#<-being a server of my own free will

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 15- regret

Ok no colored picture today, I just don’t have the strength to color every one 😭 I kinda hate how today turned out but I simply didn’t have time to make it the way I wanted it to. I hope y’all like it tho

No warnings this is a chill one.

~~~~~

Three days have passed for the men in the inn. Resting and doing nothing physically demanding helped the others recover, with Benji walking on his feet again and Ammon acting more like himself. Rusl was feeling much better too, though he was very anxious to get out of the room (though without something to wheel him around, he had to stay in the bed). Overall, staying in one place was good for the group, but Leon was getting worried about rupees again. After what happened last time, he doubted that the others would want to go rupee hunting, but they couldn’t get kicked out. He sighed, deciding to go to the owner of the inn, hoping that he could negotiate with them to let them stay longer.

Leon traveled downstairs, being hit with loud chatter and a humid smell that made him want to retreat, but he needed to do this. He’s messed up several times lately as the men’s leader—he needed to make up for it.

As soon as he entered the restaurant, he nearly got rammed into by a young woman, who mumbled apologies and looked like she was about to have a meltdown.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and an older, plump woman walked up to her and rested her hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok sweetie, just keep goin’.”

Leon gave the young woman the warmest smile he could muster, and she ran off into the kitchen, leaving him alone with the other woman.

“Very sorry about that, sir,” she said, patting his arm. “She’s kinda new.”

“Oh, it’s alright—”

“But ya shouldn’t be loiterin’ around here. You’re gonna get run over by us zippin’ back and forth this place.”

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“The ‘Night and Day’ performance is comin’ up, so tons of people are visitin’, makin’ us the busiest we’ve ever been!”

“R-Right, well, I’m just looking for the owner of this inn,” Leon explained, wanting to walk away from the rambling woman, but she gave him a look and shifted her feet.

“I’m the owner you’re lookin’ for, what can I do for ya, sir?”

“Oh.” Great.

“Here, let’s move outta the way, honey,” she said, moving him away from the loud tables. When they got somewhere more quiet she put her hands on her hips and waited patiently. Leon swallowed, fearing of how she’d react to his request.

“Listen, the men I’ve been traveling with have… gone through a lot these past few days. We’ve been here for a while but… we need more time. We’re almost out of rupees—“

“You don’t have rupees, you can’t stay, sorry honey,” she cut in, looking like she’s had this conversation before.

“No no, please. A lot of them are injured and the doctors here won’t help!”

“That’s not my problem honey, sorry.”

“Please, I will do anything for you if it means that my friends have a place to stay. Anything.”

The woman paused and raised her eyebrow, looking him up and down.

“Anything, you say?”

Leon nodded, having some hope be rekindled. The woman smiled and nodded.

“Alright. Get some of your friends down here and I’ll tell ya what you can do for me.”

~~~~~~

“This is not what I had in mind!”

Leon stared at the aprons handed to him, Linebeck, and Benji, a disgusted look on his face.

“You want us to… to be waiters?”

The owner of the inn, Shirley, raised an eyebrow and rested her weight on one leg.

“Now I thought you’d do anything to stay longer.”

“I-I mean—“ Leon ran his hand through his hair and huffed. He did say he’d do anything, but he thought he’d kill monsters or kick out rude guests! Not… this!

“Listen, I said that the Night and Day performance nearby has made us busy, so busy that my only waitress is gonna break down any moment! We could use all the help we can get!”

Leon sighed and glanced at Linebeck and Benji, who both looked regretful in volunteering themselves for whatever Leon needed.

“Of course. Sorry. I’ve just… I’ve never done this before.”

Shirley laughed and punched his arm. “You’ll get used to it. You’re a strong man too, I think you’ll do fine.” Shirley suddenly grabbed all three and began to shove them out the kitchen. “Now get out there boys! We have the whole place booked!”

“Wait wait!” Linebeck yelled before they left the kitchen. “What the heck do we do?”

“Ask them what they wanna eat and drink and write it down, honey! Now go!”

The men all yelped as they were pushed out, and they stared at the crowded dining room, it looking more like a battlefield than anything. Leon sighed and attempted to put the apron on while Linebeck and Benji glared at him. Leon sighed and struggled to tie a knot, which Linebeck finished off for him.

“I… um… I’m sorry guys,” he muttered, and they rolled their eyes, splitting up to deal with the loud customers screaming at each other.

Leon had dealt with hard things in his life, but being a waiter was the hardest and most humiliating thing he had to do. Everyone was loud, rude, and disrespectful, and Leon would always give them a piece of his mind if they gave him trouble. Yet for some reason, “back-talking” the customers was a wrong thing to do. In his era, if the customers said one thing that angered the workers, they’d be kicked out. It was almost bizarre at how he wasn’t treated like a person, and instead a machine that did whatever they desired.

Unfortunately, Leon was terrible at hiding his true emotions, so whenever a customer made him upset, he made sure they knew. And he would get in plenty of trouble for it. This was why he was the first knight, and not a waiter. At least if his men were being stupid, he would tell them and they’d knock it off—here, he wasn’t allowed to call anyone stupid to their faces, no matter how much he wanted to.

By the end of the day, he was absolutely exhausted. His feet, legs, and lower back were aching, and he was relieved when it grew empty. His whole body felt like it wanted to kill him for what he put it through, and his mind kept running from everything he had to see and listen to that day. Goddesses he was so overstimulated…

“Well, I must say, I don’t regret hirin’ you guys,” Shirley said, a proud smile on her face. “This day went pretty smoothly if ya ask me.”

“That was the worst day of my life,” Leon said breathlessly, staring blankly at a wall. Shirley let out a laugh and slapped his shoulder playfully.

“Try goin’ through that with just one server. Trust me, you guys helped a lot.”

Leon nodded, at least grateful that it was over, and that he and the others didn’t have to pay to stay anymore. He’d go through that again and again for his friends.

“Lucky you guys, you’ll have to go through all of it again tomorrow at sunrise!” Shirley said cheerily, and Leon sighed. Actually, maybe he was having second thoughts.

“Well I think today was great!” Benji shouted, bouncing a little bag around. “Look at all this tip money! I must say this was the best decision I’ve ever made!”

Leon stared. “Tip money?”

“Yeah. You see Leon, when you’re nice to the customers, they actually pay you! Isn’t that something?”

Leon rolled his eyes and Linebeck stepped up next to Benji, with his own rupees in his hands.

“Yeah the money is nice, but it still sucked,” he whined, counting the rupees. “How are you so… energetic after that?”

“Not the first time I’ve been a waiter,” Benji simply explained, “though it’s been a while, but I forgot how much I enjoy talking to people.”

“Well I’m glad you’re at least enjoying yourself, Benji,” Leon mumbled, “We’re going to be doing this until everyone feels better.”

Linebeck groaned and Benji only shrugged. “Well good thing my ankle feels better.”

Leon nodded, knowing the others would not be able to handle this. It was just them three.

“Well, you boys did good today,” Shirley said, wiping her hand on her apron. “You all can work here as long as ya need. We open first thing tomorrow though, so be ready, you hear?”

Leon nodded. “Thank you. I know I was complaining earlier but you have no idea how much this helps us.”

Shirley laughed again. “Well you have no idea how much this helps me, so consider us even. Now get some rest. You’re going to need it for these next few days.”

Leon winced and nodded, getting up and leading the other two to their room. He gave a nod to the other waitress who was named Erika. She nodded back and smiled, waving goodbye as they dragged themselves up the steps to their rooms.

“Can someone tell me why we decided to get a room on the third floor?” Linebeck complained, groaning as he lifted his tired legs onto the next step.

“Well I’m sorry we didn’t get the luxurious bedroom on the first floor! We were kinda desperate!” Benji said sarcastically.

“How’d you guys get Rusl up here anyways?” Leon asked, reaching the end of the stairs.

“I dunno, Talon’s freakishly strong. He kinda scares me,” Benji answered, resting with his hands on his knees and panting.

“Well, at least you all got him up here safely.” Leon opened the door to their room, where he saw Kass and Ammon resting on the couch. The two stood up and walked over to them, worried looks on their faces.

“Where were you guys? We were getting worried,” Ammon said. Leon opened his mouth to say something but Benji walked past them and plopped himself on the couch, instantly falling asleep. Ammon looked between Benji, Leon, and Linebeck who was leaning against the doorway with a baffled look on his face.

“We found a way to stay longer,” Leon simply explained, walking to the couch and laying on the ground. “You all have nothing to worry about…”

He heard a chuckle come from someone, and the weight of a blanket being laid on top of him was felt, relaxing him further.

“Get some rest then,” he heard Ammon say, a hint of amusement in his voice, and Leon closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

[reikunrei]

wanting to join st centric discord servers but not trusting literally anyone to be normal

[bibleofficial]

i just think it’s funny that raspberry pi seems to plan their releases around that of apple’s

[ms-demeanor]

fucking client emailed in requesting a license last night at 10, called today before nine asking for the license and if I could hurry this along because it was urgent; being the person that I am I went to go find some more information and discovered that the customer wants to do an in-place upgrade on a nine-year-old free license to a recent server license which is.

A) not possible with the service pack they have installed B) probably not compatible with the two kinds of software they have talking to the database C) probably not compatible with their actual server, which blew up spectacularly in January.

(all of which is to say nothing about the wide variety of possible ways to purchase and install the license, but probably standard is what they want even if they're technically too big for it)

I talk to my team, most of whom do not have much experience with upgrades/migrations for this software and we all agree that more research into their environment is needed, including possibly calls with their other software vendors and also possibly maybe replacing their twelve year old server.

Call the client at 2pm and let him know that this project is going to be more rigorous than just ordering a license, let them know that this isn't being dropped or ignored, but we need more information and will be in contact when more of the team knows what's going on.

5:14 PM, my coworker messages me "hey, do we have a tenant for this client?"

I message my coworker: "fucking lol, this is about their license, isn't it?"

It is about their license. They have sent in an emergency after hours ticket describing the issue as urgent: they have purchased the license on their own from a consumer vendor unaware of the fact that they need admin access to a tenant to download the software.

I create a tenant for the client and document the information, then provide the tenant ID.

And then since it's urgent, it's an emergency, I begin gathering data and composing an email.

The license won't populate to the tenant for hours at least and probably not for a full day.

They didn't actually tell us what license they've got, but if they plan to use it with one flavor of software they've got they probably need a secondary license they were totally unaware of.

I have found no evidence whatsoever that this license is compatible with their other software.

I hop into an after hours meeting with one of our tier three consultants to get the exact version number of the software and confirm that there is not a straightforward upgrade path between the license they have and the license they want.

I send an email advising that if their developer wants to make an upgrade they MUST back up the database because we have emergency backups, not database backups, let them know in writing "per our conversation this afternoon, this is why we don't think this will work" and thank them cheerfully, letting them know to reach out if they have questions about licensing.

hit send at half past eight.

Combined after hours work on this "emergency" "critical" "urgent" ticket is now probably about half the hardware cost of a better server.

I get that emergencies happen, but buddy if I tell you "hey, I know you are in a rush with this but we have to take our time to do this correctly" and you ignore me and make me stay late to handle your "critical" ticket, you and I both are not going to have a good time.

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[satorella]

“𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐳” [𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕]

𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 eyes suddenly snapped wide open; chest heaving, and the back of his neck sweating.

The room was dark, only being lit by the natural lighting of the moon through the window. He pants as he turns to face your peacefully sleeping figure next to him and slowly slips his hand under yours, careful not to wake you. He sighs, feeling your warmth. You were real. You were really here… with him. He placed light kisses on your knuckles, while trying to regulate his breathing.

“Mmph… what are you doing…” You mumbled sleepily. He kisses your knuckles one more time. His hand still holding your own in a protective grip. “Nothing, Schatz [darling]. Go back to sleep.” You rubbed your eye with your free hand, noticing he was slightly breathless. “What’s wrong, babe?” Kaiser’s expression softens at your concerned tone, your sweet voice like music to his ears. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You were fully awake now; his silence was loud and clear. “Was it the nightmares again?” You could see his Adam’s apple bob slightly up and down as he swallowed hard. He didn’t want you to waste your precious sleep because of him, but you were too perceptive and knew him too well. He lets out a shaky exhale. “It was…” You looked into his eyes, and for a moment, you could see a hint of vulnerability in them. “C’mere.” You tugged him closer by his hip. He didn’t protest, letting you pull him in against you. His body relaxed as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, his long legs tangling with yours. He wrapped his free arm around you, his hand moving up to gently run his fingers through the back of your hair as he breathed in your scent. “You’re okay.” You kissed the top of his head.

He needed this. He needed you.

His voice was muffled against your skin, “I know… as long as I’m with you.” “I love you, mein Honigbär.” [My honey bear] You whispered in his blonde hair. He tightened his hold around you. He loved when you spoke his language. He loved the way it sounded coming out of your pretty mouth. He loved you so much it hurt. He places a kiss on your neck, his warm breath fanning against you as he spoke. “Ich liebe dich auch.” [I love you too.] You smiled, closing your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You swear it, meine Liebe?” [My love]

“I swear.” You chuckled quietly, rubbing his back.

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list!📋

(New 𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒌 discord server👯‍♀️)

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐖𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘 3 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. karasu tabito x reader , yukimiya kenyu x reader , otoya eita x reader.

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the moment he realized that he has the biggest crush on you.

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~2.3k words . 0.7k~1.1k words each.

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. drabble for each one. fluff. sprinkle of crack in karasu's one. f!reader. otoya such a hater in karasu's part. yukimiya being lovey-dovey. otoya is... well, otoya. spoiler - free ! safe for minors ! crappy writing. karasu, yukimiya and otoya may seem very ooc. part 1 with isagi, bachira and rin ! part 2 with nagi, reo and sae !

KARASU TABITO. when you complimented him—

　TO say you're beautiful is an understatement, you're literally the most beautiful girl in the class and if not only in class then also in the entire school. Yet if you only have a pretty face to look at, Karasu would definitely call you mediocre with no hesitation.

But of course, you're more than that. You're kind to all your friends and classmates unless you dislike them, you have an extraordinary humor and you also own a mature side as a third-year when talking to an underclassman.

Karasu definitely likes you like everyone do after being charmed by your personality and looks. And he knows that you're in another league, so he doesn't even try to make a move. Even if you're good friends—good friends in, you're eating lunch with him and Otoya.

"Stop trying, you hoe." you furrowed your eyebrows as Otoya's hand crawled to yours, only to get slapped away by you. "You seriously should stop. You have a girlfriend and she's a cute one."

"Why have one chick when you can have two?" Otoya shrugged his shoulders—he stopped you from punching his face. "Hey, we said no punch to the face. I still need this artwork."

"Sometimes I have to urge to beat you up." you huffed, taking you hand back and going back to eat. "I'm going to cut off your weener one day. Watch your back, sleep with open eyes."

"After one night with you, sure." he ignored the expression plastered on your face that displayed plain disgust. "I know you like what you see, babygirl."

"Please— I'd rather pour acid into my eyes than see you." you slowly slid away from him, getting closer to your other forgotten friend.

"And I'd rather that too than seeing you beside that boomer." Otoya didn't hide his frustration as he watched you nearly sitting on Karasu's lap. "I'm going to stab my eyes."

"Can't blame me for being cooler than ya." Karasu shrugged his shoulders.

Otoya puffed the air out of his cheeks before standing up and walking away. "I can't see this anymore." he said—as if he got offended by you two. At the end, he'd come back because he wouldn't leave without finishing his food.

"Fetch me a drink too, peasant!" you said before sliding away from Karasu again. "Sorry for getting so close."

"It's fine."

Silence was taking over the table, making you sweatdrop—was it a good idea for Otoya to leave? As much as you love Karasu, he was being quieter than usual, only staring at your face as if you had something on it.

"Do I have something on my face?" you were a little worried, finished with your food.

"Nah, everything's good." he replied with a smirk, "Just like staring at yer pretty face."

"You have a crush, don't you?" you teased him back.

"What if I do?"

You did not expect that, sealing your lips again at that. Well, isn't that awkward? Your lips drew a fine line as you thought for a moment what you could say, your eyes wandering around his face—in particular his birthmark under his eye.

"It suits you..." you started slowly, "the mole under your eye. I think it compliments your face."

Now he was the one taken aback by your unexpected compliment, blinking serveral times and taking a while to progress what you just said. "Is there... something else ya like?" the heck, he acts as if he really had a crush on you?

"Erm... I like your hair without gel." you admitted. "It looks so good and i'm kinda sad that you always use gel. I also like your eyes, they're sharp. I secretly look at them when you're focused on something.... Oh you're also pretty attentive and remind me of things I don't even remember. And you also help me with chemistry, thanks!"

To say Karasu was surprised now is a big understatement—bigger than big, he even took a moment to think of an answer. "Sounds like yer the one with a crush." he chuckled, slightly amused as a grin was plastered on his lips.

"Probably." the smile you gifted him was probably heavensent.

"I'm coming back to this? Are you serious? You two are flirting infront of me." Otoya deadpanned and sat down, pushing Karasu to the side while giving you your drink.

"Thanks." why the heck was Karasu thanking him? "I think my legs were a bit jelly."

He could literally feel how his legs were getting weak at your words from before.

Seems like Karasu Tabito isn't that mediocre.

YUKIMIYA KENYU. he doesn't crush on you, he loves you—

　WELL, there are moments where he considers himself rotten on the inside, always thinking about himself and caring about lives of important or famous people while not taking any interest in the lives of others. It's his weakness. Probably the only weakness about him.

That was before you popped up in his life one day after he got into high school. To start off, you weren't someone special. The typical classmate whose reputation and grades are decent—you were a background character.

It was always that way and always stayed like this. Until you confessed your love for him under the cherry blossom tree of the school. Again, a typical scenario in mangas he read. But he rejected you, still being kind and gentle throughout the rejection.

And surprisingly, you accepted it with no complaints, giving him your prettiest smile even though you tried to ignore the burning pain in your eyes while he returned a smile—a smile that didn't reach his eyes though.

He was curious. Curious about your surprising demeanour. How could you smile so brightly after getting rejecting? He could see how red your face got because of the embarrassment. Yukimiya Kenyu was for the first time, curious about someone who crushed on him.

But yeah, of course you couldn't help it to smile despite the rejection. It was the first time you mustered up your courage to tell your crush what you felt about them and you couldn't be more glad that it was Yukimiya Kenyu you confessed to.

Because he wasn't awkward at all, handling the situation like a professional—as if he experienced this more than once in his life. Which you don't doubt since he wasn't only popular in your class, he was popular around the entire school.

You never thought you had a chance anyway so you didn't take it to heart. Only when he asked you if you wanted to be friends, that's when you took it to heart. Who the heck would be friends with someone they rejected?

This might not be a bad idea though. No wonder why he rejected you. You didn't know each other at all. If that was even possible, your smile widened, the shyness and blush faded ever so slightly as you nodded with a beaming aura.

And this time, the smile of his reached his eyes.

Fast forward, two years seemed to pass quickly with you two growing to be great friends. If not great friends, then even best friends! You never thought that you could be friends with someone who used to be your crush, but you're so glad.

After that day, he seemed friendlier than usual, always greeting you as soon as you or he stepped a foot into the classroom, even being the first person he greets instead of his buddies. Not even the slightest moment was awkward with him.

And when he told you, during a phone call, about the blue lock program he's been invited to, you couldn't have been happier for him! Immediately cheering for him and bouncing up and down on your bed to congratulate him.

"But that also means, we won't see each other for a while, because I'm in a football prison." he mentioned, his voice sounded sadder than before.

"Oh man, that's really sad. I'll miss you so so so much!" your face heated up at your own words, "but well... That's the price you have to pay for entering such awesome program!"

"An expensive one."

You think your ears were playing games with you to be honest.

　RING RING !

Yukimiya wiped the water off his mouth as he called you—after a few days. As soon as he found out that he can get his phone back in exchange for three goals, he couldn't help but go all in during the first match to give you a call, wanting to be in contact as quickly as possible.

"Uh Yukimiya-san, wanna train with us?" his team mates asked him.

Surprisingly, you still didn't answer though after the first two rings. "Maybe she's sleeping..." he muttered under his breath before looking up from his phone to answer his team mate, "Sure, why not?"

　RING !

"Nevermind." Yukimiya smiled without looking apologetic and turned his back to them, making them sweatdrop.

"Sorry! I fell asleep while taking care of some things..." you immediately apologized, sounding like you were sleeping just seconds ago.

"Ah, I should be the one to say sorry for waking you up. Didn't mean to wake you up..." he apologized too, worried about your health. "You shouldn't tire yourself out so much even if you're the student council president."

"I know, Kenyu..." you mumbled into the speaker, barely audible. "But it's my last year... I wanna give it my all."

That's what he likes about you. It's the same motto you follow.

You finally sat up from your seat, your back felt like shit after laying on the table for hours. "How's that uh program?" you questioned, wiping your drool away as you placed your phone to the side, now continuing with your duties.

"It's interesting to be honest. Don't tell anyone, but my team mates still aren't on my level..." he whispered playfully.

"Damn..." you chuckled and carefully cut the piece of paper into fine squares.

"Can you..." he paused slightly, "turn on the camera?"

Your motions came to a stop as he asked you, presumably wanting to see your face that resulted in you blinked multiple times. "Nah... I just dozed off and drooled. There's no way I'm showing you my face..."

It was an excuse. You didn't want him to see you heated up face and certainly not the glassy eyes—you feared that if he saw you like this, he would get the idea that you still liked him. A lot more than a friend should.

"Please." he said it in a way that made it impossible for you to say no. "I want to see your face."

"Erm, you saw me a few days ago..." you trailed off, cupping your face to cool down your cheeks with cold hands before doing what he wanted.

"Thanks."

"Of course..." you quickly returned to your task, trying to cover your face as much as possible with the paper. "A-Ah so..! There's a new song I like. It has this like catchy tune and it's stuck in my mind twenty-four seven. It's called..."

To be honest, Yukimiya intends to follow his motto to »give one's all in every moment« when it's about you. And he also is glad that your youth isn't an ephemeral thing, your smile isn't short-lived. It's good.

Yukimiya wants to see it everyday.

OTOYA EITA. when he noticed he's stuck to you—

　IT'S definitely been over three months since you've been dating. While he's been using you for fun and all, you're being genuine and sincere. That's what he thought. Somehow, he's still stuck in the relationship he himself suggested.

And well, time passed with you so quickly somehow, making him look at his phone. His lockscreen to be more precise. A silly picture you secretly took with his phone while he wasn't watching, a picture he grew to love.

His eyes quickly went over the numbers and words he added to the photo. Numbers that told him when you started dating, letters that reminded him how he always called you those cheesy nicknames. His eyes shifted over the current date, comparing those two dates slowly. And he noticed something.

Five months already passed.

That means one hundred fifty days already passed since he's been dating you, three months over the limit. Sixty days over the limit. He bets that he could've had two to three other girls already if you weren't there.

But somehow, he can't bring himself break up with you. Why are you two still together? He doesn't remember dating someone because he crushed on someone. He dated because it was fun and three months was the limit before breaking up.

Otoya does not want to get attached to someone that could drag him down. He doesn't chain himself up for someone else. That's why he decided on the three months rule—fearing that if he didn't break up, he would forever be stuck with one and the same person.

Something happend what he feared the most. Growing attached to someone that could possibly weight him down. Surprisingly he didn't even cheat on you yet. And the fact is, he doesn't even like you that way! He doesn't like like you, he likes you.

"Shit." he cursed, placing his phone next to his bed on the nightstand. "I can't even look at another girl."

That's right. He can't even glance into another direction. Whenever he's out with you, he can't help but stare at you and he doesn't let his eyes roam at another figure when a hot chick walks pass him—his eyes stay glued to your form.

"I sound like a damn simp." he used his hand to cover the upper part of his face, hiding his eyes from the light.

Maybe he is. Not only maybe, he is a simp when it was about you. And it doesn't help when Karasu once told him that he had damned heart eyes trailing after you. The hell? He never looks at you when you only pass by and he knows how bad he's at lying.

Otoya Eita is drained to be honest. He's drained because he doesn't know what happend to himself.

"—Earth to Eita?" your hand was almost touching his face as you moved it up and down swiftly to get his attention. "Hey, I asked for your opinion."

"Huh?" he mumbled, blinked as his eyes drifted to the two shirts you were holding.

One was in a sweet [f/c] and the other one was black—but the pattern was pretty cute too. "Both would look good one you." he answered the question truthfully.

He remembers all too vivid how he always lied about his opinion—every time his exes asked for his opinion about two things to choose from, he told them the exact reply they wanted to hear, pleasing them in that way.

It's different with you though. He isn't sure what you want to hear. He only knows what would've suited you better. "Yeah, both would look..." he paused for a moment, his eyes showing that he was in daze, "amazing on you..."

Careful. A word stuck on his mind, living rent-free. He always minds to keep a careful distance, because he knows you were serious about relationship and love all that. He tried to be careful but suddenly, he tripped and fell.

On the other hand—you know his history about relationship and exes. Yet here you are, holding up two shirts for your boyfriend so he can pick one with the happiest smile adorning your lips while in the back of your mind, you knew that rotten side of him.

"Why are you still with me?" he blurted out accidentally. He didn't mean to ask his question out loud.

"Ah..?" your hands lowered at that, your smile faded slightly.

"I'm an asshole." no doubt, he was an asshole. "I could probably cheat on you whenever I want. Tomorrow, next week, next month..."

"Well, are you?" now it's your time to ask even though you didn't answer yet.

"No." how could you believe him?

"Then it's fine. It's fine if this only lasts for today. Or tomorrow." you chuckled. "At the end, we're still together somehow."

"Right..." he blinked for a moment, his heart never pounded like crazy. He felt stupid for asking. He felt stupid for doubting. He felt stupid for breaking his own rule. But he didn't mind that much. After all, he broke it for you.

"Mama Otoya is waiting for us. Come on, hurry up!"

Right. Otoya will do his best so you can enjoy today and worry tomorrow.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — pls check my watty out I'M ONLY ACTIVE THERE (lie).

[infictionalwonderland]

Hiii, not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this, but could you do Eloise Bridgerton with a fem! royal! reader who is completely smitten with Eloise and is very open about being a lesbian? And her family supports her (shes Queen Charlottes favorite niece)

(they are open! and absolutely i can do this for you babe x)

“She’s here!”

The Queen, your aunt, rolled her eyes fondly at you as you scuttled away hastily—a secret smile pulling at her lips at the sheer happiness on your face.

You waded through the mass of people in the ballroom, a smile practically stretching from ear to ear. Some turned to look and curled their lips in disgust at you, knowing very well who you were walking to. Others looked at the raw joy on your face and smiled with you.

You stopped a bit away from your girl and her family, taking the time to admire her. Her hair was in a ponytail of curls with two pulled out the side and her fringe framing her face—lips a soft ruby and skin sparkling under the light. She was dressed in a soft mint green dress, a delicate necklace adorning her neck and resting on her chest, her arms covered with long gloves.

(You were in love)

“Ah.” Daphne spoke first, as she saw you. Her lips curled into a secret smirk, clasping onto her husbands arm and hiding her face half behind his bicep to conceal herself.

Simon looked down at her fondly, eyes practically glimmering.

“Hello Bridgertons.” You beamed genuinely, all the family returning your expression with equal truth.

As you had done her, Eloise could not help but stare at you in awe. Your skin looked glowy and wonderfully soft under the lightening, your smile the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—eyes squinted with the force of it. Your dress was otherworldly, although to her, anything you wore would be and she just wanted to run her fingers through your hair.

“How do you all find yourself fairing tonight?”

“Yes, yes, very good. Blah—blah.” Benedict immediately waved the question away with an easygoing smile, gently taking his sisters arm and pushing her towards you. “We know which Bridgerton you are truly here fo.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

Eloise flustered, unused to such attention but you smirked back at Benedict. The whole family watched with smiles on their faces as their stone cold Eloise who detested marriage and had no true belief in love, melted against you as you took her hand, staring at you with wonder in her eyes.

“I’m beginning to realise it was never love she loathed—“ Anthony mumbled to Kate at his side, “just men.”

“Yes, and who can fault her that?” Kate questioned, head tilted.

All smiles, you looped your arm through Eloise’s and the both of you gracefully walked off—well, you glided effortlessly, from years of training and Eloise’s steps were harsh and careless against the floor, an endearing sense of her own unique grace about her.

“How are you today, Miss Bridgerton?” You smiled at her cheekily, eyes twinkling in a way that immediately disarmed her.

“I—yes, I am quite well, thank you.” Eloise stumbled, a fluttering feeling settling deep within her stomach, heart spiking as she was unable to look away from your eyes. “And yourself, your—your grace?”

“I could be your grace if you would like.” You emphasised pointedly, a mischievously sweetened smile curving at lips. You snatched a flute of alcohol from a passing servers platter, daintily looking into the eyes of the woman you admired.

She gulped slightly, a charmed blush warming her skin.

“I’ve had a genial day so far, my lady.” You giggled softly. “Although it has become all the more enjoyable when graced with your wondrous presence.”

“I can say much the same for myself.” Eloise rushed out genuinely, a smile at her lips as your eyes sparkled in response. “I find being in your proximity a most precious experience.”

“Perhaps you should venture in closer,” you offered almost offhandedly, taking another sip from your flute as you observed her, “you discover that to be an even more precious time.”

Eloise laughed a tad too loudly, nerves escaping her, but—with a timid smirk curving into her plush mouth, she edged closer towards you.

“And?” You encouraged amusedly, smiling.

“I—Your presence is even more powerful from here.” She grinned crookedly, “perhaps a tad too powerful—“ she joked, moving to take a teasing few paces away.

Your gloved hand caught her own and you both breathed in sharper at the contact. Without taking your eyes from hers, you traced almost absently on the silk material and she shallowly breathed in, feeling the sensations of your touch as though they were against her bare skin.

“Stay close, please.” You simply stated, tugging her back towards you gently. “If you would like.”

“I would like very much.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at her immediate reply and she battled back embarrassment as she made direct eye contact you, unabashed in the truth of her words.

“Your Grace, you look enchanting tonight.” Eloise complimented truthfully, admiring you. “I am only disheartened I have to share this awe-inspiring view with others.”

“You could admire me further in private, if you simply ask to do so.” You shrugged, a smirk on your lips.

Eloise blinked innocently, narrowing her eyes (cutely) as she attempted to recognise the hidden meaning—your words and tone making her feel warm all over.

She was about to open her mouth to adhere to your request when another approached.

“Your Grace,” a well dressed man you did not know walked to you both, bowing to you deeply while staring. “Lady Bridgerton.” He shortly acknowledged.

“It is indeed a pleasure.” Eloise muttered with a tight, bitter smile as she stepped closer to you—feeling dismay at how this man was staring at you.

“Quite.” He agreed, still gazing at you. “It has come to my attentions that your dance card is still empty, Your Grace—“

“Is it?” You interrupted, tilting your head innocently. “Allow me.” You implored to him, holding you hand out for his quill that a man was required to bring, to scribe on a lady’s dance card.

He blinked, a smirk crawling to rest on his mouth as he wielded to you his quill. You took it and immediately turned to Eloise, who grinned crookedly at you when you extended your wrist to her with the man’s quill.

The gent sputtered and flailed usefully in your peripherals but you could frankly give less of a shirt—staring at Eloise as she gently clasped your wrist in her hand, writing hurriedly onto your dance card with a triumphant grin upon her lips.

Fuck. You wanted to kiss her.

“This—this is hardly—“

“Enough? I do quite agree.” You aunt announced as she made her rare appearance on the ballroom floor, glowering superiorly at this unknown man. “I will organise more dances for you and your beloved. Now, shoo, shoo.” She turned to you, ushering you to the floor as a new dance began, a secret wink shot at you.

You and Eloise clasped hands, running away and towards the rest of the couples, giggling like children as you left the treacherous man with your darling aunt.

“You are a marvel.” Eloise laughed out softly, cheeks burning with joy, eyes crinkled as you stood across from one another—curtsying to each other. “I could not have asked for a better partner—in well, everything.”

“Oh, El.” You beamed, an enamoured giggle leaving your throat. “Believe me, it is I who is the lucky one.”

“Rubbish.” She rolled her eyes playfully, “never had I envisioned, even in my wildest fantasies, that—that I could. . would feel this way for another. But, you have invoked such—such emotion in me, it is almost a miracle.” Eloise laughed sheepishly. “You are not only angel in beauty and mind alike, you are also a miracle worker. . Are you not simply all a woman could ever want?”

“If you insist, Lady Bridgerton—“ You grinned widely, shrugging playfully at her.

You both laughed together, garnering sneers and smiles alike, although none of it was noticed. Lost in your own little bubble, hearts and butterflies practically fluttering around the pair of you.

In a spur of the moment, you decided to break from the traditional dance, pulling Eloise impossibly close to you before twirling her out—her dress billowing: she yelped in shock before you were both laughing giddily, others on the dance floor stumbling in bewilderment.

All eyes were on you both but you could not care, did not notice. You spun Eloise around before twirling her back to your front, swinging her playfully as she laughed loudly and you grinned uncontrollably down at her.

The sudden lack of chatter caused your shared laughter to slowly die out, looking about only to realise all eyes were on you both.

People blinked owlishly at the pair of you and you could feel Eloise begin to tense defensively before a sharp whistling erupted—followed by whoops and claps.

Everyone turned to see Benedict, fingers to his lips as he whistled uproariously. Kate was whooping and cheering happily, smiling ear to ear and Anthony, arm around her waist, was following her lead. Violet was politely clapping, a barely noticeable sheen of happy tears at her eyes at seeing her daughter to happy—Lady Danbury at her side, was applauding wholeheartedly as well. Colin was grinning, cheering—Penelope at his side was similarly expressing. Daphne and Simon were clapping loudly: The Queen, back on her platform, was engaging in a secret applause of her own, concealing her smile with Brimsley at her back doing the same.

Eloise and You blinked.

“Yes, yes!” Eloise snapped over the cheering, concealing her own smile and touched emotions. “We are quite besotted, thank you all for noticing, if you could return to your prior engagements that would sincerely appreciated.” She shouted, glaring at everyone.

The people of the ton twitched and blinked and fumbled in fear of the Bridgerton girl, returning to what they were doing—some sneaking looks back at you both.

When Eloise turned back to you in a pouty huff, you were beaming at her, mischief in your eyes.

“Besotted—?”

“Shut up!”

As your combined laughs echoed beautifully once again, all the Bridgertons and their extended family traded genuine smiles.

Their Eloise was incredibly happy, so it seemed: as were you.

[writersdrug]

Thinking about Simon with a goth! gf, and introducing his team to you.

Warnings: cursing, very slight nsfw, pda

Typed this up on my lunch break, not thoroughly proofread, ending is meh but it's been rotting in my brain so I had to push it out. Feel free to send me asks about this headcannon, I'd love to write more about it! <3

Simon insists on dragging his team to the nearest pub after a particularly rough day, offering to buy then a round of whiskey. They are all reluctant at first, complaining about aching backs and heads, and Price saying that the missus was expecting him.

Then Simon mumbles something about how his girl would've loved to meet them.

"Yer wha' now?"

"My girl."

Suddenly, Gaz's headache is gone. "Must've just been dehydrated, I suppose." Soap's back feels much better, after being able to sit in the car for just- five minutes, now. And Price? Apparently, the missus was at a dinner raffle for her charity- thing, and he'd just now remembered.

So, drinks and a quick bite at the pub you worked at. It was settled.

Simon leads them in shortly after parking the truck. The other three quickly scan the room for anyone who stands out. As Simon brings them to a booth in the back, they all take a seat, heads on a swivel for some pretty thing to come bouncing over and latch herself onto him.

"Gonna hit the head." Simon says. "I'll put our drinks in- she'll bring 'em over, she'll be done with 'er shift soon."

As he leaves, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sit there in a few moments of observatory silence. It's much harder to sample the crowd, they realize, since there's apparently no dress code for the servers. Johnny eyes each person like a hawk, until he sees a potential pick.

"Tha' one." He says, nodding towards a busty, long-legged blonde. Price and Gaz follow his line of sight to her as she leans against the bar, playing with her hair and laughing at something her friend says. Her bootcut jeans and frilly top accentuate her curves, and it's obvious that every man in her vicinity is ogling. "Twenty on 'er. Seems like he'd be into swimsuit models, eh?"

Gaz humms, scrunching his nose disapprovingly. "Nah, mate- too simple."

"Feck is simple 'bout 'er?"

"I mean for Simon." Gaz corrects Soap. "Don't think he'd want someone so... ditzy- no offense to her." He adds. "I think he wants a girl who can hold her own, in the physical and the figurative sense. Someone..." he narrows his eyes, searching through the crowd of people. "Like her."

He discretely points to a woman across the bar. She's playing darts with a few people, and hits the bullseye perfectly just as Soap and Price look her way. Her tank top and cargo pants show how defined, yet lean her muscles are. She looks like she could last a few decent minutes in a brawl. "I bet on her."

"Well I'll raise ye forty - I ken LT wants someone more... passive."

"Forty it is, then. I'd love to have you pay my bill tonight."

"If I may..." Price chimes in, leaning against the back of the booth with a smug look, arms folded over his chest, "I'd love to get in on this little game o' yours, and walk away with eighty pounds t'night - because you're both wrong."

Soap smirks. "And how's tha', Cap?"

Price smooths his fingers over his mutton chops. "Well, for starters, I'm a bit ashamed o' you boys. Neither of those girls actually work here, do they? Mm?"

Gaz groans, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. It takes Soap another moment, but then he remembers Simon saying this was where you worked. The whole point of them going to this specific pub was because you'd already be here, on the clock.

"Shite..." he mumbles.

"Alright, sir." Gaz says defeatedly. "Lay it on us."

Price leans his elbows on the table and points his finger straight ahead; Gaz and Soap both follow it to the bar, where a sweet-looking girl is punching orders into a server tablet. She has long, silky, red hair, and a petite frame. She smiles so kindly at every patron who speaks to her, and when she makes their drinks, she is quick with it, still engaging in conversation as she shakes the mixer with a powerful arm. Despite the crowd, she seems to be managing fine on her own.

"Her." Price says, tucking his hand back onto the table. "Y' see that face? The way she talks to 'em all? How she's soft and tough at the same time? Imagine that birdie tucked under his wing, eh?"

Soap and Gaz can imagine it. She's a cute little thing, a social butterfly, it seems - the perfect polar opposite to Simon that just might be the perfect fit.

"And I know he's got a thing for redheads." Price adds.

"Piss off, how d'ye ken tha'?" Soap grumbles.

Price shrugs. "Call it intuition."

Simon comes around the corner, carrying several glasses of neat whiskey. "Sorry-" he says, setting a glass in front of Price, and handing out the others as he sits down on the end of the booth. "She's on 'er way now."

"No worries." Price says, trying to hide his smirk. "Didn't know y' were into redheads, Simon."

Simon pauses, looking down at the table in confusion - then he chuckles. "Yeah, s'pose I am. How did y' know? Did she come by already?"

Price laughs. "No, son. We were just sayin'-"

"Hey baby!"

You turn the corner and lean down, squealing as you throw your arms around Simon's neck and kiss him. The other three look on with shock, and Soap is about ready to throw this random woman off of Simon, until he holds you just as tightly and kisses you back.

Price's smirk falls right onto the table when he realizes that he is just as wrong as the other two.

You're Simon's bird. Simon's raven. Black, styled hair, with black lipstick that is currently smudging Simon's chin. You have a choker - no, several chokers, wrapped around your neck, as well as a tiny corked bottle filled with red liquid that makes Soap and Gaz nervous, dangling from a chain. Long, black-painted fingernails, with small spiderwebs decorating the tips, caressing his face and the back of his neck. Your arms and legs are covered with torn fishnets and small tattoos, and you're wearing a black number with a corset, paired with studded Doc Martin's.

You finally pull away and look at the rest of them. "Sorry- nice to finally meet the lot of you." You say, shaking each one of their hands. Your eyes are striking, with full, dark lashes, eyeliner, and red contacts. Gages and a bull ring, too. Soap feels a shiver run up his spine when he looks at you head on, and Gaz hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor since you came around.

"Erm-" Price clears his throat, "pardon us- call me John. This is Kyle, and Johnny." He gestures to the other two, still watching you with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"I've heard so much about you. It's good to put names to the face." You say with a smile, shaking the other two's hands. Gaz manages to smile a bit, but Soap has the same shocked expression plastered onto his face.

Simon has a love-drunk, black-smudged smile on his lips as you sit down in his lap. "She's been wantin' t' meet you all for a while, now. Sorry I kept 'er a secret."

"To be fair, I'm usually hard to find." You say, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick off Simon's face. "I'm either here, at class, or roaming around and people-watching... at night, of course. People are more interesting when it's dark out." You traced a fingernail along his jugular as he stared up at you.

"John 'ere knew you were a redhead."

"How?! Oh my god- are my roots showing?"

"Nah, luvie, he's just observant. 'S our job." Simon places a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, leaning into the kiss.

"Oh, kitchen's about to close. You wanna split a burger, Si?"

"Sure, get what you like."

"'S no onions ok?"

"Fine w' me - chips?"

"You know it." You giggle, making a show of squishing his cheek and biting it. You turn to the rest of his team with a smile. "You boys hungry?"

Price is the first one to speak, taking a heavy breath in, causing Soap and Gaz to finally snap out of their trance. "Erm- whatever you get, we'll do the same. On us tonight."

"Oooh, you sure?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. Simon looked at Price curiously.

"You positive, cap?"

Price nodded. "Lost a bet."

Simon looks even more concerned. You pat his shoulder and stand up. "I'll go punch it in, be right back." You give him a peck on the cheek, and begin to walk away - Simon's attention returns to you as he hooks a finger in the chain choker around your neck and tugs you back.

Soap, Gaz, and Price all watch, stupefied, as you land back in Simon's lap with a giggle. He grabs your chin between his thick fingers and kisses you on the lips, shamelessly letting his tongue slide past your teeth and squeezing your thigh. You laugh into the kiss, letting him devour you for a moment, before tapping his cheek and breaking away.

"I got fifteen minutes to put everyone's order in, Si."

"That's plenty of time, dove."

"Yeah, but then kitchen will get mad for doing it last minute, and I don't want-"

He chuckles, gently shoving out off of his lap and smacking your rump through your skirt. "You're fine, go on."

You smile, then disappear behind the booth, boots thudding against the hardwood floors.

Simon looks back at the three of them - Soap is staring between you and him, a blush covering his face. Gaz immediately turns to look at the wall, scratching his chin, and Price is gazing into his whiskey, though there's a lingering surprise in his eyes.

"So- what bet?" Simon asks, adjusting his hips; Soap notices his hand reaching down to palm at the fabric over his groin. "I don' remember bettin' nothin'."

"We weren't bettin' on ye pullin' her out ye pockets, LT." Soap comments, trying to avoid Simon's eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out forty pounds, slapping it onto the table.

"It makes sense..." Gaz, chimes in. "With your whole skeleton look, she fits you."

Simon slowly smiles, understanding what they had bet on. "Oh... I see. Lemme guess - you thought I's with someone more... simple? Lile that blonde at the bar, is tha' right?"

"Tha's what I said!!" Soap exclaims, dropping his fist to the table. "You got te give me credit fer pointin' t' a swimsuit model first, aye?"

"Oh- because every bloke on earth is shallow enough to care about swimsuit models." Gaz scoffs. "I at least picked someone who didn't look so bloody helpless." He gestures to the girl playing darts with her friends. "You don't even know if the other girl's a model."

"Well, one can imagine..."

"Feel as though I's the closest..." Price mutters under his breath, making the other two glare at him.

"Ye were not."

"Get off your high horse, cap-"

"Well- try this." Simon leans on his forearms with a smug look on his face. "My bird? She's a model, and she's a black-belt in Judo, and-" he looks at Price- "she's a natural redhead."

They all look between Simon and you, as you stand behind the bar and punch their orders in, laughing with the other redhead. Their eyes would drop onto the table if they were any wider.

"You sly dog-" Gas comments with a chuckle.

"I don' believe ye." Soap says, crossing his arms. "Wha' kind o' model?"

"Lingerie."

Price chokes on his whiskey.

"Bullshit." Soap snaps. "Pictures or ye lyin'."

"Nah." Simon sighs, leaning back in his seat and daking a sip of his whiskey. "Not the ones I have, at least. But pick up the last "Bloodletting" magazine, and she's there."

They all sit there, a bit dumbfounded, watching you walk back to the booth. How on earth did someone like Simon land someone like you?

Simon's full of surprises, even in his personal life.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @cari-canes for this delightful commission. I'm so sorry I went so overboard... but I just could not resist the opportunity to write the bad guys in the cafe au. Cafe au has got everything!!!

---

You unlocked the glass door and stepped through, out of the bitter cold, watching to make sure the little ‘closed’ sign didn’t flip itself over as you shut and re-locked it behind you. Though some dim morning ambience made its way in through the big front window, it was still pretty gloomy with all the lights off. 

Honestly, though? You didn’t mind. 6:30am was a relatively late start for you. You used to get to your old bakery for 4 so you had all the time in the world to bake everything for the displays. A 6:30 start was a walk in the park.

First day nerves are normal. Just take a deep breath.

You put your coat on an antique wooden hanger by the door, and headed deeper into the still-closed cafe. It was a relatively quaint establishment, a medium sized room with about six tables of varying sizes. A nice oak counter, a glass case with room for sandwiches and pastries, a blackboard with coffee types lined up alongside chalked prices. A big pretty coffee machine with a shiny top. A sign on the wall behind the countertop declaring that they reserved the right to ‘remove anyone from the premises’. The only abnormal thing wasn’t even all that abnormal; most of the back wall was a continuous bookshelf, full of books of all different sizes and genres. The sort of thing that’d definitely give this spot enough charm to make it some people’s cafe of choice.

By all means, a perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary looking place.

... Nothing at all like its owners.

You moved behind the counter, floorboards ever-so-slightly creaky underfoot. The kitchen lights were on, you could see through the little round windows in the tops of the doors; someone was already in. The first day nerves kicked into high gear, butterflies making a racket in your stomach and throat... you kept telling yourself that you didn’t need to be as worried as you were, you wouldn’t have gotten hired if you made a bad impression on the staff. But nothing seemed to ease the anxiety that’d firmly lodged itself in your stomach.

You’d had other plans for the week. Nothing major - nothing that couldn’t be cancelled. But you had plans. Who wouldn’t? You lost your previous baking job with absolutely no notice, through no fault of your own. You’d been expecting to suddenly have a lot of free time you didn’t know what to do with. But here you were, plans cancelled, and little more than three days spent unemployed.

The hiring process had been.... Well. For lack of a better word, weird. Not anticipating any responses or interest but eager to reduce your chances of not being able to pay rent, you’d printed out your hastily-updated CV, taken your out-of-touch uncle’s advice and tried walking around town handing out copies to any place that let you breathlessly approached the counter. When you got to this cafe, a place you’d admittedly never even been inside, you had an experience that stuck with you for the rest of the day.

“Are you hiring?” you asked. 

The server at the counter was a skeleton monster. You’d never seen a skeleton monster before. He had his hood up, but you could see sharp red eyelights shining out from underneath - they looked bored. By this point in the day, you had just about gotten over the jitters that had followed you from shop to shop. But this guy was bringing them back.

He didn’t say anything.

“Uhm. Can I give you a copy of my resume?”

...

He clearly wasn’t interested. You’d definitely had some half-assed responses, but no one had outright IGNORED you yet. It was pretty disheartening.

“... Nevermind,” you said, small. “Sorry for bothering you - ”

A delighted voice right behind you. “we’re hiring.”

Startled, you spun around. Wait - another skeleton monster? This one was the polar opposite of the guy at the counter, he was grinning from nonexistent ear to nonexistent ear, a smile full of pearly white teeth. He had a dark serving tray tucked under one arm. Somewhat alarmingly, there were large black lines running down from his empty sockets to his jaw, but living in Ebbott city meant you’d seen more than enough strange monsters. There were far scarier looking (but completely harmless) monsters out there. 

“O-oh. You are?” you replied, flustered by his enthusiasm after a long day of little more than side-eyes. “I didn’t see a sign,”

“ain’t had time to put one up yet. your timing couldn’t be better.” He held a gloved hand out. He was so friendly - he looked so happy you were here. “i’m killer. that’s dust. ignore him, he’s a dickhead with everyone. can i have two copies? i’ll pass one on to my boss.”

“S-sure!” you said. Wow, what a positive response! You were suddenly riding a little high. You made a mental note to remember this particular place.

“we’ll be in touch,” Killer said, beaming. “promise.”

He wasn’t lying about being ‘in touch’. Literally the next morning, you had an email in your inbox, asking when you were free for an interview; when you politely responded that you were available as soon as possible the response came in asking you to be there later that day after the cafe had closed. You were pretty sure that by the time you walked into that building for the interview, most places hadn’t even read your resume yet.

And the interview itself...

You bit the inside of your cheek. That was a story for another day. You did your best to bring yourself back to the present. You took a breath, shifting your bag around on your shoulder, then stepping through into the light of the kitchen.

... Horror was the one already in the kitchen. Of course he was, he was the chef. He had his back to you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he was kneading dough on a heavily floured work surface. Batch making bread?

He was a huge guy. That had been clear during the interview, but he had been seated for most of that. Now, with him standing? You got to see his full size and height. He must’ve been almost seven feet tall, his back alone was twice the size of you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he got his shirts tailored specifically for him... where was a guy that big realistically going to get reasonably sized clothing, other than someone making it for him?

You were going to be spending hours in the kitchen alone with him. 

At the sound of the door, he looked over his shoulder at you. His big red eye took up most of his socket. The iris widened, just a fraction, at the sight of you.

“... you’re... early,” he said. His voice was very deep. He spoke each word like he was measuring it syllable by syllable.

“Y-yeah.” You fiddled with your bag strap. “I know I was told to come in at seven, but I thought I’d just get in a bit earlier. Get a feel for the place.”

...

“... experience?” he asked.

You tried very hard to keep you voice light. Perhaps too hard. “Lots. I’ve worked in plenty of bakeries and cafes before. What about you?”

He shook his head. His bony hands were covered in flour, up to the wrist.

You did a quick visual sweep around the room - the shelves full of perfectly organised and dated ingredients, equipment clean and sorted, shiny countertops, ovens you wouldn’t mind cooking your personal food in. The place would pass its health inspection with flying colours.

“This room looks... really good,” you said, honestly. “I’ve seen kitchens full of seasoned pros that look much worse than this. You won’t believe the state of some of the kitchens I’ve worked in. It’d make you never want to eat out again.”

Horror made a sound in the back of his throat. Then went back to kneading the bread, back to you.

... 

“Hey, I... I know Nightmare hired me to be ‘in charge’ of baking back here.” Your voice was shaky. “But this was your kitchen first. I don’t want you to think I’m coming in here to move all your things around and steal your job. I’m just baking brownies and pastries, and stuff. You’re the chef.”

... He paused, turning fractionally, red iris catching you again. 

Your employer was... well, you weren’t wrong about there being scarier monsters out there than Killer. Nightmare was a perfect example. You shuddered, remembering his cyan eye staring at you during the interview, flanked by the other three skeletons. That had felt less like an interview and more like an exercise in not displaying fear in front of predators.

“Honestly, I thought I blew the interview when I asked him if he only hired skeletons. But I guess not, since I’m here.”

Horror... 

... Chuckled. 

Phew. The sound visibly relieved you. You put your bag down. “Sorry. I know I talk too much. I’ll look around, give you some peace.”

...

“... i... like... when you talk.” He looked back to his bread. “... nice voice. fills quiet.”

You blinked.

... You got the overwhelming feeling you’d completely misjudged him. He suddenly didn’t seem quite so tall. Horror was clearly trying really hard; talking, laughing at your bad humour attempts, trying to make you feel more comfortable. 

Was he just... shy?

... The smile you gained must’ve really been something, because you could’ve sworn there was a little hint of red on the high edge of his cheekbone.

“When you’re done with the bread, do you mind showing me where things are kept?”

This time, his smile was higher, and nod was much more resolute.

Just like that, you didn’t mind being alone in the kitchen with him. Not at all.

---

You and Horror worked like a well-oiled machine. Not a word needed to be spoken - you weren’t sure what it was, but Horror just seemed completely in tune to everything you, he knew where you were going and what you were reaching for and why you needed it. His huge physique translated into incredible strength, he single-handedly managed tasks that would’ve taken your old kitchen three people. When the ingredient delivery car came, it took all your strength to carry just one box. Horror carried four. 

By the time you and Horror were done prepping, you emerged from the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron that was a little too big for you, really craving coffee. You were a tad more confident, glad to have made a friend, and you were determined to figure out how to use that lovely big machine. Maybe you could offer Horror something to drink?

... Dust was there. You hadn’t heard him come in. He was leaning against the counter, reading a book whose title you couldn’t see - sunlight was coming in through the cafe’s front windows, catching the edge of his hood and lighting up what looked like some specks of dust he hadn’t brushed off; it must’ve been late morning now, getting closer to opening time. You somewhat admired his commitment to dressing casual. He was wearing his barista apron over top a white shirt and hoodie, he was absolutely dedicated to dressing like he didn’t want to be there.

You paused just outside the kitchen door. Had you not just spent an hour with Horror, you definitely would’ve considered Dust an intimidating figure - now, though? He didn’t look like much. You hadn’t forgotten your first encounter with him, nor the dismissive way he’d treated you. But he didn’t cause the same pit in your stomach as he had when you first walked into the cafe. 

You fixed a polite smile onto your face.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking one or two steps closer but still giving him room. You awkwardly put one hand on the counter. “Morning. You know how to use the coffee machine, right?”

His dark, crimson eyelights flickered up to you from his book. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if he minded showing you how it worked. 

... Then he rolled his eyelights at you. 

You bristled, a hundred different insults sprang to mind, but your ‘years of working with assholes’ instincts kicked in and your teeth clamped together. You couldn’t help the way your brows twitched, though. What the fuck?

His expression shifted, slightly. But you didn’t really care to stay around long enough to figure out how, or why. If he wanted to be like that, you weren’t going to put up with it, you’d had more than enough experience dealing with terrible coworkers and you weren’t about to waste a moment more with him. You just turned around to head back into the kitchen. After such a pleasant time with Horror, it was whiplash to be treated so badly. You didn’t even want a coffee anymore. 

“told you he’s a dick.”

You almost jumped out of your fucking skin. It was Killer. Right behind you, in front of the kitchen door, where you had just come from. How did he get behind the counter? Flustered from being frightened, you put a hand to your chest and let out a few small shocked laughs. “H-holy crap. I didn’t hear... How did you...?”

Killer beamed at your laughter. He leant back against the inside of the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He was remarkably well-dressed, wearing a spotless dark turtleneck underneath his apron and a few silver rings on his phalanges, he stood in stark contrast to Dust. You could definitely imagine him being popular with customers.

“don’t take dust’s needlin’ personally,” he said, tone light and playful. “he’s like that with everyone. works at the coffee machine all day, an’ he point-blank refuses to ever make me or horror any coffee. we just gotta band together and ignore him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a breath through your nose, lowering the proverbial hackles that Dust had made you raise. Killer’s aura was... infectious, really, it was brightening and easygoing. You know what? Two out of three coworkers being nice was great. Better than some people had.

You turned around, glancing over your shoulder, to get a look at the guy who was being such an asshole to you.

... Dust was gone. 

“Eh?” Your back straightened in surprise, and your head swiveled back and forth. You couldn’t see him anywhere in the cafe.

“he’s on a smoke break, probably.” Killer clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Wait - did he? He made a sound that resembled the action, for sure. But he didn’t have a tongue, right? He was a skeleton. You looked back at him.

“But we haven’t even opened yet?” you said, bewildered.

“toldja. he’s just the worst. don’t ask him for anything, he’ll make you feel dumb for askin’.” He shifted his weight onto one foot, bending his knee slightly. “if you wanna know where anything is, just ask me.”

“... Ah. Okay.” You smiled again, appreciative. “Thank you, Killer.”

He grinned anew, corners of his sockets lifting. 

“you’re cute. i’m real ‘excited to be workin’ with you.”

... Your mouth opened slightly, taken aback. What? Did you hear that right? 

“Yeah, excited to be working with you too,” you blurted, absolutely no idea how to respond. Did he mean cute like adorable? Or cute like... “But I’ll be in the kitchen most of the time, right?”

“course. but it’s a quiet cafe. nice.” He tilted his skull, talking so casually and warmly, like he didn’t literally just call you cute. “we’ll get lots of chances to chat. lots of time to get to know each other better.”

“Sure.” Your head was spinning, heart starting to thud. You were glad your voice came out so much calmer than you actually felt. Was this just his personality? That had to be it. He had to just be the kind of guy that sounded flirty. Your hands twisted in your apron. “That... that sounds great,”

Killed leaned, resting his elbow on the counter and putting his chin on his hand. 

“i’d love to get to know you better,” he purred.

Okay, no, you were definitely being flirted with. A flush of heat prickled your cheeks. Oh my stars, he probably wanted you to respond. How were you supposed to respond?

Fwump! A blue cloth landed on Killer’s skull, then flopped onto the counter. It made you jump, but Killer’s only reaction was a slight annoyed downturn in his smile. You looked over your shoulder - Dust was walking away, toward the back of the cafe, probably to put his book away.

“I-I should get baking then, huh?” Taking advantage of the lull you quickly darted past Killer, turning around and using your back to push the kitchen door open. “I’ve got, uh... dough. That needs... attending to,”

You kept backing up. Killer advanced, still smiling. “mind if i come see? not much of a baker, myself.”

“I-I don’t know if...”

A massive shape moved into your field of view. Suddenly, Horror’s hand slammed into the door frame. He had moved with a startling amount of speed for such a large guy. With just that move, he body blocked the doorway entirely, sending Killer reeling back.

“kitchen staff only.” Horror didn’t sound happy.

“since when was that a rule?” Killer didn’t sound happy either. “stop getting so possessive.”

... You couldn’t see anything. Only Horror’s back. But you caught the way Killer’s face twisted, smile falling.

“fuckin’ hell. message received. don’t have to get so weird about it.”

You didn’t wait to find out what happened next. Flustered and confused and just grateful to be back in the kitchen (clearly a safe zone), you turned away from the mess happening in the doorway.

... Something on the counter caught your eye.

A fresh coffee. In a pretty stoneware mug. It was on your side of the kitchen, but you definitely hadn’t put it there. 

Just from a glance, you could tell it was your usual. And it was clearly new, made within a few minutes, there were still gentle wisps of steam rising from its surface.

... Cautiously, you picked it up. There was only one person who had been at the counter the whole time Killer was flirting and Horror was baking.

You took a sip.

...

You were getting some pretty mixed signals from Dust.

But damn. He knew how to make a good coffee.

---

When you envisioned the sort of person that ran a cute little independent cafe like this, you definitely pictured someone that matched the decorations. Someone friendly, bookish, tasteful. Perhaps an owl monster, or a plant monster with big monstera leaves, or even a human (specifically one who wore dungarees). Someone who looked like they probably had a beautiful private Instagram. 

... The person behind the counter shifted, at the sight of you entering the cafe once again. It looked like he had been cleaning the coffee machine until you walked in, a small rag in one giant clawed hand.

“ah. thank you for coming in after closing,” he said. His voice, soft and deep and satiny. His smile, ice white. 

When you envisioned this cafe’s owner, you didn’t picture Nightmare.

You shuffled over to the counter. There was a stool pulled up to it, but you didn’t sit down, too nervous to. “No problem,” you said, tiny. “I was going to come back and prep some stuff anyway.”

Horror may have been taller. Killer’s tears may have been more visually striking, Dust’s face may have been ‘spookier’. But there was no one with an aura like Nightmare’s. By all appearances, he was just a skeleton monster with pitch black and tarry bones - considering there were monsters that were ten-foot springs on fire and giant carnivorous fish with teeth the length of your forearm, a skeleton with tarred bones was nothing. He didn’t appear particularly out of the ordinary. He was wearing a well fitted black button-up shirt, and a silver watch on one skeletal wrist... a perfectly average humanoid monster.

But there was just something about him. You felt it, the moment you walked into the interview. Something about the way he held himself, something about his air, the slightest tilt of his chin. That sharp, brilliantly cyan eyelight - whoever could’ve guessed that cyan could be such a powerful colour? Something about him set off an instinctual nervousness deep inside you, a flighty feeling that told you to pay close attention to every move he made.

You swallowed. 

... It was very attractive. 

You could never, ever say it aloud. Especially since he was your boss. But everything that made Nightmare intimidating to you just made you blush. You felt it the moment you walked into the interview, and you felt it now; his overwhelming energy made your breath catch in your throat. He was handsome. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, but not too sharp or angular. Just... nice to look at.

There were some papers, and a pen, on his side of the counter. He slid them over to you. You didn’t know why, but you expected the tips of his claws to leave black marks on the white paper - they didn’t. 

“just some documents for you to sign,” he said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Horror’s, but nevertheless, it reverberated inside your chest. “had to be in-person. then you’re all on board.”

“Oh, okay.” You picked up the pen.

“i wanted to check how your first day was, too.” He set aside the rag he’d been holding, and leant on the counter. Both elbows. There was still almost a metre between you, but it felt as if he was pressing into your personal space bubble. You could smell something; a cologne, maybe? It was really good. “how was it?”

“Good,” you replied, shakily, completely unable to concentrate on the words actually on the paper. “Everyone was nice. Horror, especially.”

“i’m glad to hear it.”

“Killer... did flirt with me, though.” 

Nightmare’s brows raised. “did it make you uncomfortable?”

“N-not really. Just confused.” Why did you blurt words out like that around him? You’d done the exact same in the interview, just saying whatever came to mind. You needed to get a hold of yourself. 

He cared whether or not you were uncomfortable... that was sweet.

Nightmare tsked. “he’s like that with everyone. but he shouldn’t be. i will have a word. tell me if it happens again, i’ll beat some sense into him.”

Not expecting that last line, you coughed out a little laugh. Nightmare was clearly pleased, grin inching up his face. 

“let me make you something to drink.” He shifted off his elbows, hands flat on the counter.  

You stood up straighter. “O-oh, it’s fine. I wouldn’t - ”

“you aren’t imposing,” he said, turning around and pushing his sleeves up his arms. “sit down.” 

Your butt was on the seat. Huh? You’d sat down before you’d even thought about whether or not you wanted to obey. You swallowed again, glad he had turned around and couldn’t see your face. He possessed an incredible gift for sounding commanding, without sounding aggressive. 

He took the kettle, bringing it over to the sink and starting to fill it with water.

“I... what’re you making?” you asked, flustered at how easily he was able to make you do as he said.

“it’s a surprise.” He pulled out a mug. “don’t look.”

Well... you had no trouble not looking at what he was making. You couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to his arms; the bones that made up his forearm were large and thick, almost as thick as your wrist. 

“You’re sure?”

“my treat,” he hummed.

You turned your eyes down, finally actually focusing on the paperwork. It was the usual... bank details, confirming you’d read the employee code of conduct, right-to-work, all of that. Honestly, you skim-read most of it. You tapped the pen gently against the edge of the paper, rather than on the wood, so you could fiddle without making too much of a noise.

As your gaze trailed up and down the pages, signing and dating whichever ones asked for it, you couldn’t help but note how nice this felt. Sitting at the counter, after closing, listening to the sound of Nightmare making something. The kettle boiling, cutlery and equipment clinking, the gentle hiss of the milk steamer. It all felt very... safe. Cosy.

“here,” he said.

You looked up. He was holding the drink out to you. It was a nice dark blue mug you hadn’t seen on the shelf yet. Was it reserved for him? 

“Thank you,” you said, softly, reaching out. It smelled incredible. It was clearly hot, and frothy, he’d sprinkled a tiny pinch of dry tea leaves on the top for effect.

As you took the drink from him... his fingertips brushed your hand. You could’ve sworn it was deliberate, like he had shifted his hand specifically to allow the tips of his claws to trace over the top of your palm as you took the drink. 

Your cheeks and neck prickled. It must’ve just been an accident. Right? You were looking into it too deeply because you liked him. You cleared your throat, a tiny sound, and sipped the drink. 

... It was sweet, hot, comforting. It was creamy and fluffy - yet somehow floral and sophisticated. It felt deep, but layered, it was an absolute treat.

“Woah,” Was all you were able to breathe out. 

He rested his forearms on the counter this time. More casual than just the elbows, perhaps. To your relief, he’d made himself one as well, you would’ve felt much too awkward drinking something on your own. 

His gaze was relaxed, socket lidded. But at the same time, there was something indecipherable about the way he looked at you. “i’ll take that as a good response...?”

“What is this?” you asked, right before taking another sip.

“lavender london fog. one of my favourites.”

“I’ve always been fond of lavender,”

His eyelight became a fraction wider, and the cyan glow a touch stronger. “... you have good taste,”

“I think I’m done with all the paperwork,” 

He tilted his head. “i intimidate you. don’t i?”

... 

You made a little surprised, confronted sound, where did that come from?! 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you squeaked. “It’s not you, I promise,”

He chuckled. What a lovely sound. “don’t be silly. of course it’s me. i have that effect on people, i always have.”

You were spluttering. You couldn’t deny you were a bit relieved that he knew the whole time, but you still didn’t like that you’d been so obvious. “I feel terrible, though! You’ve been nothing but nice to me,”

“you’ve been nothing but nice, too.” He swirled his drink. You could hear the foam sizzling against the sides of the cup. “despite how obviously unpleasant myself and my employees are, you’ve treated us all very well. don’t think it’s gone unnoticed.” 

“You’re not unpleasant,” you stressed, embarrassed and avoiding the compliments. 

“it sounds unprofessional,” Nightmare said. “but i mostly hired you for that. your pleasant aura, despite it all.”

“Aura?” you parroted.

“metaphorically speaking.” He finally drew the paperwork back across the counter to him, eyeing your signature. “my boys are... difficult. don’t tell them i called them my boys. hiring has been incredibly troublesome, because until now, they’ve never liked anyone who applied. they’ve chased off three other potential hires already. finding someone they all like has been hard work.”

“Pft.” Your cheeks could not catch a break. They were about as hot as the mug you were squeezing in both your hands. You had no idea you were so desirable, nor so easy to get along with. It was very flattering. “How did they chase them off?”

Nightmare raised his brows. “dear, i would like to keep you around. i don’t think i’ll tell you that.”

You laughed. The pet name flew over your head. Nightmare’s smile wasn’t getting any wider, but... it was getting softer. 

“I-I should get to work. I wanted to make some batters now, so they can rest overnight.”

“could i lend a hand?” Nightmare tilted his head. “my baking knowledge is not... extensive. but i’m happy to assist.”

Unlike Killer’s ‘offer’ to help, this one, you were delighted to accept. “Of course. If you don’t mind being told what to do.” 

He chuckled.

“if it’s you, i don’t mind one bit.”

[bunny-jpeg]

Ciao bello, how do you do? I wondered what pastry should I order as it all look so tempting. So, I'd like to indulge myself with some mille-feuille, and hard lemonade to the side, please.

the bakery menu

there's still tons more items on the menu! feel free to submit your own order, i'd love to write more! as for this lovely request, your server this afternoon with be lando norris! thank you again for the combination and i hope it serves your fancy!

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served to you by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, possessive behaviour/jealousy, missionary position, naive!reader,

lando never considered himself a jealous man. he believed that you were free to go about life as you deemed fit. he trusted you, he loved you. you were his number one fan and the love of his life.

so why did jealousy rear its ugly head when he saw you go up to max verstappen and pull him into a tight hug. in all fairness, your relationship was still new, you two were still getting to know the nitty gritty of one another. but still, how did you know max verstappen. and not on a casual level, but you beamed at him like you hadn't seen him in years.

lando strode over to see what his lovely girlfriend was doing. he was a bit perturbed how he saw how max had an arm wrapped around your shoulders and he was laughing. it was so painfully casual for the three time champion. it only made the jealousy grow deeper in lando's gut as he smiled at you.

he didn't want to scare off his perfect angel of a girlfriend.

even if she was in the arms of the devil. he took you in his grasp and hugged you tightly. even going as far as to kissed you on the forehead. he looked to max for a moment and raised his eyebrows, "honey." he said, "you should be in mclaren area, not red bull." he laughed, trying to play it all off. he patted your face with affection, but also a bit of ownership, "did you get lost?"

you shook your head, "no, landy." you held onto the front of his racing jacket and looked to him, "i wanted to see max before practice started."

lando nodded, "i see, i see." his gaze flicked to the other man, "how do you know my girlfriend, max?" he was trying his best to keep it cool. he didn't want another incident that was plastered all of the headlines for a week.

max looked to you then back to the other driver, "oh... she didn't tell you."

lando made a face, "tell me what?"

you piped up, "oh yeah! i just thought you knew, landy." you were still holding onto him, "max and i are technically childhood friends! i mean ya know, like a million years ago! remember, my dad was an engineer. he worked with max's dad!"

max said to you, "i see not a lot has changed. always forgetting the important details."

you frowned at max and let go of your boyfriend to punch the dutch driver in the arm, "hey! i'll have you know, i got my university all on my own!"

"and how many deadlines did you miss during your program?"

you wagged our finger at max, "ya know, verstappen. you're very lucky."

max seemed amused and looked to lando, "seems you pick them well, norris. i'll see you two later. good luck out there." then turned away, leaving you with your boyfriend.

lando narrowed his eyes at max, who was walking away, and then turned his attention back to you. he took his cap off and placed it on top of your head. he then placed a hand on the top of your head and said, "don't take this off."

you nodded, you looked so painfully sweet. lando knew that you wouldn't try to cheat on him. but your closeness to max had jealousy curl in his gut.

lando was happy that you kept to your word and wore his mclaren hat till you were on your way back to the hotel. he didn't see you with max for the rest of practice, but it still didn't deterred lando from being in your personal space as he kept a hand possessively on your thigh.

once you were back in the hotel room, lando's hands were all over you. his lips were to your neck and you moaned as you held onto him. you felt a heat throb between your legs as you were herded to the bedroom.

you ended up on the bed with a bounce and knew that lando wasn't going to take it slow tonight. you took off the hat but lando quickly grabbed it and put it back on your head, "wear it. you look good in it."

he then got his shirt off followed by the rest of his clothes, you did the same save for the hat which sat proudly on top of your head. you didn't think you looked good in baseball caps, but lando loved you in nothing but it.

he got between your legs, and leaned over you to grab a condom from the box on the night stand. he put it on with ease, his heart raced in his chest as he gazed at you with such love. but also much possession.

"is there any other drivers i should know about?" lando asked, "i don't want any more surprises."

"what do you mean, landy?"

"i know you two were friends, but you were all over him, love."

you looked at him curiously, "but that's how i greet all my friends."

he stroked his cock, you were so innocent sometimes. he couldn't be upset for too long (even though he barely was to begin with). he looked you in the eyes, and said, "that's how you greet all your girl friends." then placed on hand on your middle and the other on his cock as he slowly sank into your sweet hole.

"mmm, honey." you whimpered.

the warmth of your cunt against him made him shudder. he kept one hand on your stomach and the other on your hip as he started to thrust against you. he swore he could feel his cock inside of you as he bumped up into the deepest parts of you.

"fuck, babe." he groaned. he was hunched over you as he started to work your pussy. his thrusts were short and quick, the hot intensity of his movements made you feel good. he said to you, "i just want you all to myself. the one thing that the likes of max verstappen can't have."

he felt a pull in his chest for you. he just wanted you to be his forever. was that a crime? his thrusts became heavier, he could see the expressions that crossed your face. you looked perfect.

"but i'll always be yours, landy." you confessed to him with sucha sweet smile. it made his cock throb in you as he continued to rut against you.

"that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl." he groaned, "that's my girl, you're perfect. i'm sorry i'm a jealous bastard, i just don't want to lose the best thing i've ever had." he messily made out with you, keeping you pinned to the bed as he rutted against you.

his heartbeat raced in his ears as he continued to thrust in and out of you. you were so perfect for him. you were his perfect half, he loved you to the point that it made him a possessive fool.

"i'll always love you, lando. i mean it." you said with such a sweetness to your voice.

"that's what i like to hear." he said as he continued to thrust. the bed shifted under your movements and you were left feeling hot all over. the space between you was limited and you could feel him reach some of the deepest parts of you core.

you made out with him once more and met with his thrusts. you could feel your mouth growing dry and you body growing hotter. it felt good being so close to him. he was the perfect partner in every way you could think of.

the two of you made love, lando's possessive streak he had all day was slowly diminishing and the love he had for his girlfriend only bloomed. his kisses were sweet even though he pace was rather quick.

"shit, ah. lando." you whined as you felt orgasm creep up on you. the pleasure made its way through your body and left your breathless. you sloppily made out with him once more before with tensed up and came around his cock.

he broke the kiss and panted heavily as he continued to pace. both hands were now on either side of you to get better leverage to thrust up into you.

"you're so perfect, my angel. i want this cock in every way i can get it. i want you more than anything, baby." he panted as he put his all into your thrusts. the pleasure pulsed through his body as he moved against you. you felt like a dream. "so perfect." he panted heavily with a few more heavy thrusts. then he was finally able to finish inside of you. it shook him to his core and made his mind go blank for a few moments.

"lando." your voice felt far as you laid there, overstimulated and sweaty.

he gave a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you with a large groan. his pace staggered then stopped before he pulled out and laid next to you. he pulled you into his arms and gave your cheek wet kisses as you squirmed against him.

"oh, i love you so much." he said with tenderness in his voice, "you're so perfect and i want you to myself forever."

you tried to meet his lips, but kept missing due to how fast he was moving to kiss your heated skin. you eventually took him by the face and laughed, "don't worry. you already got me, honey." <3

[wintaerbaer]

seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

Sneeg is trying so hard to give Ros "Scary Dog Privilege". For anyone unaware, "Scary Dog Privilege" is a term used for when someone has an intimidating dog (or often times person) that makes people hesitant to mess with them. It allows the person to feel more free and safe without worry of potential attack.

It's a role that Clown had fallen into with Ros. People know not to mess with Ros whenever Clown is around. There were several times when the hostile faction was going to attack Ros but reconsidered the moment they saw Clown looming over her shoulder. However, Clown isn't around a whole lot and in his absence people tend to push Ros around.

Sneeg has noticed this and has also assigned himself the role of "Scary Dog" on Ros's behalf. He makes the effort to check in with Ros when she is talking with other people and makes a show of asserting himself as someone on Ros's side. The other day when Tubbo and Krow were bothering Ros while she was building the castle the first words out of his mouth were "Are you bothering my architect?" Immediately he is making a public show that bothering Ros means bothering Sneeg. He wants people to know this. He also goes on to ask Ros if she actually wants Tubbo and Krow there and offers to chase them away in a very threatening manner. Ros isn't very confrontational so he deliberately makes it known that it is ultimately Ros's choice and that he will back her up. He wants people to respect Ros's choices and he has been making public displays to show there will be consequences if people do not. Sneeg also wants Ros to know that she can make her own decisions and have them be respected. Sneeg wants Ros to know that she can say no to people. It is a well known joke on the server that Ros has no backbone and can be easily convinced to do almost anything. She is afraid of confrontation and the potential retaliation that comes with it. She is also very afraid that people will turn against her. She was convinced that everyone would take Owen's side against her and she was hesitant to say anything to even her friends. Even after killing Owen the first time she worried that she was the one in the wrong and had to be reassured that what she did was understandable. Sneeg is trying his hardest to prove to her that he will be there to back her up no matter what. He is trying to prove to her that she always has someone in her corner that will stand up for her. He constantly makes the effort to put choices in Ros's hands and making it known that he will respect them. When Ros had left the yellow faction he repeatedly told her that, if she really wanted to leave, he would not force her to go back to The Kingdom. He just wanted to be sure it was a decision that she wanted and that she wasn't being forced out. He also refused to speak on her behalf when it came to telling Clown about it. It was important that Ros chose what to tell him. In fact, he also made sure it was Ros who started the confrontation with Owen and he only jumped in to support her when Ros was backing down. It's important to him that Ros is the one making these choices and not just following what others want. So now this brings us to Sneeg building an alarm system in the castle that gives Ros the power to summon him at any time. Ros has been complaining for months about how building the castle is so difficult because people always bother her there. Sneeg has been very vocal about his frustration of the constant intruders and people's lack of respect for Ros. It infuriates him that Ros doesn't feel comfortable to build her own castle because people don't leave her alone. So now he has embraced his role as "Scary Dog" and he's living up to it. He feels that the castle is Ros's and she gets to decide who is there. If people are in the castle and Ros doesn't want them there, he will chase them off. People will learn not to bother Ros and respect her wishes otherwise they will be bothering Sneeg. Very few people want to bother Sneeg and he is a lot less patient and less forgiving than Ros is. Ultimately it is up to Ros how much she uses the system but the important part is that it makes Ros feel safer telling people to leave her alone.

[azirafeast]

This year is the 5th Annual #Azirafeast, The Feast Day of the Angel Aziraphale, an inclusive fandom event! It’s celebrated on November 19th! It’s a made up holiday that brings the community together, regardless of how a person participates in fandom.

On Nov.19, everyone is welcome to celebrate The Feast Day of Aziraphale by drinking cocoa and wine, eating good food, reading, being stylish on their own terms, enjoying the company of friends and embracing the spirit of Aziraphale! Please share your pics on socials with #Azirafeast!

On Nov. 19, Creators are encouraged to show Aziraphale indulging in what makes him happy or why you love him (canon or fanon!) Create “Lore” for why Aziraphale has a feast day! What miracles throughout history has he performed? Creations can be dramatic, serious, sexy or silly!

All forms of creation are welcome: Draw, write, sing, act, sew, bake, cosplay or anything else! However YOU want to appreciate our favorite Angel. All variations, versions and representations of Aziraphale are welcome for #Azirafeast

And remember, you don’t have to “make” anything to participate in #Azirafeast on Nov. 19. Eating cake and lying to your boss is a great way to celebrate! Confuse some customers, watch a nature documentary, get drunk, listen to your favorite music, be kind to someone who is new or lost!

Anything tagged #Azirafeast I will reblog, the same on Bluesky, Instagram and Twitter. I’ve had a permanent highlight on my Instagram for the last four years, and maintained this tumblr. Checkout what others have made for previous years!

There is also an AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Azirafeast

Anything added to it I will promote on my socials for #Azirafeast.

I know I don’t have the biggest following, but the idea is that on the feast of Aziraphale, even fans who don’t have a large social media presence will still be seen, still have their experiences noticed, and will feel part of a community that cares.

Folks can get stressed about creating by a “due date.” I encourage folk to post early if they want, and to keep posting after Nov. 19th if they miss the day or don’t finish in time.

Just make sure to tag your contributions, whether they are pics or creations, with #azirafeast so we can celebrate with you! Please feel welcome to take my words and reshare any way that you would like, and make your own posts to generate awareness! Please do share in any fandom communities your part of, or feel free to try and convince people IRL that this is a totally real holiday.

I do not run, own, control or anything of the sort in regards to #azirafeast. The idea came from Cliopadra and a private discord server, and the brilliant folk there randomly picked a date and ran with it. The reason I made this blog and encourage people to participate is because I think it’s a lovely idea! It is NOT “mine.”

[esthelle-wanders]

Warriors and Artemis: What The Heck Is Going On With Them (a self-appointed analysis)

SO I don’t tend to get too involved with shipping— but during my time in the Linked Universe fandom, I’ve noticed something consistent: while everyone has their own set of headcanons for favorite couples, Hyrule Warriors Zelink is the princess-hero duo with the widest variety of interpretations.

Aside from other factors— like Warriors fans living for angst— I think this stems from the reality that, in the context of Linked Universe specifically, the dynamic between Wars and Artemis is among the Link-Zelda relationships we know the least about.

Hence, in light of the recent holiday, I wanted to take a moment and collect all the clues we’ve gathered for this relationship over time. And, maybe, spark some conversation! (Buckle up and maybe make some hot chocolate, there’s surprisingly a lot to talk about)

[All image credits go to Jojo, with thanks!]

Part 1: Jojo’s Hints

When considering any Link-Zelda dynamic in Linked Universe, the easiest place to begin is Jojo’s response to the “love interest” question…aka, Default Zelink.

Obviously, this response doesn’t define the limits of fandom creativity, or invalidate the thousands of excellent stories we can tell with our own interpretations. It is, however, incredibly helpful as a starting point when we’re trying to puzzle out where Jojo might take a relationship in future updates!

Note: Redacted

[Originally, this next section included my analysis of a Q&A Jojo gifted to the Linked Universe Discord server. It was brought to my attention that this material was not meant to be shared outside the server. Of course, I have removed it. Creator boundaries are very important, and regardless of my intent or awareness, I want to honor that. Thanks to @luna-loveboop for catching this!

For the purposes of this analysis, I’m leaving my conclusions intact, and replacing the original material with a link to the LU Discord server. If anyone wants to read the evidence there, along with a host of lovely lore tidbits, absolutely check it out!]

Analysis Resumes:

So, here’s what we know:

1. Wars and Artemis are almost certainly romantically involved.

2. It’s more than mutual feelings, but less than an established relationship.

3. It’s been at least SIX years since the end of their adventure.

Obviously, I still have questions. Chief of which is: what does it mean that this is where their relationship stands, when it’s been 6+ years since their mutual adventure?

This sparks a few more questions.

1. If there’s mutual interest, why hasn’t it progressed?

2. Are there obstacles to a definite relationship?

and, of most interest to me:

3. If there’s an obstacle— are either Warriors or Artemis the reason for this?

Conveniently, that part’s next!

Part 2: Warriors and Artemis

A. Warriors’ side

Thus far, Wars has referenced Artemis (directly) exactly once (in “Moving Forward”):

This doesn’t tell us anything about the specifics of their relationship, but it does show that

1. Artemis is a fond subject for Wars: he cares about her.

2. She’s an exception to his hangups with secrecy: he trusts her.

(I considered providing instances of the “Wars and Not Being Told Stuff” saga, but that would 1. take forever and 2. test Tumblr’s image limit. I think we can all agree that this is a trait of his.)

This is a pretty reasonable indicator of how Wars feels about Artemis… for now. He cares about her, and even more notably, he trusts her.

But what about the princess in question?

B. Artemis’ side

As of now, the Zeldas have only come up a handful of times in LU.

Aside from background comics and cameos, references in the main story are largely restricted to Time giving Sky relationship advice in “Miss Her,” Wild addressing his thoughts to Flora at key moments in the aftermath of Twilight’s injury, and Time mentioning Lullaby in “Timeline talk 1.”

And then, of course, there are the Malon chapters.

Romance, as it pertains to the Links, is the subject of conversation at multiple points throughout this “arc”— but for my purposes, the most important stuff is this panel from “The Bet.”

Okay, aside from Wars making political-intrigue fanficcers very happy, this is super informative. A few key takeaways:

1. Wars also assumes Default Zelink.

2. He doesn’t see birth or status as an obstacle to marriage.

3. He’s so confident that he’s willing to bet on it.

(Admittedly, the Chain places a lot of bets— but it’s still worth mentioning that he’d stand his ground on this)

From here, I think we can make three statements and remain well within the realm of probability:

1. Wars thinks very highly of his Zelda.

He sees how much Time loves his wife, and Time’s general self-possession, and assumes it has to be the princess.

2. If there are obstacles to HW Zelink, they probably aren’t external.

Wars treats public support as a given, as long as the involved parties can play the political game.

3. He seems to be speaking from experience.

There’s no signs of frustration, or even a hypothetical here— he’s talking about this like it’s par for the course. Ergo, he probably hasn’t experienced anything that would contradict that assumption.

My conclusion: Artemis isn’t the obstacle. There’s no indication here that Wars’ Zelda is unable or unwilling to make the political arrangements he mentions. In fact, given how unconcerned Wars appears, I’d say it was never a point of contention at all.

That’s as far as I’m willing to go with this panel alone— but if we factor in Zelda’s attitude in Hyrule Warriors proper, I think it’s reasonable to assume that Artemis is open to taking this relationship to the next level.

*inhale*

So. If there’s mutual feelings, and there aren’t any external obstacles, and it’s been 6+ years— why aren’t they a couple?

Part 3: Let’s talk about Wars

Specifically, Wars and his relationship with… relationships. Of the romantic kind.

Since the earliest years of the LU fandom, it’s been fairly well-established that Wars is the resident flirt.

This comes from a few of the side comics, but also from the first-ever Linked Universe post:

Over time, the fandom’s interpretation of these traits seems to have shifted a bit.

Early fanworks tended to depict Warriors as the “Casanova” of the group. More recently (within the last few years), I’ve seen the widespread reading that “women problems” has more to do with Wars’ personal trauma than with a hypothetical reputation as a womanizer.

While these alternate perceptions have a big impact on how we might interpret situations like this—

— surprisingly, it makes very little difference to this self-appointed investigation. Whether he’s a chronic flirt, processing trauma, or both, the fact is that Wars doesn’t seem interested in “settling down” with a definite relationship.

This is clearest, I think, in this panel from “Powerful Ring”:

Warriors is being a tease here, but using the term “shackle” telegraphs a pretty clear opinion. Time even draws a bit of attention to it with his good-natured “aside.” It’s not something you’d say if you were actively looking to get into a long-term, committed relationship.

We’re encroaching on the image limit, but it’s worth noting that Wars’ attitude here contrasts sharply with Sky’s, and even Hyrule’s. Sky is all bashful interest, and Hyrule expresses doubt over his own ability to “settle down” as the Hero. Meanwhile Warriors, who sits between them on the Zelink romance scale, projects pointed, if very light-hearted, distaste (or at least disinterest).

So here’s Warriors’ side, updated:

1. Warriors cares about Artemis, a lot.

2. He also trusts her, a lot.

3. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to be in an official relationship with her.

Part 4: Conclusion

Okay! Time for the TLDR:

1. Wars and Artemis are almost certainly romantically involved.

2. It’s more than mutual feelings, but less than an established relationship.

3. It’s been at least SIX years since the end of their adventure.

and, finally,

4. Wars himself is the obstacle to taking the relationship further.

Annnnd that’s as far as I can go, without veering off the tracks into headcanon territory.

Of course, while I tried to be as neutral and “canonical” as possible, at the end of the day, this is just speculation! And Esthelle amusing herself tracking down hyper-specific panels in Linked Universe like it’s an Important Assignment and not an Excuse To Read The Comic Again.

Whatever it turns out to look like, there’s so much potential in the Wars-Artemis dynamic! They’re interesting, and we should talk about them more— even if I didn’t plan to write quite this much about them in one post. I can’t wait to see what Jojo has planned.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! If you have additions, corrections, theories, or general thoughts, I’d love to read them.

[tiredsmashbros]

THURSDAY - .... um...?

well would you look at that. the blue bitchass is beginning to give up... how wonderful doing a party ain't easy don't try this at home-

WELL... since... SMG4 isn't going to announce something cool, i um, will! similar to the 1K birthday party last year on thursday, i'll show an itty bitty wip update once more on:

LIPBITE PART 3!!

since i already teased lil bit from this page a few days ago, i thought might as well show the whole thing!! obviously not final, but very close to it. frankly i've been meaning to have this next part done before 2025, yet i kept getting really sick, and having to manage several projects and irl issues/events. hopefully within my last spring semester i can continue working little by little but i can't genuinely guarantee a date. other than later this year LMAO. but what i CAN guarantee is i'm making sure its as great- maybe even better than pt2 as i'm putting a little more effort and thought from improving the past few months. alas, it is slowly in the works and reminder to folks i AM in my senior year and will be graduating THIS SPRING!! yippee!!! hopefully, after this event i can get back to prioritizing this one as i slowly get back to college. either way, once its done, i hope you guys will enjoy it as much as i do and hopefully the wait will be somewhat worth it. until then, wait patiently fuckers /silly

BUT THATS NOT ALL!!

since obviously that one sketch above ain't going be enough

here's a bunch of other things i've worked on during my fall semester that seems pretty cool and relevant but never uploaded on here !!

this is a illustration piece i made for my screen printing class! with the printed one being off from the reference since i put the color order wrong LMAO and i also wanted to experiment how chaotic i could make it hehehe. kinda shy to share this piece in particular, but its honestly one of my favorites i've done, so theres no harm in sharing

the same class, but as 1/3 of my final, i had to make books! but because i'm horrible with using pins and too picky with paper + string alignment, i thought it would be best i do... well... a very silly collage-like project xDDD buTT!! this one taking the opportunity to make a cool TSB book!!!

lastly, something even more crazy, another final from one of my other classes... a kickstarter.

BUTT PLEASE LET ME STATE THAT THIS IS FAKE AND PURELY MADE FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES. I AM SOLELY SHARING FOR FUN AND ENTERTAINMENT. THIS ISN'T REAL WHATSOEVER AND VERY LIKELY WONT EVER BE.

okay legal reasons out of the way-

i've shared this with very few people on my server, HOWEVER, instead of me being in control what you can and can not see, i've decided to just let it out for people to see the silly jokes and additions around the page i've made on your own free will, and additionally to help folks get a more semi-direct answer to what TSB story is to those who haven't caught up or confused! a win-win lmao

welp. time's nearly up for me so i will flee for now. hopefully this satisfied some interested despite not being TOO grand, but just small silly goodies for the day.

but if you're still reading this, all i gotta say is tomorrow is a more special day. something i'm very proud of and hope ya'll will enjoy 🍔