#hassel/reader

[reds-fluff-extravaganza]

Hello! I hope you're having a good day n.n

Can I request something (oneshot, imagine, headcannon, whatever you can do) of Hassel from ScarVio with a reader who's scared of loud sudden noises? (You know, fireworks, balloons, thunder, etc).

Thanks!

Hiii I hope this is okay! This is the first time I’ve written for Hassel!

You’re afraid of loud noises; thunder, fireworks, balloons popping, all of it. While some of it you can’t get away from, such as thunder, there were times you could get away from it, like now, when there are planned events with fireworks at the end. You had heard about a festival in which there were going to be fireworks involved, so you knew you had to leave for the night, but to where? Well, none other than your boyfriend’s house!

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” You said aloud as you were packing up a bag for the night. Your Lycanroc only nodded as they helped you grab a few things you were missing.

“Oh, thank you, buddy.” You pat their head and grabbed your bag, putting it on your shoulders before walking outside with your Pokemon hot on your heels.

“Sorry, buddy, but I’m going to have to put you back in your pokeball for now.” Lycanroc pouts a little, but nodded in understanding as you returned them to their ultra ball.

As you were locking up the house, you called a taxi to bring you to your boyfriend’s house. As you were leaving, you decided to call up Hassel.

“Hello?” He answered after a couple rings.

“Hassel! Hello!” You responded with a smile on your face.

“Oh! Hello, my dear. Is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah, actually, I wanted to tell you that… I’m on my way over to your place.”

“Oh? Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing major, just there’s a festival by my house that will have fireworks and… you know how I am.”

“I am aware. Well, don’t you worry, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Hassel, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, my dear Y/n.”

“Well, I’m almost here, I’ll see you soon.”

“Very well. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, you hung up, looking out the window now. It didn’t take you much longer to reach your destination, as you waved the driver and pokemon goodbye, you walked up to the door and knocked, smiling faintly as Hassel opened up the door.

“Good evening, Y/n.”

“Good evening.” Hassel moved to the side to let you into the house, you walked inside and he shut the door behind you.

“Have you had dinner yet, Y/n?”

“No, not yet. I figured by the time I finished the festival was going to start, and I wanted to get over here before then.”

“Go set your things down and I’ll make dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” You went to the spare room, where you would usually stay when you slept over at his house, and set your bag down. While you were setting your things down, you heard a loud noise from behind you all of a sudden, making you yelp in fear before you were pulled back… into the arms of Hassel’s Baxcalibur, who looked happy to see you.

“Goodness, Baxcalibur!” You chuckled a bit as you shook your head. “I’m happy to see you too, but you can’t just sneak up on me like that!” He let you go from the hug and followed you back into the living room, then into the kitchen.

“Are you alright, Y/n? I heard a noise.” Hassel asked you, a slightly worried look on his face.

“I’m fine, love, just your Baxcalibur gave me a scare by sneaking up on me!”

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry about that, my dear.”

“It’s alright, he wasn’t trying to scare me, I know he was just happy to see me.” You gave the dragon type a little pat on the head as he leaned down for you to do so.

“Well… that’s good. Anyways, dinner will be ready in just a moment.”

“Thank you, Hassel, for everything.”

“It’s not a problem, Y/n.” He smiled softly as you made your way over to him, hugging him, but also taking a look to see what he was making. It was your favorite, (insert favorite food here)! Your eyes lit up at the sight before letting go of Hassel.

“You made my favorite..!”

“I sure did. Now go take a seat and I’ll bring you a plate/bowl.” You nodded and went over to the table before taking a seat at the table. You watched as Hassel brought you a plate/bowl of your favorite food, setting it down in front of you before he kissed your forehead.

“I hope you like it.” You waited a few moments for it to cool off before you cautiously took the first bite.

“Have you been taking lessons from Saguaro? Because this tastes absolutely amazing! So much better than last time!” Hassel chuckled a bit in response, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush on his face.

“You caught me. I asked him to help me, as I told him it was for you, and of course he agreed to it.”

“How sweet.” You two talked for a little while as you finished up your dinner, him taking your plate/bowl and taking it to the sink to wash and put away. You were about to say something when you heard a rather loud noise from outside, in which you made a noise of fear in response, your eyes wide.

“Y/n?” Hassel looked back at you, setting the plate/bowl in the sink before he rushed over to you, pulling you into a hug as there was another loud noise outside, one that sounded like a firework.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here..” Hassel held you close to him, bringing you to the couch before sitting down with you, wrapping a blanket around your body before pulling you back to him.

“It’s okay..” he kissed your forehead and looked out the window, seeing a few bright colors light up the sky before the noise rang out, making you tremble in his arms as you practically buried your face into his chest. Hassel gently runs his fingers along your back, holding you close to him to help calm you down.

“It’s okay, they’re gone now. It must have just been a few stray fireworks from the festival.” How was that even possible? Unless some jerk took a couple fireworks and set them off away from the festival. Hassel thought to himself but shook his head as he focused on helping you calm down now.

“Y/n.” He said softly, having you look up at him. “Focus on me, and my voice, okay?” You don’t say anything as you now focus on him, instead of the commotion outside.

“You’re okay, just breathe, sweetheart.” He breathed with you to help you calm your breathing. “There you go.” He smiled softly and went back to lightly rubbing your arm in a gentle, soothing motion.

“…I’m sorry.. for panicking like that..” you suddenly said once you felt you were calmed down enough.

“There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. Practically everyone is afraid of something. You’re afraid of loud noises, and that’s okay. It’s not a silly fear, and you know I’ll always be there to help you.”

“…thank you.” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear as you were getting tired after your little panic attack.

“You’re welcome, my dear. Now let’s go get some rest, I’m sure you’re exhausted after all that.” You slowly nodded in response, resting your head on his chest as he stood up, making his way to his room.

“You won’t be sleeping in the guest room tonight, I want to be there with you just in case.” You don’t even argue with him as he carried you into his room and set you down on the bed.

“I’ll go grab your bag, and you can change into your night clothes, okay?” With that said, Hassel left the room, coming back a few moments later with your bag, handing it to you. You took your night clothes out of the bag, which was just a simple shirt and shorts with (design of choice) on them. Hassel grabbed some clothes to change into as well, stepped out of the room and left you to change.

“You can come back in now.” You softly called out to him once you were done and now lying in bed. Hassel stepped back into the room, now changed as well, before crawling into bed beside you, pulling you close to him. You closed your eyes as you rest your head on his chest again. You were pretty tired after the day’s events, and you were just happy to have Hassel there beside you.

“Sleep well, my love.” Was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep, Hassel making sure you were asleep before falling asleep as well.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

summary: Declan introduces you to a friend.

pairing: Declan O’Hara x afab!reader / Rupert Campbell Black

warnings: 18+ mdni. filth. unspecified age gap. oral sex (m). Declan calls the shots. fingering. edging. no m/m. slight anal play. dirty talk. squirting. rough sex. Rupert pushing the boundaries aka he’s a menace. cuckhold of sorts. male masturbation. cream pie. light, barely there after care. ep 8 spoilers. w.c: 2.4k

author’s note: i'm a Declan girlie but I had to write something feat. Rupert.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Soft golden rays bleed through the aged windows of the O'Hara estate. Its owner, Declan, sits comfortably on a worn chair in the middle of his study. Books and papers litter the room, even on the small sofa adjacent to the chair. As the fireplace crackles, the bright orange flames warm your skin as you kneel naked between your employer's thighs.

Declan groans as he feeds you his cock. His thighs widen, as much as his unzipped trousers will allow, on the tattered chair, giving you more room to swallow him down. His heart beats steadily under his lush brown sweater as you suckle his cock while looking up at him under your lashes.

Declan enjoyed times like these when the house was empty, and he got you all to himself. With Maud gone, leaving everything to Taggie was unfair, so he caved and hired a housekeeper. Little did he realize he'd fall head over heels for you.

You both took your time dancing around one another like nervous teenagers at a school dance. Harmless flirting and late-night conversations over the meals you'd cook for him led to Declan taking matters into his own hands.

He was used to control. He enjoyed it, really. The power felt comfortable, and he had no issue wielding it.

Declan was still on edge one day after a trifling day at Coriniuim. His usual soak and cig in the tub wasn't helping. The radio was blasting ear-aching songs, and the water was getting too cold too fast, but that all changed when you walked in on him with an armful of fresh towels.

He took a chance, one that could've ended with him locked up, but you didn't run. You followed his dubious commands and let him exert his dominance, allowing him to reign over you.

Since then, you two have been inseparable.

"Ah, right on time," Declan notes, looking at the clock perched on the mantle in his study as the large front door creaks open.

Declan mentioned inviting a friend over earlier in the day, but you didn't think he meant now.

The sight of your wide doe eyes makes his gut fervently twist. He's always appreciated someone yearning after what was his, especially an individual so well-loved by the women of Rutshire.

"Don' stop, Love," Declan instructs. His Irish accent dips low as he curls a solid hand around your head when you start to draw back. Your wary, garbled sounds vibrate Declan's cock eliciting a hiss from his lips. He sends you a pensive look and keeps you locked as the steps draw near. "You know I like people ta watch, but I wan' to try somethin' new."

Your heart lodges in your throat. Declan had divulged this kink not long after the two of you began dating. It was harmless fun flirting with other men while Declan observed from the shadows like a deviant; the journalist grew feral until he could no longer hold himself back, scurrying off with you in his arms, leaving the poor target in a stupor.

No one could ever come close to Declan; you never want them to.

"I seem to have come at a rather inconvenient time, have I not?" A pondering English baritone fills the room.

Rupert Campbell Black.

With arms crossed, the affluent man leans on the rustic doorframe. He catches your uneasy gaze with a cheeky smile, prompting a wildfire in your belly.

Declan shakes his head, his thick mustache ticking excitedly, "Not at all. Come in."

You try to move again, but Declan doesn't budge an inch. Your brows knot in confusion as your hands fly to cover your exposed bits as best you can.

"Say hello, ta Rupert, Swee'heart," Declan instructs, his dark chestnut eyes alight with devilry.

Your gaze trails from the man's supple leather loafers and pressed lined slacks to the sepia colored dress shirt that exposes a svelte chest as the top two buttons are undone. Rupert oozes high society and overt confidence, the kind of man you'd go dumb even looking at.

"My, my, where has Declan been hiding you?" Rupert croons. His azure orbs fixate with dark intrigue at your naked, shivering form.

As you greet Declan's neighbor, a slight garbled noise barely registers to the men. Tauntingly, Rupert leans over and puts a hand behind his ear, "Sorry, Angel. What was that?"

Your belly flips, and butterflies flutter carelessly in the wake of being so degraded. Still, your cunt produces a wave of arousal and clenches around nothing.

Knowing he doesn't have much patience, you chance another look at Declan and wish you hadn't. His white teeth bared, and his lips pulled back into a light sneer, like a wolf facing down prey, waiting for you to heed his command.

Declan bites back a moan at the hedonic sensation of you stringing together a messy greeting for the affluent man.

Rupert snickers. "Aren't you cute."

"Thatta' girl." He praises before thrusting his length into your throat and cutting off your air.

He waits for a beat, relishing in the watery glaze that coats your eyes and how your chest heaves. Fidgety hands dig into his darkened slacks, knocking the loose ends of his belt. Drool spills down your chin and settles at the base of his cock.

"Ya know ya waited too long ta give Rupert a warm welcome." He fumes, his expression twisting lightly with displeasure.   

With a soft growl, Declan eases his grip. You fall back on your heels, a blight, coughing up spittle and trying to suck down fresh air at the same time.

"Might I say, you've got a real treasure here," Rupert leers down at your messy face and spit-soaked breasts that make your nipples shine in the light. "Lovely to meet your acquaintance."

"Though' you migh' like a taste." Declan offers, looking up at Rupert like you weren't perched at their feet, anxiously awaiting their next move.

"Would I ever." A Cheshire grin tugs at Rupert's lips. He makes a show of folding his button-down sleeves over his muscular forearms as he stalks around you.

Declan beckons you with the tilt of his head, "C'mere, Love. I ain't done wit' your mouth."

You sniffle before taking your place between his knees once more. Declan can sense your worry as Rupert traces a finger down your spine while he crouches behind you. "Don' worry abou' him. He won' do anythin' out of line."

Declan taps his bulbous crown against your swollen lips, drawing your attention away from the blue-eyed beau. His sturdy thighs are a protective shield, enveloping you like a fortress from harm.

As curious fingers tickle your sticky thighs, your lips part with a gasp, allowing Declan to thrust into your warm, wet mouth.

"Jesus Christ, she's soaked." Rupert husks as he softly skims your glistening folds. Your cunt throbs from his unfamiliar touch, coursing a frightening spark of arousal up your spine.

"She's not 'ad much experience." Declan hisses as his crown breaches the tight confines of your throat. Your hand tugs at the thick base that's peppered with dark curls, fingers barely overlapping, pumping in time with his languid thrusts across your tongue.

"You don't say." The Englishman trails off, no doubt thinking of all the crude ways he could defile you.

As you start a slow rhythm, bouncing your head up and down Declan's cock, making the older man unashamedly moan, Rupert swipes his fingers across your seam and gathers all your shiny slick, drawing it up to your clit before lazily circling the tender bud.

Bright lights erupt under your eyelids. Blood rushes south, pooling in your core, heightening your suffocating lust as your body bends to his will.

"Ah ah, Angel." Rupert tsks, grabbing hold of your wriggling hips. His grasp keeps you stock still, unable to evade his voracious touch.

The pads of Declan's fingers press into your scalp as a soft warning. "Be good ta Rupert."

Being pushed and pulled between the two older men was agony of the luscious kind. You only knew of Declan's touch, the succulent highs and lows. The amorous sublime.

A gentle hand glides over your ass before massaging the plump cheek. Your frantic cries are a mumbled mess as you're pushed higher and higher into the pleasurable abyss from Rupert's caress.

He winds two fingers into your core, cursing from your tightness, and splays his dexterous digits along your walls. His thumb lands square on your clit, swiping back and forth with prowess. "So sweet and responsive. Such a good girl." he curls his fingers along your walls, drawing pathetic noises from your chest.

Your body rolls like waves, back and forth between the two men. Rupert's teeth sink into the tender skin of your ass before a gentle tongue soothes the marks and trails down the valley of your cheeks, causing you to choke around Declan's cock.

A wad of spit lands directly on your rosebud just before a wicked tongue ravishes the tight, untouched hole.

Your belly drops at his vulgar touch. No one ever touched you there before. A heavy wave of arousal slips from your cunt as you fight the urgent need for release. Rupert moans hungrily as he laps the rim of your ass.

Your incessant wriggling alerts Declan to Rupert's perverted actions.

"What'd I say, ya daft cunt?" Declan fumes. His mustache twitches as he shoots daggers at the man posed behind you.

Rupert swirls his tongue one final time before leaving your rosebud with a loud pop. "Sorry, chap. I forgot you haven't filled all her holes yet." The tug of his lips says otherwise.

Declan mumbles under his breath and leans back in his chair, focusing on you. "What'a fuckin' sight," he grunts, yanking your tear-coated face off his girth. His large hand completely cups the side of your face, making you feel like a doll with glossy, swollen lips as he stares at you like a man possessed.

Rupert twists his wrist, and your eyes grow wide as saucers. The need to come moves to the forefront of your mind. Declan can tell you're fighting, doing everything you can to hold back as you're slowly dragged to the edge.

Your jaw goes slack, and eyelids flutter; you're willing to endure any repercussions for coming without approval, but then Declan stamps your orgasm out just as quickly as it started.

"No, no, no. Don' be greedy," he tsks, shoving your dumbstruck face back down onto his length.

With Declan's cock stretching your lips and drooling pre cum over your taste buds and Rupert curling his fingers into the spongy spot behind your clit, your nerves scream for release.

The insides of your thighs are soaked, slick from want and a need held so close yet so far away. A soft cry falls from your spit-stained lips as Declan snatches your head off his cock and curves a large hand under your chin, holding you like a precious piece of art.

His opaque orbs sweep across your face, wild and feral; he's on the edge of breaking but holds steady like the stubborn man he is.

"Come on, Declan, let the girl come," Rupert implores to the stoic man holding captive your utmost pleasure.

The corner of Declan's lips tilts. He knows what'll happen. He can see it in your face, how truly gone you are, how nearly close the dam is to breaking.

"Go on, show 'im what he's missin', Swee'heart." Declan encourages, finally allowing you the taste you've wanted all this time.

Your body writhes in their combined hold with unkempt ecstasy as a ravenous cry fills the large study. You come like a geyser, locking like a vice around Rupert's fingers, forcing a curse from his lips as you coat his wrist and trousers with your creamy release.

"Jesus-" Rupert moans, dark and depraved, watching with rabid fascination as your core pulses in time to the beat of his heart.

Declan gathers you into his arms, away from the still man, propping your knees on either side of his thighs. "Sit on the couch and watch," he orders a dumbstruck Rupert before easing you down on his swollen cock.

A whimper catches in your throat from the obscene stretch as his girth widens your channel for the first time that day. Declan grabs your ass and steadily bounces you on his length, helping you rise and fall since your legs have turned to jelly.

"Gone so dumb, ya can' even move," Declan mocks. Coarse whiskers chafe your skin as he nibbles your chin, pouring filthy praises against your jaw, "Still so tight. Maybe two cocks'll do the trick," he drives his girth into your exhausted body. "Wan' your pretty cunt gapin' fa' me."

The seam of his brown sweater grazes your clit on every thrust; the fibers are soft yet overstimulating, your body boils, on the verge of combusting, and there's nothing you can do.  

A low moan catches your attention, dragging you from your frenzied state. As you turn your head to find the strange noise, you see Rupert with his swollen cock in his hand, barely out of his trousers. His cock weeps, the bulbous tip pulsing red, while he sucks your juices off his glistening fingers like a man starved for days.

His animalistic gaze bores into where you and Declan connect. You can imagine how obscene it is. Declan's sticky balls thwap immorally against your ass. Sticky sounds bounce off the walls as he draws more slick from your core, staining the base of his cock in a creamy ring.

Rupert's eyes flit to yours. You silently mouth his name, playing with the man who's used the women of Rutshire like a kid with infinite toys. The subtle action pushes the posh man over the edge.

Biting his knuckles, Rupert spills over his other set with a ragged string of grunts. The image sets off a chain reaction. You follow suit, crying as you come around Declan's cock, and dragging your other half with you. Declan's thick brows furrow, groaning his ecstasy as he fills you with ropes of white.

The three of you gradually come down from the hedonistic scene. Your hearts beat to their natural rhythm as the birds outside sing a dusk setting song.

"T'was lovely to meet you, Angel," Rupert flirts, cleaning his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself into his trousers. "Hope to see you again real soon."

"Fuck off, Rupert," Declan quips, jutting his chin toward the door.

Rupert sends you a wink before rounding the couch and exits with the fattest smile you've ever seen.

Declan mumbles under his breath and curls his arms around you. He tucks your head under his chin, letting you unwind comfortably before the crackling fire.

"Was that okay, Swee'heart?" Declan's asks with softened eyes.

With a satisfied sigh, you snuggle deeper into his hold, seeking the warmth and protective embrace he can only give. "More than."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[jam3sacaster]

masterlist 🩷

hello guys!! it’s meeee, jam3sacaster! if you’re new here, i’m a rivals fanfic writer with an always open ask box for requests for any scenario, any character! 🫶🏽💋 thank you for all your lovely comments so far & i appreciate you all sm 🥹 i will update it here every time i post 🫶🏽

rupert campbell-black

smut/vague smut

• “i can’t breathe without you.”

• “i’ll be gentle, angel.”

• “you’re such a dirty girl.”

• “i think i rather like that.”

• “let me warm you up, darling.”

• “i will never forget your touch. it will linger on me.”

• “the lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

• “bubbles hide a multitude of sins.”

• “i pray you, do not fall in love with me.”

• “say my name.”

• “well, i am a member of the clitory party.”

• merry christmas, angel (continuation)

soft/protective rupert 🥺

• “what did you fucking say?”

• “i can’t sleep. i just think of you.”

• “just breathe with me, darling.”

• “you just don’t see it, do you?”

• “you belong to me.”

• “let me take care of you, darling.”

• “you must be careful, angel.”

• “you have the body of a goddess.”

• “you can ride my pony anytime, darling.”

• “she’s the one, lizzie.” no reader in this story.

• “happy new year, angel.”

• “forever yours, r.”

• “i’m a heartless man at worst, babe. and a helpless one at best.”

• “i’m a great stress reliever.”

• “well, you couldn’t possibly dance alone.”

• “don’t worry about it, angel.”

• “i have waited for the day.”

• was i just a fool? / breakup with rupert :(

• “you deserve a real man.”

• every breath you take / proposal!

• you have bewitched me, body and soul.

• merry christmas, angel.

storyline

• i don’t believe in god, but i believe that you’re my saviour. PT 1

• i don’t believe in god, but i believe that you’re my saviour. PT 2

• oh, the whole world, it is sleeping. but my world is you.

declan o’hara

smut/vague smut

• “i’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.”

• “i think you know…”

• “ya’ want me to touch ya’ like that?”

• “how does it feel, my girl?”

• “how beautiful you are, my girl.”

• “don’t think i’ll go easy on ‘ya.”

• “what do ‘ya want me to do to ‘ya?”

• “time for a new one.”

• “do ya’ know how wrong this is?”

• “your turn.”

• earned it.

• all i need.

soft/protective declan🥺

• “for he would be thinking of love..”

• “how does it feel, huh?”

• “i can’t stand to see ya’ with someone else.”

• “i’m slave to her, slave to her love.”

storylines

• “miss baddingham, you are bad news.” PT 1 smut

• “miss baddingham, you are bad news.” PT 2 protective

• “you have no idea what ‘ya doing to me, do ‘ya?” PT 1 smut

• “there’s just something about ya’.” PT 1 angst

• “there’s just something about ya.” PT 2 romance

rupert x taggie

smut/vague smut

• “daddy, can you…”

• “show me what you do to yourself, darling.”

rupert x reader x declan

love triangle storyline/smut

• “don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1

• “don’t waste your time with him.” PT 2

basil baddingham

smut/vague smut

• “jesus christ, you’re enchanting.”

soft bas🥺

• “well, my love…”

• “thank god you’re here.”

lizzie x freddie

• “i wish i could stop thinkin’ about ‘ya.” soft

taggie o’hara

• because i knew you, i have been changed for good. PT.1 platonic

• because i knew you, i have been changed for good. PT.2 platonic

random titbits (tony, lizzie etc)

• “well, she’s quite some lady…” rupert x reader ft tony

• “you have so much celestial light.” patrick o’hara x reader

• “that was gloriously naughty.” tony baddingham x reader

[thefanficmonster]

What friends are for...

Declan O'Hara x Reader (Female) [Rivals TV]

Warnings: SPOILERS for Rivals S1, Mild Infidelity, Recreational Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Best friend's dad (Reader is 21 years old), Romance, Fluff

Summary: Y/N is typically good under pressure. But with alcohol lowering her inhibitions, allowing a brewing crush to swim up to the surface, she panics a little when she needs to pull through for her friend Taggie

"Alright, doll. I've had enough watching you run around this kitchen like Cinderella. Go on and mingle with the bourgeoisie." Y/N sighs, swiftly stealing the plates Taggie was carrying with one arm while her free hand cradles a glass of whiskey.

She carries the plates over to the sink, letting Taggie's complaints play in the background as background noise as she finishes off her fourth drink of the night and sets the glass down in the sink.

"Do you see this mess?! I can't possibly let loose knowing all this work is waiting for me at the end of the party." Taggie grumbles, folding her arms over her chest, "Besides, I don't even like most of those people."

Y/N can't help but gasp dramatically at that proclamation. In all the years she's known Taggie, she's never once managed to pry out a bad criticism from her in regards to anyone. She'd have to pat spy-like attention to her best friend's facial expressions in order to gauge all those feelings she knows she'd never say out loud.

Y/N had originally formed a friendship with Patrick who was in her grade at school. However, she formed an even stronger bond with his year younger sister. It's a girls' thing, she'd tell Patrick, we're all wired to be closer to one another than we'll ever be to a man.

And her statement still rings true nearly a decade later. It's Patrick's birthday and yet Y/N is finding far greater entertainment in the kitchen with Taggie rather than mingling with the crowd of London high society. She gets more than enough interaction with them during her daily internship at the Corinium, she doesn't need her New Year's Eve poisoned by them as well.

That being said, she shares Taggie's sentiment to the full extent. But she's not about to let up on her convincing, not with Rupert Campbell-Black in attendance.

"You don't have to like them all, Tag. One sometimes makes all the difference. And that certain one of yours is in the building, no doubt looking for you amongst the crowd. Yet you're cooped up here, dodging him as if he matters to you as much as those grease-pole climbers and cheaters." Y/N playfully scolds her.

"Don't speak ill of the cheaters, they are his prime area of expertise." Taggie chuckles into the back of her hand as if shocked by the words coming out of her own mouth.

Y/N snorts, throwing a smirk her friend's way over her shoulder, "I don't remember ever saying any names and yet you knew exactly who I was implying. Hmm...." The older girl teases, only to have a dish rag tossed at her head by a blushing Taggie.

"You're in-insufferable, you know that?!" She says, glaring daggers at her best friend.

Y/N laughs heartily, stepping away from the sink. She reaches one hand behind herself, starting to unfasten the corset she has on to keep her emerald dress snug and tight while using her free hand to pinch Taggie's cheek, "And you're absolutely adorable when you're flustered, love." She uses that same hand to yank Taggie's shirt free from her jeans, "Get that off, hun. Don't worry, I'm not looking." She adds the last part with a laugh and a roll of her eyes as she continues battling with the lace fastenings of her corset.

If it were anyone else asking - or rather instructing - her to do this, Taggie would've probably protested and refused. However, if there's one thing she's learned over the nearly decade long friendship with Y/N is that, although her ideas sound like trouble, they're always a recipe for a good time. Tag wouldn't exactly say she's had an exciting life but those pockets of adventure and excitement and thrill that she can recall she owes to Y/N. And so, she complies, lifting her shirt over her head just as her friend frees herself from her corset, causing her dress to hang more loosely around her body but still catching on her curves at certain areas.

"Good, turn around for me." Y/N instructs yet again as she unclips Taggie's bra before quickly putting the corset on her, glad they didn't flash anyone in the split second the action took. Once she's finished lacing it up, Y/N's hands lazily rest on her best friend's shoulders, turning her around to see if her vision looks just as good in reality as it did in her mind. "Dashing, my darling. Take a deep breath for me, hm?"

Tag again complies without complaints, expanding her chest with a deep inhale to see if the corset needs any loosening but it is perfectly snug, still allowing her to breathe freely though. "You really think so?" The younger girl asks, a hopeful twinkle in her eyes.

"I swear on all that's dear to me, love." Y/N says, giving Tag's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "One more thing...", she mumbles, leaning in to press a kiss to each of Taggie's cheeks, leaving behind lipstick stains on her skin which she later smears to give her a natural looking blush. "Voila! Now go knock Campbell-Black off his high horse and into your bed, doll."

Using the grip she has on the girl's shoulders, Y/N practically ushers her out of the kitchen and into the sea of partygoers before retreating into the quiet solitude herself.

She enters her fairy godmother mindset as she prances around the kitchen, cleaning up the mess around the kitchen, letting the rhythm of the music carry her movements. She periodically refills a new whiskey glass she got from the cupboard. She had really intended for it to be her last drink when she set her previous glass in the sink earlier but she gave up when she saw Mr. O'Hara's whiskey collection. With all these people around, she's certain she'll get away with sneaking a couple glasses of one of the more expensive looking bottles.

"Ah, I see the kitchen mouse has gotten into the good stuff."

Y/N damn near chokes on the amber liquid she just downed when she hears the voice of none other than Declan O'Hara.

She turns around slowly like a scene from a horror movie, or rather a kid getting caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. Only worse, more embarrassing considering this isn't her house. Although if she were to say that out loud all three O'Hara siblings and their father would be quick to tell her off.

An array of apologies circles around her head, none sufficient enough to mend the situation - especially not when Declan is smirking at her like that from the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets. So, instead she settles for the truth: "I was hoping you wouldn't catch me."

Declan only chuckles in response, the sound rich and sweetened by the numerous drinks he's had throughout the night. He's nowhere near drunk but he's had enough to drink to accentuate his natural charm and charisma, softening his otherwise sharp edges.

Edges nearly everyone at Corinium has been cut on since he started working there. And when I say 'nearly' I mean very few have managed to avoid Declan O'Hara's spitfire - Y/N being one of the lucky few despite typically being bad at following orders due to her stubbornness. She isn't sure what exactly it is about her best friend's father that tames that snippy, downright bratty side of her. All she knows is that when he looks at her with those warm, kind eyes and asks rather than tells her to do something, adding a little 'darling' or 'love' at the end, she folds like a house of cards in the wind.

Declan strolls in with an easiness in his step, his eyes never leaving her. As he nears her vicinity, he holds out his own glass, "Care to treat me to my own whiskey, sweetheart?"

Well would you look at that - there she goes folding again. Or more so melting into a puddle at his feet on the tiled kitchen floor.

Words have dispersed into unconnected letters in her head and all she can manage to do is nod as she picks up the whiskey bottle with a trembling hand, pouring a good amount into his glass.

"Thanks, love." He gives her a lopsided smile, lifting his glass, "To the new year."

Y/N is suddenly reminded that she is still in one piece physically - not a pathetic puddle of herself - and in turn she needs to function like a normal human being and avoid embarrassment that will keep her up at night for the upcoming century.

She schools her expression in a faux easy smile as she clinks her glass against his, "To the new year." she repeats before they both take a sip of the lovely whiskey Y/N had helped herself to.

After taking a moment of silence to revel in the pleasure of the amber liquid burning its way down his throat, Declan's eyes focus on her, giving her a head-to-toe scan before speaking, "Where'd your corset go?"

Her heart skips a beat at both the way his gaze is running over the length of her body and the question that insinuates he'd noticed her outfit to begin with. His eyes on her feel like a palpable heat, almost like the feather like touch of a hand. "I-I, um, I lent it to Taggie for a bit. I wanted to doll her up a little and force to enjoy herself. Let loose a little."

Declan nods, a small hum leaving his throat, "Well you've done a good deed, my dear. And a great job taming the kitchen into something presentable. You're a great friend, dear. I'd say you've earned your stolen whiskey." He adds the last part with a quick wink that turns her brain to pudding.

Y/N smiles in response although she wants to absolutely kick herself for involuntarily making bedroom eyes at said friend's dad. She cannot seem to morph her expression into anything other than an openly 'well I'll be damned...' look. So she opts to look away from him instead.

"Oh please, sir, it's nothing. That's what friends are for..." She instinctively takes a sip of her drink to cool down only to be rudely reminded it's whiskey and it has the complete opposite effect to the one she was hoping for.

Speaking of a friend's duties...

Just over Declan's shoulder, Y/N catches glimpse of Rupert and Taggie in the comfortable embrace of one another on the dance floor. Although, judging by the proximity of their faces, dancing isn't their priority at the moment. A split second and a millimeter is all it would take for Y/N to rejoice that her agenda had been successful.

But that's also precisely what it would take for Declan to catch sight of it and lose his everloving shit which would undeniably cause a rift in the mission.

Just to the girls' luck, the moment Rupert's lips touch Taggie's is the exact moment Declan starts turning around - or at least that's how Y/N perceives it.

And Y/N would be damned if she let him.

Before she can think better of it, the alcohol in her system takes a seat behind the wheel and all rational thinking is tossed out the window. At least that's the only way she can explain her following actions.

There isn't a single sober thought behind it when her hands firmly rest on Declan's shoulders, instantly grabbing his attention and prompting him to turn to face her once more. And in that split second, Y/N pushes up on her tippie toes, her lips colliding with his in a kiss that momentarily stuns them both.

The last bit of sobriety fights to regain control of her mind mere seconds after their lips come in contact. It's not much but it's enough to scream at her to pull the fuck away and then run the fuck away. And she would've done just that had Declan's hands not come up to wrap around her waist and pull her closer, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss which she instinctively - and eagerly - allows.

All thoughts - both sober and drunk - fall silent in her head. The party in its entirety falls silent around her. All she can hear is her own heartbeat in her ears, mingled with his slightly labored breathing as the kiss reaches new heights in passion and heat with each passing second until they both run out of breath - the lack of oxygen being the only thing to force them apart, not at all the notion of how wrong what they're doing is.

Again, apologies stack themselves sky-high in her brain but none reach her whiskey coated tongue. Instead, she looks up at him wide-eyed and breathless, her now lipstick-void lips parted as she blurts out the first thought that manages to slip past the fog of shock.

"Taggie's gonna kill me"

Declan's own stunned expression gives way to a wide smile as he chuckles breathlessly at her panicked statement, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her, darling."

Even in the midst of her panic and moral crisis, Y/N can't help the flutter in her heart at the petname. "You....you won't tell her, will you?"

Declan clicks his tongue, shaking his head as one of his hands comes up to cup her cheek, "Of course not, my dear. I can keep a secret. That's what friends are for, after all."

Y/N is just about to throw all hesitance to the wind and lean into him fully, reconnect their lips and give herself over to him entirely when - for better or for worse - the clicking of heels approaches the kitchen entrance, sending them on opposite sides of the room like same charges of a magnet. The poor flustered girl is left frazzled, standing on weak knees without Declan's arms to hold her up. Luckily, however, she finds herself on the side of the kitchen where the door to the backyard offers her solitude and salvation within arm's reach. And she takes it a mere second before Maud strolls into the kitchen to show her husband a fraction of the affection she's been showering the other partygoers with all night.

Regardless of the state of Declan and Maud's marriage and their relationship as a whole, what they just did is wrong from all angles and aspects. It's a betrayal to Maude, to Taggie, to Caitlin and Patrick, to Y/N's parents who Declan has known and been friends with for years.

And as such they deserve to be drowning in guilt and remorse for their actions.

One problem: they're not. Not in the slightest. Especially not Declan who cannot seem to tear his gaze away from the backdoor Y/N disappeared through even as his wife finally graces him with her attention and presence.

Attention, presence and affection Y/N would love to give to him and only him. No division or sharing, no inhibitions or reservations.

No wrong or right.

Just a little secret amongst....friends

[kissesbya]

Getting spit roasted by Rupert Campbell Black and Declan O’Hara STAYS on my brain

Especially if Declan has a daddy kink !!!

[beingalive1]

𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

Rupert Campbell Black x Oc (Francesca Wellington)

Summary: Francesca Wellington was everything Rupert Campbell Black was and more. A successful show jumper with a title and an estate, she had it all. She was a constant reminder of the man he once was. He couldn't help but hate her for it and yet, he loved her for it just the same.

Part One: The making of a rivalry.

Part Two: here

July 1984: Los Angeles Summer Olympics

The day Lady Francesca Wellington met Rupert Campbell Black he could've been stark naked dancing around in circles and she still wouldn't have noticed him. 

Standing upon a podium in the middle of the prestigious arena belonging to the Santa Anita Racetrack, Francesca felt her skin burn under the heat of the sun. Unlike in England, the sky of Los Angeles was clear. The Californian heat bared down upon her without mercy. She felt the collar of her blazer rub uncomfortably against her neck; the red material becoming damp with sweat as time continued on. Her riding hat shifted slightly as she looked upon the cheering crowd above her. 

The crowd that was cheering for her. 

The uncomfortable heat did nothing to subdue her feelings of utter euphoria. Her body felt like it had been set alight. Her veins were filled with fire. Sweat beaded down her forehead; its salty path flowed from the tip of her head and settled on the edge of her upper lip.  Her mind was chaos: her thoughts bounced between her ears.

She couldn't think; she couldn't breathe. She didn't care one bit. 

She was given the  gold medal by a man. His tan fingers graced the side of her face as he placed it around her neck. It was heavy, heavy with the weight of accomplishment. She didn't look at the man, her eyes were fixated upon the medal as he briskly stepped away. 

She lifted the medal from her chest and placed a cheeky kiss upon its golden side. The cameras flashed excitedly as Lady Francesca Wellington's lips grazed the cool surface of the medal in glee. 

Every eye in that arena watched in admiration as Lady Francesca Wellington claimed her title as the first woman to win an Olympic gold in individual showjumping. 

Every eye except Rupert Campbell Black. 

The day Rupert Campbell Black met Lady Francesca Wellington she could've been Mother Theresa reincarnated and he still wouldn't have liked her. 

Being given the "honour" of handing out the gold medal for show jumping in the first Olympics since he had retired felt like a knife jabbed directly into his stomach. He had been coerced into it by his old riding friends, the Tori party and a few members of the Olympic sports committee. They told him it would be good for his image as an MP to remain present in the riding community. He felt as if it was all a cruel joke reminding him of his failures. 

His failure as a rider forced to retire. His failure as a husband, a father,  a politician. 

His failure as a man. 

Rupert stood in the sand of the blistering hot arena. His ears rang at the sound of the adoring crowd as he was faced with the man he used to be. A rider, a star, a man who dominated show jumping with ease. He was greeted by memories: memories of him as a boy riding ponies around his estate to days spent galloping with his friends.  

He watched her with a diplomatic smile as she claimed the first place position on the podium.

It felt as if he was bearing witness to the erasure of his legacy. 

The British anthem sounded on the loud speakers as he picked up the gold medal from its designated case; the very same anthem they played for him four years prior. The soft skin of her cheek grazed the side of his hand as he placed the medal around her neck. She looked down towards her medal with glee. He looked at her with jealousy. 

Only a few selected riders in the world could understand the high of winning a gold medal for showjumping. A high he would do anything to feel again. He stepped away from the podium in haste and marched out the arena, his assistant running behind frantically. 

All eyes were on Lady Francesca Wellington as she reached the epitome of her riding career. 

No one noticed Rupert Campbell Black walk away from his. 

[angellissy]

Take my breath away

Rupert Campbell Black x Taggie O'Hara

I binged Rivals and developed an obsession, so here is my poor attempt of portraying these lovestruck idiots. Set sometime after episode 9 but with no real mention of what happens in the last episode. I hope you enjoy!

Her hands were soaked in the soapy water where she had been washing plate after plate for what seemed like hours. Whenever she thought she was finally done making the food, cleaning the tables, or washing the dishes, her mother always had a new task waiting for her. Taggie was fucking exhausted. Her mother didn’t really care, she did not even seem to notice that she was driving her daughter into complete and utter exhaustion. This was not new to Taggie, this had been her life for as long as she could remember. Sometimes she imagined herself telling her mother to bugger off and do something by herself for once, but then the weight of guilt came crashing down and Taggie forgot every notion of ever standing up to her mother. 

She wiped a soapy hand across her brow and let out a heavy sigh, the same exact one that Gertrude used to let out when she plopped down in the hallway after a long stroll in the woods. Another sigh, a softer one, escaped her now as she thought of her companion. The one gift from her parents that had felt like a gift for her. Taggie had been twelve and struggling in school, her dyslexia making her lag behind her classmates who teased her relentlessly for it. “Tag-tag taggie” they used to call her, playing on the fact that she choked on her words and involuntarily had to repeat them. She barely uttered a word when she got home, terrified that she would get the same teasing treatment there. Her dad had been the one to notice the way she had started curling into herself and how her breath caught in her throat whenever he asked about her day at school. His parents had hoped that caring for a dog might make her more confident and sure of her abilities, but most of all Gertie had become her most trusted companion. 

She thought of her now, the scruffy dog currently sat outside in the dark, forbidden by Maude to be in the house when they had guests. Taggie made a mental note to give Gertie those lamb treats she adores, she deserved it after an evening all alone in the dark. Though perhaps Gertrude had drawn the longest straw, a night alone and away from the maddening crowd her mother called friends sounded like an absolute delight. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when her father came barging into the kitchen, slamming a box of Venturer posters on the countertop. 

“Hard at work eh?” Her father asked teasingly as he nodded at her frozen frame. Taggie looked down and realized that her wandering thoughts had given her the inability to do two things at once. 

She started “Oh I was just.-” but before she could even get the words out he interrupted her “Look we just got this new shipment of Venturer posters and I thought that you could head out tomorrow and hand them out at the town fair?” 

She was not sure if she had nodded or not, but her father beamed and clapped down on her shoulder “I knew you’d always be up to help!”

Her lips turned into a small but tired smile at that, for how could she say no now? It was not like she had anything else to do. However she never really got to figure out what else she could do when her parents were always finding tasks for her. She didn’t mind helping out, she just wished they would actually ask. 

She looked down at the pile of still dirty dishes in the sink,  let out another heavy sigh, and was just to start again when another presence entered the kitchen. Her back was turned but she knew without looking who it was. His energy was so palpable to her, it always felt as if it tugged at her, urging her closer to him. Despite not seeing him, Taggie O’Hara would know Rupert Campbell Black in any room. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to turn around, their last meeting in this kitchen had ended with his lips on hers. It wasn’t that it had been bad, quite the opposite actually. She hadn’t known before that a kiss could be like that, passionate and sweet. He had savored it, seeming unable to tear himself away, and when he did his chest had heaved and they had been so close she could feel the way his heart beat. His hands had been tangled into her hair and hers had been under his suit jacket, itching to touch his skin. They stood like that for a while, seemingly in a trance, and only backed away from each other when Maude’s shrill laugh sounded from not too far away. The last thing Taggie wanted was for her mother to find her and Rupert, she had a knack for turning a nice thing ugly and Taggie desperately wanted for this to be a nice thing. 

Rupert cleared his voice and she turned around, feeling how her cheeks turned rosy just by the sight of him leaning against the door frame. 

“Hello” She said a little uncertainly wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. His lips curved upwards as he returned her greeting. His smile fell a little when he took in the dark circles under her eyes and how she kept blinking rapidly as if forcing herself to stay awake. “You alright there darling?” He took a few steps closer and she backed into the kitchen sink, feeling it slowly making an indent in her lower back. “Y-yes all good” He raised an eyebrow at her but did not question her, knowing that it was quite impossible to get her to admit defeat. 

“Well I was coming to ask you a question, I was wondering if you possibly would join me going to the city on Saturday? I am there for official MP business-” He winked at her and then continued “but thought that perhaps we could take the opportunity to promote Venturer.” 

“I’d love to!” She said, barely letting him finish which made his cheeks twitch ever so slightly. Her pinks turned a darker shade of red as she reconsidered her quick reply and she quickly looked down at her forest green socks to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“Splendid darling! Now let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Taggie looked at him in surprise, opened her mouth to say something then closed it and instead gestured to the dishes. “You don’t need to do everything today, come with me.” It was probably a mix of her tiredness and the slightly authoritative tone in his voice that made her follow him upstairs to her bedroom. With his back turned against her she quickly changed into her red nightdress, she hoped, perhaps a bit devilishly, that it would remind him of their first dance. She cleared her throat and he turned around, at the sight of her he smiled so brightly that she found her smiling with him. 

“Lady in red” He said so softly that she almost missed it. With two long strides, he was in front of her and his hands snaked around her waist. She shivered and felt goosebumps follow his hands. She looked up at him and let her hands travel up from his arms to his face. She gently touched his cheek and he drew a long ragged breath. “I promised myself I wouldn’t find myself with you like this again” 

“I thought you were smart enough not to make pointless promises,” She said a small smile on her lips. “You’re too good for me Tags” Though as he said it she felt his fingers curl against the fabric of her dress, pulling her a little closer. “You’ve changed” She whispered, because it was true. “Not enough” he murmured as he dipped his forehead against hers. She could feel his warm breath against her skin and she swallowed. The nearness of him was driving her mad. She could feel his thumb making circles on the fabric-clad skin of her waist and her hands found themselves traveling down to his neck, she could feel his pulse beneath her fingers. His eyes moved from her eyes to her lips and he let out a soft sigh. “It is enough for me,” She said before pulling him closer by his neck and softly pressing her lips against his. His body tensed for the shortest of moments before he relaxed into her, purely giving in. She savored the taste of him and the small sound he made in the back of his throat when she pressed herself closer. 

She was not sure how much time had passed when he pulled away, eyes glassy and lips swollen. He gave her a small smile as he nodded towards her bed and her eyes widened the tiniest bit, did he mean for them to..? 

A small laugh escaped his throat and he shook his head at her “Gods you will be the death of me, I meant that it was time for you to get some rest” To riled up to say anything Taggie simply nodded and crept under the covers, still looking at him from beneath her lashes. He too was still looking at her, seeming unable to pull his gaze away. He sat down on the edge of her bed and his hand came up to brush away the strand of auburn hair that had fallen in front of her face. 

“You really should be resting more you know” He did not seem quite himself as he uttered the words, gone was the charm and confidence replaced by a tone of concern. Taggie gave him a tired smile and said with a hint of bitterness in her tone “You should tell my parents that.” He nodded as if considering it and the mere thought of him even considering talking to her parents because he cared about her made Taggie’s heart constrict in a way she had never experienced before. She was almost sure she was going to cry. Who was this man who kissed her as if she was the air he breathed, asked her for help when everyone else just took it for granted and, who seemed to genuinely care about her well being? “I am just kidding, I wouldn’t wish for anyone to try telling my mother that she might consider treating me differently, she can be quite vicious you know.” Taggie forced a smile as she said it, but it felt slightly unnatural. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her temple. “I’d do anything for you. angel” His tone was so serious that she felt completely overwhelmed with emotions. Then all of a sudden his warm presence was removed and he walked away “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” She did not have time to reply before he was out of her room. She listened to the sounds of his shoes on the gravel outside her window and only closed her eyes when she heard the roaring of his engine driving away. 

Taggie slept more soundly than she had done in ages.

[randoimago]

Headcanons of what's like to date (Pokemon) Grusha, Brassius, Hassel, and Larry please?

What It's Like to Date Them

Fandom: Pokemon

Character(s): Grusha, Brassius, Hassel, and Larry

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): You got it!

Brassius

You'll have to drag him away from his work otherwise he will just be hunched over painting the whole day instead of taking breaks to eat and hydrate. Is also a bit stubborn when it comes to taking a break, but if he sees that you're getting upset or frustrated then he'll put his paint brush down.

Constantly watching you. When you two are on dates or just doing something like grocery shopping together, his eyes are watching your every movement. You're his muse and he doesn't want to miss seeing something that can spark his inspiration.

Likes to go to museums with you. Museum dates are something he always likes. And when he travels due to Gym Leader business, he's sure to take you with (if you want to, it's fine if you don't), but he's going to show you other museums in other locations.

Grusha

Wants to go snowboarding with you a lot. He's unable to do it professionally due to his injury, but he's happy to go on a date where he snowboards with you. There're some bittersweet moments with him while snowboarding, but he assures you that he is very happy to have these moments with you.

Grusha tries to seem like he has things together when he's with you. He's actually rather stressed out, but he doesn't like you seeing that side of him. Pull aside and hug him and he'll give the deepest sigh of relief because he really needed the hug.

Not the most emotional person. His scarf hides his face, so you really only have his eyes to tell you how he's feeling. But even with his emotions not really on his sleeves, he always gives you the softest looks.

Hassel

Lots of soft music playing throughout his house. Or even when you visit his classroom at the school, there's some soft music in the background. Even though he didn't go into music, he still very much loves it still.

Remembers lots of things about you too. Knows exactly what drinks you like and how you like to eat certain foods. Anytime he notices you're a bit stress or anxious, he's there with a comfort item he remembers you mentioning.

You get to witness his grumbling when he's doing schoolwork and he ends up smearing ink or pencil on his hand because he's left-handed. Just little pouts on his face because he thought he was careful this time. It's very adorable.

Larry

He is so tired and overworked all the time. And he's not going to hide his tired appearance from you. He won't complain (too much) in front of you, but he's not going to try and seem like he has his crap together in front of you all the time.

Real big on staying home and hanging out. He doesn't mind if you want to go out and do something, but he prefers staying home and relaxing. Doesn't mind doing typical house husband stuff either. Yeah, he worked all day, but he doesn't mind male wife-ing it up for you.

Either falls asleep too easily or cannot sleep no matter what. If you two are watching TV or something, then he'll end up falling asleep halfway through. But when it comes to actually laying down in bed, he is awake. His body is tired, but his mind is awake as he just holds you close and let's his eyes rest at least.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

Hi! Can I request romantic relationship headcanons for Pokémon Clavell, Hassel, Brassius, and Larry with gender neutral s/o?

Dating Clavell, Hassel, Brassius and Larry headcannons

Pairing: Clavell, Hassel, Brassius and Larry x gn!reader (separated)

Warnings: none

A/N: this one took a lot of time! Sorry for that, hope you enjoy!

Clavell

His role as the principal at Naranja/Uva Academy in the Paldea region would mean that he approaches relationships with a sense of responsibility.

At the core of your relationship with him would be a sense of understanding and respect. He values your company and appreciates the moments of affection you share, even though his reserved nature might not always allow him to express his emotions openly. While he may not readily show his feelings, his actions speak volumes – whether it's through a thoughtful gesture or a genuine concern for your well-being.

His strict demeanor, shaped by his professional role, would occasionally surface, but it would be tempered by his underlying kindness. You'd come to appreciate his ability to handle even the most challenging situations with a level-headed approach, providing a sense of stability and security in your relationship.

As a couple, you'd find yourselves embarking on quiet yet meaningful moments together. Perhaps you'd share walks through the academy's picturesque gardens, engaging in deep conversations about your dreams and aspirations. Clavell's support for your endeavors would be unwavering, and he'd encourage you to pursue your passions with a quiet determination.

His dedication to his students and their well-being would extend to his role as a partner. He'd pay close attention to your needs, offering guidance and advice when sought. While he may not be one to overtly shower you with affection, his gestures would be meaningful and sincere – a cup of your favorite tea waiting for you after a long day, a shared glance that conveys understanding, or a comforting hand on your shoulder when you need it most.

Occasionally, you'd catch glimpses of his softer side, moments when he allows himself to let his guard down. Perhaps it's a smile that lingers a little longer than usual or a tender touch that reveals the depth of his feelings. These fleeting moments would serve as a reminder of the genuine connection you share and the affection that exists beneath his composed exterior.

While Clavell might not readily express his emotions, the love and care he holds for you would be a constant presence in your relationship. With him, you'd experience a love that is steady, enduring, and grounded in a shared understanding of each other's ambitions and aspirations.

Hassel

Dating Hassel would offer you a unique blend of intelligence, deep emotional connections, and a passion for creativity that transcends the ordinary. His ability to immerse himself in the world of art and his sincere dedication to his craft would shape the dynamics of your relationship in profound ways.

Hassel's tendency to take things seriously and emotionally, regardless of how small they may seem, would reveal a side of him that is authentic and deeply connected to his feelings. This emotional depth would lead to moments of vulnerability, where he might shed tears in response to significant events or when he's moved by something that strikes a chord within him.

When it comes to art, Hassel's enthusiasm is palpable. Conversations about artistic expression would lead him to delve into lengthy discussions about the various forms that art takes, the pursuit of perfection, and the beauty of symmetry – a reflection of his own deep appreciation for the subject. You'd find yourself captivated by his insights, his passion contagious as he shares his thoughts and experiences.

In your relationship, Hassel's emotional nature would manifest in ways that are both heartwarming and endearing. He might surprise you with heartfelt gestures – a handpicked bouquet of wildflowers that perfectly embodies the beauty of imperfection, or a handwritten note that expresses his emotions with eloquence.

While he's known for his serious demeanor, Hassel's emotional side would also extend to moments of shared joy and laughter. Together, you'd experience the elation of discovering a hidden gem in an art gallery or the delight of creating something beautiful with your own hands. These moments of shared happiness would forge a bond that is rich with emotion and understanding.

As your relationship deepens, you'd become a source of inspiration for Hassel. He'd find solace in your presence and a safe space to express his feelings openly. The times when he lets his guard down and sheds a tear in your company would be a testament to the trust and intimacy you've cultivated together.

In the intricate tapestry of your love story with Hassel, you'd discover a man who is not only intellectually stimulating but also emotionally profound. His commitment to art, his deep emotional connections, and his penchant for seeing the world through a unique lens would create a relationship that is rich, meaningful, and filled with moments of artistic and emotional resonance.

Brassius

It would be a journey of self-discovery, shared passions, and a deep connection that blooms like the most exquisite flower. His dedication to his craft and his enigmatic approach to art would shape a relationship that is both inspiring and full of intrigue.

Brassius' determination to create art would resonate with your own drive for self-improvement. Your shared desire to become the best versions of yourselves would create a strong foundation for your relationship. Together, you'd encourage each other to push boundaries, explore new horizons, and continuously evolve. Just as Brassius approaches his art with unwavering commitment, you'd embark on a journey of personal growth side by side, motivated by the mutual aspiration to reach new heights.

The sense of mystery that Brassius feels when working on his art projects would align with your own inclination to explore the depths of your inner self. Your communication would be marked by a shared fascination with uncovering the layers that make you who you are. Deep conversations about your dreams, fears, and aspirations would become a cornerstone of your relationship.

In Brassius' presence, you'd find a kindred spirit who not only appreciates your artistic passions but also shares them. The two of you would spend hours immersed in creative pursuits, whether it's painting, sculpting, or simply appreciating the beauty of nature. Brassius' artistic insight and your own unique perspective would combine to create a dynamic partnership that fuels your shared creative endeavors.

As your bond deepens, you'd discover the artistry that exists in the small moments of life. A sunrise over a tranquil meadow, the rustling of leaves in the wind, or the interplay of colors in a vibrant bouquet – these everyday experiences would take on a new dimension of beauty and significance as you and Brassius share them together.

Brassius' commitment to his gym duties and his artistic endeavors would be mirrored by your dedication to supporting his goals and aspirations. Just as he pours his heart into shaping the gym's environment and challenges, you'd stand by his side, providing unwavering encouragement and cheering him on every step of the way.

In return, Brassius' presence in your life would be a source of inspiration and wonder. His ability to find beauty in the ordinary, coupled with his mysterious charm, would keep your connection fresh and exciting. The moments when he unveils a new artistic creation or shares a personal insight would be met with genuine admiration and a shared sense of awe.

In the canvas of your relationship with Brassius, you'd paint a portrait of shared passions, mutual growth, and a love that thrives on the mystery and beauty of life itself. Together, you'd create an artistic masterpiece that captures the essence of your unique connection, a bond that grows stronger with each passing day.

Larry

Dating Larry would lead you on a journey of quiet companionship, gentle understanding, and a love that thrives in simplicity. His calm and relaxed demeanor would provide a tranquil backdrop to your relationship, while his genuine care and thoughtfulness would create a bond that runs deep.

Larry's love for all things "normal" would align with your own appreciation for life's simple pleasures. Together, you'd find joy in everyday moments – a leisurely stroll in the park, savoring a home-cooked meal, or sharing stories by a cozy fire. His relaxed nature would encourage you to embrace the present and find contentment in the little things.

While Larry's initial shyness and reserved demeanor might create a quiet atmosphere, his warmth and friendliness would shine through once you break through his shell. As you spend more time together, you'd discover his endearing quirks and the charming way he opens up to you. His soft-spoken nature would create a space for heartfelt conversations and genuine connection.

Larry's inclination for organization and tidiness would blend seamlessly with your own desire for a well-structured life. Together, you'd find comfort in creating an environment that reflects your shared values – a cozy home where everything has its place, a sanctuary of calm amidst the chaos of the outside world.

His dedication to work would be a proof of his unwavering commitment to his passions. You'd come to admire his diligence and determination, and you'd be there to offer your support as he invests time in his pursuits. Whether it's tending to his Pokémon or working on personal projects, your presence would be a source of encouragement and comfort.

Larry's caring and supportive nature would shine through in the thoughtful gestures he showers upon you. From surprise notes expressing his affection to small acts of kindness that show he's thinking of you, his love language would speak volumes. His commitment to making you feel loved and appreciated would be unwavering, and you'd come to cherish the quiet moments of tenderness he shares.

While Larry may prefer the tranquility of home, you'd find comfort in your shared space, knowing that you have a partner who understands and respects your need for solitude. His willingness to make an effort to ensure your happiness would be a testament to the depth of his affection.

.

.

.

[r0-boat]

How to Break a Dragon's Heart

Yan!Dragon Hassel x Gn!reader

Sfw, Shitty Angst, confession and rejection.

Cw:yandere, kidnapping, killing your entire village just quirky Dragon things

This was the same dragon that kidnapped you? The same dragon that was feared by all, whose mighty roar haunts their nightmares, even for the strongest of knights who's shaking fear when your father even utters his name.

The same dragon that is now hiding behind a "big" rock, its golden eyes watching you closely with awe as if you do not see its pitiful attempts at hiding his large body and how his tail thumps at the ground with each powerful slam, causing the ground around him to shake.

Before you were tense and alert, thinking that he might eat you or torture you, but now, since death has never come and this is the first time that the dragon has made direct eye contact with you, only for him to look…f-flustered? you're just confused…. Hassel watched you a distance; however, when he noticed you were walking toward him, he felt his heart leap out of his chest.

"Human, what are you doing?" his voice bellowing deep and rumbling, but there was a hint of nervousness that you had picked up, giving you more confidence. "What is your plan with me, dragon?" You ask, glaring up at the Beast staring into pools of gold. Its eyes Pierce through your soul; you can see the dragon fangs poking from its maw, sharp like knives built for tearing through soft flesh. Your bravery was one of the many things Hassel loved you for; despite what he was known for, although you're more unsavory opinion of him, you still give him a chance to answer bravely and politely. Realizing that it would be better to talk to you in a more comforting form, a bright light surrounds the figure of the lizard as he shrinks from quadruped to bipedal one, his paws turned into more human hands, though his nails are still sharp like claws. His reptilian maw disappeared completely in favor of a human face. And you dare say, handsome, those same golden eyes that struck fear in the hearts of many knights were now on the face of an older man with a gentle smile. His golden scales disappeared completely in favor of golden locks of hair instead of a low, scratchy, growly voice. His human form sounded smoother and husky. You're he would have captured the hearts of women in your village if he wasn't the same dragon that attacked said village.

"I mean you no harm, little one, I promise."

Even now, in this human form, he still towers over you; small and aggressive like a little firecracker, the way you tense up and bear your teeth at him, the way you stand your ground, narrowly reminding him of a hissing kitten. Hassel, that's all back to his urge to hold you in his arms and nuzzle his face into your neck.

"Lies! You have taken me from my family, holding me in your nest. Tell me the truth, Dragon!"

Hassel sighs, scratching his head with a finger, hoping he could avoid telling you why he had come to your home, setting many people in a blaze to carry you delicately into his claws. He could feel heat rush to his face, his heart starting to beat with nervousness, setting trying to find his words.

"I- I'm in love with you. I wish to court you."

Those words hit you harder than a cart going down a hill at full speed. You expected many things, but a confession from the most terrifying dragon in all the legends was not one of them. And even now, Hassel stands before you, fidgeting with his fingers, eyes looking nervously at the ground, waiting for an answer, which is struggling even to be a concept in your mind.

Your hesitation is apparent to him; perhaps he owes you an explanation. He gives you a soft look full of love, approaching you; you stand before him, still frozen and dumbfounded; it hadn't fully occurred to you when fingers gently caress the side of your face, looking deep into your eyes. An arm snakes slowly around your waist, pulling you slightly closer to his body. His voice, low and husky, lowers it even more to a whisper. To tell you something only he wants you to know

"I've been watching you with every chance I get, whether it be perched upon high cliffs or in my human disguise. Your kindness warms my heart; your smile is brighter than the sun despite your kind, greedy, and nasty tendencies; you still bless them with your love, giving things up to the less fortunate and working hard alongside your fellow man. Your soft heart is something I rarely see in my kind. I can't help but be attracted to you."

The dragon poured his heart out to you. You hate to admit it, but his confession was cute. You had almost forgotten that he'd burned down half your village just to kidnap you.

Your face flushed as embarrassment slowly turned into anger, pushing him away. Hassle's eyes widen, filling with her as he stepped back from you when you escaped from his arms.

"I-I don't love you, and I never will take me back! If you truly loved me and brought me back to my Village to my home!"

You practically scream, your voice raising at the sick monster that claimed who loved You after killing half of those you cared about and burning down your home. Hassel chokes up, heartbroken, and it hurts to no end. He could feel his body shake; his chest tightened so much it was hard to breathe. It hurts being rejected by someone he loved quietly for years, conscious teeth trying to fight back the tears, studying his breath; he wanted to escape into his den to cry. But he didn't want to lose you years of pining just to be yelled at? No, he needed you. His heart hurts, but he can't let you go. Those golden eyes that looked at you with love lost their shine, darkening as he walked closer. Suddenly, the air has changed, feeling more hostile. Instinctively, you step back, which only makes him stalk closer. His voice was no longer gentle; it was direct and commanding as he growled. "I apologize, but I can't do that." This is when you realize he was much stronger than you, grabbing you and yanking you back into his arms with ease. Like you were a mere rag doll, was he only humoring how weak you actually are compared to him? Maybe, just maybe, if he keeps you, perhaps you'll fall for him. To love him just as profoundly as he left you. Only time can tell, and unfortunately for you, he has an eternity.

[eufezco]

more declan smut!! posting tomorrow or this weekend idk yet!! if yall have any declan or rupert requests send them 🗣️🗣️

[farbeagle]

EphemeralArtShipping Nation, I have returned

Read on AO3

[jam3sacaster]

“Don’t waste your time with him.” PT 1.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet heart anon 🫶🏽 / Your uncle, Freddie Jones, introduces you to his new business partners, and you end up wishing he didn’t…

18+ FANFIC / SMUTTY, angsty, hot, in love. Longer than usual so I apologise and hope you don’t take a nap halfway through. Reader character aged 21. As always, request what you wanna see in my asks 💋

Desperate to escape the exhausting bustle of London, it had been agreed some weeks ago that you were to stay at your uncle, Freddie Jones’, Manor House in Rutshire. He had mentioned, vaguely, over the phone about his new business idea and that your expertise in marketing would provide a real asset. Pulling into the extravagant driveway at 8am sharp, you slam your car door shut and pull three substantial cases from the boot. “Darlin!” The familiar accent chimed as your moustached uncle threw open his front door, walking towards you with outstretched arms. Dropping your cases to the floor, you ran to meet him, embracing in a tight, meaningful hug. “I’m so glad you see you.” You exhaled, already feeling the stresses of London melting away. You had always been incredibly close to your uncle, but his newfound wealth and social status and upheaved him from his family and everyday life and plunged him into Rutshire. “Leave the cases. Someone will bring them up for you.” He nodded, taking your hand and leading you into his remarkable home.

“Hello, darlin!” Your auntie Valerie peeped from the doorway, momentarily giving you an uncomfortable, cramped hug. “You’ll have to excuse Fred Fred for an hour, he’s having a business meeting.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. Embarrassed, Freddie looked down at his feet, but still mustered a smile for you. “Don’t worry about that, come in and meet them. I can tell you all about our new business plan, it’s fuckin’ incredible.” He spoke, beaming to himself now as Val pottered her way outside into her lavish garden. Opening the door to his office, Freddie ushered you in and boomed to the two men standing inside. “Gents, this is my beautiful niece, she’s staying with me for a while and she was an absolute marketing genius down in London. Darlin, this is Rupert-Campbell Black, Minister for Sport, and Declan O’Hara, former star of Declan on Corinium.” He introduced you. Declan tutted at the very mention of the C-word.

“Hello.” You spoke gently, awkwardly glancing between the two men. They quickly exchanged the necessary response to you, and gathered Freddie round the table, mumbling statistics that were far beyond understanding. “Sit, sit.” Freddie tapped the seat beside you, and you hesitantly obliged. Scanning your eyes over their scrawled out business plans, Rupert took the seat beside you, leaning over you slightly to point at some arbitrary on the paper. The potent, saccharine aroma of his aftershave wafting into your nostrils. As he retreated his hand, it brushed across yours softly, making your jump gently in shock. “Sorry.” He muttered, looking up at you and presenting you with a faint smile. Time stood still for a moment as your eyes interlocked contact — Rupert’s eyes softening in lust, yours in affection. “So,” Freddie’s hands slapped against the wooden desk, “We’ll have lunch, a couple of drinks and then get back to it.” He rubbed your shoulder and grinned at you, mouthing shortly after ‘You okay?’, to which you nodded.

Standing up from your chair and making your way into the garden, you breathed in the soft fragrance from the luxurious assemblage of flowers — Soft, pastelled hydrangeas, electric primroses, and properly preened roses of scarlet red and crisp white. You wrapped your soft, knitted lavender cardigan around your torso and squinted slightly under the subtle early morning sun. “London then, eh? Whereabouts?” An aristocratic voice sounded from behind you, cigarette smoke clouding the aroma from the flowers. “Kensington. I worked for a marketing agency, but they ended up thinking I was some kind of businesswoman so I ended up marketing a few television shows.” You reply, turning around slightly to see Rupert Campbell-Black stood, top button of his pastel blue shirt undone.

“Hmm. You’ll be a great asset to the team then. We could use your expertise.” He internally rolled his eyes as he spoke. There was nothing more dull and droning than boring a beautiful young lady with business. “Declan seems nice.” You reply, cheeks delicately glowing a rosy hue. To this, Rupert raised an arched eyebrow — appearing confused but a painful tinge of jealousy coursing through his veins. “Don’t waste your time with him. He’s… emotionally unavailable. His wife just fucked off back to London.” He chuckles abruptly, taking a long puff of his cigarette. Your supple lips pouted, feeling a rather strong wave of sympathy for Declan — partly for his wife leaving, partly for Rupert divulging such personal information to you. “I’m up at Penscombe Court, should you ever need to visit. To talk business and such. Or maybe more.” He winked, and you snickered, shaking your head softly. “Thank you. I’ll-umm… remember that.” You respond, making your way back inside.

Back in the office, Freddie was pacing up and down on his mobile, hand struggling to clasp around the thickened brick of a phone, and the antenna wafting around after him. Declan, muttering to himself under his breath, was sat at the desk, scribbling on an a5 piece of paper. “Drink?” You ask him, and he takes a moment to respond. “Sorry, love. Umm… yes, please. Just a soft one.” He replies, curling his bottom lip into an awkward smile. Temporarily migrating to the kitchen and walking back with a teeming jug of lemonade, laden with ice cubes and slices of fresh lemon, alongside four glasses. Pouring one out for everyone, Declan thanked you as you sat bedside him. “Sooo… what are you working on?” You ask, leaning into him to look over his shoulder. “Just a few pitch docs, jus’ throwin’ some ideas around.” Declan replied, but placed his pen back onto the table and sat back in his chair. “How old are ya?”

“21.” You meekly squeak, his presence intimidating. “And you’re already a marketin’ expert? Ya’ must be really good.” A reassuring smile plastered across his face as he spoke, and took a quick swig of his lemonade. “Well, I don’t know about that. I think Uncle Fred has made me seem a lot better than I actually am.” Freddie looks as you as you speak, smiling through his tedious phone conversation. “I’ve been propositioned already by Mr Campbell-Black.” You sigh, to which Declan shakes his head in disbelief. “Honestly, that man. There’s not a woman on the planet that he wouldn’t ride. Don’t waste your time with him.”

As the evening grew piercingly cold, the budding Venturer team roamed to the living room — television on, fire crackling and tumblers of amber whiskey flowing. You felt small amongst the room of men, talking too loudly and laughing too obnoxiously. Freddie was talking Rupert’s ear off, and that now familiar look of disinterest on Rupert’s face gave it all away. You grinned at him with twinkling eyes as he screwed his face up jokingly towards you at your uncle’s surely riveting conversation. “Whenever ya’ free, and ya’ wanna talk strategies, let me know and we can call a meeting.” Declan spoke, now drunk and stumbling over his words. “This isn’t your way of trying to flirt is it?” You ask, rolling your eyes and pouring yourself an offensively large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. “Trust me, darlin’, you’d know if I was trying to flirt.” All of a sudden, it wasn’t a joke anymore. His tone was low and gruff, and his eyes sharpened. “Maybe we should talk business now?” You suggest, inching your voice towards his. Without responding, Declan rose from the sofa and entered the office. To avoid arising suspicion, you get up a few moments later, with a half-arsed excuse about needing to use the bathroom. Barely waiting for you to close the office door behind you, Declan crashed his lips into yours, pinning you to the wall as the sounds of your colliding lips fought for dominance over your passionate groans.

•

Sliding his hand under your blue floral frock, Declan rubbed his thumb over your slit, the friction of your pants sending a jolt through your body. “Wet for me already?” He asked into your ear, before pulling your pants to the side and gliding two fingers inside you. You yelped in pleasure as his fingers immediately curled towards your g-spot. The frantic passion of the seductive man increased your groans, as you brought your hand down to rub his growing cock over his jeans. “Do you want me on my knees?” You asked with a smirk. Declan opened his mouth to speak, but —

The doorknob turned, and you both desperately panicked to straighten yourselves out. Smoothing down your dress as Declan turned around, in attempt to hide his hard-on from whoever was to enter the room. “Darlin?” Your uncle asked, and you perked your head up innocently. “You okay?”

“Yes, Uncle Freddie. Declan was just… picking my brains.” You chime, turning around slightly to check for his reaction. He suppressed a smirk, and nodded in agreement towards Freddie. Unsuspecting as always, Freddie smiled in contentment and closed the door behind him. “Fuck, that was close. Jesus feckin’ Christ, you turned me into an animal.” Declan wheezed into laughter. You stepped towards him and lifted his hand, sucking his brutish fingers that were, moments ago, inside of you. “Fuck.” He growled in response, running a course hand over his hair. You opened the office door and stepped out, Declan following close behind and giving you a playful snack on your behind that made you yelp. Freddie stood by the door, phone to his ear and speaking nonsense to a pretend caller. He was watching, and keeping a close eye.

•

“Cigarette?” Rupert’s voice spoke from the kitchen towards Declan. You hear Declan decline, and make your way into the kitchen to refill your drink. “You?” He asks, and you nod your head in response as you take a few, very-needed sips of wine. Pulling your uncle Freddie’s lighter from the countertop, you follow the suited man into the garden, taking a quick seat on the frosted wooden bench as Rupert stood above you. He lit his cigarette, and leant down to your level, lighting yours with the blaze within his.

“Finding us insufferable already?” He teased, taking a step back. Shaking your head and puffing your cigarette, your mind could barely muster a response as you envisioned the sound of Declan’s groans and the way his fingers hooked inside of you. “Umm… no. You’re both very nice, actually.”

“Hmm. Declan’s a bit of a cunt but we fair well for ourselves. Think any more about my offer?” He asks, sitting beside you now. “Not yet. How do I know you’re not some chauvinistic Casanova that wants to add me to your long list of conquests?” Raising an arched eyebrow as you speak. Rupert raises his hands in defeat, chuckling to himself that he’d been completely rumbled. You chuckle half-heartedly, semi-believing your own joke. “Well, let’s forget business. I don’t believe in waiting for something you desire. You’re a beautiful girl, and I’d like to take you to dinner.” He declared, taking a long drag of his cigarette and rubbing his thumb over your silky cheek. Taken aback by his rather attractive forwardness and gently biting your lip, you tilt your head upwards at the gentleness of his touch. The bitter evening silence in the garden was comforting — solemnly tranquil, interrupted only by autumn leaves tumbling in the wind and the occasional croaking of a frog in the grass. Even more beautiful still, the heavens opened up to unleash a downpour of of rain. Luckily, the bench was tucked under the porch, but one could still admire the serene display of nature.

Keeping your head tilted towards him, he ran his thumb from your cheek to your lips, lining the top lip, and then the bottom. So enamoured with desire, you could barely breath. He gently pushed his thumb into your mouth, making contact with your tongue. Keeping it there for a moment, he paused and spoke .. “You are magnificent.”

“Darlin’? Are you comin’ in? It’s rainin’ cats and dogs out there.” Freddie’s voice beckoned you from the kitchen window, catching a slight glimpse of the scene unfolding on his garden porch. Taking his time, Rupert removed his thumb from your mouth and stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall. “You know where I am, angel. Don’t hesitate.” He expressed solemnly, as you collected yourself and went to join your uncle.

“Be careful, darlin’. You’re playing with fire.” Your uncle Freddie warned.

[cwningennos]

Things Will Be All Right

Pairing: Hassel x Reader

Summary: When Hassel faces something that is both terrible and confusing you try and be there for him.

Warnings: Anger, hurt/comfort, grief, difficult family relationships.

You dream that you’re a student in Hassel’s Art class that night.

It doesn’t reflect the reality you’ve lived, however, for you’d done all your schooling and graduated in Sinnoh. You’d studied beneath Cynthia and then managed to beat her. It had been her who had introduced you to the man who you’d ended up falling in love with. Her who had laughed when you’d told her about your relationship, saying it was of little surprise to her because you were both as passionate as the other. Only with Hassel it comes out in tears, whilst you tend to scream and shout exclusively. You’d never been a student of Hassel’s though and never known Paldea as a young woman-your dream seemed insistent that you were around the age of sixteen.

In your dream you actually manage to do an art piece that you are proud of and want to show it to Hassel, but when you do such a thing he tells you that it is not good enough and that you must improve. You try to but nothing seems to impress him.

You feel frustrated when you wake and you slam your hand down on top of your alarm clock to switch the thing off, even though it isn’t currently ringing.

Slowly you turn around as you blink blearily. The other side of the bed is empty. The space by your own is taken up with your Lucario [who looks alert] and who is trying to cradle and calm a crying Professor Gible.

“Gib! Gib! Gib!”

“Cario,” Lucario growls.

One of your oldest friends and the Pokémon who you find yourself most attuned to, in spite of being predominantly a dragon-type user, Lucario does not often come out of his Poké Ball without your permission and Gible does not normally cause such a fuss, but it loves Hassel and if something were wrong then-

“What’s going on?” Fear and alarm spike inside your chest. You wonder how you’d been able to sleep at all with the way you are now feeling and with the antics of the Pokémon.

Lucario looks at you meaningfully and you understand enough to bolt out of bed. As you get dressed Gible wails behind you mournfully.

You take the dragon from Lucario as soon as you are ready and make your way down to the Art classroom [Director Clavell has been very generous in allowing you to live at the school despite the fact that you are not staff] holding him close to you the entire time. Lucario trots watchfully alongside you but there are few people up at this time and there is an eerie sort of silence to the Academy with every footstep sounding loud.

When you get to the door you look back at Lucario. He closes his eyes for a second, before he nods. You proceed inside.

Hassel is sitting at the spot you’d dreamt you were in his class. He has his arms folded on the table and his head pushed into them.

At your presence he looks hazily up at you. “F/N?” he blinks. His eyes are red and his face is all blotchy.

You force a wobbly smile at him, knowing that what you’ve feared for a while now must have come to pass and hating to see him like this. Whilst you don’t know how you can make it any better-or if you can. “This little guy was worried about you.” You hold the Gible, who is babbling and eagerly reaching for his master, up. Lucario guards the door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I just”-

“You don’t have to apologize or explain Hass.” You force a smile at him. Gible begins to cry. You hand him carefully over to Hassel. The man holds him tightly and strokes him, seemingly finding a small amount of comfort for himself as well. As you study him he won’t meet your eyes. “I can go?” you suggest.

Hassel’s head jerks upwards in alarm. He has started to cry again, but in a much quieter way than he would normally. “Stay, please.” You nod and move to sit on his knee. Gible clings to the pair of you. You stroke at Hassel’s hair. Lucario drifts from the door in order to study the tubes of paint that have been left out. “There was a message. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You know you always can”-

“YOU LOOKED SO INNOCEND!” Hassel is loud. “SO INNOCEND AND PEACEBUL AND I DHOUGHT DHAD I’D PUD EVERYDHING BEHIND ME!” You shake your head and pull his head close to your shoulder, knowing full well from the internal battle that he’s been having over the last few weeks that his past is far from being behind him. “I felt so much of it was done before I even met you”-

“I know, but he was your father,” you try and soothe the hiccupping Hassel.

“Do you think I should have gone to see him?”

“I don’t know,” you say truthfully, running your fingers through his hair as you consider, “But I know you left for a reason and the idea of going back scared you. I understand why it did.” You shiver a little as you think of your own reckoning with the Distortion World. “You didn’t want to get sucked back in.” You hold him tight. He turns to bury his face in the crook of your neck. You rock him gently.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that. How long he cries. All you know is that he needs you now and you will be there for him. Like he has been there for you previously.

At some point though you become aware of a rude noise, which echoes around the classroom.

You turn your head and nearly fall off of Hassel. You have to look back and grip on to his shoulders. You apologize, but he seems to be in a trance and he blinks slowly, as if he’s trying to come out of the state that he’s in.

You look around.

Only to see just in time as Lucario’s paw deliberately bashes into the bottom of one of the paint tubes, squirting blue paint everywhere. Seemingly overjoyed about the thing he covers up his mouth with his paw. “I think Lucario is going to owe you some paint,” you inform Hassel with a bit of a smile. Lucario meanwhile looks affronted by the idea and it makes your grin widen. ‘Thanks,’ you think as your Pokémon and you lock eyes. Lucario has always known how to cheer you up and lighten the mood, even indirectly.

Hassel turns his head and watches as Lucario enthusiastically attacks another tube. You watch as Hassel’s mouth hangs open, but when he looks back at you he has a smile, albeit a tired and watery one, stretched across his face. Feeling happier you brush a strand of his hair back and kiss him gently. The tension seems to leave him. Gible coos.

“Lu-Lucario!” As Lucario gets carried away with the paints you laugh again and bury your head into Hassel’s shoulder. As his grip tightens on you, you know that in time everything will be all right again.

[ya-bug-boy]

Hear me out

A/b/o dynamics but with hassel

I can see him being a beta or a alpha.

Also him being plus-sized and using his largeness as a advantage

A/B/O dynamics with Hassel

Beta Hassel

Sooo whiny. Sooo needy. Cries for you when it's time for his heat almost nonstop,

Makes a nest of your clothes and snuggles up there, unable to do anything but to bear your pups in his heat.

Taking him outside is practically impossible with how needy he is.

Alpha Hassel

Aggressive for sure, almost brutal with the way his hips rut against yours.

Marks you up and down everywhere, if people even questioned you were his, they would see now you are.

He's practically thrusting with his whole weight against your body, you'll be left feeling boneless for hours after.

[beingalive1]

𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

Rupert Campbell Black x Oc (Francesca Wellington)

Summary: Francesca Wellington was everything Rupert Campbell Black was and more. A successful show jumper with a title and an estate, she had it all. She was a constant reminder of the man he once was. He couldn't help but hate her for it and yet, he loved her for it just the same.

Part Three: here

Part Four: The hatred begins

Author's note: I apologise for the lack of updates, I just started med school and have been working non-stop. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Comment if you would like to be added to this series's taglist. xx

Caitlyn O'hara could not stop staring at Francesca Wellington's luscious breasts. The young girl's eyes were practically fixated upon the Lady's bosom as Frank breathed. Francesca was reclined on Taggie's bed. Her tan legs stretched across the comforter as cigarette smoke wafted above her head like a pearl halo. Caitlyn silently wondered if she had been some sort of criminal or dictator in a past life. The young girl must have committed some horrifying war crimes or pissed off the gods in some sort of way.  It was the only reasonable explanation as to why she looked like she did, and Francesca Wellington looked like that. Like a greek goddess with a  posh accent.  Francesca Wellington had clearly hit the genetic lottery: her tan skin, curly hair, athletic build and voluptuous breasts. 

Frank had it all.

 Caitlyn wondered if she should quit school and become an olympic show jumper; it clearly had its perks. 

"You look absolutely ravishing in that." Francesca stated, smoke dripping from her pink lips as she exhaled. 

Caitlyn's eyes drifted from the heiress and onto her sister. Taggie's usual party dress, the blue mini, had mysteriously disappeared from her closet. In a panic Tag had called her new friend Frank for aid. Frank had insisted on coming over, she had brought three bags full of dresses with her. 

When hearing about Taggie's new friend, Caitlyn had imagined a sweet farm girl with buckteeth and blonde pigtails. The options of dresses were sure to be dreary and conservative. Caitlyn was infinitely surprised when the Francesca Wellington strolled through the front door with bags of Chanel and Dior. 

Taggie didn't even know her new friend was famous. Her dyslexia often causing her to stray from the fashion magazines Caitlyn poured over. The fashion magazines whose cover often frequented Frank's likeliness  - despite the heiress's aversion to the press. Caitlyn loved her sister but sometimes Tag could be so daft. How could she not recognise one of the most famous women in England as her new found friend?

Talk about an opportunity. 

"Turn around I want to see the back." Francesca said as she glided off the bed and walked towards Taggie. Frank's hazel eyes gazed at Taggie through the mirror, Frank's focus aimed at the green dress draped over her new friend's body. Taggie looked good. Every eye at Tony Baddingham's stupid garden party will surely be captured by the woman. They would be stupid not to admire her. 

Taggie stared at Frank, waiting for the heiress's verdict. 

"You look like a movie star Tag." 

Taggie smiled, her grin bright as she turned to face Frank.

 "Thank you for this." 

Frank shrugged, her bare feet inching their way across Tag's carpet as she made her way back to the bed. The cigarette extinguished in an ashtray on the bedside table. Taggie didn't smoke; she had stolen the ashtray from her father for Frank. It was important for a good host to cater to the needs of their houseguests. Frank needed an ashtray. Tag would happily ignore her father's complaints for the next few hours.

 "Of course." Frank replied, "I get all these clothes sent to me by fashion houses. It's a total waste. I spend my time riding horses not striding down runways. They never get worn. Might as well let your sexy self take them for a spin."

Caitlyn listened attentively to the famous woman sitting across from her.  The young girl lusting after the woman's clothing collection. Cait silently recalled how even Madonna herself had referred to Frank as a style icon in an interview once. The pop-star stated how she admired Frank for never talking to the press. It was obvious that Frank didn't need to: her clothes and awards spoke for her.  Tag being able to wear something owned by the Francesca Wellington was mind-blowing for the young teen, even if her sister didn't recognise just how famous Frank was. Francesca and her brash character was  fashion at its finest - despite her lack of trying

Cait subtly wiped the drool from her mouth, she had to stop daydreaming. 

Caitlyn inched closer to Frank, the teen's sharp gaze taking in the elder woman's attire. Frank seemed too casual for a garden party. A white, sleeveless polo neck and cream knit trousers draped over her figure. Her feet sported sandals and her hands an infinite amount of jewellery. "Is that what you're wearing to the party Francesca?" Caitlyn asked gently, her gaze still stuck on the way star's curly hair fanned out across the bedding. A black curtain draped over a cotton cloud. 

"You can call me Frank, Caity. And you're right, I should probably change." Frank stated as she gazed at the teen fondly. Caitlyn, though moony eyed in Frank's presence, was a spitfire with a great sense of humour. Despite only having  just met her a few hours prior, Frank had already grown fond of Caitlyn's wild commentary on the world and the residents of Colchester. Francesca particularly found Caitlyn's fixation on Rupert Campbell Black's supple arse  hilarious. "Fred would be upset if I arrived in my loungewear."

"Is Fred your boyfriend?" Caitlyn asked in quick succession. She hadn't heard any news in the paper of a lover in the Wellington heiress's life. A secret scoop into the life of one of the most famous women in the country would make her very popular with the girls at her eventual boarding school. 

Frank laughed outwardly. "No" She giggled, the laugh light and airy, "he's a dear friend. Old. Could be my dad. But his wife loves fashion. She always loves to ask if I've been keeping in touch with Gianni Versace. Don't want to upset her by coming to the party looking like I've just woken up. Even if I think Tony Baddingham is a right arse. I'm only coming to this party cause Fred asked." 

Caitlyn had stopped listening after Gianni Versace. The teen jumping to interrogate Frank on any other celebrities she might know. 

Maud O'hara rushed into the bedroom, her intrusion interrupting Caitlyn midway through her third question about Jake Ryan. The mysteriously missing blue mini tight upon her skin. Taggie and Caitlyn stared up at their mother in mild disgust. Frank grabbed a dress off the floor and walked into Taggie's adjacent bathroom to change. 

She was not getting involved in that conversation. 

Francesca made her way back into the room whilst the two O'hara sisters whispered to one another, Maud having left when Frank was changing. The presence of the heiress, draped in a dark blue satin dress caused the other two girls to fall silent. 

"What do you think?" Frank asked, her manner almost shy under the other girls' gazes. It had been a long time since she had gotten ready with women her own age. Her usual company consisted of mildly overweight men over the age of forty. Her trainer Marty never cared about what she wore, only if she could ride a horse. Freddie wasn't exactly a fashion connoisseur either: he had Valerie for a wife. She had a horrible habit for mixing tiger print with bright pink. Even Frank's fashion magazine editorials were run by male photographers with receding hairlines and scarves draped across their necks. She very rarely had a woman express an opinion on what she wore. Never mind two. 

"You look great." Taggie said. 

"Sex on legs." Caitlyn followed. 

Tag gasped in shock at her sister. 

Frank chuckled.

Two very good opinions. 

"Perfect." Frank said, her head nodding slightly as she grabbed her purse and car keys. "Well then. Let's go. Can't keep the bastards waiting. I'll catch you up on all the gory details later Caity." Frank spun out the room in a flash of navy. 

It was official. 

Caitlyn O'hara was in love with Francesca Wellington. 

There went her fixation on Rupert Campbell Black. 

Unlike those who had arrived at Tony Baddingham's ridiculous party in some outrageous sports car, Frank had arrived upside down stuck in the backseat of the O'hara family's mini. Her heels pressed up against the car window made for a very naughty sight as the group pulled into the Baddingham drive. Lying on her back like she was about to give birth was the only way Frank could fit in the O'hara's car without ripping her tight dress. Freddie's car boot was beginning to sound much more appealing as she felt the seatbelt dig into her back. 

"Alright." Tag started, a giggle held behind her lips as she watched the heiress roll herself out of the car. "You ready?" 

Frank huffed slightly, Tag had been no help in heaving Frank's body out the car. The traitorous girl only laughing at her friend's misfortune. If Taggie wasn't so goddamn endearing Frank would've felt slightly put out. Declan and Maud had already left them behind. 

"Any chance I can still go home?" Frank asked. 

"Not a one." 

"Bollocks." Frank fixed her hair, the wild curls falling free behind her back. "Well then, let the games begin." 

Her mouth was wide open. She couldn't close it. Her lips gaping open like a fish as she stared at Tony Baddingham's luxurious soiree. It was ridiculous. Every fibre of the garden dripping wealth from its seams. Frank had grown up wealthy: she was an heiress with multiple properties and a trust fund with more money in it that she could ever spend but this was ridiculous. It was excessive. A band played in the centre of the room. Waiters draped in duck-tailed suits milled around the lawn. People dressed in bright summer attire dotted around the grounds like colourful ants. Frank couldn't help but feel mildly uncomfortable. 

Tony Baddingham loudly greeted the O'hara family, his eyes fixated on his shiny new star Declan as he skipped towards them. Frank all but ran in the opposite direction, slipping through the crowd as the eyes of the Cotswolds began to fixate on the famous Wellington heiress. They had been mildly distracted by Taggie: as they should and as Frank planned. But alas, the crowd was relentlessly invested in the heiress. She might have even dubbed them her groupies or fans if only they were slightly younger, more attractive and actually liked her. 

Francesca walked deeper into the room by herself, Taggie having been led astray by Lady Monica Baddingham.

It felt like she was an animal at the zoo. Her head held high and shoulders backwards as she strutted through the crowd. She could feel everyone watching her. Their inquisitive stares piercing her skin. She tried to appear nonchalant as she moseyed her way to the only other person at this party besides Taggie that she could stand. The only reason she came to this godforsaken party in the first place. 

Freddie Jones smiled when he saw her. 

"Glad you could make it." he started from his spot at the refreshment table, his hand holding one of Tony Baddingham's oversized silver serving spoons. Only a simple salad perched upon his plate. Looks like Valerie was limiting Fred's diet again. Frank would have to sneak him some chocolate cake on the side. The poor man deserved it. "I was getting worried." 

Frank cracked a grin. They were an unlikely pair, her and Fred, but for some reason the electronics mogul was one of her favourite people. Besides training, Frank had spent most of her time with the man. They had similiar hobbies, liked to watch the same telly and both had a deeply ingrained hatred for their entitled neighbours. 

A match made in heaven. 

"You know me Fred-Fred." Frank began, her eyes glancing around at the guests surrounding them. From her time at boarding school and in the public eye Frank had learned that if you stared at people long enough they stopped staring back at you. She made direct eye contact with James Vereker. He grinned his sleazy smile. She raised one eyebrow, deadpan. He looked away mildly sheepish. A win for all. "I always have to arrive fashionably late." 

Fred shook his head, his mouth moving to speak before his wife, Valerie Jones, promptly interrupted him. The blonde woman's hand gripping onto Frank in a clutch unbefitting for someone so petite. The Wellington heiress  was quickly led towards the rest of the Cotswolds' women, her eyes begging Fred for aid. 

Help me, her eyes said. 

Some socialising might do you some good, his replied.

Traitor.

Frank was convinced socialising is what would lead to her demise. She was pushed into a lawn chair opposite three women, Valerie's hand still wrapped around her shoulder to prevent Frank from bolting. The damn woman knew her too well. 

"So Francesca," A plump woman began,  Frank never could remember her name, "How do you like living in Rutshire? It must be so lonely living in that big old house. No parents, no husband..."

"Excuse me. Excuse me." 

Tony Baddingham rose to his feet, a speech on the tip of his tongue. Frank could have kissed him right then and there. 

The plump woman attempted to question Frank again, her wrinkly face closing in on Frank from across the lawn table. Lady Monica struck a gong. The plump woman and the rest of the party-goers immediately falling silent at the loud clanging sound. 

It appeared Frank had to kiss Lady Baddingham too now. Two for one Baddingham special. 

Tony Baddingham wafted into a speech, his words falling deaf on Franks ears as she breathlessly escaped her lawn chair and made her way through the crowd. Pretending to not hear Valerie Jones beckoning her back to the lawn table, Francesca appeared at Taggie's left shoulder. "Do you think Lady Monica uses that gong to keep Tony and the children in check?" . 

Taggie's elbow struck Frank in the ribs as the redhead tried to smother her giggles. A bit aggressive. 

Moments away from falling asleep standing up, Frank snapped back into focus at the interruption of Rupert Campbell Black walking into the garden with Beattie Johnson on his arm. Tony looked to be turning purple at Rupert's appearance. The former olympian strolling in with a smug grin on his tan face. Frank was briefly reminded of the last time she saw him, naked on his tennis court. The firefighters Taggie called must have gotten a hell of a surprise. 

Rupert and Beattie walked through the crowd. Tony's speech ending abruptly as people jumped back into gossip and getting drunk on the Buck's Fizz. Frank grabbed Taggie's hand, determined to avoid Valerie Jone's and her cronies for at least an hour. They disappeared into Tony's garden in a flurry of red hair and blue silk. 

A particular set of eyes watched them go. 

"I saw you getting aquatinted with Rutshire's best and brightest." Frank stated, her hand grazing one of  Tony's horses. The horse sniffed, its eyes watching the heiress closely as she ticked its ears. 

Taggie watched Frank, her gaze taking in how her new friend gently interacted with the horse. As Tag got to know Frank it became more and more apparent that the heiress preferred horses to people. Frank behaved a certain way in crowds. She wasn't shy. Rather, Frank was funny, sarcastic, charming, all the things a world famous athlete should be. But around animals, in a garden secluded from prying eyes, Tag bared witness to the genuine side of her new friend. The quieter, more gentle Frank who listened to Tag speak about her struggles with merely a patient smile and a tender ear. This was the Frank that Taggie could see herself being friends with for a very long time. Tag liked this Frank. 

"Yes." Taggie replied, a smile brimming to her lips as Frank encouraged her to move closer to the horse. Tag followed the heiress's lead. Her hand lightly stroked the edges of the horse's neck being mindful to be gentle. "They're quite a strange crowd aren't they? Lizzie's quite nice though."

Frank nodded, her eyes still locked on the animal in front of her. She was not close with Lizzie Vereker. The Vereker woman's husband, James, was so foul that  Frank had decided to steer clear of the entire Vereker clan. Lest she get booked on his boring show. She'd rather shove a fork in her eye. Lizzie Vereker did seem to be one of the more interesting characters in this town; a writer of a few famous bodice ripping novels. Maybe Frank would purchase one of her books and read it before making up her mind on the Vereker woman's character. 

Declan O'hara interrupted the two women's discussion, a serious expression painted on his face as he marched across the lawn to them "Tag, have you seen your mother anywhere?" 

And just like that Declan, Frank and Taggie were strolling through the Baddingham's extensive gardens looking for Maud O'hara. 

The small group walked at a brisk pace as they journeyed from hedge to hedge. Frank admired the greenery, her mind drifting back to the home of Rupert Campbell Black and his even more extensive gardens. She really had enjoyed his flowers. It was such a shame a naked woman on the run had interrupted Frank mid admiration. She never got to see what sort of lawn dressing the Campbell Black gardeners used to make their Patagonias grow so large. The two O'haras and Frank turned a corner, the subject of Frank's thoughts found perched closely to Maud O'hara on a garden bench. 

Rupert Campbell Black swallowed hard. His Adams apple bobbing up and down as his eyes caught sight of Francesca Wellington draped in blue silk stepping out from behind a rose bush. She looked ethereal, curly hair strewn across her back as her dress hugged her in all the right places. He had seen her earlier: disappearing into the crowd with a redhead on her arm. Beattie had quickly regained his attention then, clutching his arm lest his eyes strayed too far for too long. He had hoped he could avoid Francesca for the rest of the party.  It appeared fate had other ideas. She had all his attention now. 

He hadn't even noticed the angry looking Irish man coming to greet him as he gazed at her. Declan O'hara shook his hand, he mindlessly reciprocated.

His eyes continued to take in the heiress. The O'hara family introducing themselves as she hung behind, her fingers fidgeting with one of Tony's roses. He thought back to the last time he saw her. Her attention fully fixated upon his garden despite the presence of his naked body on display.

 No one had ever ignored Rupert Campbell Black as much as Francesca Wellington. 

She was so entitled. So peculiar. 

His eyes strayed from Francesca. He greeted Declan and Taggie; briefly remembering  that Tag was the redheaded woman who screamed at him on his tennis courts a week prior. The same redheaded woman he saw Francesca disappear from the party with only a few moments ago. They must have been friends. Tag's face blushed as he smiled at her. Seemed like she remembered their meeting as well. 

He ignored Francesca as he walked Declan and the rest of the Oharas inside for some of Tony's whiskey. 

She had ignored him, her mind fixated on his gardens. He would ignore her, his mind desperate to see how the so-called prodigy felt about not being in the spotlight for one moment. 

Her brow furrowed in confusion. He had ignored her flat.

That was strange. 

Smoke wafted through the billiard room as Maud puffed on a cigarette. Frank fidgeted slightly, her fingers twitching in want. She had had her one cigarette for the day, but the smell had her  bursting for another. 

She deserved another. 

She'd been questioned about her love life all day by nosy old women and her one moment of peace had been interrupted by Maud O'hara's nefarious behaviour with Rupert Campbell Black. Rupert had also been a prick, more so than expected. To her knowledge Frank had done nothing to upset the man. She had no clue as to why had he ignored her in the garden nor why he continued to ignore her now as he and Declan played pool.

She needed a cigarette.  Maud smoked camels. It wasn't the same brand as Frank. She strictly smoked Marlboro lights. She'd happily make an acceptation. 

A ball fell into the socket as Declan and Rupert conversed. Taggie, Maud and Frank condemned to spectators on the lounge chairs adjacent to the pool table. Rupert smiled cockily. Frank silently thought she could've sunk two times as many balls as him in the time it took for him to sink his few. 

The smug bastard. 

Tony Baddingham entered the room, his eyes zeroing on Francesca as she silently tried to inhale Maud's second hand smoke. 

"Tony has come to ask me to join his board." Rupert told Declan smugly, another ball falling into the socket. Tony glanced towards the former olympian. Lady Gosling did have her heart set on Rupert joining the board but Tony was a fickle man. Lord Baddingham knew Rupert would never willingly join the board and would try his level best to embarrass Tony in front of his newest employee: Declan. Tony wasn't going to let him win. Not again. He had another plan, a better one.  

"Actually Rupert I was here to speak to Lady Wellington." 

Bollocks. Frank had been so sure she was in the clear. She had avoided both Baddinghams for the entire afternoon and was dead sure Tony was focused on Rupert. There was no way Tony would want another woman on his board, no matter how famous Frank was. She knew Tony saw her as a spoilt little girl with family money; a cow he could prod for extra cash. She didn't think he'd ever ask her to join his board. She assumed Rupert was a bigger cow: with more influence, more cash and a dick to boot. The obvious better choice.

So much for assumptions. 

All eyes in the room fell to her. Rupert's face turning sour. He had been so sure Tony was going to ask him to join the board. Again, Francesca Wellington had stolen something that was rightfully his. His spot on the olympic team, his legacy, his neighbourhood and now even the thing he was going to hold over Tony's head. He hadn't even wanted to join the board, he just wanted to make Tony angry by saying no. 

"It's a very lucrative business, the media. would be a good thing to come home to when you're finished with your riding career Francesca." Tony attempted. His false grin failing to convince Frank. For a TV executive he was a terrible actor. 

"I don't do press." Frank replied. Her words decisive and final.

 No.

She merely said no. She didn't even attempt to play with Tony for added amusement. Rupert knew he would've been so much more creative with it. 

Though, he did enjoy how Tony's face fell. 

Small victories. 

Tony swiftly turned back towards Rupert. His false smile perched on his lips as he tried to beat down his fury. "Rupert?" he asked. "Lady Gosling would love to have you around her more. It's a great investment."

Great. Sloppy seconds. Rupert tried his level best to appear like it hadn't bothered him that he hadn't been asked first. He too shutting down Tony with a sarcastic comment before resuming his pool game. He had to keep his thoughts away from the curly haired heiress who sat only a few feet away from him. His veins hot with jealousy. 

He hated that she had such an effect on him. 

Paul and Sarah Stratton entered the room. Paul greeting Tony as Sarah smiled at Rupert. 

Frank's eyes widened slightly as she made eye-contact with the naked woman who had been rushing through Rupert's rose bushes. It appeared the woman was married to Paul Stratton. An adulterous rose bush destroyer. Sarah's grin disappeared when she caught sight of Frank and Taggie, fear spearing across her face. 

"Francesca Wellington. God am I excited to finally meet you." Paul Stratton stated, his large body rushing towards Frank as she remained seated on the chaise lounge. 

Taggie left the room in a hurry. Frank longed to follow. 

"Paul Stratton correct?" Frank asked, a small grin perched on her lips. He nodded, his  excitement palpable on his face. "My mother knew your first wife Winifred. Lovely woman." 

His smile fell instantly. 

Frank left the room. 

Francesca found Taggie on the Baddingham's staircase looking mildly anxious. The heiress's brow furrowed with worry as she sat down next to the redhead. "What's wrong?" Frank asked, slightly rubbing Tag's shoulder. 

"I think I just told Tony Baddingham that Sarah Stratton was the naked woman playing tennis with Rupert."

Of all the answer to her question, Frank was not expecting Taggie to say that. The heiress failed to reply, only rubbing Tag's shoulder at a slightly quicker pace. 

Taggie looked helplessly at Frank. "You don't think he'll say anything do you?" 

Frank knew beyond a doubt Tony would most likely tell the entirety of Colchester by the end of the party. 

"How about we get some more Buck fizz?"

Tag groaned. 

Leaning against the Buck Fizz table Frank calmly sipped her drink as she surveyed the room. Taggie fidgeted anxiously next to her. Maybe Taggie needed a cigarette. Though Frank doubted Tag would ever smoke. 

"Oh no Frank look." Tag quietly exclaimed, her eyes the size of saucers as she pointed across the lawn. 

Tony Baddingham was whispering in Beattie Johnson's ear. The journalist's hair seemingly getting larger and larger as she shook with rage. The woman stormed across the dance floor, her chunky clogs stomping their way to the refreshment table. 

Beattie slapped Rupert across the face with such a fury that a red imprint remained on his tan face. 

Paul Stratton ran towards Rupert like a bull with bad balance. Rupert avoided him, the overweight MP falling head first into the refreshment table. Frank thought it was quite ironic that Paul was so upset about his second wife's adulterous acts. That was how he met Sarah in the first place. Definitely the pot calling the kettle black type of scenario.

The chaos continued as Rupert walked away from the party, Paul Stratton scraping cake off his face as Sarah Stratton tried to repair her reputation by guiltily exclaiming that her and Rupert's rendezvous "was only tennis!" 

"We should go apologise." Tag began, the palm of her hand pulling Francesca's arm in the direction Rupert had walked off to. 

"For exposing the adulterous MP's adulterous second wife? I thought it was brilliant. Karma and all that." Frank tried, her feet dragging behind Tag as the redhead marched on across Tony's lawn. 

Guess there was no stoping Taggie now. 

Rupert was standing silently in Tony's driveway. His linen suit billowing against his lean body in the wind of Beattie Johnson's departure. She had driven off at a speed that would make an F1 driver proud. It was mildly impressive. 

Taggie stayed behind Frank, her sudden confidence fading in an instant. Frank stared at her friend in betrayal; it was obvious that Tag never actually meant to apologise to Rupert. Frank was going to be the one to apologise for the both of them. 

Bloody woman with her red waves and adorable freckles. She was impossible to deny. 

Frank walked a few steps closer towards Rupert. 

Rupert turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, a grin on his face. He expected to see the sweet redheaded daughter of Declan O'hara. He was instead greeted with the wild curls of Francesca Wellington. 

His grin disappeared. 

"We're sorry." She started gently, "We didn't mean to expose you like that in front of everyone." 

Rupert hadn't really cared. His nefarious tennis match with Sarah Stratton was bound to come to light one way or another. The gossip of Rutshire was relentlessly efficient. He had only been mildly inconvenienced by Beattie Johnson driving off in his car. He'd have to walk the kilometre home. 

"Yeah well," He started, his eyes fixated on the sheepish expression painted across the heiress's face. He thought back to how she ignored him when she won the olympic medal: her eyes more focused on the shiny gold piece of shit that was her medal instead of acknowledging him.  How she failed to acknowledge that she took his seat on the Olympic team. He thought of how she ignored him on the tennis court: her eyes more focused on his roses than his naked body.  He thought of how lucky she was, how she had everything he wanted but never would have again. He could have been nice: forgiven her with a charming grin and then maybe later he could have charmed her delicious dress right off of her body. He could have been nice. 

But she didn't deserve nice. 

"you just lost me my bloody car." 

Frank's face fell. A mixture of shock and fury igniting within her body.

What a prick. 

"You can fucking walk." 

She turned and stormed away, dragging an equally as shocked Taggie behind her. 

Rupert cracked a smile.  As much as he hated her he had to admit:

she looked mildly sexy furious.