs. Across from you, you eyed the way the others had worked, laughing as Daphne and Pansy practically ordered Draco and Enzo into working together well. Though you could see the firewhiskey in the boys' systems wasn’t helping, as they had started arguing about the best way to create the fort. You rolled your eyes, giggling at the stupidity of how the night had unfolded. Taking another drink from the bottle, you clapped your hands and explained your game plan to your team, eludicating to them. “Right, you two idiots, I’m going to connect the fort together from the inside, while you two hold it together from the outside. Make sure you pass me a peg when I yell.” You eyed your brother, laughing slightly as he held his hands up defensively. Mattheo made his way down the Slytherin dorm corridors, hearing the sounds of his friends vibrate off the walls. He shoved open the door, readily expecting the ruckus he was about to be greeted with a grin cracking. “Wassup fuck-”, his mouth dropped, brows raising as he takes in the current commotion happening in the crowded room. His eyes are first drawn to the loud bickering occurring between Theo and Blaise. “How long have you been putting pegs on me!? That’s bloody why we can’t find any more!” Blaise complains, reaching around his back to take them off his shirt. Theo struggles to steady himself against the wall as he hurls over, cracking up, gripping his stomach, deep laughter exploding from him. Mattheo’s brows remained raised, watching in amusement as Blaise struggled, spinning around himself like a dog to pry off the pegs.

Mattheo’s gaze shifts as he steps further into the room, dropping his bag on the floor, the sounds of Draco complaining in the mirror. His hands moving in an aggressive action, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles he created during the fort building. Daphne sits beside him, filming his displeasure with her own enjoyment. Mattheo rolls his eyes at his cousin, losing his tie, as his attention is swept once again. This time by Pansy and Enzo, who seem to have moved on after the success of their fort by now throwing lollies into one another’s mouth. He spins around again, his curiosity peaks as he wonders where the last member of the group is. His heart drops at the thought of you being absent from the night, the expectation of seeing you having pushed him through his boredom in detention. His curiosity is cured when the faint sound of your voice is heard calling out from inside your fort. “Would you two stop bickering and cooperate! I need another peg. I'm literally holding this thing together from the inside!”

Mattheo chuckles deeply, being the only one to hear you over all the commotion. He takes a peg off Blaise’s back, bending down to pop his head into the fort. He grins at the awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in, finding it amusing and also stupid that you left the two most difficult sheets to be pegged together last. His eyes drift down your figure, taking in the cute loungewear set you had on as you puffed a piece of hair out of your face, sighing irritably. He knows he should just hand you the peg, but his impulsive thoughts and the fact that you two were actually alone for once made him act. As he leans over your shoulder, reaching forward to peg the two sheets together, making the fort stabilize. Your body shivers slightly as his body retracts back, his curls brushing against your cheek, causing your body to warm up. You let go of the sheets, turning now to face him, unaware of how close he still is to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in, leaving you unprepared for his now close presence. He shifts back, allowing reasonable space between you two, and you let out a small sigh out, brushing it off as just an act of kindness, nothing more than platonic. You smile casually, “Oh, glad you could finally join us. What was the detention for this time, Riddle?” You tilt your head slightly, teasing him. His mouth pulls in a half smile before he rolls his eyes at your taunt, “This one wasn’t actually my fault, the guy was just asking for it. Fucking first years.” He scrunches his face in fake annoyance, watching you laugh at his grumble. His eyes meet yours for a moment, taking in the way your face is lit up before he shifts his attention to the fort. He was quite surprised with the fact it was actually staying up considering how intoxicated the others actually seemed. “Let me guess, this was your idea Ace.” You let out a light laugh, averting your eyes to the interior of the fort. Praying your cheeks were keeping their composure, feeling the rush of heat hit them at the nickname. You’d always had a soft spot for the nickname, though you doubted it was only being used in a friendly manner. Nodding your head to his question, your eyes still gazing at the roof of the fort, feeling something was missing. “Yeah, I thought it would be a fun competition. Not too late for you to help out though. I still wanna hang some fairy lights so we can see. Can you grab them for me?” Mattheo nodded, lazily leaning only his upper body out the fort entrance, posing himself in a way that gave you a good view of his ass. Unsure if he had done it on purpose or not, you tried not to stare too long, but the way it curved nicely in his pants was making your mind run wild. As Mattheo stuck his head out the entrance, spotting the others in a discussion, catching the end of their conversation about sneaking into the kitchens. “Oi, grab me a pack of MnMs,” he calls out to them, as they head out the dorm door. He spots the fairy lights reaching out his outstretched hand, grabbing them before retracting back into the fort. He twisted around, noticing the way your eyes darted around before meeting his gaze. His chest thumps at the realization that the two of you are alone, chuckling to himself that your brother must be too far gone to have noticed. He passes the tangled lights to you with a sly grin. “What did you do with these last? Tie someone up with them?” You roll your eyes at his joke, your cheeks definitely blushing now. You move closer to grab a fistful of lights, slowly untangling them, “Ha ha”. Not bothering to actually reply more than that, the two of you work in a somewhat comfortable silence despite your heart practically pumping out of your chest. His hands work skillfully, untangling the knots down the string. He was clearly good with his fingers. You bit your lip as your mind started wandering off as lewd thoughts swarmed through it. Merlin, what would your brother think, if he knew the ideas Mattheo was unawarely filling yours with.

You spun around feeling your body relax now that you were no longer in his direct eyesight, as you squatted to peg the lights up around the fort. The sound of your friends returning allowed a breath to be exhaled, one you didn’t know you were holding. The temptation of just being alone with Mattheo was proving to be difficult. You grinned, beaming at the finished success of the fort, the lights twinkled giving off a cozy and relaxed ambiance. Mattheo’s felt himself crack a grin at the appearance of your happiness. He’d never get over the way it made him feel as if sunshine was being shone brightly inside him. He patted your thigh gently, “Looks good Ace.” Before you can react to his touch, the others burst through, chucking pillows and blankets in a multitude of places as they all arrange themselves. You move out of the way watching as Pansy sets up a projector for you all to watch a film.

As the movie started, you rotated quickly to find a spot, coincidently noticing only one left beside Mattheo. He had made sure not to make you uncomfortable, leaving enough space between you both, as you squeezed in beside him, laying on your stomach. Laying side by side, your shoulder grazing him as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Throughout the movie, you couldn’t stop fiddling, slipping your thumb in and out of the makeshift hole you had made. Mattheo lay his hands out in front of him, his eyes drawn to the movement of your fingers fidgeting. He played with his own thumbs trying to focus on the screen, the urge to reach out and embrace your own hand in his. Though with you distracted, he inched closer to you as stealthily as possible, as to not scare you away or draw any attention to himself. His eyes moved to check out for Theo, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, probably having taken an edible. His eyes moving back up to yours, as you offered him some Mnms, graciously accepting.

Moving to put the chocolates back in the middle, you used the moment to peer at him, noticing him distracted by the movie. You were trying to act as normal as possible, feeling the way his heat flowed onto yours from the closeness of your bodies. The illumination of the lights were cast upon him, allowing you to make out his appearance under the soft glow of the fort. Taking in the pretty colour of his mahogany eyes and the sweet shape of his rosy lips as he licked the chocolate off them. You couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like to kiss. You had thought you were doing a good job of being discreet when Mattheo leans into you to whisper, “You're staring Ace.” His voice was quiet enough as to not capture the attention of the others. You froze momentarily, your heart beating, not realising how close he was to your face. Before you whispered back, “You’ve got chocolate on your face.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you pray, your response was quick and clever enough to cover up that fact that you had been caught. You kept your eyes glued to his, trying to give off the appeal that you were being serious.

His face spreads into a cheeky grin, whispering back. “Sure it’s not because you’re in love with me.” He had said it as a joke but realised as he watched your eyes widen that his whispering may have made it come across differently. His own brows scrunched in realisation as he makes out through the dim lights, a faint tint of redness creeping up your cheeks. You averted your eyes back to the TV, your heart hammering as you repeated his words over in your head. You were panicking, your eyes darting over to your brother. If anyone else heard and saw your reaction, you totally would have given away your feelings for him. You chewed on your lip before you cursed at yourself, for now realizing by not replying you were making the situation look worse. You look back at him, the small amount of firewhiskey flowing through you. “That’s very cocky of you to assume, Riddle”. Your initial reaction to his comment gave him the confidence to nudge your shoulder slightly. “Am I wrong though?” he challenged, keeping his voice low. Though he didn’t get to hear your response as Pansy shushed the two of you, making you both look away from one another. You could hardly concentrate on the rest of the movie after the latest turn of events. Your brain was working on overdrive to calm your anxiety. Of course he’d be the one to make your brain melt, turning you back into your fourteen old-self reminding you of when you first met him. He must think you’re insane. He’s probably laughing it up that Theo’s sister is in love with him. You felt trapped, wanting to escape, feeling like a joke. Caught up in your own panicked nightmare, the soft feeling of fingers pulls your attention, brushing against your hand.

Mattheo had rolled his eyes at Pansy, shushing them, watching the way you averted your eyes from him. His mind was buzzing at the possibility of you actually being into him. He pinched himself, harder than he expected flicking his hand in pain before resting it beside yours. In the fort's darkness, he took the impulsive decision to rest his fingertips against yours. He made the action gentle, not wanting you to react badly. His pinky brushed against yours, and his heartbeat quickened when he felt the sudden movement of your reciprocation. He glanced up at the others, noticing no one paying any mind to the two of you, moving his gaze back to you. A small smile rested on your lips, though your eyes were glued to the movie. He couldn’t help but risk taking it further and slid his fingers into yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

Mattheo’s mind filled with only thoughts of you as he blankly stared at the projector. Your hand in his felt like the most natural thing, and he couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. How could such a small action reduce him to feeling like a giddy schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone's hand. As the movie progressed, the two of you didn’t break contact, fingers staying intertwined. You finally turned to look at him, your eyes studying his sweet brown eyes. It was a quiet moment, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They knew they were crossing a line, treading into dangerous territories if Theo ever found out. But the emotions shining in Mattheo’s eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, inflamed a desire that you knew was too good to ignore.

Masterlist

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo reader x f reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys #theo nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #hogmarch challenge

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

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At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #wayne munson #mama Munson #headcanon #stranger things

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f1goat · 2 months

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more than friends ; lando norris + part eight

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven

“Still nog dating Lando?”

You let out a soft chuckle. Lando is walking in front of you, while you’re slowly walking behind him. Oscar is walking right next to you, which gave him every chance to ask his new favorite question. Together with Lando, Oscar and multiple other team members you’re doing the track walk. Normally you skip this part of the day, but Lando almost begged you to come with him. So here you are - and Lando isn’t even paying attention to you right now. You wonder why he wanted you to come with him.

“Still single,” you answer.

Oscar has made it his new found mission to keep track on everything between Lando and you. After you picked Lando and him up that night, he has asked you a couple times how things are going. It’s nice to talk with someone about the things between Lando and you. You didn’t tell him about the sexual part, but some how you suspect that Oscar already knows about that.

“Still waiting for him to make a move,” Oscar states.

“True,” you confess.

Oscar lets out a loud laugh after hearing your blunt answer. You can’t help yourself and laugh with him about it. Lando is quick to take a look behind him when he hears your laugh. It surprises him to see you talking and laughing with his teammate. He decreases his pace until he’s walking next to Oscar and you.

“What are you talking about?” Lando asks curious when the two of you stopped laughing.

You don’t know what to say at first. You can’t be honest with him - because that would mean confessing that you were talking about him and dating him, but you’re also a terrible liar. What are you going to answer? Before you can think of an answer, Oscar is already talking.

“Pierre,” Oscar answers with a matter of fact tone. He brings it if it’s not even weird that he’s talking about Pierre with you. Lando is quick to ask a follow up question, “Pierre?” He asks confused. He wonders why you’re talking about Pierre with Oscar. A strange feeling comes up inside of him, he feels ashamed for his quick reaction but he wants to know everything right now.

“Yeah, I’m trying to get her on a date with Pierre,” Oscar continues. He knows he’s taking a risk right now, a big risk even, and that Lando will get mad at him but he’s done with the way his friend is handeling this situation. He isn’t going to standby and watch for years until one of you finally does something. Oscar has decided that Lando needs a push and quick.

“But you already said no to Pierre, right Y/N?” Lando questions you confused. He feels himself getting annoyed with the subject Pierre and with his teammate. He told Oscar about his feelings, right? So why is Oscar trying to set you up with Pierre.

You are also getting a bit annoyed with Oscar his answer. What is he trying to do? You know that he’s waiting for Lando to make a move on you - just like you do, but you told him not to intervene. When you look at Lando and notice his frustrated look, you suddenly start to think that Oscar might have done a good thing. Lando is waiting for you to answer. He looks annoyed en his relaxed smile that normally lingers on his lips is also gone.

“Yeah,” you tell Lando, “but Pierre asked again.” It isn’t even a lie. Pierre texted you again this morning. His text was stupid and a big cliche, you didn’t even answer it yet. It’s something in the line of you needing to give him a chance, because he wanted to settle down and get to know you. This time he didn’t even said something about the way you look, while his earlier messages all said something about that.

“Why would you change your mind?” Lando asks you confused, “I thought you already decided that Pierre wasn’t your type.”

“You decided that,” Oscar butts in. Lando sends his teammate an angry glance to his teammate.

“Maybe I should give him a chance to prove himself,” you shrug.

You don’t know why you just said that. Why did you say something as stupid as that? You can only hope that Lando is going to say something against it, because you really don’t want to go on a date with Pierre. There’s not a single cell in your body that likes the thought of you going on a date with Pierre. Impatient you wait for Lando his reply. In the mean time you look at him. It’s clear that he is pretty frustrated, but he doesn’t act on it. Yet. Suddenly you start thinking about Lando being this frustrated with you while being alone with him. Would he punish you in a sexual way? You shiver while thinking about it, but you can’t stop thinking about how much you would like it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Lando replies frustrated, “He’s a fuck boy and only wants sex with you.”

The frustration is obvious in his voice. In some weird way it only causes you to say something else about Pierre. Oscar doesn’t even need to say anything anymore, he can just watch how this mess unravels.

“According to him he’s changing,” you inform Lando. It’s not like you believe it yourself, but you still say it to Lando.

“He still wants to fuck you,” Lando says with a more angry tone this time.

“Maybe I want him to,” you reply sarcastically.

Lando doesn’t realize that you’re talking sarcastically. He can’t stop sending you angry glances. You’re also a bit shocked from your own sharp answer. This isn’t you. But in some way, you don’t know how to behave yourself right now. Lando is annoying you, why doesn’t he want you to date Pierre? You want him to be honest. Maybe it’s just because of your own hope that it means more for him as well… Oscar is looking at all of the drama unfolding before his eyes. He wonders how this work out. Maybe Lando will finally confess? He doesn’t think so, his teammate looks way too mad to say anything good right now.

“You don’t,” Lando mutters angrily.

“How would you know?” You ask annoyed.

You don’t know why you’re getting mad. It’s going about nothing, about fucking Pierre - who you don’t want to date let alone fuck. But Lando annoys you right now and you have the urge to annoy him back. Lando stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you from walking further as well. He stands in front of you right now.

“You told me I’d be your first,” Lando eventually says to you with a softer tone. His eyes are begging you to agree with his words. He needs to hear you say it - he still wants to be your first. “You can’t expect me to believe that you suddenly want to have your first time with a fuck boy like Pierre,” Lando adds when you’re not answering fast enough according to him.

You let out a soft sigh. “You’re still going to be my first Lan,” you tell Lando. It’s not hard to miss Lando his expressions brighten up a bit. “But maybe I want to date someone,” you add while thinking about your words, do you even want that? “I mean I have to get some experience on dating and Pierre can be useful for that.”

“No,” Lando states firmly, “You’re not going on a date with Pierre. End of discussion.”

“And who says you can make that decision for me?” You ask.

“Come on babygirl,” Lando sighs, “not him.”

“Okay,” you reply, “then I’ll say yes to Logan.”

“No,” Lando says again, “you told me you wouldn’t date him.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you state.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters. You don’t say anything. “After the track walk I’m taking you on a date and I swear to God, I don’t want to hear you about any other boy for the rest of the day.”

Oscar lets out a loud laugh. You almost forget that he was here as well. Lando sends him an angry look. He knows Oscar is enjoying his meddling between you two, this must have been his idea. He will talk about this with his teammate later. When he wants to make a sneer directed to Oscar, he starts to notice your look. You have a small smile plastered on your face and you seem quite happy with yourself. It makes him forget about Oscar. Did you do this on purpose? Maybe you wanted him to snap like this? Lando realizes that you’re more of a brat then he knew, he can’t stop thinking about how much he likes that.

Lando gets a bit closer to you. “And after that date, I’ll deny you your orgasms until you’re screaming out your apologies for even talking about them,” he whispers in your ear.

Fuck. What have you gotten yourself into?

+++

“We’re going to try something new,” Lando states. The two of you are in the hotel room. You’re standing in front of the mirror, looking at the dress you’re wearing for your date with Lando. It’s fitting you tightly, maybe a bit too tight even, but you want to show off your body to Lando. While applying your mascara, Lando takes place on the bed. “Come here babygirl,” he tells you.

You don’t even think about it, within seconds your standing in front of Lando. He takes a good look of you, admiring your beauty and the way your dress is fitting you. It’s making him hard already. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him.

“I want you to get on my lap,” Lando informs you. You start to move towards Lando, but when you try to take a seat on his lap Lando stops you. “Not like this,” he continues, “Lay on my lap and make sure you’re ass is high up.” Nervous you do what Lando says. You feel Lando caressing your ass, the only thing in the way is your dress and underwear.

It doesn’t take long before Lando pulls your dress up, sliding it above your ass. Slowly he traces on your string.

“I want to try something, do you trust me?” Lando asks you suddenly. “Yes Lan,” you tell him without even thinking about it. “Before I’m going to do something, we’re going to work with colors. Okay babygirl? If I ask you for your color, you will answer me with green, orange or red. Green is continue, orange is for taking a break and red is to stop,” Lando explains. You tell him yes again.

Your stomach tightens when you wonder about what Lando is going to do. You have no idea about what’s going to happen. Lando caresses your ass in the mean time.

“If I’m not asking, you can still tell me a color if you want,” Lando adds. You tell him another yes.

Then Lando softly slaps your ass. You let out a soft cry when he does. It didn’t hurt, you’re just shocked.

“Color?” Lando asks you, “Green,” you answer within a second.

Lando repeats his earlier movements, only this time the slap is a bit harder. You feel a small sting on your ass. Lando slaps you again, even harder this time. He asks you for your color again, you reply with the same answer as before.

“You know what they always say right?” Lando asks you, “Bad girls get punished, good girls get rewarded. I think you’ve been quite bad this afternoon, don’t you think so?”

Before you can answer Lando slaps your ass again. After the hard spank he caresses it. You let out a soft moan. “But I believe you’re enjoying your punishment,” Lando remarks, “Isn’t it babygirl?” You nod. “Words,” Lando reminds you.

“Fuck,” you stammer, “Y.. yes I enjoy it.”

“Want more?” Lando asks you.

“Yes please,” you reply.

Lando spanks your ass even harder. He slaps it multiple times after each other. It causes you to let out multiple moans. Maybe this is exactly what you hoped for when you got Lando frustrated earlier today. It feels good that he’s taking it out on you.

Lando lets out a soft chuckle, he lets his finger slide through your slit. “You like this, don’t you babygirl?” He asks you. “Yes,” you confess quickly. He gives you another slap on your ass. “Look at you,” he says, “all worked up because of me, all horny because of the way you’re getting treated. Fucking hell babygirl, you should know how hot you look right now.”

After that he stops. You let out a whimper when Lando his hands aren’t touching you anymore. Then he pulls something out his pocket. You’re still laying on his lap with your ass up. Lando pulls your string a bit aside. Suddenly you feel a soft vibration against your cunt. It causes you to let out a surprised yelp. You realize that it’s a small vibrating toy that’s being hold by Lando against your entrance right now. What’s going on?

Lando slides the toy inside of you. He gives you a soft slap on the ass and pulls your string back. Then he also slides your dress back over your ass. He helps you to get back on your own feet. After that he opens his phone and you feel the vibrations increase. You let out a soft moan.

“You okay with this?” Lando asks you.

“Green,” you tell Lando with a small smile.

“Good girl,” he states proudly. Lando presses a kiss against your forehead. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he continues, “Keep acting like this and maybe you’ll deserve to cum. And now we’re going to the restaurant.”

“I’m going to a restaurant with a toy inside me?” You ask Lando surprised.

“A toy which I can control,” Lando adds.

Fuck. This will be a difficult dinner.

“Color?” Lando asks just to be sure. When he hears you say green, he grins. You’re everything he wanted, now he only needs to figure out a way to keep you forever.

+++

Lando is trying. He really is. But why is it always when he takes you somewhere, that there are so many people interested in you? When he took you to a Grand Prix for the first time, it was his own teammate - Carlos Sainz, who was interested in you. When that faded there were others, new found friends of his who wanted to get to know you better. There’s always someone interested in you. On the grid right now, he knows that Pierre and Logan have interest in you. He hoped to escape from that tonight, but it seems like the waiter has found you as well.

He tried so hard to think about a nice date for you. He took you to a good restaurant and made sure to check the menu, so he would know for sure that you’d like the food. He acts like a gentleman, opening the car door for you and seating you. It seemed like things were going really well, but now there’s this stupid waiter who is flirting with you. Lando is sure he’s going to lose it soon. He tries to ignore the waiter, but every time he comes around Lando is reminded that your not his.

Earlier this evening Lando stopped the toy inside of you, but now that he sees the waiter coming again an evil idea comes up. He grabs his phone and opens the right app, when the waiter is standing by your table, Lando turns the toy on again. You are quick to get flustered, the setting is low but it’s enough to make you tremble. Lando takes a look at you, hoping that you’re alright with this. You show him a small nod.

“Do you want anything else to drink?” The waiter asks Lando, he orders another soda. “And what about you?” The waiter asks you, Lando swears that he saw him wink. He opens the app again and changes the setting to a higher one while you’re telling the waiter about your order. It causes you to stutter while saying the last words.

Lando chuckles. When the waiter walks off, you show him an angry look. “Dick,” you mutter. Lando changes the setting again, even higher this time. It makes you let out a soft moan.

“Color?” He asks you. “Green,” you answer again.

He smiles at you. You show him a small smile back.

“Such a dirty girl,” Lando softly says to you, you can only nod.

Lando decreases the settings of the toy for you. He doesn’t turn it off completely like before, there’s still a small vibration inside of you. It’s making you slowly go insane. The vibrations aren’t enough for you to get close to a orgasm or to be loud, but it’s still all you’re busy with. The feeling is nice, but it keeps reminding you that you still haven’t orgasmed. Lando has been teasing you since you’ve been in the hotel with him and it’s making you loose your mind. When you remind what he told you earlier at the track today, you wonder if he’s even going to give you the pleasure of an orgasm today.

When the waiter comes to bring your drinks, Lando can’t help himself and starts to feel annoyed again. He’s so sure of that the guy is flirting with you. It’s not that you’re flirting back, but Lando still feels really annoyed by the situation. You try to make a conversation with him, but he keeps fading out of it.

“What’s going on Lan?” You eventually ask him.

It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts about the waiter - and all the other boys who want you. Lando tries to shrug it off at first, but when he notices your strict gaze he realizes that he won’t get away this easily.

“It’s just that everywhere I take you, there seems to be someone who tries to get with you,” Lando confesses with an annoyed sigh. He sounds childish. He doesn’t have the right to complain about it.

You show Lando a small smile. It’s really bothering him apparently. Can that mean that he’s jealous? “I’m not interested in any of them,” you tell Lando, “so just ignore them.”

“Promise?” Lando asks you. “Promise,” you reply.

“Not even that waiter?” Lando asks you, he needs to be sure.

“Waiter?” You ask surprised, “Which waiter? I thought you were talking about Logan and Pierre.”

“The one who just brought us our drinks,” Lando explains.

“What’s with him?” You ask confused.

“He’s trying to flirt with you,” Lando tells you.

You let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t notice,” you tell Lando, “but still, don’t worry about them Lan.”

“Sure?” He asks you.

“Yeah, if I was interested into one of them then why would I be here with you and a toy inside of me right now?”

“That reminds me,” Lando jokes while pulling out his phone of his pocket and increasing the setting from the toy. Now he’s making it harder for you. The vibrations are increasing and making you feel more pleasure then before. Earlier it was just a small thing in the background, now the vibrations are doing a lot more to you.

The evening is progressing quickly. When Lando and you walk away from your table, you’re shaking. The toy inside of you is making you go crazy. Lando slides his arm around your waist, walking towards the exit together with you. You can only hope that he’ll make you orgasm when you’re back at the hotel. You can’t go on like this much longer. When you notice that Lando his expressions change, you’re quick to follow his new angry glances. They are directed at the waiter. You notice that the guy is walking towards you. Maybe you have forgotten something at the table? Lando is worrying about other things, he knows for sure that the guy is going to ask for your number or something.

“Uh hi,” the waiter greets you again, “I wanted to ask if you’re still single? And if so, can I get your number?” He asks.

Oh fuck. Lando was right apparently. You feel the way his grip on your body tightens. He pulls you even closer to himself. It’s almost if Lando is trying to show the guy that you’re his. But you’re quick to realize that you’re probably imagining things. You’re not his. Something that seems to be a growing problem.

Lando can’t stop his movements. After pulling you close to himself and sending angry glares at the guy, he’s still nervous about your answer. What are you going to tell the guy? What if you do want to date the waiter? He feels himself getting more stressed.

“No sorry,” you reply.

“Protective boyfriend,” the waiter remarks while nodding at Lando, “Sorry wasn’t sure before, but it’s pretty obvious now.”

That’s not what you meant. You just meant that you didn’t want to give the guy your number. Why does he think Lando is your boyfriend? Before you can say anything about it, Lando is already talking.

“Glad that it’s obvious,” Lando says annoyed. He can’t help it. He knows he’s crossing the line, but he can’t stop thinking about you being his. You just play along to his words and try to hide your confused feeling. Lando starts to walk off with you in a fast pace, wanting to leave the place as soon as possible.

He takes you back to the hotel with him. You’re feeling a bit tense because of what happened earlier, but you’re quick to forget when you see Lando pressing something on his phone. It’s the toy. Now you’re back in the car, Lando feels save enough to push you a bit more. And maybe he just wants to hear your moans for him, he can use a reminder of those sounds for him. You let out a loud yelp when the vibrations increase a lot more then before. Fuck. Moans are trembling from your lips and you feel your body shaking in the passengers seat of Lando his rental car. Lando lays his hand on your thigh in the mean time, softly squeezing it. You stare at him for a bit. Could it be possible that Lando likes you back? After today you have gotten a bit of hope. His jealousy is making you question everything.

When the two of you are in the parking lot of the hotel, Lando looks at you. “If you can get back to the room without making a sound, I’ll let you cum,” Lando tells you strictly. You nod desperately. You’re in desperate need to orgasm. The teasing is almost getting to much. “Not even the softest moan babygirl,” Lando continues. You show him another nod. “Good girl,” he mutters before pressing a small kiss against your cheek.

Lando is quick to get out of the car and open your car door as well, you take his hand and together you walk inside. Walking towards the elevator went fine, but as soon as the elevator closes Lando is holding his phone again. He looks at the app from the toy and doubts for a few seconds. He takes a look at you and decides that he is going to try it. Without giving it another thought, he puts the toy on the highest setting. He notices the way you start to tremble. Your lips are pushed onto each other, it’s causing you a lot of effort to keep silent. Lando grabs your arm and pulls you in front of himself.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. After that he presses a kiss against your neck. “Only a couple more minutes,” he continues to whisper. He peppers multiple kisses against your neck and shoulders. “So good for me.” “The best I’ve ever had.” “Fuck.” “You look beautiful like this.” He keeps continuing to praise you.

When you’re finally back into the hotel room, Lando helps you onto the bed. He pulls up your dress, lifting it to above your ass.

“How do you want to cum?” Lando asks you.

“I don’t care,” you whimper, “just make me cum.”

“Me or the toy?” Lando continues to ask.

“You.”

Lando is quick to take your words into action. He slides your string aside and pulls out the toy, quickly tossing it aside after putting it off. Within seconds his fingers are inside of you. Instantly you feel more filled up then before, you let out a hard moan. He presses his lips onto your clit and softly sucks it inside his mouth. When he releases your clit, he looks up to you. “So beautiful for me,” he mutters again. You barely hear him.

“So close,” you tell Lando.

Lando decreases his pace. “You know what to do baby,” he instructs you. Without thinking about it, you’re begging Lando for your release. Pleading him to increase his pace again and to make you cum. He doesn’t. “Maybe I would be nicer if you weren’t talking about dating Pierre and Logan earlier today,” Lando suddenly says.

Fuck. You knew this would be coming back to bite you in the ass.

“Sorry,” you whimper without thinking about it, “Shouldn’t have said that,” you continue. “Only did it to get your attention,” you even confess.

Lando increases his pace. “My attention?” He asks you. You nod frantically. Lando lets out a deep chuckle. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he says, “don’t do that ever again.”

“Sorry,” you whimper.

“You always have my attention,” Lando states. He shows you a small nod to let you know that you can cum now. It doesn’t even take more then five seconds before he feels your pussy clenching around his fingers.

The two of you are silent for a bit. Lando lays down on the bed as well and pulls you on top of him. You feel yourself relax against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, you let out a relieved sound. Lando presses a small kiss against your cheek.

“You’re still ready to lose your virginity?” Lando suddenly asks you.

“Yeah,” you reply, “as long it’s with you.”

He doesn’t reply further. What you don’t know, is that Lando is starting to think about the perfect way for him to have sex with you the first time. When you fall asleep later that night, Lando turns to his phone and starts to figure out the first things.

part nine

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut

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jeneveuxrein · 3 months

Text

kiss and make up (BLACKPINK Rosé)

word count: 10.1K

(posted right when the clock hits midnight in seoul, i hope everyone enjoys)

tw: brief depiction of sexual assault and actual assault

-- -- --

You watch her slip her dress on, blonde hair swept to the side as she reaches for her zipper.

“Let me,” The blanket slides down your stomach, resting on your waist as you sit behind her. You slowly bring the zipper up, kissing her softly on her shoulder as she straightens the fabric. “Do you have to go?” You murmur, lips tasting her skin, the audible sigh coming from her body.

“I do,” Rosie nods, straightening her hair to fall freely along her back. Her head turns slightly, “You know I can’t stay. He’s expecting me.”

“Are you going to have sex with him?” The question comes out harsher than you intended.

“Stop,” Rosie scoffs, shaking her head as she stands. “We haven’t done that.”

Yet, you add quietly for her in your head.

Neither of you say anything else as Rosie reaches for the ring on the nightstand, slipping it on her finger.

You’d love nothing more than to toss that offending piece of jewelry into the Han River. Hell, you’d fly over the Pacific Ocean and drop it where no one could find it.

Because if Rosie was ever going to get a ring, it was supposed to be from you.

“Are you going this weekend?” Rosie asks, placing your clothes on the bed.

You nod reluctantly, as if you had a choice about the event taking place this weekend.

It’s the annual gala for the wealthy and affluent of Seoul. Your family along with Rosie’s are attending. Her father will be saying a few words, which you’re sure that his youngest daughter’s engagement will be announced as well.

“You’re not going to leave him, are you?” It’s a rhetorical question, one you wish had a different answer.

“It’s not that simple,” Rosie rolls her eyes. You’ve known her long enough to learn her tells, and this being one that she’s tired from having the same conversation.

“It’s been a year,” You point out, reaching for your shirt. “You’re engaged now, Chaeng. It seems pretty clear that this isn’t going to continue.”

The thing with you and Rosie is that neither of you wanted to be in this position. You were born into this, this being a stupid rivalry between your fathers. You were raised to hate each other, attending the same schools, competing for the top of the class while juggling the pressures from the public eye.

Being part of Seoul’s elite made you want nothing more than to leave as soon as you finished at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. You wanted to live abroad, working for someone without having your last name be the reason you were hired.

You couldn’t, as much as you tried. You were set to inherit the family business, even though your older sister, Jisoo, was much more capable and wanted to. The multiple arguments you’ve had with your father fell on deaf ears because you were the only son and naturally, you were next in line.

Rosie, on the other hand, wasn’t set to inherit anything except for a cushion that would support her for the rest of her life while her older sister, Alice, ran the company.

It wasn’t easy for her either since her father wanted Rosie to marry someone of equal status, ultimately expanding the Park name into other industries.

When Rosie was introduced to Wonwoo, you knew that was who her father had in mind.

God forbid it be you.

As much as you two acted like you hated each other growing up, one night after a charity event three years ago was where things unfolded.

Having drunk a little more than usual at these types of events, you confided over the shared misery of your families and why everyone just couldn’t get along. Besides that, you found out how much you had in common, sharing the same interests and similar values that sparked what led into something that neither of you were prepared for.

You don’t remember who kissed who first, but that didn’t matter since you both ended up in your bed, spending the night together and realizing that this was the person you wanted to spend all your nights and mornings with.

You’re in love with Rosie, and she’s in love with you.

It’s tragic, really, at the end of the day.

Neither of your families would approve. The media would have a field day if the secret, forbidden relationship got out. You’ve imagined the headlines countlessly throughout the course of the relationship of how the media would tear you apart about two major business conglomerates’ children dating.

If not them, then your parents.

The only people that know of your affair are your siblings, Jennie, and Lisa. Though, the relationship between the latter have their own complexities that you couldn’t fathom.

“What’re you saying?” Rosie asks, crossing her arms, even though she knows exactly what you’re implying.

“We can’t do this anymore,” You say softly, tears pricking your eyes. It kills you to say that out loud, but that’s your reality. You might be meant to be together, but there’s too many things weighing on you that you don’t think you could survive. Hearing Rosie publicly engaged to Jeon Wonwoo is at the top of the list.

“What?” You’re not surprised by her reaction. You’ve had a soft spot for her and she’s always gotten her way with you, but seeing that on her finger changes things. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” You frown, avoiding her gaze. Sure, it’s a bit messed up after what you just did together, but it’s even more messed up that Rosie showed up at your apartment right after Wonwoo proposed. He’s too smitten to believe that she was going to get drinks with Lisa, celebrating the engagement.

(You absolutely knew that if you just proposed to Rosie, you’d be balls deep in her as soon as you were inside the car.)

Wonwoo’s not a bad guy, just collateral in this fucked up situation that he has remained blissfully unaware of for the past year and a half. How oblivious could he be that you’re the one Rosie fucks on the regular, screaming your name as she tells you how much she loves you, is something you didn’t understand.

You’re selfish, wanting her all to yourself, reminding her night in and night out that she was yours as much as you were hers.

When you meet Rosie’s eyes, you almost fold. She looks like she’s about to tell you off, but you watch as she slips into the cool demeanor she carries whenever she’s in a board meeting. That very same demeanor that made her into one hell of a lawyer.

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You say honestly, “Wonwoo’s respectful, but I’m sure at some point soon, he’s going to want to make the relationship official.” In a way that you and I do, You think bitterly, biting your tongue.

“Right,” Rosie nods, a tight smile forms on her face. “So this is it? I get engaged, fuck you right after, and you’re now ending things.”

You want to argue. You want to say something like how she agreed to date-date Wonwoo while actually being in a relationship with you. It might’ve been for appearances and to please her father, but you both know that what you were doing was wrong on so many levels.

“I guess. I love you, I want to be with you, but you’re engaged. It changes everything.” She knows things will change once this engagement goes public.

Rosie doesn’t say anything else, nodding before walking out of your room, out of your apartment.

Out of your life?

You hoped not, but you’ve never had any control of your life to begin with.

“Stop moping,” Jisoo hisses, forcing a smile when another executive walks by, briefly stopping to shake both of your hands.

“I don’t want to fucking be here,” You smile, nodding politely as you greet the wife of said executive.

You’ve been quietly arguing with Jisoo since you arrived. Thankfully you didn’t share a car together because that would’ve given you a headache.

Your sister knows what happened. She pounded on your door an hour after Rosie left because allegedly the woman you’re in love with called her, in tears and distraught, telling her how you ended things. There was one missing vital piece of information that wasn’t shared—something you had to tell your sister, softening as soon as the words fell out of your mouth.

“We have, like, ten more minutes of this before you can wallow away at the bar,” Jisoo nudges you with an elbow once your aunt and Jennie approach.

You give the two women a hug, commenting on their appearance because they are Kims after all. Everyone in your family looks good, and Jennie tells you so too.

“Wow, oppa,” Jennie gives you a gummy smile, straightening your bow tie after she hugs you. “You’re actually dressed up for once.”

“Not in the mood, Jen,” You say flatly. Jennie takes a second look, and her eyes narrow.

“What happened?”

“Not the time nor place,” You wave at a bunch of people you don’t recognize. All for show, their faces blurring together as they pass. “She didn’t tell you then.”

Jennie stares at you, waiting. When you remain stoic, she rolls her eyes, walking away to most likely find the woman in question.

“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Jisoo warns quietly, elbowing you in the side a little harder.

You don’t bother engaging with your sister anymore, just saying hello and answering any questions that people ask you as they walk by. It’s mechanical for you, something you’ve spent years perfecting on how to appear to people when you honestly couldn’t care about all this. You’d give it all up if that meant you could be with Rosie.

These past few days have been absolute hell for you. You’re pretty sure your body’s going through shock. You feel it in your chest anytime your mind so briefly thinks about her. You’ve dated before Rosie and heartbreak has never felt like this.

When you see the next family approaching, you automatically smile. Jisoo notices your face light up, which she scoffs because she isn’t exactly the biggest fan of who you’re smiling at.

“Hi Nayeon,” You ignore your sister, beaming as the eldest Im stands in front of you. She smiles, that same toothy one that you’ve teased her countlessly for over the years since it makes her look like a bunny.

“Hey,” Nayeon chuckles, shaking her head as she goes in for a hug. You do her one better and wrap your arms tightly around her waist, nearly lifting her feet off the ground. She lets out her boisterous laugh, hitting you on the shoulder. “Put me down!”

You’re laughing, actually giving a genuine smile, as you do what she says. You keep your arms loose around her. Anyone passing by would think you’re together, which you do hear them commenting on how close you are.

“If either of you want to make headlines this evening, please for the love of god, stop,” Jisoo mumbles, shaking her head as she greets Nayeon’s sister.

“We’re just having fun, Sooya,” Nayeon rolls her eyes, taking a step back before sending you a wink.

“Yeah well, the night’s going to get more interesting,” Jisoo tilts her head toward the entrance. “The Parks are here.”

You don’t want to look, but you can’t help yourself. Your gaze lands on Rosie. She looks absolutely stunning, wearing a strapless white gown that hugs her body perfectly, hourglass figure and all. It reminds you of a wedding dress, and something inside you breaks when you see Wonwoo right behind her.

“Wow, Chaeyoung looks gorgeous,” Nayeon comments. Her sister nods approvingly while you don’t miss the concerned look on your sister’s face.

You excuse yourself without waiting for any of the women around you. You beeline straight for the bar, needing something to ease the tightness in your chest. Hearing the crowd murmurs of Rosie and Wonwoo don’t help either. You even catch someone mentioning the ring, causing you to pick up the pace.

Lisa intercepts you when you’re a few feet away, “Hey,” Her hand wraps around your bicep, stopping your rendezvous with a bottle of scotch.

The brave face you put on at the beginning of the night cracks and she gives you a sympathetic smile. If there’s anyone Rosie would confide in, Lisa will be at the top of the list.

“Hi Lili.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lisa asks politely, gently guiding you towards the bar, the grip on your arm strong enough to keep you from running in the opposite direction.

“Not entirely,” You shrug, but not enough to shake her arm off.

Lisa doesn’t push, which is one of the many reasons you consider her a close friend. Aside from the fact she’s secretly dating your cousin, she’s someone you trust. Even though Lisa’s a foreigner, she blends in well with this crowd, and that’s saying a lot. Everyone’s aware she’s not Korean by any means, but she’s networked enough that she has a seat at the table. The relationship she has with all of you have helped too, something she acknowledges, but it’s all her.

Once you reach the bar, you pull out the chair for Lisa. You get teased a little for acting so gentlemanly since your relationship with her has always been platonic—for obvious reasons.

“You haven’t spoken to her.”

“Of course I haven’t,” You nod when the bartender brings over your glass of whiskey. You take it one go. The usual burn doesn’t faze you as it travels through your body.

“She misses you,” Lisa says casually behind a wine glass.

You scoff. Your temper flares because while it could be true, there hasn’t been any moment since you last saw Rosie that she let you know how she felt. You’ve laid it out to her that you’d give up everything if it meant you could be together, but she was scared.

“She wants to be with you.”

“Sure she does,” You answer sarcastically. “If she did, we’d be engaged. Probably married by now.”

“Come on, don’t be like this,” Lisa shakes her head, placing her empty wine glass on the counter.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up before you could respond. You’re suddenly hyper aware of someone’s presence behind you, that you don’t need to turn around to see who it is.

“Hi,” You hear Rosie greet softly.

Lisa turns around first, standing to hug her best friend. You don’t make any moves to engage, at least not without signaling to the bartender for another drink. He’s in front of you, giving you a heavy pour before moving onto the next person. Without waiting, you take the drink in one go again, the liquid amber burning stronger than the first.

Slipping on the mask you had when you arrived, you turn to face the two women. “Chaeyoung,” You nod, acknowledging her for the first time this evening. It’s a low blow to call her by her Korean name because she’s reserved her English name just for you. “You look great,” You say with an easy smile.

There’s more you want to say, like how she’s beautiful and all that, but you don’t think that’d be appropriate given the time and place and circumstances.

“Thanks,” Rosie says quietly, the smile on her face hardly reaches her eyes. “Can we-”

“I’d love to stay and chat, but you know, duty calls,” You interrupt, scanning the room for anyone to pull you out of this conversation. Ironically, your gaze meets Nayeon across the crowd, waving you over. “My presence is needed,” You tilt your head in Nayeon’s direction. Rosie’s eyes narrow when she sees who’s exactly demanding your presence.

That’s a whole other story because you’re all aware of the crush Nayeon’s harbored for you over the years–something that peeved Rosie knowing that your mother’s approval of her if something were to happen.

But maybe it was time for you to move on.

“Have a great night, Chaeyoung,” You bow slightly before sidestepping around Lisa. “Congrats on the engagement, by the way. Wonwoo’s a lucky guy.”

You don’t bother waiting for her response, walking away before you could hear it.

Each step away feels heavier the farther you go. Every nerve in your body screams at you to turn back around.

You don’t.

You tend to sneak away in events like this. It’s a habit you developed as a teenager when high power executives and the like would talk to you about things you had no interest in.

That’s how you end up on the outdoor terrace. It’s empty aside from a couple members of the event staff taking a smoke break, but they don’t pay you any mind, too engrossed in their own conversations about the worst person they’ve interacted with so far. You know that they’ll be back to work in a few minutes.

You lean against the railing, letting the crisp cool air invade your lungs as you stare at the city skyline. It sobers you up just a bit, but you’ll admit you’re drunk—more than what your mother would deem appropriate at an event this big.

You have to thank Nayeon for your current state. She immediately knew something was off after you left Rosie and Lisa at the bar. She didn’t ask, but she offered to ditch once the speeches were over. You compromised, only wanting to stay for the foundation’s before Rosie’s father spoke. She understood without question. She didn’t prod as to why specifically before that speech.

The sound of heels coming to a halt behind you breaks you out of your thoughts. You sigh because there’s only one person that knows this habit of yours.

“What do you want?” You ask without turning around.

“Can we talk?” Rosie asks quietly that it forces you to turn around.

“Okay, go ahead,” You cross your arms, jaw clenching as you try to control the wave of emotions crashing through you as you stare at her.

“Let’s go somewhere more private, please,” She reaches for your arm, but her hand drops when she hears the quiet chatter from the staff a few feet away.

You relent, pushing yourself off the railing as she walks back inside. You have no choice but to follow her, and you’re on edge when she chooses to walk into a private bathroom.

Once the door shuts, you hold your breath, the tension between you much more obvious in an enclosed space. You feel suffocated by being this close to her when all you want to do is pull her against you.

“What do you want, Chaeng?” Your shoulders drop, the mental and emotional exhaustion catching up to you. You’re tired and just want to get as far away from this, from her, to think clearly.

“I…I don’t know,” Rosie looks away, leaning against the marbled counter as the door holds you up.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” You gesture to the space in between you. “If anyone sees us together, we’re both screwed.”

You watch her move, something brewing beneath as she keeps her eyes on you. She walks toward you, bringing her arm back. Your head tilts in question as her dress slowly slides down her body.

“Chaeng,” Your voice comes out low, hoarse as Rosie reveals what’s underneath–a white lace corset with the matching bottoms to go with. For how long you’ve been together, she knows your weaknesses, and if she had the garter belt, you would’ve taken her right there.

She planned this.

“What?” Rosie stands in front of you, keeping the smallest bit of space in between you that any movement, her body would be pressed against yours.

“You’re engaged,” A strong reminder more to you than her. Your hand twitches, but you keep it at your side, not wanting to give her the upper hand.

“I’ve told you time and time again, it’s not that simple,” Rosie leans forward, her breath ghosting over your lips. “What’re we supposed to do? Just leave everything behind?”

“Yes,” You shake your head, frustrated. It’s the same conversation you’ve been having with her since she started public dating Wonwoo and it’s still not sinking in that you’d make it work. “It’s not like we don’t have connections outside of our family to support ourselves.”

“You think too much,” Rosie rests her weight against you. Your cock stirs at the contact. “I love you, you know this. Is that not enough?”

“Chaeng,” You gulp when her hand slips in between your bodies, palming your cock over your slacks. You’re naturally conditioned to react to whatever Rosie does to you, big or small. She could tie her hair in a ponytail and you’d immediately get hard at the sight. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?” Rosie drops to her knees, her eyes demanding your attention.

You grit your teeth as she undoes your belt. Her hands deftly work to unbutton your pants, tugging them down as she pulls your cock out. “What’re you doing?” You groan, head falling back against the door, the sensation of her soft hands wrapping around your girth.

“Are you complaining?” Her tongue sticks out, licking the tip before she kisses the same spot. Her hands were doing wonders on you as all the blood in your body rushed south.

“You know I’m not,” You moan as she takes you fully into her mouth, hollowing out her cheeks. You glance down, which is a mistake, to a filthy sight of your length halfway in her mouth.

“Then shut up,” Rosie takes a breath, pulling back slightly before repeating the motion. Her hands weren’t idle, stroking at a pace that spread her saliva along what wasn’t in her mouth.

You obediently listen, biting your lip to cover your moans as she goes lower with each movement.

You don’t know what came over her.

That’s a small lie. You could assume what spurred this. Besides your feeble attempt at ending things a few nights prior, Rosie seeing you interact–flirt–with Nayeon would be at the top of the list. It’s not like she would outright admit that she gets jealous because she’ll swear up and down she doesn’t, but you’ve been with her long enough to know how possessive she gets when it comes to you.

Your hand finds her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as she continues her ministrations. The moment you tighten your grip to increase her pace, she stops all movement. She lets off your cock with a resounding pop before standing up.

“We have to be quick,” Rosie mutters, standing to turn, and walks to the counter before stepping out of her thong. Your eyes never leave her form, watching her expression darken in the mirror. She bends slightly, shaking her ass in front of you.

You’re a simple guy. Naturally when a woman as gorgeous as Rosie offers herself up to you, you can’t exactly say no. You’ll deal with any ramifications later, but right now the only thought coursing through your body is to fuck her, and fuck her hard.

“We’re not supposed to be doing this,” You say, even though your hands grab her waist to steady you both. Her bare bottom presses against your very erect cock, the length in between her cheeks. You see how much precum leaks out of the tip as she tries to get you inside, missing completely.

“You’re clearly not stopping. We don’t have much time,” Rosie moans softly as your length rubs against her clit.

You shake your head, meeting her gaze in the mirror, a fiery look set in her eyes. You feel something weighing on your shoulders because you said you were done.

“Just fuck me,” Rosie demands and one of your hands drop, gripping your cock.

You tease a little, rubbing the head against her opening. She’s absolutely drenched that you slide right in.

Both of you moan, her eyes rolling back at being filled. You clench your jaw as she takes you in, the inner muscles tightening at the sudden intrusion. Once her bottom presses against your pelvis, you take a breath, needing it so you wouldn’t cum right away.

Based on how her pussy keeps contracting, it won’t take you very long.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Rosie hisses, and you pull your hips back before thrusting again. “I need your cock now.”

You set a quick pace, watching the sight of your cock disappearing in and out of Rosie’s body. You stifle your moans by resting your chin on her shoulder, biting down as she lets out a gasp with every movement. You realize she’s getting louder, the pitch getting higher. You did not need anyone walking in, especially since you didn’t lock the door.

Your free hand snakes around to cover her mouth, but Rosie surprises you when she pulls your hand to her throat, your fingers encircling her neck.

Rosie nods, giving you the green light, as your fingers gently squeeze. As soon as you do, her pussy tightens more and she pushes her hips into yours, meeting every thrust as the skin slaps. You knew her body well enough that she was close, especially the right angle to hit her sweet spot as she rolls down and along your length.

“I’m not going to last,” You whimper, panting against her ear.

“Inside,” Rosie gasps out, back arching as you lose your rhythm. Her orgasm triggers yours, causing you to thrust wildly, pounding, stretching, and the grip on her neck tightening. Her hand clamps on your forearm, loosening the hold as you paint her insides white.

You lose focus for a second, mind going blank as Rosie’s pussy rhythmically squeezes your cock, milking you for everything you have.

You didn’t know how long it had been. It could’ve been five minutes or five hours, but your cock softens as you slip out. You kiss the back of her head, as both of you catch your breath.

You don’t get the chance to see your cum flow out of her because her back straightens. Rosie turns, her chest against yours, arms resting loosely on your shoulder. Her fingers play with the hair on your neck while she stares up at you. She kisses you softly on the lips, smiling, before leaning against the counter. She keeps you close, spreading her legs that you slot perfectly in between as she gently pecks your cheeks and jaw.

It feels different to be with her like this.

You know what you’re doing is wrong on so many levels, but she’s your greatest weakness that you couldn’t resist her even if you tried.

“We should go back to the party,” Rosie mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip before letting out a sigh.

“Sure, whatever you want,” You honestly wanted to go back to your apartment and just cuddle, but you couldn’t exactly leave without drawing attention or questioning from your parents.

“Seriously, we should go,” Rosie makes no move to leave. Instead you feel her tongue in your mouth.

“Okay,” You nod against her mouth, which is also doing wonders, tempting you to go for another round.

Rosie pulls back, kissing you sweetly one last time. Her hand taps your shoulder, and you automatically step away, instantly missing her because you don’t know when, or if, this is going to happen again.

It’s a familiar sight as Rosie picks up her clothes from the floor. She fixes her hair, straightening the strands as best she could. You pulled your pants up, tucking your shirt in while she washed her hands.

“You should probably wait a few minutes after I leave,” Rosie says softly, wiping her hands before bringing her gaze to you in the reflection.

You agree, nodding, as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

No other words are said as you watch Rosie open the door, poking her head in the hallway as she checks if the coast is clear. Before walking out, she says, “I love you.”

One moment you’re chuckling at something Lisa says as she and Nayeon follow behind you. Nayeon invited Lisa on the way out as the speeches were commencing, which based on how it was looking with Jennie for the evening, Lisa made the decision to leave as well. She said she’d tell Jennie to meet after.

The next moment you hear someone in distress around the corner. Your pace slows when the women bump into you.

It takes you a split second before you realize that the person in distress is Rosie.

Wonwoo has Rosie pressed up against the wall, her leg straining against his as you notice his hand squirming to get in between her legs.

“Oh no, I’ll get security—Wait!” Nayeon gasps quietly behind you, but you hardly hear it because in the next moment, your feet move on their own accord and you swing your fist at Wonwoo, knuckles hitting square in the jaw and knocking his balance for him to get off of Rosie.

You think you hear Rosie scream, but you tune everything out because you’re pummeling him into the ground. You don’t care if you’re making a scene. There was absolutely no way in hell you’d ever let something like this slide with any woman, but the fact that it’s Rosie, the woman you’re in love with, all bets are off.

It isn’t until a few moments later, someone grabs you by your blazer, tearing you off Wonwoo, when everything equalizes. You hear Rosie crying behind you with Lisa trying her best to console her. Your hands ache as you open your fists, a searing pain along your knuckles. The grip on your blazer slackens before you realize it was Rosie’s father—Mr. Park himself—that pulled you off.

“What the fuck is happening here?” His voice comes out stern.

You notice the security guards tending to Wonwoo, whose face is covered by his hands, blood smeared all over his skin.

You’re going to be in deep shit from your parents, but you didn’t give a fuck. You would’ve killed him if no one stopped you.

“Mr. Park,” Nayeon interjects and you see a police officer next to her. Said police officer is her uncle—the police chief of Seoul. “We saw Wonwoo forcing himself on Chaeyoung. I went to grab security.”

A multitude of emotions cross Mr. Park’s face and you’ve never seen him angry before, but this would probably be the first time. It’s terrifying.

He doesn’t respond to what Nayeon says, walking over to where Wonwoo is. The Jeon heir looks up as Mr. Park says something to him none of you can hear when his eyes widen, desperately shaking his head, as he loudly apologizes.

“Oppa, let’s get you cleaned up,” Nayeon suggests, a loose hand wraps around your forearm.

You nod numbly, avoiding Rosie’s eyes as you walk by. Lisa’s still comforting her when Jennie and Jisoo rush over.

“Why are your hands covered in blood?!” Jennie freaks out, hand covering her mouth.

“Later, Jennie,” Nayeon pulls you away as a crowd starts to form, hiding you as best she could before anyone notices.

Nayeon leads you out of the building, forcing you to sit on a bench as she makes a phone call. She lets you know she’s calling her driver to take you home, but it doesn’t process as your blood’s still boiling over what you witnessed.

You have half the mind to go back inside and continue with your fists, but when you go to stand, Nayeon’s pushing you down. “No,” Nayeon says firmly, “Sit your ass down. You’re not going back in there.”

“But-” You try to speak for the first time since.

“Absolutely not.” Nayeon glares. “My uncle will take care of it. Leave the rest to them.”

“Fine,” You pout, rolling your eyes.

Nayeon keeps her gaze on you as she speaks with her driver. She ends the call, “Habin will be here in about ten minutes.” She sits next to you, crossing her legs as she stares at you curiously.

After a few seconds too long of feeling uncomfortable, you can’t take it anymore, grunting out, “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Nayeon says, shrugging, but you can sense the curiosity getting to her.

“You’re staring.”

“Would you believe me if I told you you're hot?” There’s a teasing tone in her voice that has you rolling your eyes.

“No.”

“Well you are,” Nayeon chuckles, “But that’s not why I’m staring.”

“Stop beating around the bush, ask what you want.”

“How long have you and Chaeyoung been seeing each other?”

The question catches you off guard. Of all people, Nayeon was the last one you expected to pick up on your relationship. Jennie told you that Nayeon was sharp, having a good intuition about things, and you should’ve believed her.

You go straight into denial, “What? Rosie and me? That’s absurd.”

Nayeon clicks her tongue, a satisfied humming sound leaves her throat, “Rosie?”

Shit.

None of Seoul’s elite refers to Rosie as ‘Rosie.’ In business meetings with foreign companies, yes, but in a casual conversation like this, no.

You sigh dejectedly. There’s no point in denying it. Nayeon wouldn’t believe you either way.

“A little over three years,” You confess, head dropping into your hands.

“Assuming her parents didn’t know their youngest was already in a relationship before Wonwoo?” Nayeon asks, hitting it right on the money.

“They did not,” You confirm, nodding in your palms.

“Wouldn’t approve, eh?” She’s right again as you grunt, taking that as an affirmative. “Well, I hope things work out in the end. If this doesn’t prove to Mr. Park you care about his daughter, nearly killing someone, then he’s an idiot.”

You actually smile.

-- --

It’s Monday and you’re not in your office.

Your assistant, Mina, texted you early this morning that you were to report to the Park’s building for a meeting with the CEO—Rosie’s father. You tried to get out of it, calling her as soon as you read it, but she couldn’t do anything. Your father specifically, borderline demanded, requested that your morning be cleared for this.

You hadn’t spoken to your parents since the gala. They blew up your phone as soon as they realized you left and after finding out what happened, thanks to Jisoo tipping you off about the flurry of messages and calls coming your way. You turned your phone off the following day, taking a much needed break from everyone. You didn’t hear from Rosie, which you were glad because you couldn’t face her. You were ashamed of getting violent in front of her. She didn’t need to see that side of you, but you couldn’t help it because it was her that was in danger.

You don’t regret it one bit though. You’d do it again without hesitation.

So here you are, waiting awkwardly in the seat as Mr. Park’s secretary types away at the screen.

When you arrived, she didn’t say anything to you except to have a seat and Mr. Park will be with you shortly.

You have no idea if you’re in trouble. The police didn’t show up at your place the day after, so you could safely assume no one was pressing charges. You do want to know what he said to Wonwoo that had him begging for forgiveness.

You haven’t seen your parents either. You’re under the assumption at least one of them would be here, but Mina herself didn’t know when you asked.

The office door opens and when you look who it is, it’s your father, motioning you to come in.

You bow when you stand, walking inside the office to Mr. Park leaning against his desk. He gives you a gentle smile when he sees you.

You automatically notice Rosie sitting off to the side on one of the couches near the window. She averts her gaze when she meets yours, something deflating inside of you.

“Please,” The Park patriarch gestures to the seat in front of him. “Sit.” It’s not a demand, but there’s no question you won’t do what he says.

Your father takes the seat next to yours, clearing his throat, “Chaeyoung told us some things this morning.”

You brace yourself, not sure which direction this conversation was going to go. You and Rosie never discussed what you would tell your parents, so she could have literally said anything.

When you don’t respond, your father continues, “It’s been brought to our attention that you’ve been actually dating for the past three years. Is that right?”

You nod, waiting for the pin to drop.

It never does because Mr. Park says, “Thank you for protecting my daughter.”

Uh?

You laugh awkwardly, hand reaching to scratch the back of your neck, “Yes, of course, sir.”

“No, you don’t understand. My daughter was engaged to him, and he’s disgusting,” You’ve never heard such contempt from someone. “If I actually announced their engagement while he tried something like that, it would look bad and my daughter would be stuck with a monster.”

“What he’s saying,” Your father can tell you’re confused, “Is that if you and Chaeyoung decide to be together, we approve. Your mother’s very proud of you for being quick to stop something bad from happening, though a little scared what would’ve happened if no one intervened, but regardless, it’s okay.”

Your shoulders feel so light after hearing those words come out of his mouth. You nod in understanding, doing your best to keep your composure.

“We’ll let you be. We have lunch to go over some things,” Your father says, a gentle hand squeezes your shoulder.

Mr. Park’s hand’s in your face, forcing you to shake it as you stand up, bowing graciously as they walk out of the room, leaving you alone with Rosie, who still hasn’t looked you in the eye since you walked in.

Once the door shuts, you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Rosie,” You say softly, but she still doesn’t look up. She keeps her eyes focused on the floor. You roll your eyes, walking to stand in front of her, kneeling to be in her line of sight. “Chaeng.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosie’s lips quiver, tears visibly forming in her eyes. “I should’ve called you yesterday, but my mother and Alice took me out of the city. I was so shaken up.”

“Hey, hey,” You reach for her hands, kissing them softly to soothe her worries. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. We’re okay. You’re okay right?” She nods solemnly. “Then don’t worry.”

“I should explain-” Your index finger presses against her lips.

“No need,” You brush off casually. You didn’t need to hear it. There’s a high chance you’d just get riled up having to hear about it.

“I was breaking up with him,” Rosie mumbles against your finger. “I started to walk away so I could tell my father when he, he-” Her voice cracks.

You move swiftly, wrapping your arms around her as you pull her into an embrace, gently soothing her arm as you kiss the top of her head, “Baby it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”

“I love you,” Rosie cries into your chest, burying her face into you as her body shakes against yours. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Words aren’t needed. You hug Rosie tighter, silently promising to never let her go. You can’t change what happened, but you can control what happens next.

“I love you,” You whisper against her temple, kissing softly as she breaks down in your arms even more. “Is it a bad time to ask you out?”

Rosie shakes her head, giggling through the tears, “Like on an actual date?” She lifts her head, a watery smile painted on her face.

You nod, lips curling up as you wipe the tears away.

“Yes.”

-- --

You hang your arm loosely around Rosie’s shoulder, waiting for your driver to pick you up to take you home. She laughs at something Jennie says, but you’re hardly paying attention to their conversation.

Your mind is preoccupied on other things.

It’s Rosie’s birthday and Lisa rented out a club in Hongdae to celebrate.

It’s been a few months since that night. Rosie and you have had to learn how to navigate your relationship in the public eye. Aside from many gossip columns speculating about the sudden romance, there have been numerous business analysts forecasting a merger between the families.

Which your father has told you would happen if you were to propose to Rosie in the future.

Something that you want to do now, even though Rosie thinks it’s best to wait a year for the sake of appearances.

“Oppa,” Jennie whines as Lisa holds her up, the effects of alcohol hitting her and the woman next to you. “Let’s go to one more place! I’m hungry.”

“Go to McDonald’s,” You roll your eyes, irritated with your cousin.

You want to spend some time with Rosie, alone, because of the little stunts she’s been pulling throughout the night.

She’s been relentlessly teasing you, drifting her hand on your thigh, even brazenly palming you over your jeans underneath the table while the cake was brought out.

You did your best to keep a straight face through it all, but it was hard when she asked you to dance with her friends. You usually shied away from any public displays of affection besides holding hands, but you couldn’t resist her.

Especially with the way she was dancing on you.

“Baby,” Rosie pouts, looking up at you. “Can we go with them?”

“Chaeng,” Your jaw clenches, sending her a pointed look.

“Oi,” Lisa laughs. You see her shaking her head in your periphery.

“Please,” Rosie ignores her friend. She even makes her lip quiver, that you have no choice but to say fine. She claps her hands excitedly before giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you,” She murmurs against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s your birthday,” You clear your throat. “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” Rosie leans back, raising an eyebrow.

You nod hesitantly. There’s a mirthful gleam in her eyes that whatever you had in mind, she has something else.

Rosie’s lips move slowly against yours, tongue dipping in and around your mouth that has every nerve firing. Your hands tighten on her hips, guiding her movements, even though you’ve been powerless since you arrived back at your place.

There’s too many things going on at once that have you blanking out. The only thing you can remotely focus on is the sensation of her slick over your cock.

It’s been torture watching, feeling, Rosie grind herself on you without letting you inside. You’re not sure what her end game is, but you’re dying for something other than this. It’s hot, no shit, but you’ve been on edge the whole night that you’re almost ninety-nine percent sure the moment her walls touch your length, you’ll bust.

“God,” Rosie moans against you, body shaking, and it’s orgasm number two for her without any relief for you.

“Baby, please,” You whine, hands gripping her waist as she starts moving again. You’re at the point of begging.

Rosie’s hands are on your chest, pushing herself up. You make the mistake of glancing down and your cock’s nestled in between her lips, covered in a light sheen from her orgasms, and there’s precum leaking from your tip.

“What’s wrong?” The teasing tone in her voice as you watch her swirl her hips in a circle has you hypnotized. Your cock brushes against her clit and you swear you feel her pulse.

“Why are you being a fucking tease?” You groan, head thrown back as she continues to rub herself along your length.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rosie murmurs, placing her hands on your abdomen.

After a few more minutes, your tip brushes against her opening. She lets out a surprised moan at the unexpected intrusion. Much to your dismay, she doesn’t take you in.

“Chaeng,” You inhale sharply. “Seriously, come on.”

Rosie hums, clicking her tongue as if an idea just came to her.

“What if I got pregnant?”

What?

“Like, can you imagine? My father would probably kill you,” Rosie says casually when you don’t respond, too stunned by her question. “You’re practically throbbing down there.”

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind. You’re definitely going to propose to Rosie when she thinks it’s the right time. You’ve talked about having kids, something you couldn’t care much for, but she’s thrown around the idea of it. If you wanted kids, you’d want her to be the mother.

Though, the process of having kids is what gets you the most.

Something Rosie knows absolutely gets you wild, nearly feral at the thought of filling her m as much as possible.

“Chaeng,” Your voice is low, hands stopping her movements. “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck a baby in you?”

“I mean,” Rosie shrugs, casting her hair behind her back, “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

“What fucking problem?” Your patience’s running thin as your hips involuntarily roll up.

“You know, the one where girls think you’re still single, even though all of Seoul should know you’re taken,” Rosie rolls her eyes, and her attitude is pissing you off.

Your mind replays every situation, every interaction you had tonight. Mostly everyone that was there was your friend. There were a few people you knew of, but didn’t engage with them as much since they were more Rosie’s friends than yours.

Nothing stands out, except for one.

A light bulb goes off in your head because Rosie doesn’t get jealous, per say.

Possessive is a better word to describe it.

While Rosie was off taking shots with her friends, you were idly sitting at the table, waiting for Jungkook and Minwoo when a girl you didn’t know walked up to you. You weren’t sure if she was Rosie’s friend, but when she introduced herself as Chaewon, you knew what she wanted and you were her target for the night.

You generally don’t entertain women when they come up to you, but Chaewon had disarmed you easily, charming you with a coy smile and flirty glances that you completely missed the daggers Rosie was sending her and you across the room.

The moment immediately passed as soon as Rosie plopped herself on your lap, crossing her legs in between yours, before kissing you heatedly that by the time she took her lips off you, Chaewon disappeared.

It paints a clearer picture why Rosie’s suddenly dangling pregnancy in your face. It’s more for her to claim you than anything.

“Is that what you want?” You sit up, wrapping your arms around her body. Kissing her softly before murmuring, “You want people to know who I belong to?”

“I’m sure people know,” Rosie whispers seductively, “But it wouldn’t hurt for them to know that I’m the one that you can’t keep your hands off.”

“Baby, I’m sure they know,” You smile against her lips.

“Well,” Rosie huffs, too distracted by the way you move your mouth over hers, tongue finding its way in between her lips. “I want them to know for sure.”

“Then let me fuck you baby,” Your hips roll up, brushing against her clit as she moans. She shakes her head, gently pushing you to lay back.

Rosie’s hand slips between your bodies, a light grip encircling your cock as she aims the tip to her opening. She gently slaps the head, catching her clit in the process, before settling at her entrance.

“Rosie,” You grit out, eyes locked on your cock in between her folds.

“Watch me,” Rosie positions herself, careful not to slide you in just yet, placing her hands to balance on your cock.

It’s something you’ll never tire of, no matter how many times you and Rosie have sex—and it’s a lot.

Her hips swivel, adjusting, as she slowly drops down, your cock disappearing in her body. You’re engulfed by her heat, her walls stretch to accommodate your size, and you see stars as your eyes roll back.

“Baby,” Rosie’s voice cracks, “Eyes on me.”

Your gaze falls back to your cock gone, completely sheathed by her that she uses her inner muscles to squeeze. You can’t help but thrust into her, jolting her body as her breasts bounce.

“Nope,” Rosie clicks her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment. “Hands here,” She places them in the divot where her legs meet her hips, hands over yours as she slowly rocks her hips.

“God,” She chokes out, “We fuck a lot, yet it’s always so much.”

You don’t have any words because you’re too blissed out by her movements. Any coherent thoughts are out the window because she’s right.

It is so much.

You’re lost in her that your eyes roll back once she moves up carefully, methodically, before dropping her hips over you, repeating the motion that has you gripping her thighs roughly.

“Imagine,” Rosie says lowly, looking at you through hooded eyes, “If you did get me pregnant. Just me carrying your child because you couldn’t help yourself. The media would be all over us.”

Her words trigger a memory of the first time you and Rosie had sex, deciding together to go without a condom because she was safe and she trusted you enough. You don’t think you’ve ever fucked anyone like you fucked her.

“Baby,” You can’t control the moan that falls from your lip after a hard drop. “Don’t.”

“What?” She stops her movement, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want to? You’re the only guy I’ve ever let cum inside me.”

“Jesus fuck, Chaeng,” Your hands drop from her hips. “You’re a fucking—”

“Tease? Slut? Whore?” Rosie swivels her hips in a figure eight, cutting you off. “It doesn’t matter what anyone calls me. I’m yours.”

You have no control over your body as your hips move on its own accord, meeting every one of her gyrations with precision.

“Come on,” Rosie goads, bending forward to kiss you briefly on the lips, “You don’t want everyone to know that?”

Of course you do. People do know that Rosie’s yours, but the love bites and the like don’t compare to her being pregnant—the ultimate claim.

In a quick move, keeping your cock in between her legs, you reverse positions, and Rosie’s on her back.

“God yes,” Nails digging into your shoulders as you slide your length from her warmth before snapping forward.

You buck into Rosie, thrusting wildly as the need to breed her takes the forefront of your mind. The thought of her belly swollen has you nearly going feral.

You try to lean back, wanting to see your cock spearing through her walls, but her grip takes her with you. You watch as she rolls her body in waves, mesmerizing you as your cock moves in and out. Your hand splays over her stomach, and you could be imagining it, but you swear you feel your cock hitting her front walls.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Rosie taunts, eyes barely open with a dopey smile on her face.

You grunt, too engrossed as she leans back, one hand on your shoulder as the other rests over your hand. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, bouncing rapidly on your cock like she’s in heat. Your thumb sneaks down, slipping underneath her hood to rub her clit. Her eyes widen before a sudden pressure grips your length.

Rosie screams as her orgasm rips through her body, back arching as she pushes her chest forward, before convulsing, spasming all over you before you feel your cock getting forced out. A stream of clear liquid expels from her, drenching your crotch and thighs. You groan at her squirting because it’s happened before, but holy shit this feels more intense, more primal as you watch her eyes roll back at the pleasure consuming her body.

She lets go, body falling limp on the bed as you stare at the woman you love in complete awe. Her pussy’s soaked, hole pulsing as she swings her leg over you, rolling onto her stomach.

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, but you’re surprisingly still hard, that you can’t wait. You move her legs with ease, straightening one and slightly bending the other before settling between her legs.

“You didn’t cum?” Rosie asks, surprised, voice shaking as you aim your cock at her opening again.

“No,” You’re able to answer before sinking in, engulfed by her heat once more.

It won’t take you very long because you’re rutting into her like your life depending on it. Hips rolling after every thrust has your stomach tightening from your impending orgasm.

“You fuck me so well,” She moans uncontrollably, sobbing into the pillow as she continues to babble nonsense, hands balling into the bedsheets.

You’re hardly paying attention to what she’s saying as you watch her ass ripple with every thrust. Your hands grip her cheeks, spreading them wide to her puckered hole.

“Would you let me fuck your ass?” You ask, absentmindedly massaging the muscles. She doesn’t need to answer because her body does for her, her walls tightening at the question. “That’s a yes,” Chuckling as you save that for a later time.

Rosie mumbles something into the pillow that has you leaning forward, pressing your cheek against hers.

“What was that?” Hips never ceasing as they continue their onslaught, slamming in and out.

“Daddy please. Cum inside me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The word had never been used before, but it sparked something dark in you. Your hips stutter, breaking your rhythm, after one, two, three thrusts you explode inside of her, painting her inner walls that trigger another orgasm from the woman wrapped around your cock.

“God—shit, fuck,” You lazily thrust inside her one more time before groaning against her hair.

Your cock twitches as her velvet walls keep contracting, draining you for all that you have, making sure you don’t leave her empty.

You move her hair to the side, exposing her neck and back, placing soft, tender kisses—a stark contrast to what you were just doing to her—all over her skin. You don’t want to pull out, too comfortable with her snug warm walls, and you’re almost certain she wouldn’t care if you stayed inside her, too cock drunk to even notice.

Rosie lets out a pathetic whine as you regretfully pull out. Your cock’s covered in your shared fluids as her you take a good look at the mess you made. You notice a dribble of cum ooze out of her lower lips, and just to fuck with her more since you’re a little shit, you use your finger to push it back in.

“Hey,” Rosie moans softly as you deftly massage her walls, spreading the load. “Too much.”

You nod, removing your finger, but not without brushing over her clit. She weakly slaps you away as you chuckle, dropping your weight next to her. She immediately turns to face you, pulling you into her and throwing a leg lazily over yours.

You bask in the moment, letting the endorphins release as you listen to Rosie sigh contentedly.

“You’re not serious about getting pregnant, right?” You ask, slightly nervous as the post-orgasm clarity hits.

Rosie giggles, shaking her head as she looks at you, “You really think I’d go off birth control without talking to you?”

Smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know. It just caught me off guard.”

“Sorry, just felt extra attentive for you tonight since it was my birthday,” Rosie kisses your jaw.

“Do you mean jealous?” You quip, which earns you a light slap on the chest.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I don’t get jealous,” Rosie pouts all cutely that you chuckle.

“I can’t help that I’m such a hot commodity,” Another slap.

“Yeah well you’ve been off the market for almost four years, you think I’m going to really let some girl get to me?”

“I’ve had to go on dates with people my parents set me up with. How do you know I didn’t sleep with them?” You tease, earning a pinch this time.

“Because you literally came over after every single one,” Rosie rolls her eyes. “I’d remind you that there wouldn’t be anyone else, don’t you remember?”

The few dates your parents forced you to go on resulted in some of the hottest sex you’ve had with Rosie. You remember vividly the things she did so you never had to think twice about being with another woman.

It’s making you hard again at the memory.

“I feel you twitching,” Rosie smirks, shaking her head. “Let’s sleep first, okay?”

“Fine,” You pout. Though, you have one more question. “One last thing?”

Rosie hums, snuggling into the crook of your neck.

“Marry me?”

Rosie pulls back, gaze meeting yours, searching your face for an answer she only knows. “You’re serious this time.”

“I’m serious every time I ask,” You scoff.

“No, but this is different,” Rosie sits up. “Do you have a ring?”

“In my sock drawer, all the way in the back,” You answer simply.

You watch her slide out of bed, walking to the dresser. She slips on one of your old university shirts from when you studied abroad before digging through the mentioned drawer. She pulls the small velvet box out before joining you on the bed.

“How long have you had this?” She asks softly, staring at the box.

“Honestly?” Rosie nods. “Two years. Lisa’s the only one that knows. Jennie might, but if she does, she’s never said anything.”

“You were that sure about us?” Her voice trembles as she looks at you.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what was going to happen back then, but all you did know was that you wanted to be with Rosie. You would’ve given everything up right then and there if your parents didn’t approve.

You still would.

“You’re a big softie, you know that?” Rosie smiles.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I have an image to uphold.”

The small box is placed in your hands, and Rosie gives you an encouraging smile.

“You sure? Didn’t you want to wait a year?”

Rosie shrugs, “It was advised by Alice, mainly because it was already a big deal that two rivaling companies’ kids were dating that she suggested waiting was the best for the news outlets to cool down. But at this rate, I don’t think I could wait.”

You open the box, the diamond shining brightly in the low lit room.

It’s a fond memory of how you picked this ring, mainly because of the woman you took with you. She dragged you to five different places, even suggesting flying to Paris since she had connections there. You argued that leaving to Europe would raise suspicion to Rosie. Lisa pointed out some ostentatious design with diamonds around the band would be the best, which the jeweler agreed—most likely wanting to get a bigger commission. You shook your head, opting for a simple solitaire, a three-carat diamond that still had a hefty price tag.

You take a deep breath, smiling at the woman in your bed, unshed tears in her eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. A thousand times yes,” Rosie cries, throwing her arms around you as she pulls you into a heated kiss.

You drop the box, uncaring about where it goes. Your hands find themselves on her hips, lifting your fiancée onto your lap. Neither of you are clothed from the waist down, and you’re surprised with how wet she is.

“Already?” You murmur against her lips.

“Shut up,” Rosie breaks the kiss, embarrassed as she buries her face into your neck. “Can’t help it,” She sucks lightly, marking your skin.

“What about sleep?” You moan, rocking her body along your hardening cock.

“Later,” Rosie mumbles, “I’m engaged. Let me celebrate, daddy.”

You groan at the new nickname, earning a giggle.

“Who knew you had a daddy kink,” Rosie teases, kissing you on the lips again. “I probably have a praise kink.”

“Be a good girl for me then,” You say, easily slipping into character.

“It’s not hard to be,” Rosie trails her lips along your jaw, peppering kisses as she slyly slides her hand in between your bodies. “Especially with a cock like this,” She sighs as she slowly strokes your stiffness.

“I love you,” You tilt your head back as she moves herself lower, eager for whatever she has in store.

“I know, I love you too, my fiancé.”

-- -- --

#blackpink smut #blackpink rose #blackpink park chaeyoung #rosie smut #park chaeyoung smut #park chaeyoung

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serpentandlily · 8 months

Text

Untouchable II - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body.

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.”

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two.

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months.

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories.

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning.

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice.

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.”

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead.

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.”

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield.

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it.

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?”

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.”

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears.

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line.

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.”

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye.

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between.

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here.

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.”

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain.

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours.

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied.

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come.

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way.

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd.

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind.

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.”

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder.

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you.

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you.

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.”

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?”

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.”

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

“What is your problem?!”

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.”

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes.

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip.

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass.

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night.

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood.

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard.

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.”

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.”

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt.

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.”

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of?

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face.

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin.

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears.

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office.

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?"

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine."

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know."

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this."

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching.

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?"

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #shadowsinger x reader #angst #azriel fic

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blue-blue-blooms · 23 days

Text

A Little Crush

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

#eddie munson #stranger things fic #corroded coffin #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff

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uglypastels · 29 days

Text

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

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

Word Count: 10k

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

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

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

Author's Previous Works | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

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

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❀❀❀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Please, call me Eddie.’

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

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

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Understood.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was clear this is how you were to die.

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

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

You screamed bloody murder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Eddie.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied.

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

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

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

‘Yes, mother.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued...

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

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diqldrunks · 2 months

Text

DATE ME TO SCARE THEM — R. CAMERON

summary: rafe cameron didn't do girlfriends, or make deals — so why did he agree so quickly to being your fake boyfriend — for the sole purpose of pissing off your parents? (based off the song 18 by anarbor)

a/n: this is very different from the original which got lost when my acc got terminated

cw/tw: none! this is really short but other parts will be much longer!! asks for rafe (in this au and others) are open!! anons are welcome!

word count: 0.8k

DMTST — PART ONE

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:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

you and rafe had been sitting on the beach when you asked him.

it was late summer, and the sun was slowly setting. the two of you had spent the entire day together, and the entire time, rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something to upset you.

you had barely said 5 words to him that hadn’t been prompted by a question he asked you; there was an air of awkwardness surrounding the two of you and any interaction you had, and rafe hated it.

he spent ages going over anything and everything he had said, trying to figure it out. he'd eventually decided he'd had enough, and when you were reapplying your lip gloss, he decided to speak up.

"sweets," he asked, using the nickname he began using years ago after he realised the extent of your sweet tooth, "everything good with you? anything going wrong in your little world that i can help out with?"

the two of you had met two years ago, when your parents had dragged you to an overly formal dinner at the country club after you had moved — you were sat across from him and one of his sisters, sarah. together, the three of you tried to tune out the insufferably dull conversations that were happening — with one of ways being rafe and sarah explaining kildare to you, introducing the concept of ‘pogues’ and ‘kooks’ (with sarah later introducing you to some of her kook friends without rafe’s knowledge).

after a couple of these dinners, the three of you became friends — with it soon becoming commonplace for you to spend days and nights at the cameron’s’. you spent mornings in town shopping, afternoons on the boat and evenings at parties. though you met other people your age — both kooks and pogues — and became friendly with them, rafe and sarah were always the ones you were closest to.

over time, sarah became more distant, and your afternoons on the beach as a trio became just you and rafe. your parents weren’t that happy, having voiced their dislike for the boy, but as they worked away for business a lot, they didn’t have a chance to stop it. this month, they were away again, in chicago this time for a series of conferences, but were coming back in a few days.

they had phoned you a few weeks ago, and were clearly excited to be talking to you — one of their business executive friends had a son, and, although they didn’t say it explicitly, they expected you to go on a few dates with him. his name was matthew, and he was coming to outer banks with his father a few days after your parents return.

you were anxious and angry, and for days had been racking your brain for a solution — one that you could make last as long as you matthew went back home. you had eventually came up with a plan — it was risky, and frankly just a terrible idea, but it should work. you just had to get rafe on board.

you looked to rafe, his hair almost glowing gold from the sunlight.

"i need you to be my boyfriend."

the brunette paused, one of his hands frozen in place as it hovered over the cooler from where he was about to grab a second beer.

he was silent for a moment, his eyebrows slightly raised so the ends of his hair began to cover them.

"i'm sorry sweets, i need to what?"

this time your voice was louder than before, but still quiet enough that rafe had to try and block out the sound of the crashing waves to hear you clearly. "i need you to date me for the next two weeks — three at a push."

you take a quick look at rafe before turning you attention back to the hands in your lap as you continue to talk. "it's my parents — they're coming to visit for a few weeks and the last time i spoke to them, they were trying to set me up with one of their business friend’s sons — a guy called matthew-"

rafe ran a hand through his hair. "god sweets, do i really have to get dragged into this? your parents despise me-"

"that’s why this is so perfect rafe. they are setting me up for misery — let’s be real, matthew’s going to be as dull as a rock. i want to throw this stupid idea back in their faces — make sure they won’t do this again."

"you’re gonna use me to piss off your parents, sweets?" rafe smirked, remembering just how much you're parents hated him. "fake date me just so you can scare them?” rafe pauses, pretending to think. god, he was insufferable. “i don't know, seems like an awfully one sided deal..."

you needed rafe to agree, otherwise you risk sitting opposite full matthew at the country club for dinner. "rafe cameron i will literally do anything for you to agree."

rafe smirked. "if you say so sweets."

rafe taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @izabellaemerson @spiderflunk @kitty-m30w @vincapandora @uraesthete @wickedtactics @harmoneeee24 @starkeybae @fairydvstss @alexiskirkland @devils-blackrose @makaylalovessmut @winterrrnight @clearbolts @slayystuff @neilove @littlemissborntolose @emyslittlebubble @ldrsog @stargrltara @isabelllauer @alexasznisforever @zizuras @sadgirlelenora @djosfuture @leaskisses444

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bunniesanddeer · 3 months

Note

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help.

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots.

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you.

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him.

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?”

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side.

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care.

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match.

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit.

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her.

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry.

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it.

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #bun's short fics

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m0nsterqzzz · 3 months

Text

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination.

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand.

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.”

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.”

“Always?”

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!”

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #fluff #valentines day #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #cats #don't call my bitch the lightning theif percy!#what was that ending?#11 days late lol #valentines gifts #valentines day fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

Note

Am I the asshole for not letting my husband have a say for the guest list of our baby shower?

I (21 f) and my husband (25 m) moved very quickly in our relationship, much to the judgement of my sister. We moved in with each other after a month of dating and she basically told me it was a stupid idea. We also got eloped with no family or friends there four months after that. When I texted my sister we got married (yes, I texted everyone instead of called) she asked if it was a joke and when I said yes then sent a picture of marriage license as proof, she didn’t respond for days. She called me later which I sent to voicemail, which was basically her crying saying she always imagined she’d be at my wedding and was hurt. I was upset because no one was invited or even told about the engagement; that was the point of eloping. The rest of my family was pretty happy for us though and I focused on that.

We didn’t talk for months because I wanted an apology, or at least a congratulations on getting married. She texted me a few times about nothing important (she sent a few memes). An apology never happened, but I started to text her again because I found out I was pregnant and wanted her to know about it. I called her about it eventually and she was supportive.

Before the Not Talking stage happened, her and my husband didn’t get along. She has made multiple passive aggressive comments about our relationship in the past. There was one time she visited us that made my husband upset because she showed up with little notice and also insisted on visiting again when our cat gave birth to her litter of kittens. She talked about helping and I didn’t really think anything of it. My husband later said he was upset she acted like she knew our cat better than us based off a couple of other comments she made and didn’t like how she invited herself over. I don’t think she meant anything negative about it, but it was annoying she insisted on one specific cat thing we told her we had under control and didn’t stop pestering until my mom called the vet to ask for advise and the vet agreed with my husband and I about how we handled the cat situation. I’m not sure if I explained that well but I honestly don’t know how to describe it without going into too much detail. This is just background info.

My husband and I wanted to do a gender reveal for the baby. We agreed on the theme and had a general date in mind. I invited my immediate family, best friend, and his immediate family that he talked to (which only consisted of three people). He said he didn’t want my sister at the gender reveal and this caused a huge fight. He said if she was there then he wouldn’t show up and I could tell him the babies gender on the phone. I cancelled the gender reveal because I didn’t want to uninvite my sister when she hasn’t made any bad comments in months and also wasn’t about to have my husband not be there. In my mind, there’s zero point in having one if both parents aren’t there. We found out gender by having our doctor write it down on a paper and we opened it later by ourselves. We told everyone over the phone what we are having.

Now, I am pretty far along in my pregnancy and my family wanted to set up a baby shower for me. I let them and we set up a date for it. My husband and I talked about the baby shower multiple times and looked forward to it. I Facebook invited the same people I invited to the gender reveal to the baby shower and he wasn’t happy when he saw my sister was again on that list. Him and my sister has only seen each other one time during these months, which was at a funeral. My sister initiated a handshake which he accepted and asked how he was. He answered fine and that was the end of it.

The baby shower argument was the same for gender reveal. He didn’t want her there and he didn’t want to come if she was there. He said I shouldn’t want someone who has done nothing but disrespect both of us in the past year to be at this event and should get a say in who comes and who doesn’t. There’s no excuse for the things my sister has done and said but it felt wrong to exclude her. If she wasn’t going to be invited to the baby shower, then what was his opinion on our son’s birthdays and other events? We couldn’t do this forever. She hasn’t been rude in months but we never got an apology. I’m also a little bitter about it but I’m trying to not be harsh. At this point, I didn’t say much when my husband said she couldn’t be there. This is because we just got done with a different argument about something completely different and he said he was done about certain things. I said ‘like what?’ and he told me he didn’t want my sister at the baby shower.

He said he wouldn’t have invited anyone that has disrespected me and I shouldn’t either. It sounds fair but it also sounds very black and white. I get along with the family he talks to outside of family events. I don’t get along with a couple of extended family members but he doesn’t get a say in who was invited to those events and never talks to them outside of those family events even before we were together. I didn’t really say anything for my argument because I knew he wouldn’t agree with it anyway. This sounds calm but he was very angry and I was crying pretty hard. He asked over and over again if she was coming to the baby shower and I refused to respond. If I say she’s not coming then I’ll have to follow my word and uninvite her, probably causing arguments within my family. If I say she is then he won’t come. (I’m not sure if this is relevant but my husband and I are both autistic and have been known to shut down and stim when we’re upset). He said he’s tired of being disrespected when I refused to answer for 30+ minutes and wanted a divorce. He crumbled up our marriage license and took my wedding ring off my finger.

He didn’t say anything about the baby shower and started asking questions about the divorce. ‘How much do you want in child support? When do you want to do visitation? Etc.’ I refused to answer for a while but he kept asking and I mostly gave vague answers like ‘whatever you want’ all while still crying. I didn’t say much except to say he was staying and we weren’t getting a divorce.

I don’t remember what happened next and what I said, but he eventually said that I had one more chance to choose him because he’s always chosen me. This is true because he has put me first. He works a lot while I’m not working this pregnancy and always makes sure I eat and everything. I’m not sure what’s going on with baby shower. I think he said that she can come if I put up boundaries about being nice otherwise she can’t come. I think this will start an unnecessary fight because she hasn’t done anything in many months so it seems insulting. I didn’t say anything though. We fell asleep and cuddled and he apologized the next morning before he left for work. He said he was more mad that I refused to talk. I, personally, was more upset about the marriage license he crumpled up. I still didn’t say anything but ok. He still hates my sister and expects me to tell her to be respectful.

I don’t know what to think really. I sound like a jerk for not letting him have a say for baby shower. It is his kid too. I also don’t want to divide my family by not inviting my sister, but he’s also my family. I know he acted like a jerk for the argument but that doesn’t necessarily means he’s wrong about the guest list and having a say. So would I be TA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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fiction-is-life · 11 months

Text

Calling Out to You

Summary: You reconnect with an old friend during the Season, but the young Viscount is not the same as the boy you grew up with. Requested by @junevoidzombie

Warnings: Description of injuries, minor character death, period misogyny, Anthony being difficult

“Help!” you called, starting to panic as the evening air grew cooler and the forest grew dimmer. You sniffled and wiped your nose on the sleeve of your dress; your mama was going to be so angry, but the dress was ruined now anyways. “Is anybody out here?” you cried.

You heard a twig snapping in the distance, and your head snapped up. You let out a pitiful hiccup, but you finally stopped your incessant blubbering. You waited a few more moments, hoping the sound would come closer, but it didn’t. It must have been an animal, you thought.

“Who’s there?” a voice called. It didn’t sound particularly friendly, but any help was better than staying out here.

“My name is (Y/N)!” you called back. “I tripped and now I fear I have sprained my ankle.”

“Hold on. I shall be there in a moment, miss,” the voice called back, this time slightly closer.

In less than a minute, a figure started to take form in the growing darkness. As he grew closer, you realized that he was younger than you were expecting - perhaps only three years older than yourself. He had the most beautiful dark hair and eyes, though, and you became conscious of the horrible disarray you were currently in.

He knelt beside you. “I know you said your ankle is injured; is there any way you think you can stand on it, with my assistance?”

You shook your head. “I have already tried, sir.”

“Anthony,” he interrupted. He cleared his throat. “You must call me Anthony, miss.”

Your face lit up with a smile. “Then you must call me (Y/N), Anthony. My family just moved here from Hertfordshire. We now live at Turring Manor, and I was exploring the country when I fell.”

He smiled back shyly. “Well, it would most likely be easier to carry you to my family’s home. It is much closer than Turring Manor, and the sun is already setting.”

“That would be most appreciated, Anthony. Thank you!” you replied eagerly.

The next thing you knew, Anthony was lifting you off of the ground, being extra careful to not jostle your hurt leg too much. Once you were off of the ground, however, Anthony looked at you while a blush crept across his cheeks. “Um, it might be easier to walk if you put your arms around me as well. I wouldn’t want your leg to pain you more than necessary,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“Very well,” you whispered. You couldn’t help your own blush as you did as he asked you. Once that was done, he set off in the direction he had come from.

“Anthony, there you are darling! Wherever have you been?” A very beautiful woman came down the steps as you approached the very impressive home. It must be Anthony’s mother; the resemblance was uncanny.

“I am sorry I am late, mother, but our new neighbor fell in our woods and could not walk home,” Anthony explained.

The lady’s eyes finally fell on you and concern filled them. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cried. “Anthony, bring her up to the yellow bedchamber. I shall have the maids draw a bath and bring her something to eat.”

Anthony’s mother sprung into action, and before you knew it, you were being laid upon a soft bed and Anthony was being shooed out of the room. After a luxurious bath, you were given a silk nightgown borrowed from one of Anthony’s sisters.

Said sisters (at least two of them - you had heard there was at least one more) came to keep you company before it was time to go to bed. You could tell you all would become fast friends although the two girls were as different as could be. Daphne was content to stay and practice piano while Eloise was always ready for an adventure. Life would certainly not be dull living so close to Aubrey Hall.

“So Anthony really carried you all the way from the woods because you fell?” Daphne questioned as you explained what had happened that day.

“Yes, he did. I couldn’t be more grateful; my parents would have been worried sick if they had not heard from me,” you said.

Daphne sighed, a dreamy look taking over her features. “That is so romantic. Like a knight rescuing the princess in the stories papa tells us. Right, Eloise?” Daphne gushed.

Eloise rolled her eyes at her older sister’s antics. “Anthony is hardly a knight in shining armor, Daphne. You are being silly,” Eloise retorted.

Seeing how a fight was about to break out, you said, “He may not be a knight of olde but he certainly rescued me today.”

Eloise and Daphne looked at each other, slow smiles growing on each of their faces, making you nervous. “Do you love our brother, (Y/N)?” they squealed in unison.

“What? Of course not! We just met!” you protested, but the butterflies flying in your stomach told a different story.

“Anthony! You and Benedict - and Colin if he can behave himself and not eat all the biscuits - must come to my tea party this afternoon,” Daphne decreed at the breakfast table. Her proclamation was met with several groans and one small protest of “Hey!”

Anthony scowled at his younger sister. “Tea parties are for girls, Daphne. Besides, I have a shooting lesson this afternoon,” he said.

Daphne beamed despite the implied insult. “No you don’t! I already asked papa, and he has rescheduled your lesson. He hopes to join us for a bit after his meeting with Lord Aberly,” she said primly. Her eyes glimmered with a spark of mischief. “(Y/N) shall also be there,” she added in a sing-song voice.

“Fine, we shall attend your tea party.”

“Oh, come on, Anthony! Why did you have to accept for the both of us?”

“Are you excited for the new baby, Ant?” you asked as you strolled in Aubrey Hall’s garden.

He shrugged, making his broadening shoulders fill his jacket even more. He had changed so much in the year he had been away at university, but he was still the same Anthony, thank goodness. “I suppose. It is always nice to welcome a new sibling, but the novelty has worn off. Each baby is just like the last,” he chuckled.

You slapped his arm playfully, giggling as well. “How could you say that, Anthony?” you scolded. “Are you going to think that of your own children as well?”

You thought you saw his eyes flicker over your form with a strange expression in them, but it must have been a trick of the light for when his eyes returned to yours they were his normal welcoming brown.

“No, I shall probably become as tender-hearted as my father when each babe is welcomed. And dote on my wife for bringing such a miracle into the world,” he replied, that funny trick of the light occurring again and making your stomach inexplicably flip.

His father knelt to gather flowers for his mother, prompting Anthony to do the same. “I shall gather some for (Y/N). She was just admiring these daffodils the other day,” he spoke as he used his pocket knife to cut the loveliest blooms. “I believe I will do as you suggested and ask her -”

A thump behind him interrupted him.

“Father? Father!”

“Papa has inherited a piece of land in Scotland. We are leaving within the week to go there.” You stood in the door of what was now Anthony’s study. He looked so small and lost sitting there, his late father’s portrait above him.

He nodded his head briefly before looking back down at the papers before him that required his attention. “I shall see you when you return then. Safe travels,” he spoke in a clipped tone.

“You don’t understand. We are renting out Turring Manor and moving to Scotland.”

His head snapped up at this, but his eyes were distant and cold, his jaw set. There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, “Then I wish you all the best, Miss (Y/L/N). May God be with you.”

His terse farewell cut you like a knife. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “And with you, Lord Bridgerton.”

You fled the house before anyone could see your tears fall.

Anthony was in the middle of his set with Miss Sherwood when there was a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom. He looked to see a family enter, but they were blocked from his seeing their faces. Accepting defeat, he tipped the corners of his lips up in what Miss Sherwood would know as a fond smile as he resumed their dance, forgetting the interruption entirely as the dance came to an end.

“Brother! How was your dance with the lovely Miss Sherwood?” Benedict clapped him on the back and handed him a glass of punch as he joined him near the terrace doors.

He sighed, letting his austere Viscount visage fade just enough for Benedict to see how tired his brother was. “She is well-spoken and graceful.” He looked away from his brother and out towards the crowd. “She shall make a wonderful Viscountess.”

Benedict’s eyes softened but Anthony refused to look at him. “Will that be enough for you, Brother? A wife and a mother to your children?”

Anthony fixed a glare on Benedict that would have made a lesser man shrink back and admit defeat. “Isn’t that the point of the institution? I shall gain an heir and somebody to take care of my households while I provide her with a name and protection from material poverty.”

“Some might add love into that mission statement,” Benedict said with a hint of sarcasm.

Anthony paused, but his mind was more made up than ever. “I gave that notion up a long time ago, Brother. Love brings nothing but heartache,” he spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The brother’s staring contest was broken by a familiar voice. “Lord Bridgerton, Mr. Bridgerton.”

The tall, dark haired men bowed. “Lady Danbury, how do you do?” Benedict took on the lion’s share of the social niceties as Anthony still had that far off look in his eyes. He was not attending to the conversation at all, but Lady Danbury did not grow offended at his slight.

“Very well, Mr. Bridgerton. I wanted to introduce you both to someone. Her family has just moved back from Scotland - just in time for the season,” Lady Danbury continued, bringing you forward.

“(Y/N)!” Benedict cried, grabbing your hand to place a kiss onto your glove.

Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow in surprise, but her eyes were calculating. “So you two know each other?”

“Miss (Y/L/N)’s family used to be our neighbors. We spent many a day together before they moved away,” Benedict explained. You were glad for it as your tongue was tied.

“That is wonderful. Then you two can help me introduce Miss (Y/L/N) to some other members of the Ton,” Lady Danbury smiled but fixed her eagle gaze on Anthony who had broken out of his stupor enough to gaze open-mouthed at you. “Her family would like to see her settled.”

Benedict’s easy smile flashed. “That will not be so hard a task for one as lovely as you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You smiled wryly. “It may become a little more challenging when people hear this is by no means my first season out,” you spoke, with that familiar teasing lilt to your voice.

“Nonsense.” Your head snapped up at the almost angry outburst from the Viscount. He cleared his throat. “Many men will find you to be all the more acceptable for your age,” he said.

You smiled and Anthony made the mistake of looking at you - really looking at you - this time. “You are right, my lord. Many bachelors will be looking to find a wife before they themselves enter their dotage,” you teased, making Benedict laugh.

Anthony could not recover himself fast enough - perhaps tell you that were more beautiful than the day you left - before Benedict was offering you his hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

“Miss (Y/L/N), may I have your next set?” Anthony intercepted you the moment Benedict led you off the dance floor. He was spinning his signet ring on his pinkie finger.

“Of course, my lord,” you spoke even as he was already grasping your hand and leading you back onto the floor.

You spent half of the set in silence. You could tell even after all these years when Anthony needed time to think. You focused on the steps of the waltz and actively tried to ignore how it felt to be in his arms.

“How was Scotland?” Anthony finally broke the silence.

You blinked, startled. “It is a most beautiful country, my lord,” you replied.

He nodded. “Were there no eligible gentlemen there?”

Your brow furrowed. “Of course there were many,” you sputtered.

“Why did you not wed then?” The interrogation continued.

Your nostrils flared with your temper. “I do not believe that is any of your business, my lord,” you stated, a hint of anger behind your words. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, but I am a man; it is different.”

You scoffed, drawing the attention of some onlookers. “Yes, I suppose it is. I am but a woman. Therefore my only purpose is to wed and have babies.” You stopped dancing and broke out of his grasp. You stood with your fists clenched at your sides. “I heard you when you were near the terrace, my lord. I cannot countenance how much you have changed.”

He watched in equal parts anger and despair as you walked away from him and out the doors.

“Mama, what are these?” You fingered the petals of the daffodils that had been arranged in a beautiful bouquet.

“They must be from a potential suitor who saw how gracefully you danced with Benedict last night,” she replied, still not daring to mention the scene you had caused when you had stormed away from Anthony. “There is most likely a card in them, peach.”

There was indeed. You opened it to find a familiar neat hand.

I remembered these were your favourites, is all it read.

You closed the card and slipped it into your pocket. “They are just from Lord Bridgerton. An apology for our row.”

You purposely did not meet your mother’s eye so as not to see the look of disappointment that overtook her features.

“Who is that walking with Lady Danbury?”

“That is Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict quickly informed the fair-haired earl he and Anthony had been walking with along with Miss Sherwood. “Would you like me to introduce you both? She is an old friend of our family.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bridgerton, that would be delightful!” Miss Sherwood cried. “Wouldn’t it be, Lord Bridgerton?”

Anthony nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Most delightful.”

You and Lady Danbury had already come upon the group, and you paused. “Miss (Y/L/N), you must allow me to introduce my good friend Lord James Thatcher, the Earl of Wembey and Miss Sherwood of Bath.”

You curtsied politely to the both of them. “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” you said smoothly, years of good breeding taking over as your mind reeled. So this was the Miss Sherwood that he had spoken of.

“Miss (Y/L/N), would you care to join me on a small boat ride on the lake? It is the perfect weather for it,” Lord Wembey addressed you directly, startling you. You could feel Lady Danbury’s gaze on you.

“That would be most lovely, my lord,” you spoke as you took his proffered arm.

“Lord Wembey has invited us to attend the theater tonight with him in his box. Is that not lovely, my dear?” your mama crowed. This would not be the first time the handsome earl had singled you out in his attentions. They had become quite marked indeed.

“That is wonderful, mama,” you replied, not looking up from your needlework. “Shall I wear the yellow silk, do you think?” And the conversation turned back to fashion plates and fripperies.

The pall mall ball soared into the air - straight into the woods and definitely nowhere near the intended target. You were never good at pall mall, but what you lacked in talent you made up for in enthusiasm. And the annual tournament was no exception - especially since it was your first after returning.

“I suppose (Y/N) must return to the woods,” Eloise teased. “Hopefully you do not need to rescue her this time, Anthony.”

“Rescue her? Whatever do you mean, Miss Bridgerton?” Miss Sherwood asked.

You and Anthony both opened your mouths to explain, but Benedict beat you to it. “Many years ago, Miss (Y/L/N) was walking in our woods when she injured herself. Luckily for her, though, Anthony was there to help her home.”

“Oh, how wonderful! It was like fate brought you together,” Miss Sherwood gushed, just as Daphne had all those years ago.

Anthony cleared his throat and brushed his free hand down his pant leg, trying to dislodge an imaginary piece of lint. “Yes, well, it was a very long time ago, and I am sure the memory has been distorted until it seems much loftier than it is,” he spoke, more harshly than he meant in his flustered state. “Shall we play on? I believe it was your turn, Miss Sherwood.”

“I have noticed Lord Wembey and (Y/N) are spending a great deal of time together, Brother,” Daphne spoke as she entered Anthony’s study.

“Have they? I have not really noticed,” Anthony spoke with a clenched jaw, his pen arrested in mid air where it dropped a rogue dot of ink on the otherwise pristine page.

Daphne tilted her head and pursed her lips - a look she had perfected from childhood. “I find that hard to believe, Brother. Everyone expects him to propose - perhaps even tonight at mama’s ball,” she said. She huffed lightly as Anthony still did not look up from his work. “And people are also wondering why you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood yet.”

Anthony finally set down his pen and looked at her. “How are those two connected, Sister?” he ground out.

Daphne did not break eye contact. “Some people are saying that you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood because you hold a tendre for (Y/N),” she explained.

“Why would I care about the words of gossips?” Anthony growled.

Daphne leaned forward, her face set just as hard as his. “You may not care, but if you do not fix this, you could inadvertently tarnish (Y/N)’s reputation and ruin her chances at an excellent match.”

Daphne made her way back towards the corridor. “Maybe think about that, Brother,” she said before she shut the door behind her.

You rode fast and hard, uncaring of anything but getting away. You did not even care that the skies looked as if they would open up at any second and flood the ground beneath you. It would only be too fitting for your mood.

Another one.

You had rejected another perfectly suitable gentleman.

What was wrong with you? Lord Wembey was everything you were looking for in a husband. He was young, titled, wealthy beyond measure, kind hearted, well-read. He could do with some darker hair, but that was beyond his control.

You drew your horse up short at that thought. Were you seriously comparing Lord Wembey to Anthony - yes, for he was still Anthony in your thoughts - and finding Lord Wembey wanting?

You breathed heavily as that thought washed over you, and you wanted to scream.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Anthony appeared on horseback. He cut an even more impressive figure than he used to, but that was no wonder. His eyes locked on you, and he turned his horse to meet yours.

And you fled.

You could feel him following you, his better knowledge of the ground and larger steed allowing him to gain ground rapidly. You could feel the promised rain start to pummel your back, but you pushed your horse faster. Eating up ground faster than you could see it as your vision was blurred with rain and tears.

“(Y/N), watch out!” were the last words you heard before your body slammed into the ground.

You opened your eyes to see it was already light in your bedroom. Your mother sat beside you. “Mama?” you rasped, wincing at how it made your head ache.

The lines on your mother’s face smoothed as she looked at you, before promptly starting to sob. “Oh, you are awake! We thought we had lost you forever!”

You scrunched your forehead as you tried to sit up. You were immediately assisted by two maids. “What happened, mama?”

“Oh, you would have been lost without him! Going out for a ride in horrific weather, what were you thinking?” your mother was working up into one of her fits of hysteria.

“Mama!” you broke her off. “Lost without whom?”

“Oh, Anthony, of course! He saw you get thrown from your horse, and he carried you all the way back on his. He personally saw that the doctor was fetched, too, wonderful boy,” she gushed.

You fiddled with the comforter, unsure of what to say.

There was a knock on the door. You turned your head to see Anthony standing there, fidgeting with his signet ring just as he did in the days immediately following his father’s death.

“I shall leave you two to have a moment of privacy,” your mother whispered as she stood.

You attempted to reach out to her, stop her, but she was too quick. She beckoned the two maids to follow her but left the door open for propriety’s sake.

Anthony did not move from his position near the door even after your mother vacated the room. The air felt heavy, and you were finding it hard to breathe. You smoothed the bedcovers although they were practically perfect.

“I am so relieved you are awake,” Anthony croaked, his voice raspy with disuse.

You steadfastly continued your study of the linens. “I am told I have you to thank for that, my lord.” You congratulated yourself on keeping your tone even.

“Will you stop that?” Anthony’s tone was sharp, and you finally looked at him fully. His face was drawn, and it was clear he had not shaved in a few days.

“Stop what, my lord?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He walked towards your bed, his face red. “Calling me that,” he practically spat.

You scoffed, not believing he was truly acting so childish. “Well, it is your title. It would be improper for me not to -”

“Marry me, then.”

You must have hit your head harder than you thought for you were certainly hearing things. “What?” you breathed.

Anthony knelt at your side and took your hand tenderly in his. “Marry me, (Y/N), please,” he implored. He shook his head. “I should have asked you ten years ago, but I thought I could prevent my heart from breaking by not letting it be touched.” His gaze fell on your joined hands. He cleared his throat. “I was a fool. I disregarded the fact that it had already been stolen from me.”

His warm brown orbs found yours, and you felt your heart climb into your throat. You took a rattling breath as your eyes stung with tears.

“Anthony…” you breathed.

No further words were needed as your lips joined in the kiss you had always been waiting for.

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony x reader #regency #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2

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acewritesfics · 4 months

Text

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot.

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit."

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket.

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love."

"Thank you, mummy."

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play.

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too.

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?"

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was.

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place."

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister."

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever."

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires.

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time.

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!"

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her.

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise.

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter.

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel.

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel.

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?"

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around."

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?"

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."

"Will you tell him?" she asks.

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something.

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are."

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin."

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel."

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up.

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it.

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant.

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?”

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?”

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.”

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits.

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs.

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin.

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.”

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone.

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago.

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.

“I can keep her safe.”

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.”

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands.

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.”

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.”

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.”

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him.

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.”

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel.

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea.

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders

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paddooo · 2 years

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genuinely considering getting an amogus tattoo rn,,,, i know too many people who do tattoos for this line of thinking to be safe

#my me #litterally tho there big john sarah and rob? not to mention my own sister #grace has already done three of my 5 #waiting on sarah to set up her studio and rob to get his apprenticeship #and john wants a little more practice before he does any for me but still #too many people in my life be doing tatts #still thinking about buying a machine myself #gotta start doing some more drawing and shid #prep for my first year outta colleg by setting myself up to get an apprentice ship perchance

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bishopsbeloved · 4 months

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the art of falling in love (part one)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

You’ve been in love with your best friend’s sister ever since you first met her (who wouldn’t be?), and you were content to take these feelings to the grave. But when she begins to reciprocate, things get complicated, and you find yourself lying to almost everyone you know — including yourself.

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

You’ll never forget the fateful day that you laid eyes upon Natasha Romanoff for the first time. Even at the ripe age of seven, you knew you wanted her in your life forever.

Melina Vostokoff and Alexi Shostakov are your neighbours — they live right across the street, and they have done for as long as you can remember. On your fifth birthday, they came home from a trip to Russia with a daughter, Yelena. From the moment you laid eyes on one another, the two of you knew you were best friends. Neither sets of parents had any qualms on that (“oho, here comes trouble,” Alexi would say teasingly whenever the two of you came tearing into the room), and so even before Natasha’s arrival you spent more of your waking hours in their household than in your own.

One time, two years since Yelena entered your life and only a few weeks before Natasha’s arrival, you were playing in the sandy dirt down the back of Yelena’s house, and huffing in annoyance as it proved too fine to hold up as a sandcastle. You looked over at your best friend who was currently experiencing much more success in her own task, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully stacked twigs to build a bug hotel, and without even thinking you asked, “why did you pick me? To be your friend?”

Yelena blinked, surprised, but placed a leaf on top of her miniature structure to serve as a roof before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell,” you narrowed your eyes in thought, trying to figure out what it was that you meant, “we’ve just always been friends. And I like it, but I was like, why?”

She was quiet for a good few moments, and if you didn’t know the girl any better then you would have missed the slight cleft between her brows that means she’s formulating her next words, and you would’ve thought she was ignoring you. But you did know better, because she was your best friend, and that thought filled your tiny frame with joy.

“Sometimes when you meet people, it’s special,” she said eventually. “Like a puzzle, you know when they fit together? Like — like that,” she mimed two things slotting together with her fingers, and you nodded. “It happened for us, I think. It happened when my mom and dad met, they tell me all the time that dad loved mom from the moment he met her,” she wrinkled her nose, and you giggled. “And it happened for me and my sister in Russia.”

With that last statement, she’d caught your interest. Often in passing she’d mention her sister from the orphanage in Russia, where she’d been before Melina and Alexi had sorted out her visa to bring her back to their home in Ohio. You never quite knew how to respond to it, and she never elaborated beyond throwaway comments such as these, so you were fairly certain that this sister wasn’t even real until the day she was brought home.

And what a day that was; one that turned your life upside down forever. As far as you knew, when you first woke up, it was a day like any other. Another sunny morning of summer vacation. You woke up as bright and early as children annoyingly do and rushed to get ready to spend another day at Yelena’s house, no doubt irritating the shit out of her parents (who, to their credit, were very tolerant of you and Yelena’s seven-year-old antics). But once you’d knocked and stood fidgeting eagerly on their front porch, it wasn’t Yelena, or her parents, who opened the door.

No, it was an unfamiliar girl you were faced with — only one year older as you were soon to learn, but already an entire head taller than you. She looked down at you, face stony, and you stared back in confusion. There was no way this was the wrong house, you’d been coming here every day for the last two years, and you saw it every time you looked out of your bedroom window. So what was going on?

You found yourself remembering a Slavic children’s story Alexi had told you and Yelena last winter, late at night when you were curled up by the fire together drinking hot chocolate, about an old lady who had a house with chicken legs. The Baba Yaga, Alexi had called her. During the night her house would stand up and run away, and be gone from its previous spot the next morning; you found yourself wondering if this had happened to Yelena’s house too. Could any house have legs, or just the Baba Yaga’s house? You’d have to ask Alexi — once you tracked down his runaway house, of course.

“Y/N,” a voice squealed from behind the unfamiliar girl, and Yelena’s face poked out from behind her. “Y/N this is my sister! From Russia, her name is Natasha.”

“You are Yelena’s best friend?” Natasha asked softly, a gentle Russian lilt to her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Yelena had described to you, you looked up at Natasha and something just clicked. Something aligned; a puzzle piece you hadn’t even known you were missing slotted into place.

You knew even then that you wanted to be around her forever.

It’s been ten years now, since that day, and you’ve grown up alongside the two of them. You’re an only child with distant parents, and Alexi and Melina have taken you under your wing — so much in fact that Yelena’s room is referred to affectionately as the twins’ room, and you have your own bed in there. More of your stuff is at their house rather than your own these days.

But Natasha has always been just out of reach. Since the day you first met her there’s been this pit in your stomach whenever she’s been around, strange and foreign and somewhat scary to you, that has you reduced to a silent mess with trembling fingers whenever she’s around. It’s a feeling you’ve not always understood, but in more recent years you’ve come to accept you’re in love with her; something you will take to the grave.

You don’t stand a chance with her, of course. You’re her little sister’s best friend, a whole year younger than her, and where she’s popular in school you tend to stick to the shadows. You’re not really picked on, per se — no one dares to when Yelena Belova, who’s terrifying in her own right as well as the little sister of Natasha Romanoff, is constantly glued to your side — but you just don’t have the same social standing that Natasha does. Even if by some miracle you did, she’s your best friend’s sister. You know she’ll never see you that way.

So you’ve decided to yourself you’re going to keep these feelings under lock and key, and pray they’ll go away.

And it’s been going pretty good!… well, that is, until tonight.

Alexi and Melina have flown back to Russia for the New Year, leaving the household in the hands of you, Yelena and Natasha. You and Yelena were perfectly content with spending your days of freedom ordering takeout, bingeing awful reality TV shows and annoying the cat for hours on end, but Natasha was having none of that. The Starks can’t hold their New Year thrasher at their house like normal this year (something about a sick aunt on bedrest? You weren’t really listening, to be honest), so with her parents out of town, Natasha’s offered up her house.

“I don’t want a bunch of gross sweaty drunk people in our house,” Yelena had protested when it was proposed to her, nose wrinkling. “это отвратительно. No.”

“Aw come on, please,” Natasha groaned. “It’s just one night.”

“But it’s not just one night, because we will be cleaning up for days after,” retorted Yelena. “Last time there was vomit everywhere. That was a zero out of ten experience.”

Natasha snorted. “What are you, TripAdvisor?” Dodging Yelena’s half-hearted smack, she’d added, “See, why can’t you be like Y/N? They don’t mind. Right, Y/N?”

Sure, she’d probably played you, but with those eyes who could say no to her?

Well, evidently not you. And because of it, you and Yelena are stuck spending New Year’s Eve locked in her (your) bedroom, her TV on at max volume to even be vaguely heard over the music that shakes the bed with every beat.

“О мой Бог, it’s not even midnight,” Yelena whines, checking her clock for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. “We are going to be dealing with this for hours. Natalia owes us one.”

“She’ll feel guilty tomorrow and take us to a drive-thru,” you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you instead of admitting that you’re right.

She opens her mouth to say something else (something witty and uncalled for, you’re sure), but she’s cut off by an abysmally loud crash and scream from downstairs, followed by even louder cheering. The look that crosses her face next just makes you very glad you’re not on the receiving end of her anger tonight.

“Liho,” you remember suddenly, “where is he? Did we pick him up before the party started?”

She pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“He’s still down there?” you panic. “Fuck, Lena, you know how much he hates noise. I’m gonna go get him.”

“No, let me,” Yelena protests, but you wave her off.

“No, because you’ll come back with a kill list twice as long as it is now,” you retort and she scrunches up her face at you, because as always with her you’ve hit the nail on the head. You blow her a kiss before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol. Okay, ew. You’d practically begged Natasha to dilute the jet fuel that the Russians call vodka before distributing it, but evidently she’s not taken your pleas into account tonight. (You’re all going to pay for it tomorrow morning come clean-up time.)

At least the universe isn’t totally against you right now, though — the household’s cat, Liho, has one place he will flee to without fail whenever he’s scared; the tiny gap between the washing machine and the wall, in the laundry room. With any luck, you can sneak in and out of there through Melina’s office without encountering too many partygoers.

Getting down the stairs proves a task in itself; they are absolutely soaking for some reason, something must have been spilled on them, so thank god they’re hardwood and not carpeted. It’s like a slip and slide on your way down, and you cling onto the banister for dear life, your task only made more difficult by the tens of other people who have no regard whatsoever for your Mission Impossible-level task currently at hand.

Miraculously, you somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed, and immediately wince as you straighten back up. The noise down here is even louder, the smell even stronger, and you want nothing more than to flee back upstairs and cower under the bedsheets with Yelena until everyone finally fucks off home. But you remind yourself that if this is the way you feel, tiny flighty Liho probably feels even worse, and as his self-appointed cat mother (which you have been ever since you and Yelena rescued him from the roadside and brought him home), it’s your duty to rescue him.

So you battle your way on through to the laundry room, which thank the lord is empty. You close the heavy wooden door behind you with relief, and lean back against it for a moment, panting to recollect yourself. Jesus fuck, do you hate parties. You’re not even trying to be difficult, it’s just something you’ll never understand — they’re so overstimulating, so overwhelming. You always leave them with such a depleted social battery that you won’t be seen again for the next week. How someone can enjoy these things, you’ll never fathom.

You’re distracted from your inner monologue by the sound of gentle scrabbling, coming from behind the washing machine. An involuntary smile spreads over your face as you instantly clock what that noise is, and you approach slowly, dropping to a crouch.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly to the black fur vaguely visible among the shadows. Its gentle movements freeze, and the scrabbling noise stops. “This sucks, doesn’t it? All alone down here.”

He blinks at you.

”Yeah, it does, huh?” you continue. “What do you say we get outta here? You can come upstairs with me and Lena. How’d you feel about that, bud, huh? It’ll be much nicer, I promise. It’s so lonely down here, isn’t it?”

Convinced, the kitten wriggles out of his hiding spot and trots into your waiting arms. You scoop him up, planting kisses on his head and giggling.

“Good boy. Sweet boy. We got snacks in our room. You just love Twizzlers, don’t you?”

“He does love Twizzlers,” says a raspy voice from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of both you and Liho. He yelps in alarm, and alarm at your alarm, digging his claws into your shoulder in a way that makes you hiss out loud. You spin around to see none other than Natasha behind you (she must have been in here before you closed the door, you vaguely piece together in your state of gay panic), red beer pong cup in hand, looking fucking beautiful.

You’ve avoided her as much as you can today while she’s gotten ready for tonight, reasoning with yourself that you’re only torturing yourself if you keep admiring her from afar, but holy fuck you can’t believe you were depriving yourself of this. A pale pink, almost nude dress, with silver blossoms settled comfortably on her hips in the way that your hands itch to be, and eyeliner that could fucking cut someone. But she’s smiling at you so softly that even the knife-sharp eyeliner smiles with her, and even though she just gave you the fright of your life you’re almost shaking with the restraint it takes to not go absolutely feral. She looks so good.

Oh lord, you are hopeless.

“You and him are just as bad as each other,” she comments, still smiling, so you know she doesn’t really mean it. Desperately scrabbling to cover for your internal screaming, you fake a pout, dropping a kiss on Liho’s head (he rubs his forehead gratefully against your cheek in return).

“That’s so mean,” you grumble.

“You look really pretty tonight,” she tells you, and your heart actually stops at the compliment. It feels like a trick for a moment, that she’d say something like that, but she’s still smiling a smile that makes your insides go all woozy.

“I really don’t think,” you begin, looking down at your outfit, but then pause. What with the top secret CIA-level mission that retrieving Liho has become, you’ve almost forgotten that before all of this you and Yelena had been playing dress up — strictly within the confines of your bedroom, of course, but you’re wearing one of Mama Melina’s old college dresses and it doesn’t look half bad on you, even though it now probably has Liho hairs all over it. You vaguely recall Yelena begging you to let her do your makeup (“pleeeease, Y/N, I swear I’ll be serious this time no more penises I promise”) too, so maybe it’s not such a reach that Nat actually thinks you look pretty tonight. “Oh. Thank you. S- so do you, I —” You forcibly stop yourself there, for fear of real embarrassment.

Her lips twitch in amusement at your antics. “Thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence, and you figure you’d best take your leave before you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of the love of your life. You step toward the door which she’s still stood in front of, mumbling something unintelligible, but Natasha remains firm and simply raises an eyebrow at you as she sips from her solo cup. Literally everything she does is so insanely attractive that you have to bury your face in Liho’s fur for a moment and inhale in order to ground yourself properly. How can one person be so lovely? It’s just not fair.

“I should go back upstairs, Liho doesn’t like the noise,” you tell Natasha.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight,” is all she replies. “They’re about to start the countdown.”

You nod, tight-lipped. Even when it’s muffled through the thick wood of the laundry room the noise is starting to get to you now, and Liho won’t sit still in your arms either, and you want to get back upstairs to the warm safety of your bed and Yelena’s company and the shit Kardashians show you were watching, away from the girl who it’s as torturous as it is wonderful to be around.

“It’s a romantic thing for a lot of people,” she continues, and you have to look away at that. It’s almost as though she, or the universe is dangling the fact that she’ll never be interested in you in front of your face tantalisingly — like a carrot on a stick. “To kiss the one you love when the clock hits midnight, and the New Year rolls in. You got anyone to kiss this year?”

Okay, wow. Ouch.

“Liho,” you reply with as much humour as you can muster. “He is my one true love. Aren’t you, bud,” you add a few octaves higher, and he perks up, recognising that voice that’s for him. When you look back up at Natasha she’s studying you with amusement in her eyes, as though she knows something you don’t. You can hear the chanting beginning outside of the laundry room now, preparing to ring in the New Year; twenty… nineteen…

Still, though, Natasha makes no move to let you leave.

“Do you have anyone to kiss at midnight?” you ask her pointedly. “Cause you should probably get back to them.”

She downs the rest of the contents of her solo cup in one before slamming it down on the counter beside her. “Don’t need to,” comes her gruff reply, “they’re right here.”

Your jaw actually fucking drops at that statement, and your brain shortcircuits. What? Even though your heart skips a hopeful beat, you shake your head quickly to clear it of the idea that she could reciprocate these crushing feelings you harbour for her. Instead, you hold Liho out to her, hands under his armpits so that his hind legs dangle below him and he stretches to look comically long — as though you’re giving him to her like a present (which he sends you a very unimpressed for). “O— oh,” you stutter, “well if he’s your midnight kiss, is that why you were in here? I don’t want to —” twelve, eleven…

She actually laughs out loud at that, and bats Liho away. “Not him, дурачок. You.”

Her hands are cupping at the side of your face, and despite the absolute bizarre circumstances you find yourself leaning into her touch, desperate to memorise the feel of her warm calloused fingertips against your skin — seven, six; she looks down at you, the blue-green outlining her wide dark pupils framing a silent question. You’re in absolute slack-jawed disbelief, this has got to be a prank, it’s got to be — four, three — but she holds your gaze with a kind of certainty that surely can’t be summoned to fool someone. You nod a trembling, single nod, and her lips press against yours just as the clock strikes midnight.

Her lips are so soft, so gentle against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut; you can’t help it. She feels like heaven. She’s tentative at first, but when she can feel you reciprocating, her hands begin to explore a little; one moving to tangle itself in your hair, the other to your back and pulling you in closer to her. One of your arms is busy still cradling Liho close to your chest, but the other is free to trace along Natasha’s skin wonderingly as she continues her ministrations. Her leg slides between yours, forcing you backwards against the wall, where her kisses trail down your jaw for a moment before creeping back up toward your lips and returning to kissing them instead. When she nips gently at your bottom lip, you let out a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before, a kind of high-pitched whine in the back of your throat that makes Natasha laugh quietly as she pulls away for air. Liho, who was nestled comfortably between the two of you throughout the exchange, is purring merrily (“talk, Valentina!” as your friend Darcy would say).

She looks down at you for a moment, eyes wide and dilated, hair a little less perfect than before, panting slightly. She’s always had a few inches on you, ever since you were kids, and that’s something she often teases you for but right now the way she’s towering over you is so fucking hot. None of this can be real, you think to yourself hazily as she leans back in to plant one more kiss, much more chaste this time, against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” she says lowly to you; her voice is a little more broken and raspy than it was pre-makeout and it actually sends a shiver down your spine. And then she’s waltzing out of the room, leaving you absolutely shaking against the wall she was just pressing you against; your legs give up on you as you slide down against it to the ground, trying to catch your breath and understand what just happened.

Because what?

You wake up the next morning to a house that’s thankfully empty, aside from its usual residents. You’re absolutely terrified that last night was some kind of dream, or it was a drunk mistake. You’ve never felt so vulnerable in your life. You’re right in the palm of Natasha’s hand and she has all the power in the world to absolutely break you right now. She could shatter you into a thousand irreparable pieces and leave you in the dirt if she so wanted to, and that thought is one that had you tossing and turning last night.

Yelena can’t for the life of her fathom why you’re so jittery this morning. You’ve told her fuck all, of course. What were you meant to say? Hey, sorry, last night your sister who I’m kind of a little bit in love with cornered me and we made out? No fucking way. When you came back to the bedroom last night all shaken up and wordless, she just assumed that the party atmosphere had been that overwhelming. You were very grateful for her gentleness with you as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what you were meant to do now. You tried to Google it, but it would appear that not many other people can relate to the situation that you’ve found yourself in (the best thing you could find were some decade-old Quora threads about being in love with your straight best friend, and the idea of Yelena being straight was so funny to you that you had to close the tab before your laughing woke her up), and you ended up being so worried about Yelena somehow seeing your search history that you cleared the whole thing, which definitely is not suspicious.

“Hey,” Yelena slaps the back of your head playfully as she passes you, knocking you out of your trance, “it is a new day. Party is over, the house is ours, leave the miserableness behind in yesterday, да?”

You nod as you follow her down the stairs.

Natasha, to your surprise, is already awake, and seemingly not even hungover as she bustles around the kitchen, preparing something.

Yelena seems to read your thoughts, as she often does, and nods in agreement. “What, you are not curled up in bed with four million painkillers?” she asks incredulously as she slides onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Natasha shakes her head good-naturedly at her sister’s greeting, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot as she continues to cook. “No. I feel good this morning, actually. Really good.” The smile bleeds through her words and takes over her face again.

You and Yelena exchange a look. What is… happening?

“You are being weird,” Yelena tells her, and smacks her over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper as her older sister walks past her to grab the butter. “What have I missed, did you get laid last night or something?”

Your blood runs cold at that, and you have to look away from Yelena so she doesn’t see the way your face drops. Is that true? Did she kiss you and then sleep with someone else? No, she wouldn’t do that to you, surely.

Your thoughts (hopes) are confirmed when she snorts to herself and shakes her head, her back still to the both of you as she pours batter into a pan. “No. No, I just — I had a really good time last night. That’s all. Thanks for letting me have the party.”

You watch as Yelena’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracking every one of Natasha’s movements intently, and she tries to figure out what’s going on. You’re similarly perplexed. Natasha is the silent, stony older sibling, the watcher, the one who hears everything and knows everything but doesn’t often speak of her own accord. Last night in the laundry room was the longest exchange you’ve had with her in weeks (and that was before she kissed you). As a kid you would mistake this for shyness, but it eventually became clear that Natasha Romanoff is not shy. She’s very far from it, in fact. She’s just observant, and doesn’t feel the need to speak unless she has something to say. You have zero clue what she’s feeling or thinking half the time — her poker face is so good it’s unsettling. So this is a weird occurrence. You don’t think you’ve seen her as happy as this since… well, since the day she was brought home.

“Well, it is not as though we had much choice in the matter,” Yelena retorts humorously. “Don’t forget we are not cleaning up. That’s on you, сестра.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbles playfully, placing a plate in front of each of you before sliding a pancake onto each of them, right out of the pan. “I owe you one.”

Yelena looks from the pancake to her sister, and back again. “What is this?”

“A chocolate chip pancake.”

“They’re heart-shaped,” you observe quietly.

“Well done for having eyes. If you don’t want them —”

“Nope, it’s good, thank you,” says Yelena thickly, and it’s already gone. You let out a noise of amusement as you eat in a more dignified manner, humming your approval. You don’t think Nat’s ever made you breakfast. It’s nice, though.

Yelena swallows, and leaps to her feet. “I think it’s a Kardashians marathon on TV today,” she informs you, pointedly ignoring the noise Natasha makes whenever that show is mentioned, and she dashes off into the living room. You are alone with Natasha, for the first time since last night.

The nerves from earlier are back, swelling up inside of you uncomfortably, and you do your best to casually avert your gaze from her as you continue to eat. You have no idea whether to bring up last night or to pretend it never happened. Just thinking of the latter makes your heart ache, but it’s becoming a more real possibility by the minute.

Seemingly indifferent to your internal struggling, Natasha slides a pancake onto her own plate and ruffles your hair as she passes you on her way to the fridge. You flinch at the touch, and she giggles.

“You okay?” she asks you teasingly as she pulls a container of raspberries out of the fridge.

You swallow, and nod, trying your best to not embarrass yourself this morning. “Y — yeah. Uh, can I have some?” You gesture at the tub of raspberries.

She pretends to think for a moment, taking slow steps back towards you, until she’s right in front of you — towering over you even more so than she usually does, since you’re still sat down. You look up at her, filled with something not dissimilar to awe. Even in the mornings, when she’s fresh out of bed and still half-asleep, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She places her spare hand on your thigh, with the other still holding the berries, and you think to yourself with absolute certainty that you could die happily in this moment.

“Mmm,” she says thoughtfully. “Beg me.”

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, your jaw drops. You look up at her, pleadingly, not even sure what you’re pleading for. Pleading her to go easy on you? Pleading her to stop? To keep going? But she’s unrelenting.

“Please,” you say eventually, quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please can I have some.”

Almost too quickly for you to process, her lips are pressing against yours. You gasp against her, every single emotion from last night swelling back up, with the added concern that Yelena is in the next room over. But she pulls away after a moment, winking at you as she retreats to her own seat, and as you raise a hand to your lips you realise that in kissing you, she’s left a berry between your lips. She laughs gently when she sees you openly staring at her, and the sound sets your whole body alight, the feeling only amplified by the fact that you’re the cause of her laughter.

Well, you wanted an answer and there’s not many ways to interpret that one.

And so begins your scandalous affair with your best friend’s sister.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

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