#Keep on keeping on as well! May you have an excellent week!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I have greatly enjoyed your comics ever since i saw them and have been quietly Iurking as ya do- thought youd want to know that i played hollow knight based on how enthusiastic u were and how fuckin cool youre art of hk/mdzs is. OH and watched dungeon meshi. Your influence is vast and i have been enriched. Keep on keepin on 🫡

You have bestowed the highest honour upon me.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[hedgehog-moss]

In my neverending quest to keep Pampérigouste from achieving her dreams, I have launched a formal investigation into her last escape, which I had no explanations for at the time.

I figured it out! At the far far end of her pasture, near the road, a few fence posts have become more or less horizontal (the ground is quite wet / muddy there so they've never been very stable, especially with Pirlouit using them to scratch his forehead)—so instead of a high jump + long jump combo to get to the road, Pampe just had to clear the long jump over the ditch. Which is still impressive.

I also suspect that she chose to escape from this place near the road on a snowy morning as a deliberate strategy, knowing the snow plough would erase any traces of her jump, thus preventing me from discovering where the weak spot in the fence was. Well done.

You need 2 people to fix these fence posts so in the meantime I decided to kill two birds with one stone: cut all the broom and thorny bushes in this corner of the pasture and use them to form a discouraging barrier. I set to work earlier this week, and here's the same place as above, mid-process:

When I texted my mum to tell her about my new thorn-based anti-Pampe plan of action, she said "Like the Maasai who make fences with thorny acacia branches to keep out lions!" and it made me feel even more confident. I mean, I have neither acacia nor Maasai fencing techniques but my thorny shrubs are pretty aggressive, they pricked my fingers even through my thick work gloves—which felt satisfying in an anticipatory way. Excellent! prick Pampe's nose exactly like this. How could a llama not be deterred by a fence material that deters apex predators?

Vexingly enough, she seemed quite supportive of my efforts. At one point she breathed some warm air against my shoulder in a gentle, patronising way.

We were engaged in psychological warfare all afternoon—every time I stepped away from my vegetal fence, feeling like it was now good enough, Pampe would immediately come to inspect it, cheerful and impatient, which sapped my confidence so I would go and add a few more shrubs. (Note that I sort of plaited the first / biggest shrubs with the pre-existing fence so they don't go flying on the road, and so Pampe can't just push them aside.)

On the right: Poldine, looking for little fresh leaves to eat amidst the chaos. On the left: Pampérigouste, thinking.

(At this point the barrier was only 20% thorns, and 80% broom—the fact that she waded through it without a care and didn't prick her belly made me go and add more thorny shrubs, and pack them more densely)

It's kind of fun watching Pampe think, honestly. Can I jump over this? Do I have enough visibility? Can I eat my way to freedom (again)? But these shrubs are disgusting. Am I above exploiting my daughter's lack of culinary discernment to achieve my goals? Maybe I should go back to my calculations re: probability of wild boar destruction. I may have pincushions for hands after handling prickly bushes for two hours but I'm helping stimulate my llama's intellect and creativity and that's so important.

I tried to alternate broom and thorny branches so that the non-thorny broom became tangled up with thorns and brambles to form an impenetrable and incomprehensible wall. I will call it this method the salmagundi-fence.

Poldine is in awe of my vegetal installation.

Can I just say, compared to Pampérigouste who constantly has a devilish glint in her eye, Pampelune's face exudes wholesome politeness and moral goodness. It's still hard to believe they're mother and daughter.

I went home once my fence started looking like Maleficent's forest of thorns and Pampe had long stopped trying to wade through it, but I still felt antsy and ended up coming back one hour later to have my apéritif with the llamas so I could keep an eye on Pampe until nightfall.

... where is Pampe?

Oh. Here. No worries!

Still staring at the road. Still thinking.

...

With all that said, please admire my beautifully delirious Forest of Thorns-fence and let me know what you think.

[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[axelsagewrites]

Ragnar Lothbrok*Pet

Pairing: Ragnar x f!captured reader

Kinktober Day twenty-four: thigh riding/dry humping with Ragnar Lothbrok – after taking a Christian girl prisoner he decides to show you the pleasure a heathen can feel

Word count: 1491

Warnings: talks of religion, religious corruption, religious guilt, teasing, heavy flirting, mini crisis of faith ig, being ragnars pet/prisoner, making out, thigh riding, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“She is a Christian,” Floki whispered in Ragnars ear as the pair studied the girl presented to them, “We should get rid of her, not drag her around with us. She will only slow us down,”

While Floki’s eyes bore into Ragnars skull the kings’ eyes lingered elsewhere. They had taken your village some days ago when one of his men found you hiding in the forest. The sight of you on your knees, even if it were to pray to a false god to survive, was enough to convince Ragnar.

“I should like to keep her,” he said, watching how your lips wrapped around the words you mumbled, “Untie her hands,” he commanded one of his men as Floki sighed.

“What is it with you and your Christian pets? At least keep her hands bound,” he tried to reason but Ragnar just shook his head. He knew you wouldn’t run.

A couple of weeks had passed of successful raiding and gold was beginning to pile up around him. Ragnar sat at the makeshift feast they had decided to throw after taking another village however his eyes were once again on the Christian girl who sat across from him. At first you used to flush under his gaze, a sight he enjoyed and often tried to tease out by whispering pretty words in your ear.

Ragnar leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “What are you thinking about?” he asked, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“That I may sleep soon. The night is growing long,”

“That is an excellent idea. Perhaps I should join you,” he said, smirking at the way you began to stutter and flush, “Tell me something. Where you married before?”

You paused for a moment before answering, “No, why?”

Ragnar shook his head, “well I heard,” he said, leaning in closer and grinning as you did the same as his voice dropped to a whisper, “that it is only the married ones who get fucked,”

“I-well-I- yes it would be a sin otherwise,” you stuttered out, face growing hot as Ragnar poured himself another glass of wine. “I’m not even supposed to talk about…that,”

“Why not?”

“It is a sin,”

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious child.

The awkward smile worn on your lips made a real one grow on his face, “Because god said so,”

“Have you spoken to god,”

“Well, no,”

“Then how do you know?” a frustrated sigh left your lips that made Ragnars grin widen. He was getting to you and enjoying every moment of it. he leaned in closer once more, whispering for your sake more than anything,” Why would a god create something so beautiful then not let you appreciate its wonders?”

“It is a sin,” you clung to the excuse, realising you did not know why either.

The laugh that left his mouth however caught you off guard and your lips twitched, almost forming a smile at the smile on his face. That was until he spoke again, “Perhaps we should sin together one time,” he said, standing and grabbing his cup of wine. Before he could leave, he sauntered over to whisper one last thing in your ear, “And the idea of you falling apart on my cock is enough to make me believe in my god,”

A few more weeks had passed and soon you would be heading back with the raiders to their land. Despite still being wary of many of the men some, Ragnar specifically, had grown on you. “Where will I stay when you take me back with you?” you asked one night as you began to brush through your hair.

Ragnar glanced at you as he began to unlace his boots. While he had unbound your hands, he had insisted on keeping you in his tent, thankfully on your own bed, thought you wondered if this was for his entertainment or safety, “I will find somewhere for you,” he answered simply before reaching to pull his shirt over his head.

Despite seeing this sight many times, the way his muscles flexed, and his tattoos gleamed against his skin made a tingle shoot through your spine. “So, I won’t be a slave? Or is it a thrall you call them?”

Ragnar paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over you, “You need not worry little one. I will take care of you,”

A moment passed before you allowed yourself to smile, “Thank you Ragnar,” you said and a small smile crept onto his lips as he settled himself above his sheets, his eyes scanning over you.

“Come here,” he said, nervousness washing over you, “Trust me,”

You paused at first before standing from beneath your covers. Your underdress was the only thing to cover you now as you crossed the tent. Ragnar patted the spot beside him and cautiously you sat down, picking at your thumbs. His hand closed over yours, “You’ll make yourself bleed,” he said, and you just nodded as his eyes continued to study your face.

“Has anyone ever kissed you?” he whispered.

You swallowed before answering, “Once,” you said, tempted to pick at your skin but somehow resisting, “But I wasn’t very good at it,”

“Perhaps you should try again,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he moved to rest his forehead against yours.

“Perhaps you could teach me,” you whispered, a spark lighting in his eyes, “if I am to go back to your land perhaps it is time I Learned your ways,”

“All our ways?” he asked, his hand reaching over to run his fingers lightly up your thighs making you shiver, “Is that what you desire little one?”

“Would it be so wrong if I did?” you asked and the way your wide eyes gazed into his made Ragnars cock begin to harden.

His hand trailed slowly up your leg, torturously so until it arrived at your hip. You gasped when he grabbed it, pulling you over to straddle his thigh. “Ragnar- “you gasped, when he bent his leg up, propping you up on his strong thigh, “What are you doing?”

“Teaching,” his hands reached for your hair, pulling your lips down onto his. This was far different from the last time someone had kissed you. this was rough and needy and made whines leave your throat as one of his hands moved to your hips.

You couldn’t even question what he was doing before he began to move your hip, making you grind down onto his thigh. The way you whimpered made Ragnar wonder if Odin himself had blessed him. Ragnar guided your hips and soon your body took over, rubbing your clit against his strong thigh as his hand squeezed the flesh of your hips.

When he pulled his lips away yours chased after his making a chuckle leave them before he began to kiss down your jaw. “You don’t need to be quite little one,” he mumbled against your skin as a soft moan left your mouth, “No one will judge,”

His lips soon found the crook of your neck, kissing it in a way that made a knot in your stomach tighten. Since your hips now moved of their own accord his hands were free to travel up your frame, taking your tits in his hand and making you gasp as he squeezed them softly.

He felt his cock twitch at the feeling of the Hardened buds beneath your shift. His fingertips trailed slowly around your nipples at first, enjoying your needy whines before he finally began to roll them between his fingers.

“Oh god,” you moaned as he pinched them gently, but your words just made him want you more and groan against your skin.

It didn’t take long for a tight feeling to spread across your body, “What is happening to me?” you asked but it came out as more of a whine.

“Enjoy it little one,” Ragnar said, his lips moving to kiss your check, “Let yourself let go,” he said before your lips slammed onto his even catching yourself by surprise. Your moans allowed him to slip his tongue in, the kiss becoming messier and more desperate as you grinded against his thigh.

He felt your body jerk and Ragnar smirked into the kiss knowing what was about to happen. Your lips broke apart only for your head to fall in the crook of his shoulder, “Oh god,” you began to moan again before you felt your peak wash over you like a tidal wave.

sensing your body tensing and hips slowly Ragnar reached for your hips, moving them for you so he could watch you ride out your peak on his thigh. Curses left your lips before you finally slumped into his chest. Ragnar let out a small chuckle, letting his leg lay flat and holding you against his chest. Ragnar had defiantly made the right decision he thought.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

-------------------------------

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!�� Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[shamrockqueen]

Omega Retreat : Chapter 3

Pairing : Alpha Bucky x Omega reader

Warnings : R18, Eventual Smut, reference to physical ailments

Word count : 2083

Masterlist

Summary : As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

You tried to focus on your work, but you found yourself losing focus time and time again. Your eyes kept leaving the dull glow of your computer monitor to steal glances at your phone.

“You seem distracted.”

Her tone was playful, but the abrupt interruption still had you jumping in your seat. Your boss had snuck up behind you easily as you were rechecking your email on your phone.

“Geez, we’ll have to string a bell around you if you're going to sneak up on people.” You laughed back, reassured by her coy smile.

“Something’s got you in a good mood.” She hummed behind you.

“Oh, yeah I guess.” You try to hide your pink cheeks, too embarrassed over getting caught texting a new flame like a love-struck teenager.

“All the girls can smell the change. Even the betas, dear.” She sang back.

“Who is he?” She tried to hide her beaming smile behind the back of her hand as she leaned over on the wall of your cubicle.

You scoff, trying to cover your warm cheeks as you answer. “You sound more excited than my mother was.”

She gasped with a wide smile, like a schoolgirl getting gossip from a friend. Omega’s always connected more closely, and it warmed your heart that she could be equally happy for you. So, when she leaned in for a hint of another scent that may have been left to linger on your skin, you quickly answered the anticipation in her eyes.

“We haven’t met in person yet; you're not going to catch a whiff of him, so don’t bother trying.” You laughed up at her before she pulled away.

“No fun. You could at least tell me what he is.” You knew it had to be the question bugging her the most.

You hesitated for a second, biting back on your lip before whispering back, “An alpha.”

“I knew it!” She nearly jumped with delight, leading you to try and shush her before the other cubicles were privy to your personal business.

It made you happy that you could feel like you had bonds even at work, and we’re thankful for her gentle omega nature.

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m sorry; I’m just so happy for you. After everything, I just..”

You didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Luckily for you, she wouldn’t, looking back into your saddened eyes instead. “I’m just so happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’ll meet him soon?”

You chuckled alongside her, glad to have the conversation shift back to a lighter tone.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.” You shoo at her, hoping to get some of the work she’d given you done today.

She gets the message, realizing she’d been gushing for too long and had work of her own.

“Fine, but I expect an invite to that wedding.”

It was the last you heard of her before she walked back to her office.

You smiled back at your computer, a drab Excel sheet still painted over its background. You sighed back at it until a telltale ding rang across your previously ignored phone.

A relationship with an alpha was still scary, but Bucky seemed to dampen those worries every time you looked at his photo blipping over your screen.

You pulled the phone towards you to glance over the notification of Bucky’s message.

“I wait to see you tonight.” You read along with the small message box.

You ran your fingernail along the power button before pressing on it, letting the passcode window light up the screen before tapping on a handful of numbers.

You looked back at the few cubicles behind you, making sure you had a moment to answer.

“Me either. I can’t focus on work,” you typed fervently.

“I’d rather meet you in person, Omega." The message pops up in the next second.

You let out a breathy chuckle with a smile, still in disbelief that you could be his omega even in text.

“I know. Hopefully soon, but I’m excited about our video date.”

You were more than excited; it was all you could think about as the hours ticked away slower than they normally would. When 5 p.m. finally rolled around, you nearly lept from your seat. You nearly forgot to shut off your computer before grabbing your stuff and rushing away.

A giddy drive home was a delightful change of pace, spurring you to drive just a tick above the speed limit as you neared your little house.

You fly through the house, letting the door slam behind you before tossing your purse over the couch. You stumbled past the mirror, only to twist back towards it after catching sight of your messy hair.

Your fingers only tangle into it as you fight to take it out of its messy bun. You only tied it up halfway through the day for a little comfort, only to ruin all the work you put into it that morning.

You didn’t have any time to fuck with it now, yet you continue to burn through the few seconds you have left trying to tame your tired looks. Could each flyaway be seen through your laptop's webcam?

You stopped for a second, closing your eyes and sucking in an uneven breath before looking back up at your reflection.

You looked red—nothing new, of course—but not a face you wanted him to see, and yet there wasn’t anything you could do to fight it except to finally calm down.

Your hair wasn’t bad, and your reflection wasn’t meant to scare you, and as you continued to breathe, that red blush began to fade. You can do this.

You leave the mirror, setting your eyes on the laptop still sitting on the coffee table. You lowered yourself to the sofa to sit as comfortably as possible before pulling the computer to your lap and switching it on.

A brief photo of you with your arm wrapped around your mother’s shoulder flashed in the background of your screen before you set up the video call.

It was just more of those bouncing dots with a different ring as it all danced along a blue screen. You held your breath, waiting patiently for his image to take over. Yet, when the square zoomed over the page and movement took over your screen, every ounce of air seemed to force its way from your lungs.

He was there, tucking his hair behind his ear and smiling at his own screen as you gave a shocked smile.

“Hi!”

You mouthed back an overwhelmed ‘hi’ as you watched him intently. Your mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but you were far too mesmerized by the real alpha on your screen. That is, until his smile fell.

“Is your sound on? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes!” You were quick to reassure him, wanting desperately to see that smile set upon you again.

Just as you hoped, it was back in an instant after hearing your voice.

“Sorry, I was just a little speechless for a second.” You blinked at his image, wanting to make sure it was real as you spoke to it. “It’s amazing to finally see the real you. Not that I thought your photos were fake..uh it’s just.” You fought your way through your ramblings as he chuckled at your giddy and nervous demeanor.

“No, I know what you mean. It’s so exciting to finally see you, Omega.”

It was like a dream, finally laughing and talking where you could see one another and study each of his expressions as he took each word that left your stuttering lips. Hours pass, and the conversation continues to burn through the night as it’s carried happily between the two of you.

It was so much better, but not nearly enough. A frustration shared by both you and him began to show as the veneer hiding it broke away.

“But, I wanna bury my face in your neck.” His voice deepens, showing a glimpse at a small possessive side. It was something you’d initially feared from an alpha.

“I gotta see you for real.”

It’s so sudden, you could hardly believe it would always be like this for omegas, but how could someone who had shut themselves away for so long really know?

You think back on what others spoke of during their tales of pleasure and even the more harrowing words from your physician only a few weeks prior. They’d cut off your suppressants ‘for your own safety’, and urged you to seek a sexual partner in the most blatant terms. But, they weren’t wrong, and with another possibly fatal heat on the horizon, you had to make a very difficult choice.

“Maybe we should. It's just...” You stopped for a second to calm yourself. “It hasn’t been very long, and you're already..so smitten.”

“Can you blame me?” His voice rang low over the speaker yet still sang through your worries so melodically.

His tone drops, becoming more serious and heavy, so much so that it only echos the ever-grave voice that bounced around the back of your mind. “What are you scared of?”

It hit close to home, like he could be looking right through you and seeing every mounting fear you tried so hard to bottle up.

“It's just, with a heat coming in a couple weeks..” you tried to ignore the breaking of your own voice as you spoke. You didn’t want this to be the reason why, and you didn’t want it to be so soon that you two had to meet or finally be intimate. “...and I just don’t want to rush things. But I agree; maybe we should consider meeting in person soon."

You fought not to let your true emotions show and not to let your true fears come to light in front of him. It was a relief when his face lit up with so much joy. He just stared back at you, his eyes beaming through the screen.

You could nearly cry. After ripping off this first bandage, it was such a relief that you finally felt you could breathe properly. You chuckled happily together, taking in each other's joyous reaction when he finally spoke again.

“I can send you an invitation right away. I can be there for you.” He spoke so passionately, looking at you with big, wet blue eyes before typing away at the keys on his keyboard.

“W-what invitation?” You nearly coughed on the words as they left your throat.

You do think back on the vacation packages on the original website and how they boasted about safety as well as elegance. The thought of having that kind of special getaway with the Alpha often, finally seeing Bucky where the sun could hit his skin instead of in the glow of your laptop monitor.

But, he was still technically a stranger, in spite of the two of you consistently sharing messages over the course of several weeks. Running away with him seemed, in the most juvenile sense, stupid. Yet, a twinge in your stomach urged you to leap at his offer.

“It is such a beautiful resort.” You chuckled nervously. You recalled all the photos you’d scrolled through before he’d matched you on the website.

“I’ll meet you anywhere you want me to, Omega. I just want to feel you so bad.” The low drag of his voice wasn’t unfamiliar by now, after having heard similar sentiments during a steamier exchange over a phone call. You felt a little embarrassed as your skin started to flush again.

“I don’t want to make you spend that much money on me.”

"This is not about money. I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

You try to force yourself to speak, but each word falls flat on your tongue. He was offering you what felt like a lifeline with open arms. You never wanted something like this to progress so damn quickly, but maybe you were really that desperate. Maybe you were really that scared.

It was so nice to be wanted, and by him especially, an alpha unlike any other you’d ever met. You still wanted time to think about it, but what time do you have left before a possible disaster? The date of your heat was growing closer, but you had to afford at least a night to ponder something like this.

“C-can I have a few days to think about it?”

Chapter 4

Tag list : @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[dotster001]

Headcanons of what if the reader accidentally called the staff members dad?

A/N: Gn! Reader. Hope this is what you're looking for, anon/hope you're still here cause I take forever on these 😂

"Azul asked me to bring you this paperwork," you said, handing him a stack of papers.

"Excellent, prefect. You've been incredibly helpful lately. In my generosity, I have decided to give you the next week off, and take you to a beach house!"

"Really? Thanks dad!"

Preens. You've made a huge mistake. Good luck to you. You will now be smothered by an overexcited crow.

He hasn't touched up his nest in a while. As headmaster he has no time to think about a family. But now that you called him dad, he is going home and touching up his nest so that his little chick will be comfy. Crow's like to keep their babies in the nest, some of them for years at a time. You're gonna have to tell him at some point that no, you will not be staying in a nest, you will be staying in Ramshackle to finish your education. (This will not stop him from subtly directing you in the direction of said nest)

He's picking at your hair, and straightening your outfit. He does that mom thing where he licks a handkerchief and tries to clean the dirt off your face. If you tell him to stop, he'll say something like, "now now, let papa help." God, I don't envy you.

He buys you shiny trinkets that have no value. But  he can't help his genetics. It's how he expresses affection.  You and Grim may trip over them sometimes, cause he just will drop them in the most random of places. (ex. The middle of the floor)

If you ever try to take it back, whether it's out of pure desperation or annoyance, he will sob. He will sob so hard. He's not trying to manipulate you. He just doesn't see what he did wrong.

He'd invited you over to dinner. 

"Yeah, I don't really have plans for the summer holiday yet, because, well, you know.."

He cut a piece of his steak, and said, "You can always stay with me. My daughter's are all grown, so they're rooms are empty. Plus they've been wanting to meet you." He gave you a soft smile, the kind of smile that made you feel safe.

"Sevens, that sounds great dad," you said with a sigh. Both of you froze.

He already knew you felt that way about him. But having you say it out loud fills him with fatherly pride.  It's been a while since his kids were young enough to spoil, and he's definitely missing it. Now that you've opened the box, he has all the permission he needs.

He'll act like everything's totally normal though. He still expects you to get your classwork in on time, and strongly discourages you from getting into trouble with your friends. But it somehow seems more insistent? Like when he sees you going to hang out with ADeuce, and he says to stay out of trouble, it sounds more like, "Dear god, please don't do anything stupid!"

He offers to help you with your homework a lot more often now. He had already offered from time to time before, but now it's a lot more often. Like calling him dad was giving him permission.

He gives you presents every once in a while. Expensive presents, wrapped in a neat box with a perfect bow. He acts like it's nothing. When he hands it to you he says how he just was passing through the store, and saw it, and thought it was something you needed. No biggie.

Lucius follows you around a lot now. You have no idea why…

"You were almost correct here. You need to add mustard seed, or it won't work," Crewel said as he looked over your homework with you. 

He definitely didn't have to go over your homework with you line by line, but you definitely appreciated it. 

"Oh, yeah! Thanks!" You made a note so that you wouldn't forget later.

"Not a problem. Anything for my favorite pup. Don't tell the others though," he gave you a playful wink.

"No problem, no one has to know, dad." 

Oops.

Oh? He might raise an eyebrow, or give you a smirk, but he won't say anything. It'll be like it never happened, and you can convince yourself he didn't hear it.

But he definitely did. He heard it. He goes home to his dogs that night, and picks them up, and cuddles them close, and keeps telling them, "they called me Dad!" 

Like I said, you can convince yourself he didn't hear it. But every once in a while he'll slip and do something that makes you wonder. Like he'll gently rub the top of your head. Or he'll tell you he understands if you don't get your homework in, just don't let it happen again. Or when your idiot friends drag you into a scheme, he'll get you an exemption from the detention that inevitably follows.

Crewel has a habit of adopting students already, without realizing it. Vil's your brother now, by the way.  He'll invite both of you to dinner in the guise of "checking up on my most studious pups" but it's really to just spend time with his little found family.

You won't know for sure he heard it, until after you graduate, when he offers to sponsor you through whatever you want to do. Cosign leases and loans, transportation to an interview, purchasing a uniform, letter of recommendation…. he'll do whatever you need, and when you're like, "Sir, I'm not sure how to repay you!" He'll say, "It's a dad's job to help out his pup." That's when the memory of that fateful day comes rushing back to you.

Sam let you work weekend shifts with him for extra cash. You didn't know how he always knew, but whenever the shop was closing, if you hadn't bought anything to eat that day, he'd get you something and have you eat it while he did closing tasks.

"I can eat this later, Sam. It's no trouble!" 

"You've done enough work, my little imp. You're no use to me if you starve to death," he laughed. "Plus your health is important to me, even outside of you working here."

"God, dad, you're just the best!" 

You've known him long enough to know that if he didn't hear it, his "friends" certainly did. No matter how embarrassed or flustered you are by the mistake, you know that he knows. And he won't easily forget it.

On the whole, your relationship doesn't change. To him, you saw him as Dad already. So that's that.  He doesn't need to change, and you don't need to change.

That said… now that the words have been said…he has his friends specifically watching you at all times. Just in case. If you've ever started to fall, and felt someone catch you, but when you turned around you saw no one there…that's not your guardian angel. That's your dad's shadow.

Okay…not everything stays the same. Merch from your favorite things are always in stock at the store from now on. Neither of you addresses it…but deep down you both know.

"You wanna be as tough as me, right? You need to do at least ten more pushups!"

"God, you're the worst, dad-"

Fuck.

Oh man. You've made a huge mistake. (Part two) the conversation will go as such. "Dad huh?" "Uh, I-" "Ha ha ha! Well,  you're gonna have to bulk up! Just trust your old man, he knows what's best! Fifty squats! Go!" God, you're fucked.

Wakes you up in the morning with a booming laugh, and a green smoothie of unknown origins. Once you chug the smoothie, with indiscernible flavor profile, it's time for your three mile jog. He'll go slow for you. If you complain he'll say, "Dad knows what's best for you! If you want to be as fit as me, this is only the beginning!" If you continue to complain,  he'll make you do a plank until you give in and join him on the run.

You can't look at this man and tell me he doesn't give the best hugs. Before you dropped the d word, his affection was expressed with a pat on the back. Now, when he sees you, he scoops you up in a bear hug. I don't care how tall or short you are, your feet are off the ground when he hugs you. 

Surprisingly? He's the most gung ho about who you want to date. Gym teachers see students at their worst and most desperate. He's seen Azul try to con his way out of flight class, Leona get flaky and take a nap, Cater attempting to split card his way out of laps…none of them are worthy of you! Besides, they can't even lift, bro! You're not from here, how are any of them supposed to protect your magicless, muscle less body? Now that he's dad, he's way more vocal about his opinions. Good luck.

[missmonsters2]

🍽️ & 🩸 for Wednesday pls maybe R is making a dinner for Wednesday but accidentally cuts themselves, very soft & fluff, maybe even R gets Wednesday to kiss it better as Wednesday rolls her eyes

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Warnings: wednesday constantly shitting on your cooking skills <3

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Note: enjoy <3

Count: 0.7k

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Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I want to make it known that this is against my consent and genuinely heinous."

"Which is why you love it and are excited, right?" You tease with a smile briefly in her direction before you move your eyes back to the cutting board. "Anyway, stop being dramatic. I'm just cooking you dinner."

"You can't cook."

"Say who?"

"You've sent every one of your friends to the nurse's office at least once. Just last week you sent Xavier to the ER again with whatever you gave him for lunch. Unless you're trying to tell me you're an excellent cook all along and you hold a grudge of sorts against these people—you can't cook. "

You frown, pausing your chopping before you turn to the dreary girl. She sits at her desk. She moves to the middle of the room, her eyes not focused on you but rather on the water boiling in the makeshift stove she built for you. 

"Okay, first of all," you lift the knife to point at Wednesday. "They were just practice rounds and they offered to try."

Wednesday's eyes trail to the knife you're swinging haphazardly around.

"Secondly, how was I supposed to know Xavier was allergic to sesame seeds?" You furrow your brows for a moment. "Although, this does explain why he eats his burgers like that...I always thought he was just unhinged."

"Stop swinging—"

"Anyway," you say pointedly before you resume your chopping. "Not saying I'm going to kill you, but I thought you were into the whole death—" you suddenly inhale in a sharp breath.

You drop the knife and lift your finger up, and an immediate red splotch of blood forms on the side of your index finger. 

A deep sigh is heard throughout the room, and you look over to see Wednesday pushing her chair back as she stands and walks to you. She turns off the stove before she grabs your hand, inspecting the wound.

"Not bad," she comments. "I was expecting you to at least take out your eye tonight, but I suppose we'll settle for this."

"You sound disappointed," you say with your eyebrow raised.

"It would serve you right for trying to kill me," Wednesday drags you out of the room to the nearest bathroom to clean your cut. "Death is fascinating but going out with food poisoning is beneath me."

"As an empath, I'm sensing you're dissing my cooking again."

Wednesday merely gives you an unimpressed look. Once you're both back in her room, she finishes taking care of your cut, putting a sterile bandage over it. 

You lift your finger, admiring her efficient and clean work and flexing your index finger. 

"Is there something unsatisfactory?" Wednesday asks, glaring at how you keep staring at the bandage. 

You look at your girlfriend, appreciating the lines of her face and, specifically, the plumpness of her lips.

"Not only does my finger hurt, but my heart does as well with how you keep disparaging my cooking before having even tried it," you move your index finger towards her face, wriggling it. "I think you need to kiss it so my finger and heart will feel better."

"Excuse me?" Wednesday narrows her eyes at your words. The idea of doing something so...she refuses.

"If you don't kiss it better, I may not have the will to continue on," you sigh dramatically. "I was so excited to cook my girlfriend a lovely dinner, even practicing for months on our friends, and not only does she belittle me, she won't even kiss my wounds better."

Wednesday continues to stare at you.

You sigh again, wriggling your finger and drawing her attention to it. "Oh, to be Wednesday Addams' girlfriend is full of woe, such heartbreak and—"

"Stop," Wednesday commands as she grits her teeth, her jaw visibly clenching. "You are so insufferable." 

You smile, unoffended, as you wait patiently. 

Wednesday sighs while rolling her eyes, grasping your hand before she presses her cool lips against your finger. The gesture warms your heart, and your smile turns into something soft. 

Wednesday's eyes connect with yours, and there's a look that she only ever reserves for you—it's only something you manage to bring out in her. 

But then she bites your finger.

"Ow!" You yelp, looking surprised at Wednesday.

"Go boil whatever you were planning to on the stove. I'll finish the chopping since you're clearly hopeless at it."

[qc-wiggles]

they say write what you know and what i know is academic stress and yearbook pain. so anyways it's a yearbook club au!!!!

YEARBOOK CLUB MEMBERS:

supervising teachers: gertrude and leitner. they become uncontactable like a week into the project (do they die? do they resign? tim has a running theory that they eloped.)

elias: head of yearbook club. dips unexpectedly in the middle of the entire thing (something about an optical surgery) and forces jon to take over. his dad paid for the adobe subscription they’re using 

rosie: treasurer, she’s very efficient, they’ve probably exchanged like 3 emails in total and she’s gotten everything funded. knows well enough to stay out of the dumpster fire that is yearbook production otherwise

jon: de facto head of yearbook club. thinks it should have gone to sasha instead. hes a bit incompetent but plans like it’s doomsday the next week so they are always in a wealth of excel sheets. writer, editor

tim: joined partly because he wanted an excuse to get out of football fixtures. also because he is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked him. he has a tiktok. marketing, editor

sasha: joined partly to impress gertrude (she’s looking for her to write her letter of recommendation as head girl in sixth form). also because she is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked her. she still uses livejournal. designer, writer

gerry: sixth form, occasionally helps out with networking at gertrude’s behest. tim is a bit starstruck over him. he saves their asses many, many times

melanie and georgie: got unofficially roped in as photographers. why you ask? manuela dominguez may have the cutting edge cameras but she is simply too scary to approach. melanie has a youtube channel that all the girls and tim are apparently subscribed to. 

martin: there is not one single picture of him. apparently he didn’t turn up for photo day, neither was he involved in any school events. even the people who have shared half-remembered facts about him seem to forget about him when questioned a second time. where did he go?

PLOT:

it’s the month before the yearbook is due to be sent in for production, and the team have discovered numerous issues with the draft: pictures of random people keep getting swapped over like they’ve been photoshopped, some pages are illegible and distorted unless they are physically written out in hand and scanned, one paragraph is a leitner. and nobody can find martin blackwood so they can get his picture in the yearbook. what will they do.

SIDE CHARACTERS:

annabelle cane: current head girl

mikaele salesa: somehow knows literally everyone, involved in the funding of yearbook production

mike crew: uneasy alliance with gerry in their pursuit of jurgen leitner 

oliver banks: had a mental breakdown sometime during his gcses but hes fine now

david from research: nobody says it to his face but he has genuinely the most atrocious clothing choice in the entire school apart from michael shelley, and even then michael shelley makes work

grifter’s bone: the band of the school, except no one actually knows anyone who’s part of it. their shows are legendarily terrible. manuela says ambulances were phoned. 

daisy and basira: prefects, currently invested in making sure yearbook club remains LEGAL and not STALKING ANY STAFF OR STUDENTS, JON

jmag: principal. boo. what a creep

julia montauk: apparently her dad went to jail. but who is she living with now? i don’t know, manuela told me. how does manuela know? julia told her in a sleepover during year 6. and she’s telling other people? wow. that’s messed up. is that old guy her grandpa? why does he carry a rifle around

jared hopworth: prejudiced gymbro, but importantly, NOT a homophobe.

the admiral: what else needs to be said

FAMOUS ALUMNI:

agnes montague (campus celebrity from literally decades ago) (her relationship with jack barnabas is mythicised)

jude perry (allegedly caused some fire-related, agnes-related events)

edwin burroughs (allegedly commited atrocities during one year’s christmas dinner)

jane prentiss (left for uni a year ago, allegedly brought many live organisms onto campus) (keeps talking about this guy called jordan)

eric delano (he did WHAT to his eyes)

MISCELLANEOUS POINTS:

daedalus crew is astronomy club

breekon and hope are the manufacturers for much of the schools equipment and stationery

jon keeps finding notes from gertrude stashed in random places about yearbook difficulties its like a fun cool treasure hunt

they cant figure out where a computer they were initially using for yearbook club is from. it says ‘ushanka’ on the bottom of the display and the keys are slightly crusty

what the hell are the drama students actually up to 

[thezombieprostitute]

Alpine

A/N: written for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date writing challenge. The prompts are - Dialogue: “Are you holding back? Don’t.” - Trope: Soulmate. Reader has no descriptors or gender indicators.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: Implied animal abuse/neglect and kidnapping of a pet.

Not everyone gets a soulmate. It’s generally accepted that your odds of having a soulmate and meeting them aren’t great. For it to happen, an animal has to welcome themselves into your life. Take care of that animal and they will lead you, at some point, to your soulmate. Neglect that animal and it will leave you and you’ll never meet your soulmate. 

Well, that’s how it was supposed to happen. Naturally people tried to find ways to force an animal into their lives. Or force them to stay in their lives despite neglectful or abusive care. Other times humans would try to get rid of any distractions their animal had, hoping to force them to focus on finding them their soulmate. 

Which explains the box that Bucky found in the dumpster. If it weren’t for his super-soldier hearing he likely wouldn’t have heard the tiny, weak mewls. He had no interest in a soulmate but he wasn’t about to live down to his reputation as a monster by not helping. He found a tiny, white kitten. His heart broke for the poor thing, eyes not even open and already experiencing the worst. He held the dirty, white, mewling bean to his chest, under his jacket, trying to get it warm, as he searched for an emergency vet.

The kitten stopped shaking while he was on the way to the vet but the mewling continued. He was guessing it was hungry, especially with how its paws were so gently kneading his skin. He sped into the vet’s office, praying they’d have something. 

The veterinarian took excellent care of the little bean. She talked to Bucky while she was cleaning, examining and then feeding the kitten. “She’s very lucky you found her, Mr. Barnes. She definitely wouldn’t have lasted much longer.” When the kitten had fallen asleep the veterinarian asked, “are you planning on keeping her? We have some possible homes for her but what few shelters have space may not have the fosters needed to keep her fed and cared for.”

Bucky’s heart nearly broke at the thought of this tiny, helpless kitten getting lost in a system that didn’t care about her. “I’ll take her,” he whispered.

“And what would you like to name her?”

“Alpine. Her name is Alpine.”

The veterinarian smiled and nodded before talking him through all of the care and food guidelines and answering his questions.

Bucky managed to get the time off he needed. His therapist enthusiastically signed off on his taking care of Alpine. She said it can be very good therapy to be a caretaker. She also made mention of soulmate potential but Bucky brushed that off. He just wanted this kitten to survive and thrive, not bring new people into his life. 

Besides, how could he love anyone else when this kitten had stolen his heart? Everything she did, from wiggling her ears whenever she ate, to every developmental goal she reached, endeared him more and more. The first time she opened her eyes Bucky was overjoyed and made sure to smile so it would be the first image of him she saw. He wasn’t sure that’s how it worked, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

By the time Alpine was 6 weeks old and crawling around on her own Bucky was happily admitting to being a full-fledged cat dad. He bought her all of the toys and cat trees she could ever need. The first time she was able to sneak attack him (he heard her preparing to pounce and kept still for her) he gave her a bunch of treats, calling her a “powerful lioness”. 

Mindful of the fact that he would eventually have to go back to work he made sure to help Alpine be okay with him being out. If she developed separation anxiety he’d never be able to leave her. He started out simple, leaving her in the apartment while he quickly went to the corner store. Her little mewls at the closed door broke his heart so he’d always pick her up a special treat to give her on his return. He even paid a little extra on his rent so he could install a small catio for her in one of the apartment windows. Stark gave him a small holograph to make it look like an A/C unit so no one would try to steal Alpine.

After his first away mission he decided to celebrate with Alpine, bringing her the super expensive cat food she adored and getting himself some pricey Chinese takeout from C. W.'s. He was surprised at how she ignored her food and begged for his. He’d ordered out plenty of times and she never showed an interest but she definitely wanted the chicken from his lo-mien. He gave her a few pieces and hoped he wasn’t setting a precedent.

It’d been over a year since he rescued Alpine and they had settled into a nice, well, maybe not “routine” but they definitely had their version of “normal”. It was nice and comfortable for Bucky and he loved every minute of it. What few people he let into his life commented on how much better he seemed to be. Less stressed, less mopey, quicker to smile; he even laughed at one of Sam’s jokes before trying to cover it with a cough. 

Someone brought up the idea of a cat harness so he could take Alpine out for walks, maybe meet his soulmate, but Bucky shut that idea down right away. His life was good. It was comfortable. Why ruin that by potentially bringing in someone new? Besides, Alpine was perfectly content to be an indoor cat. 

Or so he thought. He was being forced to take some time off, something about “preventing burnout” and he figured he could just take the opportunity to play with Alpine. She was getting really good at responding to some commands and he was hoping to get her some real enrichment by teaching her some cat acrobatics he’d seen online. 

But as soon as he walked in the door, Alpine tried to run out through his legs. If it weren’t for his superhuman reflexes she’d have gotten away. 

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He held Alpine by the nape of her neck as he closed the door. “You never go outside. At least you’ve never shown an interest before.”

He set her down and she immediately ran to her catio and started scratching at the windows. Bucky walked over to the window and looked out but couldn’t see anything that would get her interest. No birds, no pets in windows across the way, nothing.

“Alpine, are you okay? You’re going crazy over nothing.” Alpine eventually stopped and Bucky swears he heard her let out a small sigh. He tried to get her to play but she seemed disinterested in everything, even treats. “Well, this is a rough start to a vacation. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow, pretty girl.”

The next day did start out more like normal. Alpine was getting better at sneak attacks, especially around feeding time. Bucky was woken up by Alpine batting his face and running away several times as he grumbled, “I made a mistake when I started feeding you breakfast at 6 AM.”

After getting Alpine her food he saw to his own breakfast. He figured he’d start his vacation with a big breakfast, complete with some pancakes. Alpine climbed up to sit on his shoulder as he cooked, occasionally sitting on top of his head to watch him work. It was her favorite spot whenever he was home. Even when he wasn’t walking around, she enjoyed cuddling up close.

Around the time he finished breakfast he felt Alpine perk up and look around before running to her catio. She started scratching at the enclosure again, as if she were trying to break out. Bucky got up to look out the window and, again, saw nothing that might spark her interest. He shrugged his shoulders and started cleaning up his breakfast dishes when it hit him. 

“Alpine,” he asked, “is there someone out there that you’re trying to get to?” She stopped her clawing and looked at him with an earnestness usually reserved for hunting practice. “You…you want to go out to see someone?” She ran to the apartment door and started scratching at it while looking back at him with that same earnestness.

“No,” Bucky whispered. Alpine started meowing as she scratched at the door. “No,” Bucky repeated, more forcefully. “We’re not doing that. You’re not…you’re staying here where it’s safe. We’ve got a good thing, dammit.” Alpine didn’t relent. “Are you holding back? Don’t. Wear yourself out because you will not out-stubborn me on this!” Alpine responded with an indignant meow but Bucky went back to cleaning. 

The rest of the day proceeded without incident until the evening, around the time he’d come home last night, when Alpine again ran to the catio. Bucky refrained from looking out the window. Whoever it was that was getting Alpine all huffy was someone he wanted nothing to do with. No, his cat was not going to lead him to some promised soulmate. No, he was never going to meet a soulmate. He didn’t, couldn’t have one. He was keeping Alpine locked up for her own safety. Someone not as understanding of the lack of soulmates would definitely kidnap Alpine if she went out. He couldn’t let her be taken away. 

She ran to the door and kept meowing at him and giving him angry looks he’d never seen before. He genuinely felt bad but he had to look out for her. There were too many dangers and she barely survived the last time she was outside. True she was technically blind at the time, but it was still far too dangerous for his fluffy kitten. After a bit she finally gave up and seemed so despondent it broke his heart. 

“Tell you what,” he pleaded. “I’ll go get you some of that special cat food you love. Maybe even stop by C. W.’s and get that chicken lo-mien you won’t stop begging me for. Will that make it up to you?” Alpine huffed and sat in her tree, purposefully not looking at him. He quickly went out, making sure she didn’t follow him and brought back the promised food. She was feeling better enough to eat all the chicken from his meal and he hoped that meant she forgave him.

Sadly, the rest of his time off was spent in similar fashion. She was fine for all but two times during the day. It broke his heart every time but he didn’t relent. He was scared of her getting outside for so many reasons. He couldn’t risk letting her out. 

He was almost relieved when he was able to get back to work. He made sure to leave her extra food and it was only a one-day mission so he’d be back soon. Though he’d check the time to make sure he arrived after her evening begging to be let out. Maybe, just maybe, he’d look into a cat harness. Let her outside in small doses so she could see the dangers of going out. 

At least that was the plan. He got a phone call soon after arriving at the tower, the number indicating it was his building’s super.

“Barnes,” he greeted.

“Mr. Barnes, this is Mack, your building’s super.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“So, the apartment above yours was having some flooding problems and I needed to check if your apartment was getting any of the water. As soon as I opened the door your cat ran out. I tried to catch her, but she was way too fast for me.”

Bucky pulled the phone away and started cussing up a storm before telling Mack, “do what you need, I’m gonna come back and try to find her.” He hung up and told his team what happened. They asked if he wanted help finding her but he was worried they’d end up scaring her. He promised to ask for help if he couldn’t find her.

He started tracking just outside his apartment. He amped up his super-soldier senses as much as he could, trying to find any trace of her. A few hairs here and there led him to the elevator. Is Alpine that smart, he thought to himself. He took the elevator to the first floor and scoured for traces of her. 

He was so lost in focus he almost missed his phone ringing. It was an unknown number so he was tempted to let it go to voicemail but caught himself. It could be someone found Alpine. 

He answered the phone, “hello?”

“Um…hi,” you faltered. “Um, I’m so sorry to bother you but I found a cat with this number on their collar.”

“Alpine!”

“Yeah, that’s the name on the collar,” you affirm. “I hope you don’t mind, but she was begging for some of my chicken lo-mien and I did give her a few pieces because I didn’t know when she’d last eaten.”

“Are you at C.W.’s?”

“Yeah,” you hesitate. “How, um, how did you know?”

“The only time she ever begs for my food is when I order the chicken lo-mien from C.W.’s,” he assures. You cheerfully laugh at the information and for a second Bucky gets lost in how lovely your laugh sounds.

“Well, are you able to come and get her? I’ll make sure she stays here.”

“Thank you, so much! I’ll be right there!”

He nearly ran all the way to C.W.’s and was relieved to see Alpine with a patron at an outside table. He saw Alpine cuddled up against you, as you cooed and babied her, giving her some more of your chicken. She looked so comfortable with you and even nuzzled her head against yours.

“Alpine,” he exclaims as he gets nearer. You and Alpine both look his way and he almost freezes at your similar, wide-eyed expressions. “Alpine,” he repeats as he gets to your table. You hand Alpine over and he immediately grips her in a gentle but firm hug. He looks down at her, “don’t you ever do that again! You scared me! What were you thinking?” Alpine gives him those eyes she knows he can’t resist and gently licks his face. 

You coo at the image of this handsome, 6 foot plus tall, bulky, long-haired man holding a small cat. You’re tempted to take a picture but figure that would be rude. Instead you comment, “you two are so cute together!”

“Thank…thank you,” Bucky blushes. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?” 

“Nah,” you reply. “She was very good company.” There’s a beat of silence between you, like he wants to say something, but can’t. “I’ll just be on my way. It was very nice to meet you, Alpine.”

You get up to leave but Alpine immediately starts meowing at you. You and Bucky look at each other. You’re each aware of the soulmate implication in Alpine’s actions. He looks scared to say something but also scared to do nothing. You smile kindly at him, “um, look, um. I know this shows we’re…and if you’re not interested I’ll understand…but, you have my number, I have yours. If, and only if, you’re interested or want to even just start talking, you know how to reach me.” He nods and you turn to leave.

“Please,” he mumbled. “Please have lunch with me?”

“I have to get to work,” you smile. “But I’d love to meet you for a meal sometime. Alpine optional, but very much a bonus.” He smiles shyly back at you and nods. 

As you walk away he looks at Alpine, “okay, you were right.” Alpine meowed and nuzzled his cheek before he put her in his jacket and took her home. He texted you soon after to set up your first date.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Can you do headcanons about aot men co parenting with reader? Like they have a kid together but aren’t with each other

✩ the aot men & coparenting ✩

eren jaeger makes it hard to coparent. you have to keep reminding yourself you’re not together. but it’s hard to remember that when he keeps flirting with you during drop off & pickup. you’re thankful he’s a great dad.

levi ackerman is kind of snobby. he’s your ex for that reason entirely. he thinks he’s more parental than you and does everything to prove it. ultimately, he takes good care of your child so there’s nothing to complain about besides his ego.

jean kirstein is probably the best co-parent ever. he always insists on doing things together with your child. there’s no bad blood or awkwardness. there may still be a hint of lingering feelings. you can feel it when he looks at you.

armin arlert is pretty easy going when it comes to coparenting your child together. he always keeps you informed of what your little tot is up to. he’s good with communication and always divides the days up equally.

connie springer is…kind of a mess. he’s often late to pick up/drop off. he doesn’t answer the phone immediately either. he makes you worry non stop but your baby always turns up happy and healthy. he blames his irresponsibility on sleeping in late.

reiner braun has the potential to be a team with you. he tries. he always puts you and your child’s well-being first. you just wish he wasn’t so awkward and unsure of things. he hasn’t quite gotten over the breakup but he’s trying to respect you.

bertholdt hoover tries to limit his time with you. he’s here for the kid and doesn’t really have an interest in talking with you, unless it’s something you one hundred percent need to know.

erwin smith couldn’t be anymore typical. he tries to be cool and laidback but he’s actually very uptight about most things. what he says usually goes because you don’t have the energy to argue with him.

zeke jaeger is a surprisingly excellent coparent. he goes above and beyond for you and baby. he likes to be equally involved. he insists on family outings once a week. he wants your child to see that his parents do love each other, even if it’s not in the typical way.

porco galliard is an asshole. a straight up asshole. you hate him. he annoys you terribly. he’s always one upping you by buying whatever you already bought your kid. always spending more money, doing ‘more fun’ things.

[carrotkicks]

Fugitives arc - Abridged vrs.

(part of the sends them to school au)

hehe so guess what! I took my insanity to new heights and I actually tried to write (horrifying) do tell me how it goes for you

It took exactly 9 seconds to find the extra bandages. Dr. Mori was always reliable about keeping medical supplies ready on hand but Dazai counted anyway. It’s a habit she’s grown over the years. Her eyepatch had gotten rather grimy after a long day on the run, and the bacteria that may have collected could give her another infection, so she might as well change it, right? 

Right! That’s a good start. Redoing her bandages is an excellent next step in her plan to somehow get herself and Chuuya out of this debacle. 

Speaking of, Chuuya was currently in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear that was left lying around in this safe house. Dazai had helped her take a bath earlier, and it took a lot of effort on her part to not freak out. Not that Chuuya noticed, of course. Chuuya might have a second special ability to be completely oblivious to some things. Like when someone’s putting the moves on her, or when she’s in pain. It’s as though she entirely lacks self-preservation. Does she have a death wish or something? Oh wait –

Dazai freezes that horribly ironic train of thought to remind herself she’s in a bathroom surrounded by puddles of Chuuya’s blood and tattered clothes. After the bandages, I’ll clean this mess. That’s a good next, next step.

Chuuya had gotten injured, somehow. A deep gash on the back of her neck, like a creature sunk its claws in her and pulled something out. Dazai frowned at the thought as she pulled her patch off. Chuuya hasn’t said a word about why they were hiding but after the events of the past few days, Dazai’s overactive mind was starting to paint a bleak picture. 

Chuuya wasn’t at school for the past few days. On the third day of her absence, her literature teacher pulled her aside with a packet of coursework in hand. 

“I know you’re close to Nakahara-chan. Perhaps you can deliver her the materials she’s missed this past week so she doesn’t fall too far behind. And check in on her too, okay?” 

Of course, Dazai readily agreed. Their Sensei has always shown exasperation towards Chuuya’s poor attendance habits, but today there was a strange tightness in her smile that made Dazai’s stomach settle uncomfortably. 

Kunikida decided to join her to deliver the notes – “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of it on your own. I’m putting up with you because it’s a dangerous location, and I would like to see how Nakahara-san is doing” he declared. Naturally, Dazai had cheerfully wrapped an arm around his waist and accepted his chivalrous offer. Kunikida may give the pretenses of aloofness but he worries too much for the act to hold any weight. That’s how Dazai managed to figure out what happened after that disastrous mistake on her part last Friday. 

Kunikida and Yosano both agreed to this story: Chuuya looked very pale when they entered the club room. She claimed she was ill and decided to leave after minutes in. That’s where it ended, frustratingly enough. At yesterday’s Detectives Club meeting, Ranpo mentioned to her briefly “I don’t think things look very good at home for Chuuya-kun.” Dazai nodded. 

I figured as much too.

That’s why when she and Kunikida stepped up to a ratty-looking apartment unit in a ratty-looking apartment complex in the Suribachi neighborhood on the outskirts of Yokohama, she had Hirotsu in a van full of Mafia guards parked two blocks away. Her security detail was also following close by but she’s not supposed to know about them, so if anyone asks, what security detail? 

“This is the right place?” Kunikida asked, looking back at the surroundings. The area didn’t seem safe, at least for a couple of kids wearing uniforms for one of the most prestigious private academies in Yokohama. Even if those kids were ability users. 

“It’s the address Sensei gave me,” Dazai responded in a relaxed fashion. She gazed back to where Kunikida was looking. An armored truck hidden under the shade of a tree. 

“Supposedly there’s a military base nearby,” she rationalized. Kunikida only nodded uneasily. 

Dazai grinned and began ruffling through her bag for the handouts. “Hey, if Chuuya answers the door, she won’t be in her school uniform.” 

“Hm.” Kunikida stepped forward and knocked. Three times. 

“I bet she has an awful fashion sense. She seems like the type, right?”

“Anything Nakahara-san chooses for her style will be an improvement to your bandages, Dazai-chan.” 

“Tch. Rude.” 

The door opened. The timer starts.

Standing there was a tall man wearing a lab coat and a gentle smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” He has glasses and graying hair. He’s keeping his hands in his pockets, one of which seems to be holding something. 6 seconds. 

Kunikida must have picked up that Dazai wasn’t willing to talk, and took over. “Hello sir, is this the residence of Nakahara Chuuya-san?” 

“Yes, I’m her father. She’s not well right now, so I’m afraid you can’t see her.” 18 seconds. From what Dazai could see there wasn’t any furniture other than a sofa, coffee table, and coat rack. Chuuya’s signature boots weren’t by the entrance. 

“That’s… alright. We just came to deliver some of the notes and homework she’s missed. We’re classmates.” The blinds in the apartment were drawn, and there was something in the shadow that Dazai couldn’t make out clearly. 23 seconds. 

Chuuya’s “father” accepted the offered papers swiftly without a second glance. “I’ll see that she gets these. Anything else?” 31 seconds. A glint of metal, that looked the shape of – 

“Nope, that’s it! We’ll take our leave then. Please tell Chuuya we hope she feels better for us, sir” Dazai cut in. She nudged Kunikida’s foot  Come on, time to go.

Kunikida gave a courteous bow. “Thank you for your time, Nakahara-san.” 

At that, a strange smirk crossed over the man’s face, as if he heard the world’s most ironic joke. “Of course.” He made eye contact with Dazai for a moment and she really hoped she was giving him a polite smile because her eyes felt far too wide to be anything other than manic. Then the door slammed shut. 

The entire encounter lasted 42 seconds, and Dazai already figured out more than she wanted to. “Chuuya wasn’t there. That man wasn’t her father” She tells Kunikida when they’re far enough away from the building. Her friend gave her a sharp look, but it wasn’t an "I don’t believe you". It helped the tightness in her throat clear a little. 

“How do you figure?” 

Dazai furrowed her brow, “That apartment isn’t lived in at all. None of Chuuya’s possessions were to be found. And…” She halted. Kunikida stopped beside her. “Inside I saw a glimpse of a rifle, a military-grade one. There was definitely an armed soldier hiding in the back, and likely the rest of their squad too.” Soldiers, a military base, a man in a lab coat, and a missing ability user. A terrible combination.

Kunikida muttered what was absolutely not a curse. “We need to find Nakahara quickly.” He says, not wasting a moment to pull out his phone to dial who she thinks is Ranpo. 

Dazai nods, already feeling more confident. But Yokohama’s a big city, how are they supposed to find one tiny person like – 

*** 

“Dazai. Dazaiiiiiiii! Are you- oh!” Chuuya rushed out about as quickly as she entered. Dazai had scrambled to throw her hands up to hide her uncovered eye. She exhaled heavily as she tried to suppress the irritation that flared up in her chest. That was terrible timing on her part, and she should have accounted for Chuuya being her spontaneous self. 

“Seriously, Chibi? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be indecent.” Dazai isn’t naked, just bandage-less right now. Oh, Chuuya’s trying to be funny.

“Humor isn’t your thing Slug-chan. Hhh, tell me. Did you see it?” Dazai doesn’t know why she’s feeling so self-conscious. Her eye healed a long time ago, even if seeing out of it is still quite blurry, it looks perfectly fine. But in the year since the … injury … Dazai has only been able to bear looking at her own unobstructed reflection for only a few minutes at a time. The only other person who could be comparable was the Good Doctor himself. 

There’s a silence behind the door. Then, Chuuya says, “I saw you, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it seems like Chuuya may have realized because there’s a hesitant turn of the door handle. Dazai puts her hand over the right side of her face for good measure. 

The door creaks open and the redhead shuffles in. Literally shuffles, Dazai realized, those clothes were huge on her, practically swallowing her frame. The sleeves of the collared shirt she found were rolled up to her elbows and the black slacks she was wearing must have been cuffed 3(?) times. They must be Dr. Mori’s, a little voice in Dazai’s head supplied. She looks cute in them, an unhelpful one adds. She looked cuter covered in blood, to be honest, another, more unhelpful, eviler voice continued. Hold on, has Dazai ever seen Chuuya wear long pants before?

Whatever. It didn’t matter because obviously, Dazai laughed out loud at the sight. Maybe overcompensated even, she really needed this chance to tease Chuuya. Any chance she’ll get. For her part, Chuuya must have anticipated this reaction because she just huffs out in annoyance and drags herself closer. When her giggles died down, she realized that Chuuya had grabbed her hand and was looking directly into her eyes, and a self-satisfied grin settled on her face.

Ah, Dazai’s mouth felt dry again, so she lowers her head. Chuuya took that as a cue to start talking. “It’s only fair, Dazai. You got to see all of me, so I deserve some leverage on you too.” 

Leverage? Oh… Dazai thinks she gets it. Chuuya’s at Dazai’s mercy right now. Dazai’s father owns this safe house, Dazai’s people are guarding the perimeter, and Dazai’s the one who can treat her injuries. Chuuya’s asking for some control over the situation. She’s asking for trust in return. Dazai can handle that. 

She looks up, but Chuuya’s already turned her head away, cheeks a faint red. She detaches her hand but Dazai grabs it before it can retreat further. 

“Hey.” Dazai brings Chuuya’s hand close to her face. Chuuya meets here eyes. She seems confused. “A while ago I got into an accident.”

“An accident?” If Chuuya doubts her, she wouldn’t show it. 

“Yeah. It really messed up the right side of my face. It used to look really bad so I always bandaged it. It became a habit.” 

Dazai hesitated on the next part. “And when I see myself without the patches, I get reminded how human I look.” 

Chuuya’s gaze was unreadable now. 

Shit. Don’t say more. Dazai found herself stuck explaining, “And it makes me a fraud because I’m not a human. Not inside. Not where it matters” Stop oversharing! She can feel her heartbeat going faster “Ahh ~ that part’s not really a big deal, though. How’s my face, Chuuya-kun? Is it cute?” 

“What the hell are you saying, Dazai?” When she’s upset Chuuya’s voice goes down an octave from her usual high throaty pitch. It seems that’s the case here. Dazai stayed transfixed to the anger brewing in her eyes, and didn’t noticed that Chuuya’s hands landed themselves on either side of her face, cupping it gentler than her expression would have let on. 

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again! You're not human? That’s complete bullshit.” Who taught Chuuya how to curse, anyway?

“Chuuya I-”

“Shut up. Don’t you understand, Dazai?” She really doesn’t understand. Chuuya’s expression melts into something Dazai can’t recognize. Her thumb strokes her right cheek and then Dazai is being pulled closer to the Earth. At some point her eyes close. Some muddled thought about trust floats around her head. 

“You’re the most human person I’ll ever meet.”

Something soft and warm. Right under her eye. Dazai snaps back into awareness as Chuuya pulls away, red-faced, like a shrimp. A shrimpy color on a shrimpy person. Or the color of crab. Dazai loves crab. Dazai loves- Chuuya squirmed under her gaze. Oh, right. How much time did she just lose?

“You took me by surprise last Friday,” Chuuya confesses, looking away in embarrassment. “And then I got scared, because I felt so good in that one moment with you, and then I had to go back… Home.” She shuddered. “And I’ve been trying change, you know? Because I didn’t feel alive until I met you, and then suddenly I wanted to feel alive for you.” 

Dazai didn’t know how to respond, so she wrapped her hand around the back of Chuuya’s neck, carefully over thick patch of gauze that protected her injury. Chuuya looked breathless. “And then last week, I realized that my freedom had run out, so I took a chance and escaped. And now we’re here. And it’s all your fault Dazai. I did it because of you.”

There’s something dark and stormy in Chuuya’s eyes. 

“And that stupid goddamned kiss. It was fucking incredible .” 

Dazai closed the distance between them again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again andagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain –

*** 

So their night went peacefully after that. Dazai never ended up rewrapping her eye, just for the sake of savoring that adorable flustered look on Chuuya’s face. Cleaning the bathroom was a more irritating chore. Dazai had nudged the pile that was Chuuya’s blood-soaked uniform and a random set of green and yellow gardening gloves she somehow acquired. (“Hey you sure you didn’t go and murder anyone, Slug?” she had taunted. Chuuya ominously didn’t answer.) Dr Mori had kept a huge stock of spicy instant noodles in the pantry and the two of them held a contest to see who could handle the spice better. It ended in a tie because Dazai refused to admit she had a runny nose and tears in her eyes. 

And now they were in bed, in each other's arms. Dazai hugged her… girlfriend? partner? … closer. Chuuya was so warm. Like a human furnace. Dazai could happily die right now. Until Chuuya spoke up. 

“Dazai, why did you tell me I would look cute in a cage right before you kissed me. ” Death needs to arrive a little faster. Dazai is a little spent from the embarrassing and soulbearing conversations earlier. 

“It. It was a dog joke Chuuya. Because you’re my doggy.”

“Likely story. You just want me to have no freedom under you instead.” Dazai pointedly didn’t wrap herself around Chuuya more, to prove her self restraint and respect for Chuuya’s autonomy.

“Please drop it. You don’t understand my prodigal mind.”

“Hmm. How about never?” 

A comfortable silence settled over them again. Chuuya pushed herself deeper into Dazai’s hold. She was wearing a pair of oven mits that she found in the kitchen, and Dazai didn’t bother to ask why. What did matter was that this moment never ended.

“Dazai.” Chuuya started. “I’m…”

“Hm?” Dazai shifted her position so she could see Chuuya’s expression. It was horribly vulnerable. 

“I… don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” 

The unspoken words rang clearly in Dazai’s mind. She smiled and ran her hand through the short red hair. There was a light shining in Chuuya’s eyes. If they were going to pull an all-nighter, then Dazai better start counting.

“Yeah. Me too, Chuuya” 

***

Dazai woke up to the barrel of an assault rifle pressed to her temple and a tall man in a white lab coat holding Chuuya in his arms.

[ohtobeleah]

Iris is giving Jake head under the desk in an office when Mav walks in, almost busting them in the act but Jake plays it off and thankfully the desk is solid to the floor so Mav can’t see under it.

Even better, Iris giving Jake head at Mavericks desk after Mav asked Jake to do some administrative stuff for him while he was out at an appointment.

I.R.I.S Masterlist

P.S: I got so carried away with this one.

Warnings: Blowjob under desk. Male receiving. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Maybe it’s during that limbo period where you’ve just come back from a lecture and don’t have anything until after lunch so you’re sauntering through the halls just looking for trouble.

“Rebounds been chatting mad shit about the fact he almost had you in that last run.” You barged into your father’s office, having spotted Jake sitting at his desk. Rebound – He’d been in so many rebound relationships that the name just stuck. As a double entendre, it is believed that his F18 must have made of rubber, since he couldn’t figure out landing…till graduation day at flight school. “You seemed a little distracted up there? What gives?”

Jake knew he was catching feelings. He had to act fast. Make sure that wasn’t a possibility. That couldn’t even be in the realm of probability, ever. Not with you. Not with Mavericks kid. 

Jake wasn’t in the mood for your antics. He was stressed. He was trying to focus on the admin crap that made no sense to him and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why Mav asked him of all people to do it for him. Bob seemed like a great candidate, he just looks like the kinda guy who knows how to use excel. 

“Do you need something?” You just stared at Jake blankly, not having expected such a shape and monotone answer. Hell, Jake didn’t even look up from the computer to look at you. He just frowned as he rubbed his chin and leaned a little closer to the monitor because, well, was that a speck of dirt or a decimal point?

“I may have been told a time or two that I need an attitude adjustment but besides that? Nothing really, just thought I’d come hang.” 

“You and I don’t hang, Iris—“ Jake took a second to peel his eyes away from the monitor in front of him to finally look your way. “You’re Mavs daughter.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” You let out a gruff as you slumped in the chair across from your dads desk. Jake looked a little too fucking good in his service tans. 

“Well it’s probably time you start acting like it.” Jake just replied, again—as sharp as ever. You frowned at him, really trying to read the expression on his face. He had little frown lines running across the expanse of his forehead, worry in his eyes. Jake Seresin was stressed and for once it wasn’t about you. It was about his work. “I really need to focus, I can’t have you in here doing whatever it is that you do.” 

“Lieutenant Commander, I think you need a little stress reliever.” As you rose to your feet, biting your bottom lip, Jake rolled back on the office chair, pointing a finger at you. 

“Don’t you come anywhere near me.” It was all bark no bite. “I’m not in the mood for this shit.” 

“So—“ You began, stalking closer and closer to your dads desk. “If I told you that I had some time to kill and that I’d be pretty willing to give you head under this nice, sturdy oak desk, you’d say no?” Jake thought about it for a moment as you leaned over the desk. He was debating if he should, he knew his moral compass had been a little off lately since he’d first spilt those beers on you, three weeks ago. You were still here for another ten and Jake had to start being the bigger person at some point. 

“Damn don’t have an aneurysm thinking of an answer.” You scoffed, pushing off the table when Jake didn’t respond. “There’s Advil in the top draw, for the looming headache.” 

“Iris, wait.” Jake sighed, running his hands through his hair as he held onto whatever shred of decency he had left. “We just can’t keep doing this, alright?” 

“Doing what?” You played dump, you wanted Jake to say exactly what he meant. Something was eating at him, you could tell. Something had changed, something shifted in Jake but you just couldn’t figure it out. 

“You know what I mean, this—“ Jake sighed as he tried to get back to his work, he didn’t have time for games or impressionable honry Mitchell’s who can’t take no for an answer to anything. 

“No.” You chuckled softly, you knew what this was. It was casual sex. There was nothing to it. No emotion, no connection, just pure sex. But despite that you felt a little hurt, a little used. Jake knew who you were because you’d told him who you were. He was the one who started this. He was the one who still took you back to his and fucked you sensless knowing exactly who’d you’d be to him. 

You’d always just be Pete Mitchell’s daughter. Mirimars resident Nepotism baby. 

“No say what you actually mean, Hangman.” You challenged Jake as your emotions began to bubble, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at him with a blank gaze. “You mean that you can’t keep doing, me.” 

“You’re gonna cost me everything!” Jake hissed through gritted teeth as he watched the way your usually overly confident self slumped at his statement. “My job, my whole career Iris, everything I’ve ever worked towards, gone because you’ve got daddy issues and decided to use me as a pawn in whatever fucking therapy technique fucking your TopGun Instructors is!” Jake didn’t mean what he was saying, but if there was a chance he felt a deeper connection to you then just a quiet fuck he knew that it was possible for you to. “Think about it, you came in here, with every intention to cause trouble.” 

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.” You had, but Jake didn’t need to know that trouble also meant you’d brought an extra Gatorade from the vending machine because you knew that blue razz was his flavour of choice and that the vending machine guy took forever to restock it when it ran out. So you got him the last one. “If you really think that about me then why did you fuck me that night? You know, after I told you who I was?” Jake just looked at you, there was a look in your eye he’d never seen before. You were usually so confident, so effortlessly in control of everything happening around you. So much like Mav in his ability to be a shit stirring little shit that Jake forgot that you had feelings besides a labido. “Why did you let this go on so long?” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say or what you wanna hear?” Jake groaned, you’d called him out and he didn’t have an answer to give. “This just isn’t normal Iris!” It wasn’t normal to catch feelings for your mentor's daughter, that's what wasn’t normal about this. You knew this had to be about more than just the risks. Risks be damned, you and Jake were having fun. There were no strings attached. You were both consenting adults, your dad and his opinions didn’t scare you. They never had. 

“Yeah, well just because you’re struggling with your moral compass doesn’t mean you have to project that shit onto me.” You snapped, scoffing as you shook your head and bit back the lump in the back of your throat. “Nice knowing you asshat.” 

Jake should’ve left it at that. He should’ve let you walk away then and there, he should’ve kept his mouth shut but he didn’t. He watched as you stormed off towards the door and a pain slung in his chest. 

Fuck.

“I’m still your superior officer, you can’t talk to me like that.” Jake stood from the chair he’d been sitting on. He squared his shoulders and pointed directly at you. “Remember your rank when you’re addressing me, Lieutenant Mitchell.” Stunned, you paused in your tracks, what the hell had he just said to you? 

“Oh so you wanna play that way huh?” You chuckled to yourself, Jake looked so stupid up on moral outrage hill. “I’m still your student, yet you fucked my ass two nights ago! Now you’re telling me that you’ve had a change of heart?” You hissed back. “Fuck you Seresin, you wanna take the moral high ground be my fucking guest but don’t piss on my parade because you don’t have the guts to admit you’re fucking obsessed with me!” 

“That’s not what this is about!” It was. It was all this was about. Jake could feel the heat in his cheeks rising. Surely his face was red by now. 

“Bullshit! You’re falling in love with me around you, you fucking sap.” It was a rush, you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. “God I should’ve known, but I’m not interested in marrying old men—“ That was a lie if there ever was one. “I just like to fuck them.” 

“Enough!” Jake growled, he hated that he was straining against his slacks, pre cum was just oozing into the fabric of his boxer briefs. He hated that he loved this, this fire and lust and anger. It was infatuating, you were infatuating. “Shut your mouth, before I shut it for you.” Oh, oh there it was. You took the bait willingly and took one step forward toward where Hangman stood, sending steam out of his ears and nose. Red in the face. “Don’t be a brat Iris, it doesn’t look good on you.” 

“Or what!” The way you asked? The way you challenged Jake? It kinda scared him. He knew you were a ticking time bomb. A hot headed inferno, so when he saw the fire in your eyes he backed up. You could still tell any of the admirals about any of this and it would be Jake's head on the chopping block. 

“Okay, you know what? We got off on the wrong foot here—“

“That’s all you got Jake! two wrong feet and fucking ugly shoes to match.” Jake was speechless as you kept stalking towards him. He was bigger, stronger, had a hell of a lot more pull around here than you do if you considered the ranks you both had—but as you backed him up into the corner of your dads office? Jake Deadman Seresin nearly came in his slacks. 

“You can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror because you’re infatuated with someone you’ll never have!” Jake had had a gutful of your attitude as he bit his tongue, watching through hooded eyes as you backed him into the nearest wall. “You caught feelings and that’s supposed to be my problem? No—!” You weren’t going to let Jake treat you like someone lesser than. “I hope I ruin every other woman for you.” 

“You have!” Jake admitted as he finally snapped back. Finally reached out to cup your face and pull you close into his chest. Hot and lusty lips on yours in seconds of his admission. “That’s my fucking problem here Iris! You’re off limits! Nothing good comes of this entanglement or whatever you wanna sugar coat it as.” Your hands worked to undo Jake's belt as he pulled away from your lips. “All you do is cause trouble for me.” 

“And yet all you do is crave me more?” Oh how Jake loved and hated you at the same time. Because even if you wouldn’t admit it? He knew you and him drank the poison from the same vine. Trying to hide all of your sins from the light of day would be far harder than he ever thought it would be, because as he leaned in to take your lips hostage, leading you back towards the desk, Jake let you undo his belt, unzip his fly, and palm him off through his boxer briefs. “Tell me to stop and I will.” You mumbled into Jake's mouth. All he did was moan in response as you pulled the elastic of his boxer briefs back and snapped it against his lower abdomen. “Hangman—“ 

“Under the desk.” Jake managed to get out as his chest tightened, leading you back and down to the floor. “Just do what your told for once in your life Iris, get under the fucking desk.” You did as you were told and got under your dads desk. Giggling wildly as you did so with adrenaline pumping through your veins and nectar soaking into the panties you wore under your flight suit. 

“Gonna shut me up?” You asked as Jake sat down and fished himself from his slacks. He was throbbing, it nearly hurt how hard he was. No other woman had ever affected him the way you could. The way you did. Jerking himself off for a few seconds as he rolled forward. “Fuck my mouth—“ 

“I was going to.” Jake growled as he cupped your chin, rolling closer so you could take him in your open and awaiting mouth. “I’m sick of the shit that’s coming out of it.” 

It was on from there on in. Jake sighed in relief as you worked him over, expertly sucking his length under your fathers desk. Jake couldn’t control the way he wanted to buck his hips up to meet your lips or how he wanted to push your head further and further down on him.

“Oh fucking Christ your mouth is perfection—“ Jake moved your head up and down his length as you hollowed your cheeks, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you sucked him off from under the desk. “Ohhh—ahuuggh, fuck that’s it Iris—“ Jake had you sipping on his soul like wine, trading glances like you were both loaded. “Tell me if you taste my motive baby, fuck.” 

You would have answered except Jake pushed you down, held you down until you gagged around his tip and gasped for air as you pushed off him. There was a trail of spit connecting your plump bottom lip to his tip. The sight alone made Jake want to cum them and there. He was a fucking goner. 

“I think you like me out of focus.” You pointed out. All it took was a little head and Jake was putty in your hands, his guard was down and suddenly that stoic broad shouldered ass that brought up your daddy issues, was gone. Replaced by a man sick in love with you.

“I think I like you in the moment.” Jake replied as you went back to work, know exactly how to move your mouth on Jake’s length to get him where you wanted him, just on the edge but not close enough to fall. “Fuck Iris, keep doing that baby, just like that.” It was Jake's hand on the back of your head, coaxing you up and down at a rhythm he couldn’t get enough of, that had you giving some of the best head you’d ever given. You were determined to ruin Jake for any other woman. “Feels so fucking good.” 

It was at that moment, that all important moment where you were just about to kick things up a notch and deep throat the ever living shit out of Jacob Seresin, that the door to your fathers office opened. You felt Jake stiffen and roll the chair further up the desk, pushing you back and further under. 

No, it couldn’t be. 

“Mav!” Jake acknowledged Pete’s presence. “What’s got you back so soon?” You froze, trying to get a read on the situation.

Holy shit, yes—yes it was. 

“Have you seen Iris anywhere? I gotta have a chat with her.” Mav asked as he walked into his office, sitting in the chair across from Jake as he went back to working on the computer. You knew there was no possible way that your dad could see you, so what better way to rile Jake up than to keep sucking him off. 

“N-no!” Jake tried to keep a level head as he felt you take him in your mouth again, spreading his legs under the desk as much as he could to give you more room. 

“You right?” Pete just asked, all Jake did was nod with his lips pressed together in a line. Because how do you say: yeah, I’m good man, your daughters just sucking the ever living Christ from my cock as we speak, without having your head caved in?

“Yeah, I just hit my knee.” You couldn’t help but to smirk around Jake cock as he twitched in your mouth. He tasted of self loathing and denial. “But no, I haven’t seen Iris since this morning's training session.” Mav just nodded, he was angry, Jake could see it written clear as day in the lines on his face. “What’s up?” 

“I just got back from an appointment—“ Pete scoffed. “Or a meeting really, with the Admirals because apparently six of the recruits complained to Admiral Simpson.” Pete sighed, he hated every minute of this. “They threatened that if Iris placed at the top of the class they’d call for an internal review.” Immediately as if you’d been shot in the chest you stopped what you were doing. 

“You’re kidding?” Jake frowned, his voice dropped into an octave of concern you didn’t recognise. “Why would they do that?” You pulled away and just sat on your knees, listening in on the conversation you were trapped under the desk listening to. 

“Wish I was, something about favouritism, nepotism.” Mav explained as he leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. “If anything she’s had to work twice as hard to prove herself, because she was never gonna get a free ride from me, the kid always knew and respected that.” 

“Well it’s not her fault she’s the best in the bunch.” Jake felt your hand come up to rest on his knee, he moved his hand over yours under the desk as he played it off on the surface that the only two people in the room were him and Mav. 

“No, but it’s our problem because we’ve been told to pull her point.” 

“That’s bullshit Mav, how’s that fair on her?” Jake argued. “Why do these guys get to cry about the fact they suck ass? Now they’re taking the easy way out and blaming their incompetence on the fact Y/n is this generation's Maverick.” You felt your heart skip a beat at the compliment. 

Fuck. 

“They’re jealous sir, I want names—“ Pete just shook his head in response. 

“Cyclone wouldn’t give me names, but hey, I’ve gotta go chat to Bradley about this too—he’s basically her brother so it won’t look good if he keeps grading her name off at the top of his list after every class.” With that? Mav stood. “I was gonna tell her, but now I’m not so sure if I will.” 

Your dad left soon after he questioned if he should tell you or not, he was defeated—but not as defeated as you when Jake rolled out and offered to help you out from under the desk. An offer you didn’t take as you crawled out and stood up with a soullum look.

“Iris—“

You just shook your head. Humming as you pressed your lips together. You hated this, being here in this stupid office with your guard down and your emotions all out of sorts. 

“You’re worried about what getting involved with me will do to your career?” You just asked as you wiped the corner of your mouth clean. Jake could see the tears in your eyes as you tried your best to not let him see how much you hated yourself right now. “Least you have a chance to end things between us Lieutenant Commander, cut the cord, quit while you’re ahead and I really wouldn’t blame you for wanting to.” You had to pause, hold your breath and count to three. “Because at least you can do that, I can’t run from myself can I?” 

“Iris—“ Jake tried again but you just turned around and made a beeline straight for the door, making your way out of the room before Jake Seresin saw a side to you that you never let anyone see. 

“At least you have a career to worry about Hangman, mine was over before it even began.” You turned, looking at Jake over your shoulder.

He didn’t recognise you, the look on your face was something he’d never seen in you before. “You were right, we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

[fantasyescapes17]

Candle (Part 3, Final)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 4.2k+

Part 1 Part 2

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

You returned Ella's little book when you saw your friend next at the Hasting's ball. Fortunately, she was far too occupied by her new and exciting courtship with Mr. Xu to notice that you had ripped out an entire page. 

"Found what you need?" Ella teased you. 

"I found that I didn't need it," you replied lightly. 

She did not push you for a more elaborate response, but seemed surprised when you were approached by none other than Mr. Yoon Jeonghan himself, dressed in the most dapper black dress coat and seeking to escort you to the dance that you had promised him. 

"You are an excellent dancer, Mr. Yoon," you complimented him when he took your hand gently in his. 

"I can hardly accept that compliment. You have had much more practice than I; your movements are very graceful," Jeonghan replied kindly. He did not give himself enough credit. His dark eyes never broke eye contact with you for a moment, and his step never faltered.

"I hope you are not trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that you may swipe something else from my person. What shall it be this time? My earrings?" you teased. 

Jeonghan chuckled. "I assure you I am not quite so nimble, nor so talented a pickpocket."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "But the pearls-"

"-had already fallen off your neck and onto the floor. I noticed them and picked them up when I pulled out your chair," Jeonghan admitted. "I hope you are not terribly disappointed that I did not actually swipe them from you."

"So you were not a thief but the hero who found my necklace?" you asked with a dramatic sigh. "I was wondering why the clasp was broken. It is not nearly as exciting, but I suppose it will have to do."

"If it pleases you, there is something I might try to steal from you yet," Jeonghan suggested. 

Your eyes brightened. 

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Well if I told you, you would guard it too well," he protested. "It is the golden rule of any pickpocket. The victim must be caught unawares."

You narrowed your eyes. "That will prove a difficult challenge, then, Mr. Yoon. I am already far too aware of you."

Jeonghan smiled. His hand came up to meet your gloved one. 

"I am up for the challenge, Miss Jeon."

"And you think it is a good idea to challenge the woman who is currently holding her tongue with your secrets? I would be careful, Mr. Yoon. If you become too light-fingered, then I may become loose-lipped," you warned teasingly. 

"I can think of ways to keep your lips occupied, so that they have no leisure to be spilling secrets."

You gasped at Jeonghan's audacity and your cheeks instantly felt hot at the suggestion. You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish for a moment until the dance came to an end, and Jeonghan gave you a smirk and a bow. 

"Have a nice evening, Miss Jeon," he said lightly. "I will see you when it is time for me to pay my next instalment."

—-------------------------------

It was difficult not to be swept up in the whirlwind of emotions that Yoon Jeonghan brought with him over the next few weeks. It was a never-ending game. Jeonghan was the perfect gentleman on the surface. He helped you down from your horse after a pleasant ride at the park, opened doors and pulled out chairs for you- but every now and then, when nobody else was listening, he would let something suggestive slip in that low, mischievous tone of his that made your face heat up, and your heart pound. 

You were rapidly becoming quite enamoured with the man, and inevitably, others  began to take notice. 

"Oh, look," Ella commented one afternoon, during a pleasant walk that you were both sharing in the park. "It's your new admirer."

You tried to mask your enthusiasm. You were not formally courting Mr. Yoon (yet), and despite your ongoing flirtations, he had not confessed any serious intentions towards you. 

"He is not my admirer-"

Ella scoffed. "Well he certainly never looks at any woman but you. Have you not noticed? Whenever you are in the room his eyes are always on you." 

You bit your lip. "Do you really think so?"

"You should be careful, my friend. You know what they say about Mr. Yoon, he is quite the villain-"

"Yes, I know," you cut her off sharply. You disliked hearing Jeonghan spoken about that way. "I have not found anything villainous about his manners so far. He has been a perfect gentleman in his behaviour towards me."

Ella looked at you with surprise. "Miss Jeon, do you perhaps really have feelings for-"

She was interrupted by the approach of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan. To your surprise, Jeonghan was accompanied by your brother. Although the two men were indeed known to be friends and a stroll through the park was not unusual or remarkable, you knew better. 

Wonwoo did not trouble himself to take afternoon strolls in the park for no good reason. 

"What a lovely surprise Miss Jeon, Miss Williams," Mr. Yoon greeted you both pleasantly. "I see you ladies noticed that the weather was pleasant enough for a stroll. May we join you?"

Ella giggled. "Of course, we would never refuse the company of two gentlemen."

There was a subtle but evidently intentional manoeuvring that took place immediately upon Ella's invitation. The path was not wide enough for four people to walk side-by-side. Your brother squeezed into the gap beside Miss Williams, and left you to fall a little behind them with Jeonghan by your side. 

"Miss Williams," your brother could be heard saying in front of you. "Could I persuade you to walk alongside the trees with me? I am afraid my eyes are rather sensitive to the sunlight and I would appreciate the shade."

Ella seemed surprised. "Oh- yes, of course, Mr. Jeon…"

They drifted a little further away and you felt your heartbeat quicken as you looked up at the handsome man that stood beside you. Jeonghan's hair gently ruffled in the afternoon breeze but his eyes stayed fixed firmly on you.

"Well," you said to him with a smile. "If you have persuaded Wonwoo to step into the park on a pleasant spring afternoon, then you must have something very important to say to me indeed," you teased. 

Jeonghan chuckled. "Was it so evident?"

"You could have written to me, if you wished to convey something in confidence."

"I did not know that you wished for me to write to you," Jeonghan admitted lightly. "But all the same, I believe some things are best discussed in person. Including the question of whether you really wish for us to initiate a… written correspondence."

You flushed. He made it sound so intimate.  Yoon Jeonghan left no room for doubt that it was only the most romantic of correspondences that he referred to. 

"Then do tell me what has brought you- and my brother- here this afternoon," you questioned. 

"It has not escaped my attention that over the last few weeks, you and I have been engaging in increasingly flirtatious conversations," Jeonghan began. He had a small smile on his face. "I am sure you know this- but you are the most beautiful, intelligent and striking woman of my acquaintance."

Your embarrassment was evident. It was a surprisingly straightforward compliment coming from Jeonghan. You could not think of any way to play it off in a teasing or light-hearted manner. 

"T-thank you," you mumbled. "I am quite flattered that you hold me in such high regard."

"I hold you in excessively high regard," Jeonghan reassured you. "Which is why I do not wish for there to be any confusion or misunderstanding. My intentions- my advances towards you, however playful, have always been backed by honourable intentions."

"And what are these honourable intentions?" you asked quietly. 

"I would very much like to begin a formal courtship with you, Miss Jeon. That would be the natural progression of our relationship. Unless I am sorely mistaken- you have perhaps been waiting for me to make such a request."

You could not lie. 

You nodded. 

Jeonghan sighed. "Perhaps I have been selfish. I indulged my affections and attraction towards you too openly. But the truth is, Miss Jeon, my current familial situation is… complicated. I fear that any woman I publicly court would become the subject of much negative attention and suffer public scorn."

You looked at him with surprise. "I do not understand. Is this regarding your sisters? Or your step-mother?"

"My step-mother has some very specific anxieties," Jeonghan admitted. "She is not an unkind woman but she is worried about her future, and my father failed to provide for her in his will. I have promised that I will provide for her for as long as she lives but she doesn't trust me."

You bit your lip. "I see."

"She has already painted me as a villain before the ton- a fact you are well aware of. Any woman I court or marry will suffer the same fate. She will accuse you of stealing from her and her daughters and tarnish your reputation. I do not want you to face her scorn. You are well-loved by the ton- and rightly so."

You took a deep breath and turned to look at Jeonghan. There was honesty in his eyes and worry; worry for you, you realised. He was worried about the impact his complicated family would have on your happiness and reputation. 

"Mr. Yoon," you said slowly. "I will not pretend that my reputation means nothing to me. But there are things that I am prepared to sacrifice it for."

"You should not have to make such a sacrifice."

"I would rather not," you admitted. "But I must ask. Is there no way to resolve your step-mother's worries?"

"I have initiated proceedings to transfer property to her name," Jeonghan explained. "And to set up a trust for her. But there are legal complications and it is a lengthy process. Once my sister is finally married, my stepmother may feel more comfortable as she will be able to rely on her son-in-law for financial security. I worry that she may always perceive my efforts as underhanded."

"I-I see."

Jeonghan took a deep breath and took your hand gently in his. He glanced around the park furtively to make sure none of the other occupants were looking at you- and then quickly lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

You were speechless. "I-I…"

"I do not know what to do, Miss Jeon. I agreed to become a villain to help my sister but I never imagined that I might fall in love, or that my beloved would have to share in my sacrifices. I cannot ask you to bear this burden for me. It may be years until it is fully resolved."

Your hand felt warm. 

"Are you asking me to wait for you, Mr. Yoon?" you whispered. 

"I do not presume to ask anything of you," Jeonghan told you gently. "I am yours. I shall do whatever you ask of me-without objection."

Your heart leapt. It was a strange feeling- perhaps you should have hoped for a more traditional confession, something along the lines of I will die unless you marry me, my love! but somehow this was even more romantic. 

Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was not begging or pleading or persuading you. 

No, he had simply placed his cards on the table and given you the power to make his next move. 

It struck you in a sudden moment how much you loved this man. This handsome, selfless caring man with a mischievous streak who looked at you with his angelic face and intense eyes and lit a fire in your heart. He had given you more respect in this moment than most gentlemen would ever willingly offer a lady in their lifetime. 

"Then ask me to court you," you whispered. "I believe we have both proven that we can be trusted to keep a secret."

Jeonghan smiled softly. "Is that what you wish? A secret courtship?"

"It would be the most thrilling thing we have done so far- and you stole my pearls the first time we spoke, so the standard was not particularly low to begin with."

Jeonghan laughed. 

"Then it is done. You may prepare yourself to be passionately wooed, Miss Jeon- in secret."

—--------------------------------------------

Wonwoo was not pleased with the turn of events. 

"Yes, I agreed to accompany him to the park so that he might speak to you about his intentions," your brother admitted. "But I did not expect that I would become a courier boy to deliver love letters back and forth while you both played at a clandestine dalliance."

You raised your eyebrows at your brother. "What did you expect?"

"That Jeonghan would either propose to you or end your flirtation."

"He will propose to me. Once his sister is married, and he has cleared his name in society," you replied simply. 

"If you wish to court each other then you should do it with our parents permission," Wonwoo pressed, as though it was obvious. "Mother may be disappointed that you managed to choose the only man in the ton with a reputation for stealing dowries but surely she could be made to see reason eventually."

You sighed. "Wonwoo."

"What?"

"Your own reputation in society is hardly spotless enough. I overheard Viscount Hong's younger sister talking about you during a ladies' tea the other day. She used some select words to describe you, and none of them were pleasant. What did you do to offend her?"

Wonwoo flushed. "Do not speak to me of her. She is quite mad."

You laughed. "Miss Hong? But she is said to be a sweet little creature."

"You are changing the subject," Wonwoo accused. "I will deliver your love letters for now but when the time comes, I expect you will repay my debt."

"I would be delighted to deliver any love letters you wish to send."

Wonwoo sighed and turned back to his book while you giggled. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

It became necessary, in due course, to reveal your secret courtship to Ella Williams once you detected her increasing suspicion. She was surprisingly accepting of the news- and although you did not reveal the exact nature of Jeonghan’s familial secrets, you reassured her that Jeonghan was simply quite misunderstood. 

“I cannot believe it,” Ella gushed, happy for you. “Has he declared his love for you yet?” 

You hesitated. “Not in those exact words, no, but he has made his affections quite clear.” 

“How shocking! To think that of all the eligible men in my book, you should have fallen in love with Mr Yoon Jeonghan! I had set my heart on Viscount Hong for you. But it is just as well; it appears that Joshua has made a proposal to a young lady and they are now engaged to be married next week.”

You raised an eyebrow with interest. 

“Oh? Who is the fortunate young lady?” 

“One of the elder Lee girls. It is so strange; she is not particularly beautiful, nor does she have a dowry worth boasting of. There are so many siblings in the Lee family, you know, the estate is stretched quite thin among them. But I suppose love can be unpredictable. Apparently Joshua has been smitten with Miss Lee for some time now,” Ella mused.  

You giggled. “And what news of your dear Mr. Xu?” 

“Oh!” Ella cried. “Do not speak to me of him, I am quite heartbroken. He resumes his travels in Asia next week, and he has promised to write to me regularly but you know how long it takes for letters to be delivered from overseas. I fear I shall not see him until the next season.” 

Your smile faltered as the thought of the season nearing its end struck you.

“Yes… once the season ends Mr. Yoon shall return to his estate with his family for the winter.” 

Ella smiled at you sympathetically. “Are you worried about him?” 

“We see each other once or twice a week while we are both in London. That will not be possible once he returns to the countryside. I am sure he might try to meet me, but I am afraid that we shall to satisfy ourselves with letters in the meantime. I have always been so terrible at writing letters! I shall suffer the consequences now.” 

"I am sure your courtship will last. Mr. Yoon does not seem like the kind of gentleman to give up what is important to him," Ella reassured you. 

"I certainly hope not."

—-------------------------------------------------------

The evening before Jeonghan was set to leave for the countryside for the rest of the year, you had a brief moment alone with him in the gardens behind the assembly rooms. This secret rendez-vous was enabled, to your surprise, by Viscount Hong. He assured you and Jeonghan that he and Miss Lee (now newly Viscountess Hong) had used the tiny cove behind a clump of trees in the garden to have private conversations many times before. 

You would have expected such scandalous behaviour from Kim Mingyu, perhaps, but certainly not from Viscount Hong. 

In any case, you were not inclined to prod or complain. 

"Do you promise to write to me every week?" you asked Jeonghan. He was smiling down at you, and his hands reached out to clasp yours tightly. 

"I promise I will write," he reassured you. 

"I will be extremely upset if you do not. If I do not receive a letter from you for more than a week, then I shall assume that you have fallen in love with someone else and mean to end our courtship," you insisted with a pout.

"That would be a fair assumption."

"Mr. Yoon!" 

He laughed and boldly lifted his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheek. Your face became hot under his touch. It was an innocent but bold gesture and you struggled not to look too affected. 

“Perhaps,” Jeonghan suggested boldly. “It would be easier for me to remember to write to you every week if you gave me a token of your affection- something to remember you by?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I hope you are not trying to swipe more of my jewellery.” 

“Something more… intimate.” 

 “Such as?” 

Jeonghan leaned closer and brought his lips near your ear. You could feel his warm breath on the side of your face and all your senses were suddenly flooded and overwhelmed with the physical proximity of this handsome and charming man. 

“Let me have a lock of your hair, my love.” 

You stared up at Jeonghan as his hand gently lifted a lock of your hair and he twirled his index finger around it. He never failed to surprise you; although you should have expected, knowing his mischievous nature, that it was only a matter of time until he suggested something so romantic and scandalous.

He lifted your hair to his lips and kissed it softly. 

“Mr. Yoon,” you choked out, flustered. 

“You had better start calling me Jeonghan, love. I hardly think that formalities will be required between us once I have placed this lock of your hair in my locket and tasted your sweet lips,” he replied. 

Before you could even think to object, Jeonghan took both. 

First, he leaned forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet and bold; he was gentle yet there was no hesitation in his movements. In response, you pressed yourself closer to him and returned the kiss. You would not see him for many months so this was hardly the time to act coy. You let your hands slide up into his tousled hair and melted into his passionate embrace. 

After a prolonged embrace and many eager kisses, Jeonghan pulled back. You were both slightly out of breath. Your heart was racing and you found yourself instinctively leaning into him again, begging him for another kiss. But Jeonghan had other plans. He pulled out a small pocket-knife and with a single fluid movement, sliced off a tiny lock of your hair. 

You stared at him as he opened a small locket and placed the lock inside of it. 

“I will return this to you,” he whispered in your ear softly. “When I have a wedding ring to give you in return.” 

You bit your lip and nodded. 

“Then I will pray you return it soon.”

“I will, my love.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

The winter was a difficult one. Jeonghan wrote to you regularly and even came to visit you once under the guise of visiting your brother. Yet it was incredibly difficult to be apart from him. You had never had much patience for sitting and writing letters, preferring the intimacy of conversation, and the secrecy of your courtship meant that you could not confide in anyone about how much you missed your lover. 

(While your brother Wonwoo would begrudgingly carry your correspondence and pass messages to Jeonghan from you, he did not make for the best confidante.) 

You spent every waking moment waiting for the upcoming season, and for Jeonghan’s return to London. 

The moment finally arrived; you had been waiting all morning at the window to the upstairs library when you spotted him riding down the cobblestone street on his dark horse. Your heart leapt when Jeonghan dismounted in front of the entrance. You stood, dropping the knitting that you had been pretending to be doing. 

Your father, sitting across the room at his desk, raised a questioning eyebrow at you. 

“I-I left some of my sewing thread downstairs,” you explained vaguely before rushing out of the library and running down the stairs. You arrived just in time to see Jeonghan enter the lobby in his riding coat. 

The butler bowed to him and conveyed his apologies. 

“My regrets, Mr. Yoon,” the butler was saying to him politely. “But Mr, Jeon Wonwoo is not at home at present. Perhaps you may wish to return later this evening?” 

Jeonghan looked up at you and his eyes widened when they met yours. Your heart leapt in delight at the sight of him and you could not bear to watch the butler send him away simply because your brother was not home. It had been months since you had spoken to him. 

“Oh- I am sure Wonwoo will be back very soon,” you interrupted hurriedly. “Mr. Yoon can perhaps wait in the drawing room until my brother returns-” 

"There is no need for that."

You whirled around at the sound of your father's voice. In your eagerness to see Jeonghan, you had not even realised that your father had followed you out of the library and down the stairs. He had a rather serious expression on his face. 

You swallowed. "Father…"

"Mr. Yoon can come join me in the library. And you, my dear daughter, will be kind enough to wait downstairs."

You turned to Jeonghan who looked slightly alarmed, but nodded. You watched in silent horror as Jeonghan took off his hat and followed your father up the stairs. 

Oh no. 

This was not normal. Your father- much like your brother- rarely took an interest in people or company unless prompted to do so.  There was no doubt in your mind that if your father wished to speak to Jeonghan alone, then your secret courtship had been discovered. 

You turned to the butler desperately. "You must send word to my brother to come at once!" 

The butler was startled. "Miss Jeon, are you-"

"Tell him to come immediately and send a servant upstairs to listen in on my father and Mr. Yoon's conversation in the library, I beg you!"

You paced the drawing room nervously for at least twenty minutes. There was no sign of Wonwoo, the servant that had gone upstairs to the library had never returned, and you had no option but to pace nervously up and down the room imagining all the worst possible situations. Would your father take down his hunting rifle and shoot Jeonghan? Would he challenge him to a duel? Perhaps it was nothing- perhaps your father had no idea of your courtship and simply wished to speak to Jeonghan about matters of business-

The large doors to the drawing room opened and Jeonghan entered alone. 

Your eyes widened. 

“What happened?” 

Jeonghan looked slightly tense. He forced a smile when he saw you, and took both of your hands in his before guiding you to sit down in one of the armchair. He kneeled in front of your chair; entwined hands placed in your lap. 

“Does he know?” you whispered. 

“He… had his suspicions,” Jeonghan replied slowly. “It appears that when a woman who can rarely be persuaded to sit still long enough to pen down a quick note suddenly begins to spend hours locked in her room writing letters that she insists on delivering to the post office herself, other members of the family take notice.” 

You flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“I did not think it was right to lie to him. I told him the truth,” Jeonghan told you quietly. 

“What did he say?” 

“What any good father would have said upon making such a discovery.” 

You frowned. “Now is not the time for games, Mr. Yoon Jeonghan-” 

Jeonghan brought your entwined hands up to his lips and he kissed your knuckles softly before looking up at you with a playful smile. His dark eyes twinkled in the bright morning light that streamed through the curtains. 

“Miss Jeon… would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you want to see the fallout of this proposal from Jeonghan's sister's perspective, then go read 'Patience' lmao.

Thank you so much again for all your support! I'm shocked by how many notes my chapter are receiving considering that I barely started my blog a month ago and thank you SO MUCH to everyone that reads, likes, reblogs or leaves a comment. I can be a little flaky but this is one series I really hope to finish and it's really encouraging that people seem to enjoy it too.

I might put up a poll on my blog to decide which member I write next- feel free to check it out later!

And as always, feel free to leave any feedback or thoughts. I'm not sensitive lol.