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pomegranate-eater · 27 days ago

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YANDERE JING YUAN HCS | previous characters

cw: gender neutral reader, non-con, reader here has a more timid and anxious personality to highlight Jing Yuan’s character, Jing Yuan lore spoilers, potentially OOC, angst, controlling relationship, non-explicit smut elements, punishments, isolation, sound torture, collaring, coddling, codependency, overprotectiveness, one occasion of inflicting self-harm, manipulation.

Word count: around 5k. (yes, pretty lengthy hcs… Jing Yuan is my kink.)

Minors do not interact.

Origins

Jing Yuan covets people and things he can tuck under his wing to keep safe. This provides him with a feeling of stability and safety, a place where he can realign his sometimes unsteady thoughts weighed down by the past and fills him with a sense of purpose in his rather solitary personal life. As soon as you arrived in his surroundings, he promptly decided to take on the role of your "caregiver.”

➤ Meeting you was a poignant reminder of how certain individuals can be overlooked or marginalized by society. There isn't anything inherently wrong with you; rather, it was your shy demeanor or the tendency to struggle with conforming to what’s seen as acceptable that made him one of the few who was “brave” enough to try to connect with you. Jing Yuan is drawn to individuals like you, as you have the ability to evoke a stronger desire in him to nurture and safeguard.

You were a mere mailroom clerk at the time, responsible for sorting, distributing, and managing mail within the Seat of Divine Foresight; occasionally appearing outside of your little room to push the stroll into different departments, not noticed by many, too sheepish to approach your colleagues. Until he spotted you, an unexpected onlooker with a small sparkle of light in your barely limelit spectacle of life.

One time, you had the honor to deliver correspondence to the General yourself personally; you were so nervous, somehow anticipating a scene where you made a fool of yourself in front of such a grandiose figure. The gentleness and patience he showed you that time soothed your anxiety somewhat, but did not erase the small suspicions that arose simultaneously at his kind act, combined with who he already was. Surely, a man cannot be this perfect? Surely, it’s perplexing when someone is nice to you for once, genuinely? Just like a wounded animal, hence another reason why he had found you so charming… and worth taking a shot in the dark for.

➤ Not much time passed before you found yourself frequently running into him, or even being invited inside his office during your breaks for tea… How are you doing? Are your colleagues treating you well? Are there any interests of yours you’d like to tell him about?

You being underestimated didn’t mean you were naive; thus, you couldn’t accept his thoughtfulness and hospitality entirely, trying to reckon what he was up to. Still, give a starving person what they want, and they’ll allow themselves a hope to expect more. Being alone or misunderstood was causing your wellbeing to erode.

Given his meetings with you and given his popularity, you saw him everywhere, you heard him everywhere — Jing Yuan didn’t even have to try hard to make himself appear perpetually on your mind. It made him feel giddy — his head was addled with excited thoughts of how often it could be that you’ve been busying yourself this way. Same compulsion was in worrying himself whether you were alright on your own, counting days until he could take another step with you — not hasty, not accidental, as calculated.

➤ At some stage of getting to know you, Jing Yuan incentivized you to enter a relationship with him. Whether you were ready for it or not, it had happened anyway. Jing Yuan was constantly reminding you of how beneficial his care was, through actions and kind words, while also stepping back when you felt overwhelmed to show how respectful he is. He called it reassurance, until in your mind, he engraved the belief that you don’t have much to lose, only bountiful gains to collect.

It was acceptable when you thought of yourself as a parasite — someone willingly taking care of you was enticing, and perhaps that guilt was making you more compliant. There wasn’t really any other place for you to go, if you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life alone.

How he treats the situation

He knows that even the most sensitive version of you is destined to become exhausted by his protective and clingy behaviors; he knows you feel suffocated, and he’s mostly aware of what he’s doing — he is storming into your life with selfishness. Selfishness, as even if he could excuse himself with altruistic care, that nurturing spirit is still unsolicited and controlling, with him owning the majority of your life in the end. Not to mention, he’s not helping you; he only enables your helplessness. Still, he believes it’s for your own good as well, that you still are not doing the greatest regardless, and doesn’t see much potential in you.

➤ Before he could even have you, Jing Yuan wholeheartedly will shape a conjecture about you being in need of him. In his mind, some people are so vulnerable and fragile they need someone else to step in and take charge; he doesn’t find it detestable, either. You’re not getting paid the most, you don’t really have anyone else in your life, being stuck in a dark office every day is overwhelming, and you’re an easy target for others. He wants to protect you and take care of you… even if it’s not fair to make such decisions for you. Those who are independent and perfectly oriented in managing daily life, he feels pride for, and wishes them well. Those who are not… they are as worthy, but might require some assistance; and he’s seen people suffer for centuries to witness. That’s why your relationship life is bound to be full of being coddled and watched over.

For example, he thinks it is his responsibility to remove you from harm’s way. He believes you’re too clumsy, you’re not the strongest physically, you probably can’t stand up for yourself… he will reach the point where becomes overprotective. He has enough bias to do so, carrying a heavy luggage of bad memories.

But, don’t take his words at face value — Jing Yuan has a tendency to overdraw the negative picture of your capabilities for his own excuses. ‘Protection’ and ‘care’ are pretty euphemisms.

➤ Any other person would have felt used or tired of repeatedly having to do everything for someone; yet he’s excited for such a future. You make him feel needed at the idea of having someone by his side and to take care of; comforting after losing his old friends and companions and living in the solitude of closer relationships following the separation.

Sure, Luofu cannot function without him either, but this doesn’t fall into a more intimate field. Yanqing had required his care for a while, but he’s grown big enough to manage most of his things on his own; a soldier needs to be independent anyhow. There are people that sometimes come into his life, such as the Astral Express crew, until they and Dan Heng leave too.

So, if there’s anyone that’s being used in your relationship, it’s you — being a cure for his loneliness and feeding his obsession.

➤ Whether you remain malleable or, should you still feel vigilant in your relationship, it doesn’t matter. Lower yourself to only a few occasional charges and whines about how disconcerting it is when he’s too clingy, and he’ll laugh it off, perhaps apologize, and promise to tone down his affections as your relationship continues, with you still withholding most of your freedom. However, you may not be aware he’s pulling the strings for your life choices, which they usually lead you down a path where you keep ending up with him…

Thinking of taking a break from this “oppressive” bond? Now you have to handle a sad Jing Yuan and your own guilt, with your sensitive nature not helping. He’s been trying so hard, and yet you’re rejecting him… he guesses you’ll leave him like anyone else (even if you’re still not privy to his past, just possessing a mere general idea). If that doesn’t work and you don’t buy his act, he’ll give you space until you miss yourself, or at least the attachment and codependency he built. You’ll be back to him in no time.

No matter what choice you’ll make, you remain in his arms, without any use of force.

➤ He might be willing to offer a lot, but don’t make a fool of Jing Yuan. He’s still a sly, strategic, and cunning man—he hasn’t managed to lead Luofu as a general for so long without some prowess and intelligence, nor were all of his choices fair or “legal.” He has you where he wants you to be.

Living with him

A warm house and a loving partner should make you feel safe – but are you safe from Jing Yuan's overbearing presence? You’re not that fragile, you’re pretty sure; yet, he believes in what serves him well.

➤ In your relationship with Jing Yuan, you will find yourself being urged to stay at his home quite soon; as if moving in weren't already a smooth process. You don’t need to tire yourself working every day — he has more than enough to provide for you. If you’re prone to not handling stress well, he’ll tell you it’s for the best. You can do some light work around the house, as long as he doesn’t deem it risky or straining.

Nonetheless, Jing Yuan won’t cut you off from the world. You’re not allowed to leave the house when he’s not here or without him (it’s dangerous out there, you should know), but he takes you out regularly. He knows isolation is bad for anyone, he knows you’ll only get fussier. He also doesn’t want people questioning his relationship with you — he might even take you to some event if you’ve been well-behaved. People in Luofu might not always be fond of you, but they see him beaming with happiness, and he’s not afraid to correct certain misconceptions about you.

➤ Jing Yuan doesn’t want to treat you like a child who needs help with everything; that is, inherently. However, he still does plenty of things for you, disguised as care to further drive his fixation on being vital and thinking you’re fragile until you sometimes feel like you’re losing your mind. Deep down inside, he knows you’re better than what he paints you as, even if far from perfect, but he chooses to cling to hyperboles for his own motives.

He understands that you’re not particularly fond of the lifestyle he imposes on you. This brings up the dilemma in case you finally break down — if he tries to comfort you, you’ll feel even more suffocated. If he gives you space, he’ll feel as if he’s not there for you. Fortunately, he’ll step back if you’re fairly upset, recognizing how important it is to give you some autonomy and striving for equilibrium. Still, don’t push back too hard, or he’ll be the one who feels upset.

➤ You can count on him emotionally, but it’ll come off as feeling reluctant for you to do — asking for uplifting will be kind of admitting his points, even if he’s not right.

➤ While Jing Yuan could and will paint himself as a friendly and loving figure to you, it is difficult for him to open up and be vulnerable with you, especially about his past. He’s used to carrying burdens on his shoulders, he still doesn’t trust you fully to not betray him somehow (you’re given reasons to), and he doesn’t like the pain speaking about memories brings. On the other hand, your sensitivity is something that makes him want to take advantage of your empathy.

➤ If you like sleeping a lot, you’re a lucky person. If you don’t, or you simply need to use the bathroom in the morning… bless your soul, as you’re not allowed to get up until he does. It’s not just the fact he wakes up late whenever he can; he also often crushes you with his body, either lying on top of you or holding you too tightly. Sometimes, he even drools on you.

➤ He is generally affectionate; even if he mostly focuses on your feelings over his. Physical affection is his love language, though he often tells you he loves you as well. Yet, hearing it doesn’t always sound right… he might as well claim there are invisible chains connecting the two of you — the idea of breaking them feels liberating, but also brings the fear of abandonment.

You appreciate his working hours the most.

➤ Except constant teases and occasional pranks. He might be more circumspect in how far he goes to not cross your boundaries too much, but he’ll be happy if you let him be a child for a moment.

➤ He knows boredom or anxiety often affects you, so he tries to keep you busy. Hobbies are encouraged if you're not being too frigid lately (he can't be too soft), and they don’t pose any injury risks.

Or he lets you assist him in his daily gardening and watering routine. However, if you mess something up (or hurt yourself), you’ll see him become unnaturally nervous before he ushers you back inside — you and his plants are that important to him. Here also comes the warning: don’t destroy his garden on purpose, no matter how angry you might be at him for something. Even he doesn’t know how he’d react.

Also, you will become a chess master, whether you wanted it or not.

➤ His hair is a mess. He often almost demands that you do it for him, brushing and deep conditioning and whatnot, acting like it’s too tedious to do it alone and he needs your help. It's difficult work, but it’s hard to say no when it’s you being able to do things on your own for once; he clearly enjoys your touch too.

➤ He likes to compare you to birds all the time. As they’re often seen as a symbol of freedom, to him it’s about fragility and keeping precious things safe.

➤ You’re extricated from cooking. While Jing Yuan would love for the domesticity of you cooking for him, most of the time he’d prefer to do it himself. One thing is that he likes to tend to you…

…the other is that he doesn’t trust you that much. You’d probably end up burning yourself with how clumsy you are, so to ensure you’re not doing that when he’s not home, he has a safety system installed that turns off stoves during programmed hours — Luofu is advanced like that. You can’t even make yourself tea or coffee — the electric kettle is gone, so you can use only the traditional one when he’s home. He feeds you three times a day (at random times, as he first needs to get up from being lazy and cuddling with you) and leave some snacks for when he’s not there.

➤ He cares a lot about your health. Even if you don’t have many tasks to complete in a day as a result of his choices, he still doesn��t want you to be completely stagnant; that’s why when you do go out, he’ll ensure you hit enough steps. The same goes for food. You’re allowed to eat some unhealthy items occasionally, so you don’t feel too controlled, but he’ll want you to eat enough and healthily.

➤ Occasionally, Jing Yuan has no choice but to delegate in other parts of Xianzhou. If that’s the case, he will attempt to bring you along if possible. If not possible, he’ll need to step in and make you stay at the cloud knights headquarters as he travels, where you’re under observation; it’s not an unusual request, considering they would think their General’s foes might be after you.

There’s also a question of what will happen to you should he become mara-stricken; and he likes to believe Yanqing will be responsible and mature enough by the time this tragedy comes.

Punishment

Jing Yuan isn’t one to punish you for just any caliber of misbehavior. He realizes that plenty of your “transgressions” aren’t pure malice; that much of it is you being emotional and stressed, and that you’ve always been an anxious little thing — a scared animal he needs to be careful with. Of course, there are some things he wouldn’t let go of just because you claim you were nervous or upset. Anything that’s not you outright rejecting him or escaping is seen as part of your nature or nerves.

➤ Physical punishments of any kind are off limits. The boundary is coming from his care; yet, it’s mostly intelligence speaking. He doesn’t believe any physical violence is a form of discipline. Extra training for a subordinate? Sure, but it's not within his rights to go any further. Violence is sometimes required when a certain enemy appears or he has to protect his nation; however, in personal relationships, he finds physical discipline to be mostly fear prompting and creating even greater resentment. He doesn’t need to raise his hand at you anyway – there are methods more effective and yet less physically painful.

➤ If he tries to help you with something and you express your need to do it alone multiple times in a row, and it’s not of utmost importance to him, he’ll give you that space (even if he might act somewhat sad about your “rejection”).

However, do it too often or demand your independence regarding something more significant, and he’ll assume you’re being difficult on purpose or even ungrateful. He’s caring for you, doing more than anyone would ever do for you, and you’re still treating him like a villain. In that case, the punishments will be still somewhat mild. Jing Yuan, despite his lazy attitude, maintains his faith in discipline. Living slowly is a means to avoid getting mara struck; therefore, it doesn’t mean he’ll have nothing done or things living in disorder.

For example, he might leave you to your own devices for a while: if you notice how certain things take significantly more time if they’re done by you and not skilled he, surely you’ll start missing his help. Codependency is nasty as well, and so you’ll feel paranoid with no one by your side.Your outings will be reduced too: you clearly don’t enjoy his presence, so how come you’d enjoy going out with him? He’ll stop cooking for you too, since you clearly don’t appreciate it. Of course, he won’t risk your health, so he’ll order some food for you. But somehow, the crane delivering it always takes too much time, and so your food gets cold before it even arrives… that’s why you’ll miss his warm meals pretty quickly. It’s a small discomfort to eat cold food, but the constant dissatisfaction would make it taste worse — even more when you’ll see him eat.

➤ Should your relationship ever deteriorate to a point where you consider leaving, the consequences will vary based on the situation's frequency. A one-time instance of fleeing will lead to merely a reprimand for jeopardizing your safety, as he attempts to justify your choice and absolve you. Twice, and he provides you with even less room.

If it occurs repeatedly or continuously, Jing Yuan will collar you. Have you seen the collars with bells that cats have on? He will give you one like that, thinking it’s adorable as well. With each step you take, the collar’s bell rings out, pushing you to the brink of madness — quite literally, as the sound torture is the intent of this punishment. Eventually, you become overstimulated, attempting your best to stay still, but failing. Grasping the bell isn’t very effective either — the small ball within the device still moves — it just muffles the noise slightly. It also contains a tracker. You'll be pleading with him to take it off quite soon, as the contraption has some crazy mechanism. He’ll take it into account if you exhibit sufficient remorse, as he’s not gaining enjoyment from punishing you; his focus is solely on discipline and order. Otherwise, he will maintain this situation until he observes indications that you are nearing a breaking point — there was a moment when you attempted to harm yourself by hitting your head, which he hopes will not happen again.

Jing Yuan may bring you to work occasionally too, concerned you’d try something when he’s away; or out of sympathy for your staying home all day, even if he had put you here. If you attempt something as immature (and rather bold of you!) as trying to make fun of him or even flirt with his subordinates in front of him to inspire jealousy, he’ll make you state a public apology. His soldiers will be invited inside the office and you’ll have to express your repentance and apologize to their General, and then to them for involving them in your mess. A touch of humiliation and embarrassment won’t hurt you.

➤ Although the typical reasons for which he usually would punish you are limited to two — escaping and being ungrateful on a bigger scale — there are few rare ones that may pop up. In case he had revealed that much to you, one of them is you ever attacking him for his history, perhaps out of spite or anger — not just a few subtle remarks but a shared ridicule would suffice.

If you mention his friends that are now only the reminiscents of his memories and somehow blame him responsible for their deaths or degradations, while he himself oftentimes feels guilty, you’ll witness a side you don’t often see. Under regular circumstances, he wouldn’t resort to violence, but he could suddenly need an outlet, and if you’re the center of his anger… being pinned to the wall and threatened with your wrists being crushed, despite your frantic apologies and stated fear, is no longer off limits.

Once he settles down, he’ll console you and try to explain himself, soothing any aches on your body, but you might not hear any sorry; though tears might appear for him as well. It will also be when he feels regret at ever being vulnerable with you, and the regress he observes in you scares him. Both of your trust is lost and fixing it won’t be easy.

Sexuality

Jing Yuan is not one for casual sex outside of relationships. He’s trained himself to control his lust, as he wanted to avoid any controversies that could arise with someone exposing his possible venereal affairs. When you enter his life, it is when practically decades of chastity go to waste, as you awaken a desire he cannot control… as a result, you make him feel young again in that department, as he was more sexually active before taking on his role as a general.

➤ Jing Yuan is very perverted. Not in a way where he’s forcing you to explore all kinds of fetishes with him; instead, it’s all about you. He finds many things that you do and surrounding you attractive. It doesn’t always result in physical arousal — sometimes, it’s just an unhealthy curiosity about the smallest of things that make you you. The first entry’s example: perhaps you have a new haircut and it exposes your neck more? That’s hot. The second: scrutinizing the way your brows furrowed a tad bit more when he served you breakfast, even if it was likely you being tired. He’ll have to make sure to add a pinch of salt less next time.

➤ Your right to not consent to sex is preserved… most of the time. Really, Jing Yuan doesn’t want to force you through the terrifying and dehumanizing struggle. He occasionally initiates something, rubs against you a little, maybe throws in some unfair insight on your body reacting, but he stops if he notices if you getting agitated and genuinely uncomfortable. Your pain is his pain; he just chooses to ignore it sometimes. You’re usually in the mood anyway; not only does he know how to manipulate your body he’s familiar with, you also crave the closeness he has chiseled into you.

As “most of the time” suggests, there could be exceptions. Things can change diametrically if your relationship has been turned into a festival of you demanding your freedom back. Dismiss him for too long, undermine his caring efforts for years in a row, keep putting yourself in a risk’s way or even keep escaping, and he’ll snap. You should have adapted and begun appreciating him ages ago, and although he’s lived for centuries and possesses more patience, he feels used — he’ll tell you all about it during the act. Of course, expecting something in return no longer makes love unconditional; yet, it’s not much about being paid back but accepted.

Once he pounces on you, you’ll think you’ve never seen him look so scary before. He has to try his hardest to give you any foreplay whatsoever; size related, but also as a basic readiness of your body. If you struggle and you definitely will, he’ll have no choice but to restrain you so he can actually prep you, as he doesn’t want you harmed. To hesitate with pushing inside when his emotions are flared up, and this move saves you from damage, is a patience and “care” very few would possess in this situation. The pain is inescapable, however — you’re tense and scared, he’s big, and he’s rough. Only after a first orgasm, will it get better. First, as there will be many for all the times he couldn’t have you — and he won’t do this again for a while.

Amidst it all, Jing Yuan still will enjoy to serve you some parody of intimacy — a kiss there, holding you chest to chest, wiping your tears, forehead against forehead as he watches you fall apart, praising you more the less you struggle. Your cries and pleads will be unheard if shushed, but even this, he does with more softness; the juxtaposition leaves you only more confused, as he’s hurting you regardless of that gentle voice. He won’t hide his pleasure either.

Then will come aftercare, where he’s massaging your body and kissing your head, with phrases that are meant to soothe but fail; double entendres, where he states why it had to happen but ultimately they blame you, even if his voice shakes with emotions.

This sort of incident will leave him subsequently guilty as his emotions are finally purged, in hindsight of how broken and scared you looked the entire time. He won't say he’s sorry, as he’d be admitting his history of care is wrong, if he blamed you for rejecting it and tried to protect its continuity; but he will go quiet for a few days after and give you space. Only when you don’t peer is when he allows regret to consume him; unfortunately, this is an ephemeral notion, as he still believes he’s justified somewhere.

➤ Sex with him is mostly gentle and intimate. It’s definite he gets voracious about you a lot, and that might lead to him speeding up his pace; but even then, he holds your hand or keeps praising you.

Taking out his anger or frustration on you physically during sex is something he steers away from (excluding the previously mentioned example), which doesn’t mean you should poke at him. He’ll get mean and not in a fun way; in other words, he’ll leave you hanging.

➤ There are moments where he tries to take advantage of your stress. You’re buzzing with negativity, you need some outlet somewhere, it’s painful to not allow yourself to be comfortable with your bodily functions in privacy — that’s a perfect occasion for him to step in and help you. Surprisingly, when he beseeches you to let him do it without anything in return, he actually means it, as he’ll take anything. Using his mouth on you is still somewhat gratifying and allow him to get closer to you, and he assists himself by grinding into the mattress.

You using your mouth on him is greatly appreciated as well; albeit, choke or gag on his big size too hard, and he’ll think he’s hurting you.

➤ His stamina isn’t inexorable, thankfully. He gets sleepy pretty easily, and a lot of the time, one round is be enough; unless it's been a while since you've engaged in this, or there's been something especially appealing about you recently. He’s onto having you maybe every other day; although, he likes to additionally make you cockwarm him when you’re being too petulant.

It’s best to get done with your nightly routine after sex immediately. He falls asleep as soon as he identified you’re clean, were smooched enough, and feel alright, meaning you’re stuck in his arms until morning. It’s a soft aftercare yet a beginning of your nightly contraption.

➤ Jing Yuan is not fond of doing anything that can harm you or gives the impression of brutishness in bed. He won’t do a tableau of things in bed; no more than manhandle you or tease you, maybe deny a little. He doesn’t fully grasp the need to be hurt or roughhoused in intimate moments — in fact, it frightens him, even if you assert it feels pleasurable. He thinks sex ought to evoke feelings of love and bliss, not being hunted.

However, if you insist on trying out something and express enough enthusiasm for the depiction of it, he might try it out with you. He might even find pleasure in it, either because you are enjoying it or due to it making you more vulnerable, which will let him take care of you more deeply afterward. But, any minor sign of discomfort, any bigger mark on your body, and he’ll cease immediately. He also thinks he’s too old for being your very dominant partner, which reminds him of military or parental discipline rather than making love. He would have seen the appeal of it as a younger man only.

Cradling you in his arms and rocking into you slowly, while you chant his name softly, feels more organic; although, tease him too much, and he might make an exception in showing you leniency.

Final words

Jing Yuan has ample ability to exploit your weaknesses and create codependency; no matter how you resist, it’s sufficient to make you feel overwhelmed and… anxious. Ultimately, even you will sense that he could be correct regarding your safety; or being solitary and without direction will become scarily alien for you.

Regardless of past dreams where you envisioned someone rescuing you and transforming your circumstances, their realization slowly leads to your downfall. All is incredibly sweet, yet too much sugar will decay teeth as well.

Submitting to your fate wouldn't be favorable, nor would be escaping it, since you've become unable to live for your own sake. What frightens you the most is the sense that he is somewhat correct – he simply exploits your biggest insecurities to his benefit. You were supposed to find a partner who supports you in standing up back on your feet, but it’s too late – now you can only focus on learning gratitude.

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evilgwrl · 8 months ago

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Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Nine)

CW: Female masturbation, brief description of male masturbation, reader is kinda like Bella from twilight when he disappears, hot and steamy shower hookups, humping with no clothes on, THEYRE ABT TO FUCK!!!

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

NOTE: I just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who has been PM or leaving little messages in my requests. Thank you for your ongoing support during my time away from the app. On a short note, if you are ever struggling with mental health or issues in general, please feel free to message me. I appreciate the love you guys give me, it really does make writing so much easier from the continuous support

It was void — a soft hint of nothing penetrating the air like poison. It had been nearly two weeks, a perpetual torture of hearing nothing, seeing nothing. You weren’t sure what was worse; him leaving with only a scribbled note or the idea that he wouldn’t come back.

Before him, it never mattered. His presence was occasionally, only lulling you to sleep in the simmer of a summer night as his feet padded gently across wooden floors, floors you had now stepped on. Your skin felt engraved into his apartment, every board digging into the thickened skin of your feet like a tattoo.

You felt grumpy constantly, soppy fingers nestled into your cunt to ease the pungent ache of arousal that leaked from your drowsy heat. The crook of your neck was constantly hot, overworked with sweat as you cried out into the air, head thrown back in an attempt to build the never-coming release.

Your hips would rock in a fastening motion against the vibrating toy; nipples perked up from the arrogant breeze that kissed your skin, the window open as delicate flutters of your throat filled the air.

You were desperate and incredibly overworked, always working past your designated hours to distract yourself. When you weren’t in the office, you were out, crammed into a pushy bar as you chugged down the searing taste of golden liquor, your belly hot with turmoil as you nudged away anyone who got too close, anyone who wasn’t him.

You were perplexed by the growing emotions that consumed you, confused as to why you felt as strongly as you did so quickly. Maybe it was the way he took care of you, licking your slick into the pool of his mouth until you gushed around his tongue. Maybe it was the way he fucked you, nudging every crevice of your cunt with precise expertise, that had you crying. Or maybe it was the way he watched you, eyes lapping in every delicate movement you made, observing you like a trained hawk.

Days went by slower, draining on like they were anxious to be replaced by the moon, the constant need for brightness scorching your skin as you huffed and puffed. The atmosphere slowly began to transition, the leaves turning a crisp malt before they would eventually crumble under the wind.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay longer, I could get a head start on-“

“Go home, Y/N, I see you more than I see my own husband these days, enjoy your weekend.”

You grumbled, feet skidding against the carpark floor as you slammed your door shut, anxious eyes staring into the backseat before flicking the lock. There was a dull ache in your lumbar spine, coiling into the middle of your back as you jammed the gears into drive.

Like clockwork, you sighed as you drove past the roads you had driven on with Simon, remembering how warm your mouth was, stuffed full of aching cock that later bruised your pillowy walls. Your finger flickered to your car play, adjusting the sound before you began to mumble lyrics into the air.

The sound of gravel skidded against worn tyres as you pulled into your cul-de-sac, brows furrowed at the plain sight of your neighbour’s side. You felt like a clingy ex, desperate for any lick you could receive from the man.

Simon felt just as tortured; his body was scolded with fresh wounds and bruises, blown welts of blue and yellow gouged into his skin in an eerie display of his work. When his finger wasn’t pulling a trigger, ripping the hairs from his nose as gunpowder and gnarly metallic drenched his olfactory organs, his wrist ached with a twisting motion, tugging at the fat of his cock in the barely luke-warm showers as his mouth filled with water.

It was unusual for the man to feel this needy, his sex drive was normally relatively low, especially whilst he was away on deployment. The Lieutenant wasn’t dumb; he would never allow himself to grow distracted on the job, but he never thought he would have a greater reason to go home.

“Ay’ Lieutenant, ye’ excited to go home ‘n see that pretty lass of a neighbour?”

Simon’s face turned sour as he looked at Soap, “Watch ye’ mouth, Johnny.”

Johnny snarled into a cheeky grin, tipping back the shot that melted into the glass as Price clapped the two men on the back.

“We did well, gentlemen. Our flight leaves at 0600. Take some time off during our break, make the most of it, a’right?”

“Is there ever a break in the Task Force?” Gaz quipped, boyish smile on his face as more alcohol found its way into their systems, throats burning at the foul aftertaste. The banter from the men didn’t simmer down for hours, endless rounds of drinks lined across the bar table before they stumbled back to their quarters in the dead of the night, duffle bags tucked neatly into the corners of their beds.

The smell of espresso burned through your nose as you crowded into the line of the coffee shop the next morning. Saturday mornings in your town always seemed the busiest, dogs barking on leashes at ongoing birds as Mothers cooed at their newborns and businessmen honked at the elderly, steaming a trail of gas down the intersection.

The flat white you ordered was duller than usual as the half-full cup made its way into a crammed bin. Your keys felt heavy in your hands as you flickered with the lock on your front door, barging it open with a grunt before you locked up. Dusk began to fall once more, the sound of cicadas chirped into the hues of the sunset before darkness consumed outside the walls of your house.

Your mouth was stuffed full of cheap Chinese takeaway as you binged another episode of Criminal Minds, tongue-tingling with the residue of roasted duck before you yawned, huffing into the bathroom as you stripped yourself bare.

Simon was quick to thank the taxi, bag tucked tightly in his calloused palm as he made his way up the porch steps. He stared at his slight reflection in his window, tugging his front door open as he kicked off his boots. A smile etched onto his face as he heard the dampened sound of clutter on the other side, undoing his belt as he wove his door shut once more, eager fists banging upon yours.

You grunted into the air at the sudden interruption, leg soaked with water as you dipped it in to test the heat. Your dressing gown quickly scolded you as you wrapped the garment around the bareness of your skin, nipples strained against the thin fabric as you muttered to yourself.

The knock repeated as you grumbled out, “I’m coming!”

Wood swung open as your eyes widened, taking in the dishevelled, yet incredibly striking appearance of your beloved neighbour.

“I missed hearing you say that.”

His voice was rough, the lack of sleep and obvious torment he had succumbed to during his time away evident as you gawked at him.

“Simon? Hi – You’re home.”

“Landed about an hour ago.”

Your brows furrowed as you ushered him in, the breeze drifting under your attire as you shivered slightly.

“How was –“ you paused, “How was your deployment?”

“Gruelling, but it’s work.”

You nodded, taking in the sight of him again as you swallowed thickly.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Simon shook his head, eyes flickering up and down your frame, taking in the leftover moisture that drenched your calf and the way the fabric stuck a little too well to you.

“I could go for a shower,” he stated.

Your back was burning hot, cool tiles barely succumbing to the growing desire that fuelled through you as the man pushed you against the drenched wall, your core whining for its needed release as your legs locked around his hips, pussy clenching around nothing as the girth of his shaft ground against your sloppy mound.

Scorched kisses buried into your neck, impaling into your flesh as you offered him more skin to toy with, heavy gasps pounding through your lungs as you whined, a tight grip coiled around the back of his neck.

“Si-“ you squeaked as a heavy grip found your chest, tugging at achy nipples with a swelling grip.

“Missed your voice,” the man practically growled before your lips interlocked, tongues exploring the depths of your mouths in an attempt to make up for lost time. You could taste the alcohol and smoke on his, and he could taste the caffeine on yours.

“I didn’t know when you would come back,” you panted in between the movement of your lips.

“Don’t think I could’a spent another day without your cunt.”

His words were foul, yet your pussy practically squelched, throbbing with neglect as you mewled against him, tugging his bottom lip in between your teeth as he grunted, rubbing his tip against your wanton entrance.

“Please fuck me, Si.”

“If you insist,” he grinned, cowered into your neck with an arrogant smirk before the inviting heat of your fluttering cunt welcomed him.

435 notes · View notes

cheriecelestial · 11 months ago

Text

Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Pt 2

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated.

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature.

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard.

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off.

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black.

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated]

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise.

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ?

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying.

“Son ? Can you hear me ?”

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?”

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

[System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.��

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

#jacob black’s self saving system #jbsss #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #scum villain #twilight #jacob black #bella swan #edward cullen #luo binghe #shen quingqiu #svsss #mxtx svsss #mxtx #ducky if you’re seeing this just know I owe you my life and firstborn

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celestialprincesse · 1 year ago

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Simon w/ his black cat GF🐈‍⬛🖤

She's def a cat lover and prefers her cat to pretty much everyone. A total introvert, which he's totally drawn to because she's as quietly clever and judgemental as he is.

She brings out his golden retriever loverboy side, which no one's done before, and all of his friends are utterly perplexed by how whipped he is.

He wants her because she's so unattainable and unbothered by him - like yes she thinks he's sexy as fuck and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's not gonna give his big ass Lieutenant ego that boost.

She's lowkey a little weird, a little unnerving, and she loves it. Most guys approach her and are very swiftly deterred by her intentionally unsettling vibe - Simon though? This man likes a challenge, especially one as pretty as her.

He thinks her general unbothered-ness and confidence in herself is really, really fucking sexy.

She also likes how he's still reasonably dominant in their relationship, likes how it gives her the space to be bratty and intentionally rile Simon up just so that he'll put her in her place, unlike her exes who pulled the whole "Why are you mad at me?🥺" shpiel. She hated that shit.

Simon? Yeah, no, he's perfectly happy to stuff his fingers in her mouth or give her a firm slap on the ass when she runs her mouth, loves the way her eyes go wide in surprise before she settles back into him, smiling when he presses little kisses into her hair with a quiet "There's my girl. Gonna behave f'me?"

Her cat loves him too, comes and settles on his lap when he sits on the couch whilst she showers or something and he just doesn't know how to react. He's a dog person, but he has to admit that her little snaggletoothed black rescue cat is kinda cute.

At the beginning of their relationship she tries not to be super clingy, but eventually gives up and is just super begrudgingly needy for him. She would ideally like to live in his skin or be actually physically attached to him at all times but she'll settle for perpetually sitting on his lap or having him carry her around the house like a koala.

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truevedicastrology · 2 years ago

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Astrology Observations

Aries Ascendants possess an uncanny ability to exude allure even in moments of anger. It's perplexing how these individuals effortlessly maintain a captivating demeanor, concealing their potential to swiftly retaliate if wronged. 😭

The enigma of those with Venus and Sun alignments lies in their perpetual elegance and charm. The cosmic dance between Venus and the Sun bestows upon them a radiant and inviting energy that transcends mere aesthetics. 💕🫂

Infidelity with individuals boasting a Water/Fire Venus is a perilous venture, especially with Water Venuses known for their profound and merciless reprisals rooted in deep emotional connections. 🫂

Venus in Capricorn personalities exhibit adorable tendencies within relationships, yearning for substantial time spent with partners, creating cherished memories in pursuit of a traditional and harmonious connection. 🥺❤️❤️❤️

Be vigilant of your solar return chart, as Venus positioned in the 1st/2nd/6th/10th houses may herald a substantial transformation this year. Additionally, Saturn - Venus Aspects can amplify this transformative glow-up. 💎

Individuals with the Moon in the 11th house form deep attachments, displaying a profound neediness for friendships, earning them the title of a "true friend." 🫂

The dynamic between Pluto and Mercury leads to articulate speech with an influential cadence, inducing others to adopt a similar hypnotic communication style. Jealousy often ensues due to their expansive vocabulary and eloquence.

Observing Mars and Venus aspects reveals a proclivity for intense jealousy, possessiveness, and a desire for exclusive ownership over partners and friends. 🔥🫂

Virgo Venus/Mars individuals can exhibit possessiveness akin to Scorpio and Taurus Venuses, creating a captivating yet possessive aura when these placements intertwine. ❣️

Saturn's transition through the 6th/12th house or the house occupied by "Pisces" in your chart may precipitate insomnia or sleep disturbances during that period.

A concentration of planets in the 9th house fosters a profound interest in spirituality, magic, and exploration of various religions.

A Mercury in Capricorn engages in conversation with a classic glamour, exuding sophistication and ensuring a lasting impression with every spoken word.

Individuals with an Aries/Taurus combination in their chart might grapple with significant anger issues and heightened nervousness.

Venus residing in the 2nd house signifies a beautiful physique and a refined appearance, inherently possessing elegance.

Neptune in the 12th house has an intoxicating effect, leading people to become inexplicably addicted. This spiritual placement demands attention to subtle signs. 🧘🏻‍♀️

Aspects between Neptune/Uranus and Sun/Ascendant create an electrified, dreamy aura.

Moon in Earth Signs manifests a fervent love and passion for reading books, blogs, and internet curiosities.

Capricorn Suns exhibit a penchant for living, laughing, and indulging in dark humor. 😭

Sagittarius and Aquarius Placements are fervent seekers of freedom, capable of undertaking the impossible to reclaim their liberty if threatened.

Harsh aspects between Saturn 🪐 and Moon 🌕 result in unresolved maternal issues, fostering either possessiveness or emotional detachment from a mother figure. (⁠つ⁠✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)⁠つ💕

Saturn - Mercury harsh aspects may induce anxiety during conversation, stemming from past restrictions on speech, leading to incessant overthinking. (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ You truly deserve a comforting embrace!

Individuals with Scorpio Placements exhibit a predilection for wearing dark-colored attire such as black, dark blue, dark red, and dark purple.

Mercury - Pluto aspects thrive on discussing taboos and addressing topics people are hesitant to confront face-to-face, showcasing an inherent ability to broach uncomfortable subjects.

Follow our Facebook page Mage Magic Touch for personal consultations https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565561190268

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year ago

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Could you do the current husband trio with cuteness aggression please? <3333

a request after my own heart ...

chrollo gets it out of his system by teasing you. his teasing comes in multiple flavors, some more subtle than others. for an immoral thief, his self-control is impressive. he likes to see where riling you up will go. especially if you reciprocate in kind. the verbal cat-and-mouse excites him as much as a heist. after denying himself long enough, he’ll pull you into his lap, chuckling as he says ‘don’t get so cross, darling,’ into your neck. good luck freeing yourself from his grasp. once he has you, you won’t be going anywhere until he feels generous enough to share. his visage remains relaxed, but his eyes betray the thrill you give him; they’re shining, with your reflection at the center.

satoru wouldn’t take his hands off you if his life depended on it. nope, you and everyone in the immediate vicinity get to witness how smitten he is. he’s mean though — he can’t just scoop you up and twirl you around. no, he has to creep up on you for the bonus of hearing you squeak. he’s grinning like a madman as you chastise him, peppering your face with kisses, each one accompanied by an exaggerated ‘muah.’ he gives the hand you’re halfheartedly pushing him away with the same treatment. it’s almost enough for him to burst at the seams when he puts you down (this step may require some begging on your part). especially because you’re fighting off a smile of your own so as not to encourage his mischievous behavior. satoru rectifies this by squishing your cheeks into a smile. if there’s anything he excels at, it’s getting what he wants.

scaramouche places heavy emphasis on ‘aggression.’ his sharp tongue directs no shortage of insults your way, although they lack their usual barbed nature. you get the sense that he struggles to know how else to interact with you. it’s humiliating! the sound of your name alone has him perking up like some mutt. he loathes what you’ve reduced him to. scara inadvertently perpetuates the cycle he claims he wants to be free from. he acts condescending, then finds your frustration so cute, that his brain temporarily short-circuits. the resulting embarrassment adds to his cruelty as a flimsy smokescreen. he’s mortified that your miffed expression made him so tempted to squeeze you. how could his pride ever recover from such a blow? then you’d know how fond of you he is, a most egregious notion.

blade denies himself until he can't. the phenomenon perplexes the poor man. he'd sooner endure every physical agony in the universe than harm a hair on your head, so why can’t he suppress these urges? and oh, when you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, he almost goes feral. his hands twitch with the desire to just… hold you. right against his chest, tight enough that his ribs might break. it’d be so easy and he’s running out of excuses not to do it. he knows he’s intimidating; he doesn’t want to accidentally frighten you off. he really would be a dead man walking without you to breathe life into him. once you encourage him that he can take what he wants from you, then, well, you have an intergalactic criminal who is impossible to pry off.

#chrollo x reader #gojo x reader #scaramouche x reader #blade x reader #chrollo brainrot #gojo brainrot #scaramouche brainrot #blade brainrot #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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cyle · 2 years ago

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it's perpetually perplexing to me how Apple seems to keep making repeated special exceptions for Twitter... they don't get taken off the App Store for blatantly violating Apple's adult content guidelines, and Apple keeps giving them tons of money to run Apple ads despite having so much adult content, and now they're allowed to have a single-character name when that's normally not allowed. wish i could be a fly on the wall for that decision making process at Apple. it must be coming from the top.

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burrowglazer · 9 months ago

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★ summary — during a sweltering day at the horse races, anthony bridgerton finds himself rather enchanted by a sharp-witted, and competitive newcomer... however his greatest challenge turned out not quite to be their playful banter but perhaps something deeper than just that. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem! reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.8k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff? not really. idiots in love except they don't know they're in love...? anthony being anthony?? ★ authors note: excuse my god horrendous writing, i fear i have just come back from a 2 year hiatus and well.. it seems as if all my writing sense have bene diminished into the ends of the earth. also mutuals. i need mutuals please, i need to be insane to someone.

Anthony always enjoyed a heartfelt competition.

Perhaps a bit too much for the likings of others, but it always seemed to be infused with his blood. It all came so naturally to him; there was no need to try. As a young boy, he would compete with his brothers, Benedict having quite a hearty laugh when he would fail to beat him in whatever makeshift game they conjured up. It made it worse for the already tense gentleman because his annoying, bothersome brother would never stop bringing out how he was younger than Anthony during such times.

But he was not a quitter. He never was, and he decided that he never shall be. Anthony perpetually told himself that, and the results always ended up in his favor at the end of the day. Just as victory appeared within his reach, he let it go once more, easily slipping through his fingers in the subsequent round. Anthony has always been perplexed as to why this pattern only ever appeared to surround him or why he only noticed it within himself far too much.

It seemed quite the same when it came to his love life as well. Taking away the winning part—he never quite seemed to win. Conceivably, Anthony never thought he could truly love someone with his entire being; the sensation felt so foreign and despicable to think about. An acquaintance, he supposed, was something he could settle with. And yet, an admirable acquaintance proved hard to find in this economy. The number of women that lined up for a dance, a date—whatever it may be, were all too simple-minded, credulous, or even dumb, if Anthony really thought about it. None of them appeared to be a suitable partner.

Those thoughts haunted him day and night throughout the season—the wonder if he’ll ever meet anyone well-suited for him, he pondered to himself. Anthony deemed himself rather fortunate that he was a busy man, bustling about a handful of places in need to complete the tasks firsthand. When he had his hands full with some problem, even if it may be pointless, occupied his mind enough for him to forget about his marital issues. Taxation never seemed more interesting to him.

Conversely, he found that it bothered him most during social events. Whereas his problems stood face-to-face against him, sometimes it felt as if it were a direct punch to the gut. With the remaining eligible ladies dwindling, his temper for it all only grew to being far more annoyed than anything else. Any other year, Anthony would’ve respectively enjoyed the horse race that he attended within the company of his brothers, but at this time, his mind had been elsewhere as he mindlessly stumbled his way around the course grounds.

There were a number of people that stood around him, chatting expressively with one an

other. Ladies whispering in hushed tones, their husbands gathered amongst themselves, likely betting against one another. Anthony couldn’t help but to do so himself—a solid bet did him well most days. Although, perhaps, he wasn’t the brightest when it came to the subject despite betting upon the favoured horse.

Anthony tugs heartily at his neckpiece, adjusting the pressure against his throat as it pressed in such a peculiar way that he began to pay some mind to it. He adjusted it so that it was allowed to rest lightly, not entirely choking him out anymore as it had done just moments ago. The effort ended up being weirdly abominable.

Peeved, bothered, and sweaty, he decided sullenly the lemonade that the event offered would not be such a bad idea to him after all. Refreshing was the only word that happened to catch his mind as he politely hurries his way towards where the stand had caught his eye as he made his way into the event. It seems as if half of the people there had a similar idea, heeding from the lengthiness of the line. He could perhaps find some place else to get some refreshments, but if Anthony is being honest, the idea of continuing to walk in this heat whilst unknowing if there even was anything waiting for him out there, wasn’t one that he would immediately jump to. And so he begrudgingly waits.

The sun beats down harshly upon him, and he tirelessly slides off his top-hat to appease the sweat that had begun to cling onto the sides of his forehead. Anthony dabs the beads away silently with the cuff of his coat when no one else is paying any mind to him. He liked to call himself fortunate as the line dissipates fairly quickly, and it is only a few minutes later when he finds himself nearing the refreshments area.

“Cooling, is it not?”

It takes Anthony a beat to realize that the sudden intrusion of the voice is addressed towards him. He swivels his head, pivoting himself so he can adjust to the sudden change in position to locate where the sound had come from. He is quick to answer the question as the fine-looking lady standing next to him stares right back into his betrothed soul.

First impressions always stuck near and dear to Anthony, and while usually it would be noted of their personality and not much else, he finds himself in a different situation to the norm. The first thing he notices happens to be the alluring eyes, mysterious with a gaze that would unsettle any person, man or woman. But the expression read differently, a polite smile stretched upon the delicate skin, her fair hair conditioned beautifully for this particular sunny day. Anthony is quick to return the smile, as he had done so many times before in the past. He could regard it as a daily occurrence now.

“Indeed, it is.” His response is considerate, his voice moderately even; it’s as if he were trained for this. And Anthony supposed he quite literally is trained for it. “Especially on a day as sweltering as this.”

He can faintly hear in the background a man grumbling incoherently about keeping up the line, and he apologetically (although he doesn’t feel very apologetic) responds to the not-so gentleman behind him. He hastily picks his glass, an internal groan erupting in him when a couple of drops spill onto the earthly grass. At least it had avoided his clothing by its means. Anthony had already begun to walk away, lemonade secured, when he noticed the same lady who had engaged him in a brief conversation engaging in the same direction that he was headed.

“Such events are quite amusing,” Her words are delicate, but they are firm enough for Anthony to know that she stands her ground. She stands ever so beautifully, firm but beautiful, letting her dress flutter slightly into the soft breeze that washes over the course. “I can not say that they were common in my homeland.”

Ah. So that is why Anthony failed to recognize her—a new citizen, or possibly just visiting some family for the season. After all, Mayfair was quite prestigious in its ways if you stood in the high rankings. “So I take that you are not from here?” He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

The lady shakes her head, the hair atop her head bouncing as she does so. “Not quite.” She responded appropriately. She rattles off some place that Anthony had surely never been before, and he nods upon hearing the answer. "I am here visiting, as my cousin kindly offered to host me, and who am I to decline such a gracious invitation?"

The words rolled sweetly off her tongue, as if she were making a harmonious melody. Certainly a clever tongue in her mouth, Anthony could think to himself. “Well then, I must certainly assume that you are here for the season.”

It was an honest question. The lady looked to be in her earlier years of life, if Anthony really had to make a guess. Fair skin, beautiful features, and a voice as gorgeous as the waves in the ocean—what else would she be doing in Mayfair at this time of the year? It only seemed reasonable to make that assumption. He stands correct when she pushes her head down as an agreement, “Yes.” She says, yet she pauses for a beat before continuing her sentence, "Though I must say, it is quite a considerable departure from what I am accustomed to back home.”

"In a manner most agreeable, I trust?" Anthony says, and the lady smiles approvingly. It was quite a sugary smile, the sort that sat well within the presumably older man. It looked as if the course grounds had gotten crowded by tenfold since Anthony had turned his back, making the exertion towards the stands much harder than what it should’ve been.

“Well, yes.” Whereas, the tone of her voice contradicted what her words have stated. The lady’s eyebrows furrow for a mere moment, as if he were contemplating something of sorts. “Nevertheless, it is quite hard.”

He inclines his head. Anthony could somewhat agree with her words—the season was always stressful, a throatful of things to stress and worry about, a million matters to perfect to attract the best of the best. He had never felt too stressed, perhaps when he was swarmed with tasks to complete for the up-and-coming ball or party, but never on his performance at such events. Anthony believed that is why he suddenly threw himself in as an eligible bachelor, and the best if he may add, was so diminishing. "With a lady such as yourself, I must presume it is not exceedingly difficult."

The lady, which Anthony now realizes that he does not know the name of, blushes a shade of pink that could only be described as warm, like a rose pelting in the wind. She laughs graciously, accepting the compliment with ease. “I must confess, I am flattered, Mr…” Her words trail off as she too comes to realization with the fact she does not know how to address the young gentleman.

“Lord Bridgerton.” He introduces, his voice not in any way condescending as many others may take him on to be.

Anthony takes note of the way the lady’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, followed by the rather flushed look that began to tint at her cheeks. "Oh dear, I beg your pardon, my Lord." Tilting her head down hesitantly as if she were unsure of what formality would be the most appropriate. It almost forces a chuckle out of the Viscount.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Anthony continues on as it is only polite to ask so.

"Mm, indeed. How remiss of me not to mention it beforehand…” The lady says, letting out a sort of awkward laugh that could be seen as rather affectionate. “My name is Y/n.” The lady states, followed by a surname that Anthony can faintly remember to be as one of the other Viscounts that lived in the city, although he couldn’t quite say he knew the name all too well. Certainly not one that he had talked to on the occasion.

“I see,” Anthony nods along, a faint smile tainted upon his lips before he even knows it himself. “Charming gentleman your cousin is.” He could not say if the man was truly charming, or a gentleman at all, as he had only read a couple lines about it from the Lady Whistledown paper that his family had received a couple of long weeks ago.

“Charming, indeed.” The words were more so grumbled, as if she didn’t quite agree with the statement. “That is certainly one way to describe him.”

He chuckles at the disdain laced upon her voice. Anthony fairly enjoyed the new sense of emotion—most ladies he had the pleasure of talking with all embellished their compliments in spite of thinking the opposite. Being able to hear an objection that wasn’t sugarcoated heavily; Anthony would think that he notably liked the trait that distinguished Y/n.

The course grounds slowly appear into Anthony’s line of vision as the conversation dies down. The sound of chatter that did come from his or her mouth refilling his ears—excited husbands yelling bets at one another, ladies shaking their heads as so—the look that was etched on their faces would be one that Anthony could appreciate and find humorous.

"I must confess, some of the wagers being placed are rather simplistic in nature." Y/n cuts in through the stillness of their discussion beforehand. A nice conversation starter, but one that would rile many people up. "It appears as though none of these individuals have ever graced a racecourse before! How utterly rash of them to bet upon the favored contender solely because of his popularity."

He can’t help but be taken aback, although once again, her exaggeration was one that could be seen as comical. That is, before he had realized that he himself had also bet upon the favored horse, Nectar, which Anthony assumed the lady was talking about. For a moment, he wonders if her words are pure bullshit, if she was just making conversation with him. It is as if Y/n sees right through him.

“Oh my, do not tell me you have also fallen into the unfortunate trap of betting for Nectar.” Anthony can’t quite place what expression she expresses, but it does not look good. Disappointed, or perhaps pity.

“Naturally, I betted upon him, it is a sensible bet, and he is a horse of sound character who shall undoubtedly finish with victory this afternoon.” He defends, the tone of his voice sounding rather offended at the plain mention of his unwary wager. Something deep down in him wonders if the lady was indeed right, if he really did not know what he was doing. Again, Anthony could not say he was educated well enough, and admittedly, he had bet upon Nectar due to the favorability of his win. “I have a well placed feeling about him.”

“A feeling?” Y/n’s eyebrow cocks up, the smile on her face now more jovial than polite. “Or is it the choosing of the horse that everyone has chosen? Well, I do suppose that adds to the list of husbands who shall be more than disappointed once the race has concluded.”

“I beg your finest pardon, I have made a strategic bet.” His words are more puncuated than before, suddenly relishing within the first person to truly give him some sort of competition that did not stem from his brothers or family, for that matter. “Nectar is a prized steed. He is quite well bred, highly trained, and, as many other people have shown, well favored.”

Y/n tsks, shaking her head as if she were scolding Anthony as his mother and father had done when he was a young boy. “I must assume you have not considered the quality of the racing course and the weather to assess the true potential? Although these sorts of events are not truly common back in my homeland, I do must say that many of these may just be common sense.”

She knows that her words are stretching the truth, that it wasn’t just common sense, but Y/n must admit that she took delight in having a friendly banter. She climbs up onto one of the wooden bleachers, sitting herself upon the heated seat, with Anthony following quickly behind her. “You see, my cousin had kindly explained to me the expectations of the race, and it is said that Nectar raced well at Doncaster; however, the track conditions were far from the same. A firmer course, if you will. While now, over here…” She pauses to wave her hand at the field of grass in front of her view. “It is much softer, and it is a rather humid day. He will much slowdown in the final leg, giving HighFlyer the much easy victory.”

Anthony scoffs. Foolish? Perhaps. Tinted with truth? Also yes. "Are you merely echoing the words your cousin imparted to you earlier?" He argues as well, Anthony never backed down from a challenge, and this lady was surely challenging him.

“And are you merely saying that I do not know about horse racing because I am a woman?” She tilts her head to look directly at Anthony; the grin that is placed strategically on her face was one that he could not argue with. And he is sure of that when he opens his mouth to bite back, but being blatantly unable to respond with something witty. Oh, that shit-eating smirk that was so easily disguised as a polite smile made Anthony oh-so infuriatingly upset. Upset because she knew what she was doing; upset because, well, he was moderately fond of that smile.

“We shall see then.”

Famous last words, because well, he is proved to be utterly wrong. The course of disappointed groans that steamed through the crowd, which Anthony would not admit (but was a part of), as HighFlyer flew his way across the finish line were abominably loud. Nectar staggered behind him moments later, but not before the crowd had seen how winded he was by the heat and conditions.

The lady behind him had laughed in delight, unable to celebrate fully before she must turn towards Anthony to shove it into his face. “I can not say that I have ever beat a viscount before.” Suddenly, all formality that was once there had been gone, destroyed, as if it had never been there in the first place. “I do suppose there is always a first.”

“And a last.” Anthony grumbles under his breath, in hope that Y/n would close off her ears to the harsh criticism. To his luck, she does hear.

“I must concede, you are just like the many men who claim to be gentlemen.” She replies, even though she seemed not to be very upset by the Viscount’s words. If that had been the case, it would have appeared as though Anthony had experienced numerous episodes of frustration—possibly humorous ones, but nonetheless, frustration.. "Unwilling to concede defeat, even when it lies directly at his feet."

“I am able to concede defeat if the defeat deserves to be conceded.” His words are sharp, even though the smile tugging at his face says different to his own jumble of words. Anthony could not quite help it when he sees her eyes light up with something that he could not describe. “If it dares, look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, is that right, my Lord?” She questions, carrying herself with the confidence that he hadn’t seen in forever. An admirable trait indeed, if Anthony must admit. "Does not defeat gaze directly upon you as HighFlyer is crowned the victor of this afternoon's fine race.”

He sighs. Anthony was never one to be dramatic; he always held himself upright and, in his family's words, rather serious. Still, he had to admit that his gasp was a bit dramatic. “Ah… well.” His words trail off slowly, grimacing at the truth of the lady’s words. “I suppose you are… right this time.” The syllables were uttered slowly, followed by another huff of a breath that he could only feel to himself.

She laughs, that beautiful melody of a laugh. While in many cases, it would be regarded as an unpleasant sound unless it was done so delicately, hers was not delicate, nor was it ungracious. It was as if the notes from every music piece ever composed had all come together to form one masterpiece of a harmony, one that ebbed and flowed in all the right ways.

“Oh rejoice! What a sound those words are!” Y/n breathes dreamfully.

The track is far from empty, with many individuals walking over to congratulate the winner, while the others either mourn the losses of their empty wallets, or giggling gleefully over their new-found bundles of heritage. However, the bleachers were starting to thin out, leaving just a select few groups.

There is a sense that weaves through him as he ponders his next move. He could surely just stand himself up, mutter out a respectable goodbye, and leave, yet at the same time, he could not allow himself to just do that. Anthony seemed far better off conversing with this lady than with any other of the ones that he had danced or engaged with in the slightest. The thought made him laugh at his own stupidity, and yet;

"I cannot suppose it would be honorable of me not to inquire if you might attend the Hearts and Flower Ball with me. I trust you have heard of it?" Anthony asks, not just out of politeness but also the small amount of desire he feels for just a beat of a moment. One that felt odd and far too new in his chest, something that he had yet to feel in the weeks that had came, and the weeks yet to come.

The lady showed a glimpse of astonishment, and Anthony wonders if he had made the right decision upon asking her about it in the first place. "My Lord, are you, perchance, inquiring if you wish to take me on a social outing?" Though even she could hear the tiny quiver that was woven, her voice seemed steady as she spoke.

“I… suppose I am, yes.” He stands with his head gently cocked to the right, extending his hand in consolation. Anthony can feel the regret seeping into his words as they were carefully placed, because God, if she came to deny his request, he was sure he could drop dead on the grass at that given moment.

“I would love to.” And Anthony would not be able to stop the sigh of relief that washed over him even if he had tried. The tension that creased his forehead, all the way down to his calves, was quickly overridden with a sense of declaration.

As he wove through the throngs of disassembling guests, waving courteously to the lady that he swore to uncover the mystery of, Anthony finally let himself pry out of dapper smile. For the first time in a while, he felt as if he were winning. Not just a kid-made, pointless game, but something much deeper than he could have ever imagined. Except, this time, he would not allow it to simply just… escape his grasp.

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leiascully · 2 months ago

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Hey. I am gently holding your face and telling you that I can be upset about everybody being badly written and put through the wringer in Season 8. Mulder's trauma is elided. Scully barely gets to talk at all. Neither of them get enough of a chance to process their pain or grief. Mulder gets tortured by aliens. Scully gets tortured by doctors, much like she was during her own abduction. Doggett's there too I guess, taking up the most space, perpetually vaguely perplexed.

This does not have to be a competition about whose blorbo is the most battered by the narrative. Everybody loses in S8. The show is deeply, deeply shitty to its main characters. To be honest, Mulder and Scully are kind of shitty to each other (thanks to bad writing). The whiplash turn from trauma to banter in S8 isn't any different from the whiplash turn from trauma to banter in S1 when Mulder gets shot and nearly dies or S2 when Scully gets abducted (by aliens and then by Pfaster) or S2 when Mulder nearly dies of alien bounty virus or S3 when Mulder nearly dies in a sweat lodge or S4 when Mulder nearly dies in Russia or S4 when Scully nearly dies for getting laid or S5 when Scully nearly dies of cancer or S6 when Scully nearly dies of not getting laid or S6/S7 when Mulder is possibly assaulted by his ex and has unauthorized brain surgery or S7 when Scully is again attacked by the dude who tried to abduct and kill her in S2. I could go on. This is the trauma show. This is the "I'm fine" when you're clearly not show.

Understanding one character's pain more or empathizing with the other character more doesn't say anything about a person's moral character or life experience. It's not a competition. It's (usually) not a political stance. It's not a purity test. It doesn't make you the number one trauma understander and everyone else a trauma-minimizing chump.

Writing a story exploring one side of the trauma more does not mean you don't understand that there's trauma on the other side too. A person identifying more or less with one side of the narrative or one character doesn't mean they don't understand there's pain and suffering on both sides. There are always going to be narratives and characters that resonate more with somebody than the other narratives/characters in the same work. Everyone's pain is different. Everyone's tastes are different. Deciding you're the One True Interpreter of the text is not going to make your fandom experience very entertaining. Everyone else is bringing their own baggage to the narrative. It's okay that it's different from yours. It has to be okay with you. You can't be the only real person in the room.

(Also, they're not real people; their trauma is contained to the narrative and has no significant repercussions in the real world despite representing a misunderstanding of trauma and healing in the real world, but it's a mirror, not the cause; it's not the fans' fault that the narrative doesn't leave space for understanding or healing that trauma, because none of us were in the writers' room, and for some reason they didn't want to shift from a show about spooky monsters to a show about deeply and accurately exploring the depths of psychic damage these characters had taken and taking steps to heal that damage.)

#the x-files #fandom #we have to stop making this some kind of litmus test #everybody take a deep breath

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

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I saw posts from another obey me blogger talking about demons and their body language. I saw a post about MC yawning showing off their teeth and the brothers mistaking it for them trying to be intimidating. It was funny.

Anyways doing this with barbatos and diavolo because for some reason the phrase 'im tired' makes me yawn even if I'm not tired. Diavolo talking about how he's tired of paperwork and suddenly I'm yawning.

Or watching barbatos work and yawning like props to him. I could never, even if physically capable. I'm too lazy for that.

Yawning back and forth with Solomon and the others Wondering why were 'fighting' and who's gonna back down first.

Bows for barb

I really love the idea that the demons read body language differently. Things that are just regular stuff for us humans has some kind of alternate, deeper meaning to them.

I yawn a lot due to be perpetually sleepy, but my eyes always water a lot from it, too.

Imagine a bunch of demons who don't understand that MC isn't crying while aggressively baring their teeth... they're just like ??? you wanna fight, but you're sad about it??

Diavolo is doing paperwork, mentions he's tired and then you yawn and it's like, have I offended you somehow, MC??? Mess with him by responding no I just get angry about the piles of paperwork you always have to do >:(

Oh wow now I really wanna see Barbatos yawn. For some reason, I think it'd be super cute. I don't think he'd do it while he was working - or at least, not so anybody could see. Maybe he's ironing alone and just can't stifle a yawn. But I especially like the image of him just waking up, maybe in his demon form, stretching out his arms and his tail and his little hand-horns and yawning all huge. Ahahaha it'd be so cuuuute~

Right, sorry, didn't mean to get all simpy for Barb again...

Anyway, it would be interesting if demons don't have that thing that makes yawns contagious, too. Because then you and Solomon would be the only ones with that particular tendency. You guys are sitting next to each other just yawning in turns. Eventually you're like stop yawning, it's making me yawn! And Solomon's like me? you're the one making me yawn!

Meanwhile the demons are like... what are those two fighting about?

In the end, you both yawn enough that you just end up falling asleep, your head on his shoulder, his head on your head, just snoring away.

Then the demons are really perplexed. Weren't they just fighting?!?! Now they're asleep??? Humans are weird. (Maybe Belphie is the only one who knows this isn't how it works, but he lets the others stay confused because it's funny.)

#lol this has so much potential #also just love the image of sleepy Barb waking up #and sleepy Solomon & MC falling asleep on each other #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #bows for barb anon #misc answers

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

You Better Cross the Line

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2k words

Warnings: Language, reader has a nickname, lying/sneaking around, adults drink beer, Roy is already down bad, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting

“Yeah, Kent. You could call me sometime.”

Roy nodded, clearly fighting the urge to smile, and squeezed your hand. “You should probably go inside soon,” he sighed as he turned his face towards the sky. “Your dad’ll be looking for you.” As though he couldn’t help it, he looked back at you. “But I’ll call you,” he promised with a firm nod.

You reluctantly left Roy on the pitch, your head swimming with wondering when the footballer would call you and what he would say. Or ask. It was clear you were no longer alone in your attraction, and that this was at least something more than an entertaining flirtation on his end.

The questions still floated in your mind while you watched your father gather his work things. When he wasn’t looking, you quickly scribbled your mobile number on a sticky note and tucked it into Roy’s locker when no one was paying attention.

In the car you were uncharacteristically quiet; normally, you and your dad would spend the drive chatting about training, about the players, about any football news or rumors you’d read while sitting in his office. But today, your thoughts were too full of Roy Kent and his brown eyes and wondering when he’d call to offer anything more than little Mmm hmms and Yeahs to your increasingly perplexed father.

It was the moment you walked through the front door that your mobile and the universe had mercy on you. You all but scrambled up the stairs as you answered it.

“Hello?” Fuck, since when was your voice this damn breathy?

“Hey.”

Your heart and your bedroom door slammed in sync. Roy Kent was calling you.

How were you supposed to breathe, let alone talk, when a gorgeous, funny, talented, famous footballer called you up after holding your hand on the pitch?

Clearly, Roy could tell you were struggling to form words, because he went on speaking. “This is Roy.” As if you wouldn’t know that delicious growl anywhere.

“I know,” you finally managed. You collapsed on your bed. “You called fast,” you teased.

“Didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten,” he replied with a small chuckle. Why the hell did he sound nervous? You were the one living in a fantasy, lying in your room, chatting on the phone with Chelsea’s star player. For him, this was probably just a Thursday night. “I was wondering…” He cleared his throat, a low, gruff sound. “D’you want to come over? We could watch a film, have some pizza.”

You were living in the Matrix. That was it. That had to be it. There was no other explanation to why Roy fucking Kent was asking you out. Well, in. But still. How the fuck was this happening?

“Sure,” you managed, hoping he couldn’t hear how thick your voice felt. “That sounds great.” You sat up and cleared your throat, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror and trying to flatten your suddenly unruly hair. “What time?”

“Whenever.” There was that Roy Kent aloofness, almost as if he was trying to convince you he didn’t care as much as he truly did. “Just… you’re not telling your dad, right?”

There it was. The thing that was going to be perpetually hanging over whatever this thing was going to end up being. Dear Old Dad, Chelsea’s fearless leader, Roy’s boss. He’d never in a million years approve of you seeing Roy Kent. He knew what footballers were like, and he knew what Roy Kent was like. Your dad might have that heart attack he was always joking about if he got even a whiff of this conversation.

Not that you were going to let that stop you.

“Course not,” you hummed. “You’d be buried under Stamford Bridge if the old man ever found out you called.”

His chuckle echoed in your ear. “Appreciate it.”

He quickly gave you directions to his flat, and you agreed to be over in about an hour. When you hung up, you fought the urge to scream into a pillow. You were going to Roy Kent’s place. You’d be watching a movie, hanging out, with Roy Kent. Hell, you might wind up kissing Roy Kent by the end of the night.

You clambered out of bed and rushed to your closet. You’d gone on lots of dates, you reminded yourself. Dates with ridiculously good-looking guys even. Successful dates, you might add. But none with Roy Kent, the little voice in your head pointed out.

After stressing over whether or not you could even call this a date, you finally forced yourself to find a flattering pair of jeans and a light sweater. Comfortable, casual enough for a movie night, but something you knew you looked good in. A quick brush through your hair, a little lip gloss, some trainers on your feet. It was just right for a night in, and hopefully simple enough to not rouse your father’s attention.

“’m taking the car!” you shouted as you practically skipped downstairs.

“Where are you off to?” Your mother’s soft smile was a welcome sight when you were hoping to avoid your dad.

You fiddled with the strap of your purse. “Angela’s,” you blurted out, naming a friend your mother knew well. “Just having a girls’ night.”

She nodded; there was no reason to doubt you, not when your summers were always full of evenings with your friends. “Have fun.” A kiss landed on your forehead. “Be safe, alright?”

Be safe. Her words bounced around in your head as you climbed into your dad’s car, the one you usually borrowed when you were home. Be safe. Was spending time like this, alone in Roy Kent’s flat, being safe? You weren’t an innocent little dove, but you knew his reputation. You knew it well. You giggled over it with your friends, wondering if the things you read in the tabloids were true, rolling your eyes lightheartedly when the girls asked if you’d ever seen anything in the changing room.

Oh, the things they’d say if they knew what you were up to.

The drive to his building was shorter than you expected, shorter than you needed it to be with the nerves you were trying to control. Somehow, they got worse as you strolled into the building and found your way to Roy Kent’s flat. After a shake of your shoulders to try to get rid of the tension they carried, you gave a quick rap to the door.

You waited maybe two beats before you heard the knob turn. Roy Kent filled the doorway in a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt that fit him too perfectly. He smirked at the sight of you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes flickered down your body. He was less the guy on the pitch who quietly asked if he could call you and more the cocky man you’d read about in tabloids; you weren’t sure which you preferred, but you’d take either one in a heartbeat.

“C’mon in,” he hummed as he opened the door wider for you. You followed him inside, pretending you often found yourself in the flats of professional footballers. He nodded to a shelf filled with DVDs. “Pick something,” he said simply. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.” You turned your attention to the movies as you listened to his footsteps recede to what you assumed was his kitchen. He had a decent collection, you observed. A little bit of everything, and even a couple things you’d never heard of. A smile crossed your face when you caught sight of a familiar movie title.

Roy returned with a couple of beers and a box of pizza, his eyebrows raised when he saw the movie you were holding up. “When Harry Met Sally?” he read.

You nodded and accepted the bottle he handed you as well as the pizza box. “That alright? I really like this one.”

“Whatever you want, princess.” He took the case from you and nodded for you to have a seat.

Roy Kent’s couch was comfortable. It didn’t creak when you sat, not like the couches in residence halls tended to do. You put the pizza on his coffee table and opened the box, letting the delicious smell fill the room. After he turned on the television and set up the movie, Roy turned to look at you, something unreadable flickering on his face for a brief moment.

“Grab a slice,” he mumbled as he plopped down next to you. His eyes found yours, searching for a brief moment. “Thanks for coming over.”

There he was. The guy who’d laid next to you on the pitch and gently touched your hand and asked if he could call you. The guy you liked best, you decided.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you murmured, grabbing a piece of pizza before settling back into the couch. For the second time that day, you found yourself far too close to Roy Kent. Even with the whole couch to sit on, he chose to sit close to you, close enough for your arms to brush every time you took a sip of your beer.

The two of you watched the start of the movie in silence, except for a few breathy chuckles here and there when Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan were particularly funny. Thankful that the food had filled your stomach with something besides butterflies, you stole a glance at Roy. He looked comfortable, almost happy as he brought his bottle to his lips. With his eyes still on the screen, he lifted his arm and settled it behind the couch- behind you. His gazed flickered to you for a moment, eyebrows raised playfully, before he slouched into the cushions.

Was this what Roy Kent making a move looked like?

You tried to focus your attention on the movie, you really did. But you could hear his breathing and feel his side pressed against yours and your peripheral vision could see the pink in this cheeks and fuck, why did he have to smell so good?

When he leaned forward to place his beer on the coffee table, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Oh, shit, you forgot how to breathe. Especially when he kept his arm firmly there once he sat back against the cushions.

Your inability to breathe only got worse when he bowed his head and whispered in your ear, “This alright?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling bold enough to turn to face him.

From this close, you could count every freckle on his face, memorize the shape of his nose and lips, see the brightness in his eyes. You could practically feel the rise and fall of his chest as he leaned forward, letting his nose brush against yours.

“This alright?”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ear, drowning out the sound of Billy Crystal singing “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” on the telly. The only thing you could think about was the tip of Roy’s nose bumping your burning skin and his lips only centimetres away from your own.

“Yes.”

Far too many nights in your dorm had been spent imagining Roy Kent’s lips on yours. But none of those dreams compared to the real thing. Because those fantasies didn’t tell you how soft his lips were, or how his hand rested on your thigh with a gentle firmness. Or how he tasted like pizza and beer and delight. Or the way his mouth parted so his tongue could gently flick against your lips before he pulled away, looking as breathless as you felt. Or, worst of all, how you knew he’d just ruined every other kiss for you.

He cleared his throat as he leaned back, his eyes roaming your face. “Well?”

“Well, what?” You knew he could see the flush on your face, but you hoped that you could hide it by acting as cool as he usually did.

“Well, are you going to let me kiss you again?” There was that cocky grin, the one you often saw on the pitch, the one that made your entire body go warm. “Or are you going to run and tell The Sun that Roy Kent is a shit kisser?”

Despite the swarm of butterflies fluttering in your chest, you laughed and rolled your eyes. “Sorry, I think I need another demonstration.”

Roy shook his head at you and cupped your face. “If you insist, princess.”

Taglist: @gee72sstuff @book-of-roses @kissykissymouth @emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92 @dearvoidgoodnight @misshall14 @issieruby @royal-sunflower @kissmekent @veryprairieberry @itswhateveripromise

#roy kent bright baby blue #Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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