#and I said yes to helping before finding out there’s an affair scene

[katara-stan-club]

helping film a heterosexual affair scene in pride month is acephobic actually lmao

#me #personal #I’m helping a friend with a movie shoot as audio stuff #and I said yes to helping before finding out there’s an affair scene #it didn’t get past the clothes getting a little askew but there was A Lot Of Implications and Innuendos #I was pretty uncomfy but like the scene is done!!! no more!!! #also it’s an indie project so it’s not scabbing during the writers strike or anything #I’ll be surprised if this movie makes money at all

[pinkflower2003]

I Remember It All Too Well

Fernando Alonso x ex!Reader

All Too Well Series Masterlist

Words: 1.8k

Send your submissions, requests, thoughts🍓

a/n: i think i’m gonna be making this into a series! where its then Fernando finding happiness in having family and everyone finding out and things like that! I think i’ll make a masterlist and do some SMAU’s for it!

The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the large windows of Y/N's penthouse apartment. She sat at the kitchen island, sipping her morning coffee and skimming through her emails. Her twins, Georgia and AJ, had just come back from their morning jog, their banter and sarcastic arguments filling the space with lively energy.

"Mum, have you thought about the invite from Red Bull?" Georgia asked, flopping down onto a barstool. Her auburn hair fell in waves over her shoulder. "They're offering VIP passes for the upcoming F1 race."

Y/N glanced at the email in question. As a well-known actress and philanthropist, she received countless invites to high-profile events. She had been avoiding the F1 scene for years, ever since her past relationship with Fernando Alonso had ended so abruptly. She still remembered the day he had walked out, leaving her with no way to tell him she was pregnant. Since then, her focus had been on raising her children and her career, steering clear of anything that might bring her face-to-face with him.

"I don't know, G," Y/N replied, trying to hide her reluctance. "We've got a lot going on with your brothers games and your school. Maybe it's not the best time."

"Come on, Mum," AJ interjected, his enthusiasm infectious. He was the spitting image of his father, down to the mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's F1! And it's not just any race, it's Monaco. How can we miss that?"

Georgia nudged her brother playfully. "Plus, you know how much AJ loves racing. It'll be fun, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

Y/N sighed, knowing she was outnumbered. Her children had inherited her stubbornness. "Alright, alright. We'll go. But remember, it's just for the weekend."

The twins cheered, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at their excitement. She just hoped the past wouldn't come crashing into the present.

The Monaco Grand Prix was a dazzling affair. The glitz and glamour of the event were almost overwhelming, with celebrities, royalty, and the world's elite milling about. Y/N arrived with Georgia and AJ, the latter practically vibrating with excitement. Red Bull had spared no expense, ensuring their VIP guests had the best seats and access to exclusive areas.

As they walked through the paddock, Y/N kept her sunglasses on, hoping to avoid recognition. The twins were too engrossed in their surroundings to notice her unease. They marveled at the sleek cars, the bustling teams, and the electric atmosphere.

"Mum, look!" AJ pointed towards the Aston Martin garage. "It's the Aston Martin car!"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her ex's team. She forced a smile. "Yes, that's right."

"Can we go closer?" Georgia asked, her curiosity piqued, trying to sneakily get closer to the expensive car.

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar voice cut through the crowd. "Y/N? Is that you?"

She turned to see Christian Horner, Red Bull's team principal, approaching with a welcoming smile. "Christian, hi," she greeted him, hoping to keep the conversation brief.

"It's great to see you here," he said, shaking her hand. "And who are these two?"

"These are my kids, Georgia and AJ," Y/N introduced them. "They're big F1 fans."

"Nice to meet you both," Christian said, shaking their hands. "Enjoying the race?"

"Absolutely!" AJ said, his eyes wide with excitement.

Christian smiled. "Fantastic. Make sure you get the full experience. If you need anything, just let me know."

As Christian walked away, Y/N took a deep breath. They had managed to avoid Fernando for now, but the paddock was only so big.

The race was exhilarating. AJ and Georgia were on the edge of their seats, cheering for their favorite drivers, wearing their F1 merch. Y/N couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement, despite her initial reservations. It was a world she had once been a part of, and the thrill of it all came rushing back.

After the race, the paddock was buzzing with activity. Georgia and AJ wanted to explore more, and Y/N, not wanting to dampen their spirits, agreed to let them wander while she stayed back, hoping to avoid any further encounters.

As she stood by the Red Bull hospitality area, sipping on a glass of water, she heard a voice she hadn't heard in years.

"Y/N."

She turned slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. There he was. Fernando Alonso. He looked almost the same, maybe a bit more mature, but still with that same intense gaze that had once captivated her.

"Fernando," she said, keeping her voice steady. "It's been a long time."

"It has," he replied, his eyes searching her face. "You look well."

"Thank you. So do you," she responded politely.

There was an awkward silence before Fernando spoke again. "I didn't know you'd be here. Are you still involved in the sport?"

"No, just here with my kids. They wanted to see a race," she said, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

"Kids?" Fernando seemed genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you had children. Are you married now?"

Y/N forced a smile. "No, not married, and yes, twins. Georgia and AJ."

Fernando looked like he was about to say something else when Georgia and AJ came bounding over, their excitement palpable.

"Mum, you have to see—" AJ's words trailed off as he noticed Fernando. "Oh shit. You're Fernando Alonso." Y/N slapped her son on the back of the head, scolding him for swearing.

Fernando smiled at the boy. "Yes, I am. And you must be AJ."

"How did you know?" AJ asked, wide-eyed.

Fernando glanced at Y/N, who avoided his gaze. "Your mother told me."

Georgia, ever perceptive, looked between her mother and Fernando, a knowing look in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Alonso."

"The pleasure is mine," Fernando said, his eyes lingering on Y/N. "I should get going. It was nice seeing you, Y/N."

"You too, Fernando," she replied, relieved as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Georgia turned to her mother. "Mom, was that really Fernando Alonso? How do you know him?"

Y/N sighed, knowing this conversation was inevitable. "It's a long story."

-

As Fernando walked away from Y/N and her children, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. The encounter had stirred memories and emotions he thought he had long buried. The vibrant eyes of the twins, so familiar yet so new, lingered in his mind. He made his way through the bustling paddock, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

Once he reached the relative quiet of the Aston Martin hospitality suite, Fernando sat down and pulled out his phone. He hesitated for a moment, then opened Instagram. He hadn't checked Y/N's profile in years, trying to keep the past firmly behind him. But now, curiosity and a sense of something more urgent pushed him to search for her name.

Y/N's profile appeared, filled with a mix of glamorous shots from her career and candid moments of her personal life. He scrolled through the images, his heart aching with each picture. There she was, smiling and happy, living a life that he had once imagined sharing with her.

Then he saw them. Georgia and AJ. From their earliest baby pictures to recent photos of them as teenagers. He clicked on a photo of the twins from a few years ago, their faces smeared with birthday cake, their smiles wide and joyful. Another photo showed them at a rugby match, AJ proudly holding a trophy while Georgia cheered beside him.

As he continued to scroll, he did the math in his head. The twins were seventeen. He counted back the years, realizing with a shock that they must have been born shortly after he and Y/N had ended their relationship. His mind raced, piecing together the timeline. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Fernando's breath caught as he clicked on a recent post. It was a picture of the twins, now almost adults, with a caption that read, "My heart and soul, Georgia and AJ, my greatest blessings."

He stared at the screen, the implications sinking in. Georgia's auburn hair, AJ's mischievous grin—traits he recognized all too well. A surge of emotions welled up within him: disbelief, confusion, and a growing sense of anger and betrayal. How had Y/N kept this from him? How had he not known?

Determined to get answers, Fernando stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. He had to speak to Y/N again. He had to know the truth. He made his way back through the paddock, his heart pounding with every step, hoping she was still there.

Spotting Y/N and the twins near the Red Bull hospitality area, he approached them, his expression a mix of hurt and determination.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice firmer than before.

She turned, surprised to see him again. "Fernando?"

He took a deep breath, glancing at Georgia and AJ before focusing on Y/N. "Can we talk?"

Y/N's eyes widened, understanding the seriousness of his tone. She nodded slowly, looking at her children. "Georgia, AJ, can you give us a moment?"

The twins exchanged a worried glance with AJ becoming slightly protective over his mum but nodded, stepping away to give them some privacy and going outside.

Fernando waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. "Are they mine?" His voice was a mix of hope and fear.

Y/N looked down, her expression pained. "Fernando, it's complicated."

"It's a simple question, Y/N," he insisted, his frustration evident. "Are they my children?"

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I can't tell you that, Fernando. I have to protect them. Their lives have been good and stable. I don't want to disrupt that."

Fernando's anger faltered at the sight of her tears. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "I understand your need to protect them, but I need to know. I want to be part of their lives. They don't need to know I'm their father, not yet. Just let me get to know them."

Y/N bit her lip, contemplating his request. "Fernando, I... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Please, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice softening. "Just give me a chance. I want to get to know them, to be there for them in any way I can. I missed out on 17 years."

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes searching his. She saw the sincerity and the pain in his gaze, and she knew he deserved a chance. "Okay," she said finally. "We can start slow. They don't need to know everything right now. But you can get to know them."

As they called Georgia and AJ back, Fernando felt a mix of apprehension and hope. This was only the beginning, but he was determined to make the most of it. He would get to know his children, one step at a time.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #imagine #fanfic

[leclsrc]

could i get a carlos imagine where you have commitment issues and he calms you down? as a girlie with commitment/trust issues i just wanna b repped in one of ur fics/drabbles :/// it's tuff out here brotha

bring you home — cs55

Moving in together gets difficult. Carlos is there to ease you along. title from this

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy this!!! i too am a commitment-afflicted girl ..... it truly is tough lol. but i hope u find the right person who helps u put ur anxieties to rest <3 insp by a scene from satc i saw on tiktok

It started with a duck. But the duck started with the box. And the box started with a toothbrush joke. And the toothbrush joke started with your old lady neighbor moving out. So really, it started with Mrs. McDonnell and her massive moving van rolling down the street and leaving the flat next door empty. Somehow that old hag had managed to irritate you long after she left, albeit through means not her own.

In terms of time, it started a month ago. In terms of people (sans the old bitch), it started with Carlos, as so many of your stories do. “Mrs. McDonald finally moved out today,” he’d said, hip against your stove, watching bits of garlic turn from pale to brown. From the living room you hummed affirmation and then laughed: “McDonnell.”

“Donald, Donnell, Dinero,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s moving in and out. Charles bought a new place in Monaco.”

“Well,” you shrugged, fixing the ridden-up hem of your tank top, “you could have an extra toothbrush in here, if that gets y’there.”

He laughed, pointing at you with the oil-hot rubber tip of the spatula. You two had been dating for over a year at that point, yet any suggestions of moving in together remained vague, cloudish ideas in both of your heads. For him it was impractical; for you it was a little scary.

But a toothbrush, which he always had at your flat and you at his, wasn’t moving in together. Neither was a drawer of clothes and knick-knacks. It was a symbol of your busy lives and the intermittent intersections far and few between.

Except they’d been becoming less intermittent and a lot more constant. He was almost always at your flat, the wide two-bedroom you’d decided was a good place to live with your income and the area. You had two parking spaces, a good rep with the board, and a coffee shop across the street—a place all your own.

A little plus was you had Carlos on some free days, like that day—that fateful day he turned back to the pan and said, with a smile: “I should move in.”

You froze. “You’re asking—you’re telling me or the garlic?” In fits of nerves, you could only blurt out bad jokes.

He laughed but it was a small exhale of breath. “I’m serious.” He turned to you, brown eyes big.

Your heart swelled with something between apprehension and absolute excitement, that finally you were going to take a step you felt like you’d been waiting to take forever. “You are?” You asked, so giddily you could hear your own smile.

The truth was, you had moved in with a boyfriend before, offered him a key and suggested the entire affair, bought fresh flowers and cooked eggs and made coffee and lived the bliss you only read about in romance novels. Months later you caught him fucking somebody else in your bedroom, and years later the memory fails to purge itself from your mind or your habits, plaguing every inner thought you have.

But this, you assure yourself, is Carlos.

“Dead seriou—uuooof!” Carlos barely got to the end of his sentence, with the way you barrelled into him, smiling into the blocky build of his chest and muttering a repetitive yes yes yes into the cotton of his tee. He held you there, pressing a kiss to your hair and promising he’d be in with his boxes as soon as time made way.

—

“Make way,” you yell into the tiny gap between your door and its frame.

“Hey, hi, hello,” your boyfriend sing-songs. “How are you?”

In the month you’d spent watching your boyfriend move into your flat, you’d also been subjected to your complete lack of personal space. Every time you entered, he’d be there talking his head off. Every time you came home at night, he’d be there. You felt suffocated. Scared, even if you couldn’t sleep at night without some part of you touching him. You’re simply a human with needs, and you needed space. You needed silence. Needed it. Absolutely needed it. You knew this because every time you opened your own door, it collided with a—

“Box.” You shove yourself through the gap and wedge the door closed, pointing an accusatory finger at the cardboard. “Another box by the door. Don’t make me burn those,” you mutter, fussing with your hair and toeing off your Blahniks. Across the foyer, Carlos is nailing something into the wall, noisy and incessant and you want to shrink into the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. Lo siento. I have so many stuff.”

“Yeah! You do. My flat’s only nay fucking big,” you respond, raising your pointer finger and thumb to exaggerate the size of your (in actuality, wide) living space. “Carlos, couldn’t you unpack some of these? Just some. It’s—you know, it’s piling up. And you know I hate mess.”

“I know, baby. I will as soon as I finish this up. I promise.”

You nod once, sighing and moving into the study to gather your laptop for work. You’re halfway into the room, eyes scanning your desk’s surface and finding your Mac laying flat atop it, unassuming next to a figurine of a wooden duck. You pause and blink. The wooden duck does not, its eyes painted wide and smooth and you definitely did not purchase this duck.

Somehow, this is the straw that breaks your back.

“What is this duck doing here?!” You yell, voice loud even from the study into the foyer. Carlos pulls off the goggles he’d been wearing to drill shit into your wall and smiles. A gift from me.

“A gif—I, I, I don’t like ducks.” You flail your arms around. “I just… hearing you talk or drill as soon as I come into my own home feels weird. For so long I’ve been alone and… and I’m supposed to hear silence and I—I’m scared that you’re going to figure out how scared I am and you’re going to leave me.”

He just stares, eyebrows knitted. You smother a hand over your face. You pause and breathe for a minute, then two.

“It’s just—I’ve only lived with someone three months, and that was ages ago, and before that it was my parents, so. I’m going to be really frank with you and I’m sorry if this sounds… but I’m gonna close the bedroom door and I don’t want you to talk to me for thirty minutes. I need space. And keep the duck first. I’m sorry. Is that selfish? Is that okay?” When he shakes his head and then nods, you deposit it into his arms and back up into your room.

His face, torn between concerned and endeared, softens into an understanding, patient smile. Okay, he mouths. I love you, you mouth back, and then you’re shutting it softly, leaning your forehead against the white wood and letting a long exhale leave your lips. You half-expected him to fight you back, to raise his voice, but it’s your own worst expectations weighing down on you all over again, born out of memories of your ex.

You stay like that for a while, and slowly with the quiet you realize—you find the duck cute.

You like the boxes because they remind you this is becoming a home. You like hearing him talk because it means you know he’s there. (The drilling will always be irritating, but he makes it better.) You don’t dislike anything he does, but you’re not totally lying either: you are scared. Scared of the commitment it’d take to make this a sure thing. The commitment you’d given before and the commitment that’d been betrayed.

But this is Carlos. This is Carlos, who’s understood every part of you, who’s given you time and patience even when you didn’t know how much you needed it. The Carlos who knows how you like your toast, who eats the yolk off your sunny-side eggs and gives you the white of his hard-boiled ones. The Carlos who said I love you first, surprising you into shock, and then took it back in embarrassment before you cut him off with a kiss. The Carlos who stays.

The air clears and you breathe easier. You open the door after five minutes. “You okay?”

He’s unpacking a box. He turns and smiles wryly, mimicking a zip motion across his lips. He shakes his head. No talking, remember?

You pout, smiling. “Sorry if I’m neurotic.”

You pad softly toward him and it’s easy, too easy for him to pick you up into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist, stay standing and hugging you. He’s quiet still, patient, warm. “I like hearing you talk. I like your boxes. I like that you’re mine and we’re here.” You inhale. “‘M just scared. And I don’t… want to be, but I am, and… it’s just me. I’m crazy.”

“Hey, Crazy. So am I. Take your time.” He hugs you tighter. “I’m not gonna leave you, even if you hated the duck.” I didn’t, you say quietly. It was cute. “I know it’s hard, baby. I know. You have to let me take care of you. You have me, okay? You have me.”

“And when you’re not here?” Fear slithers up and tries to tug at you but his arms are around you, secure and holding you there, so you don’t let it.

The thing with needs, really, is when they’re met—met in the best, most understanding way, especially…

He kisses your neck. “I’ll always be.”

…You find you no longer need them at all.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

[kabukipookie]

Hey I’d like to request nfsw Yae Miko and M!reader, haven’t seen many fics like this so the premise can be whatever you like :) Ty

Fulfilling a Fantasy∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°｡⁠☆

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ SUMMARY`)

Finding yourself at a creative stump, Cheif Editor Yae Miko was happy to help you explore the assigned genre ; Fantasy

ᝰ.ᐟ ⤵ cw + genre

Dom! Yae Miko x amab! reader

use of 'baby' & 'dear' , praise, begging(reader), fem dom (miko), cunnilingus, i did my best- please leave constructive criticism!

ᝰ.ᐟ ↪ wc ####

@kabukipookie × TMBLR original work

a/n at the end ♡ (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

INTERACT AT YOUR DISCRETION ❤️‍🔥

Being a freelancer in Inazuma before the Vision Hunting Decree was abolished was a bit harsh. The state of affairs had a severe effect on your creative inspiration.

Despite this, you had to pay bills. You had a due date to get a draft for a new book to the executive editor. Miss Yae Miko.

The prompt was also so very unclear. Just what did she want? She's never been so vague. Maybe the market isn't doing good.

Once establishing yourself as a writer, god did it have its ups and downs. . . But, worries quickly dissipated after being scouted as an exclusive writer; Your works would be carried by Yae Publishing House.

Meeting her for the first time was a scene. How did she know how to get under everybody's skin? She knew exactly what buttons to press.

You received a letter from the Publishing House, and later a meeting was set to discuss terms.

You had to hike up to meet Miko, the shrine maidens were a bit more than confused however; She never had people visit above.

The meeting went about as well as it could, you didn't know it was unusual for her to specifically invite someone up to the shrine.

Work was stable, a dream you never thought would be fulfilled.

Yes, the current affairs were an obstacle, more so was the fact the Chief Editor was being so unresponsive.

There was hardly any tension between you two. Y'know, ignoring how you couldn't hold eye contact for anything longer than a glance. Or how the tips of your ears burned whenever her soft fingers glazed yours when passing manuscripts back and forth. A smooth melody played; soft instrumental. Her lips echoed the tune, humming.

It's like this world was made for her, Miko was too perfect. Her presence was perfect, and the scenery around her... Arguably created purely to extenuate her lovely features.

It did feel a little intense when you walked to the Grand Narukami shrine. The day was breezy, pretty pink cherry petals danced in the sky.

From monthly, to weekly walks to visit your boss, the scenery was always so lovely. You couldn't get too mad at the envoy, you'd be enthusiastic about living at such a beautiful peak of Inazuma.

Knuckles clacked against the pristine door, and you hear shuffling before a familiar voice said "Come in."

Sly as a fox, brimming with mischief it felt like. Recently, she has been unusually preoccupied. Stress, probably.

You didn't however, know the days she was taking off and ignoring your mail, she spent fucking herself on her fingers.

It's never easy to be an executive editor, let alone the responsibility of the grand priestess... Once you spoke to a shrine maiden, they led you to Yae Miko's residence.

You enter the building, tote in hand. you spot Yae Miko with her knees folded on top of a tatami mat.

"Oh, Y/n. What could I assist you with ~ ?" She makes a gesture to come sit across from her.

"Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Chief Editor." Timidly, you take a seat and open up your bag.

"Of course not darling. It's my responsibility to help the Inazumians of today."

Straightening out the papers, the ones with an outline as well as some ideas you had jotted down.

You stifle a small grunt of amusement.

"Hm? Something funny, dear?" Her head tilts cutely to the side

"Miss editor, I'm a coworker. I do find it a bit funny how seriously you speak to me, but otherwise.." You trail, she looks more relaxed. The atmosphere felt very tranquil.

"--Its just I'm not quite sure what you mean when you told me to write a "Fantasy" Novel. . . I don't mean to be rude, but you know I only have experience with realism."

A nervous look was etched into your features.

You see a smirk at the tips of her pink lips, as she outstretches her arm to begin looking through the papers.

"Oh dear, I guess I should've been more descriptive? I apologize, I've just been so... Busy. Yes that's it "

Her smooth voice infiltrates your ear, diverting your attention to the plain floor. The sound of papers ruffling continues.

"I can try! Do you think you could help me brainstorm? I'm unsure of how to start something like this. I won't take too much of your time, Miss."

She places the papers to the side, fingers finding your shoulder, rubbing gently. Lifting your face to meet her eyes, there's something sultry in her touch.

"Of course, I'm more than happy to."

She leans forward, your cheeks flushed.

Face felt warm and you started to stutter.

"T-Thank You. So, where should we start?"

You contemplate for a minute, restraint quickly leaving just as your resistants did. Her eyes felt like they drilled holes into your being. She's practically stripping you naked in her mind.

"Your fantasies of course. Mind telling me a few? Just to get to know what you have going on inside that head of yours."

You blink. Huh?

"I'm not sure that... Uhh..."

"Y/n, don't be shy." Her hand moves to your neck, rubbing a circle with her thumb before as she continues.

"What comes out of your mouth today is prayers. Okay, Dear? As a maiden, I'll keep your secrets." Her lips find your neck, littering your collarbone with feathery open kisses.

She quickly pulls back and stares at you as if this was a usual meeting between you both.

Hopefully, you plead with the gods to let this become a common occurrence .

"So tell me." The way she said it was so obviously a demand, could you do anything but obey?

"Uh.. I don't have many fantasies. It's quite.. Err.. fulfilling to be a writer. Especially with an editor like yourself." You toss her a nervous smile.

"Quite the sweet talker, now..."

The way she looked at you, like she wanted to just..

Eat

You

Up.

Working with Yae Miko isn't easy, the way she's so cunning makes you feel almost insignificant. . . However, Now? It just made the tightness in your briefs feel so... Uncomfortable!

She finds her way on top of you, hips straddling yours, cunt pushed up against your member.

Your hands find her hips, pulling her closer and practically high off her scent. Peachy, sweet. Every part of her overloaded your senses, every bit of you felt so weak against her.

"This is okay right, Miko?" You look for confirmation before exposing her chest. She smiles, almost too innocent compared to how she was keening to your touch, panties were damp and god, you could feel it.

"Let me tell you something, Dear." Her tongue slid up the shell of your ear.

"My fantasy is you." Her voice was airy, you felt like you were dreaming. "Indulge me m'kay? I wanna hear you beg to touch me, can you do that for me?"

"Yes!- I mean, of course, Miko..."

You pull her in for a kiss, it was so kind. Too sweet for the way you wanted to be ruined by her. Too sweet, in contrast to your mouth being invaded by her sweet scent. The way she craved her pussy to be spread with your tongue, she needed you now.

"F-Fuck… Miko…" You feel her smile against your lips as she sways her hips.

"Please let me undress you." Eyes glimmered, gaze softened, "Who baby?" Yae slyly says.

Confused, you spit out the first word that came to mind.

"Mommy please.." God... Shame ran through your veins, the kind that also runs elsewhere. A chuckle reverberates through your ears.

"Hmph, You're too precious." She lifts herself from your lap, allowing you to slip her perfectly tailored kimono from her figure.

Touches burned, everywhere. It was like a stinging; without your touch. She needed to feel you, have you bow down to her. Begging her to let her walls squeeze you.

Her supple skin was in view, your lips latching around a nipple quickly.

Her hand grips your locks, tugging slightly while a 'tsk' comes out, alongside a small moan. You look up to her while you continue to suck on her tits like a baby.

"I want you between my thighs, okay Baby?"

"There you go.." Yae Miko coos, petting your head as you are between her knees. Her kimono was undone at the front, and hair cascaded over her shoulders. Your hand finds her inner thigh, face to face with her clothed cunt.

Sliding your finger to the band of her panties, you remove the garment. Her pussy was so pretty, walls fluttering around nothing while it gushed out sweet nectar you wish you could drown in. You flick your tongue out, licking her thigh before gently biting it. Your hands had a firm grip on her thigh and waist respectively. Soothing circles were being drawn on her tummy, thighs were being gently sucked on 'till they were bruised and pink.

"Ah! So good, Baby, mhm.." Yae Miko lets out a low groan, hand holding a fist full of your hair as a dark hickey begins to form on her pale smooth thigh.

"C'mon baby, taste me." It was a command, one that made you drool.

Taking a breath, you mumble.

"You taste so good…"

It comes out messy, like the way your tongue is preoccupied with stirring up her tight cunt. You felt slender fingers grasp at your scalp again, just harder. Demanding. You take that as a sign to push your whole muscle into her hole.

"Haahh~! Fuck. Yes-Yes..!"

"F-fuck… You're doing so well baby…You're so desperate. So n-needy."

Finding her clit with your fingers, you gently rub her clit while your tongue dips into her heat.

Licking up her slit, you spread her pretty lips and look into her eyes before diving back in like a starved dog.

"F-fuck-! Haah, that feels so good~!" she moans out, breath light and thighs twitching.

"I-I'm gonna cum... More..." She keens, laying her back on the floor as you go down on her, slurping up every drop of her slick. Increasing the pace on her clit, her back arches into your touch. Her ears are twitching, you feel a fluffy tail thump under your lover's thighs. Such a display, one to savor. If only you could engrave this in your memor-

Light thumps echo from the entrance.

Clack clack clack

You pull away from her core, looking at her face. You're messy with wetness, a tent obvious in your pants.

Visibly annoyed having an orgasm interrupted, she straightens her garments and mumbles "One minute..."

Glancing at you, she leans in for a last, wet sloppy kiss. Miko practically eats you whole, she tastes herself on your tongue. It was so... sloppy.

She grabs you, hand on your cheek after quickly tying her kimono.

"You did so good for me. Did I give you a bit of inspiration?" Her eyes bore into yours, other hand grasping your arm.

"Uhh- Y-Yes. Very much so" You adjust your arms, instinctively hiding your very warm face.

"Well then, I'll let you get started with a draft. Okay? I apparently have matters to attend to..." A wink graces her face, you watch as she slips out the door.

Sitting there, you guess it's only natural for an editor to help her precious writer in need!

hi!! this is my first real fic i guess.. feel free to flood my requests! im a slow writer and im unsure on how to end smut.

either way, thank you for reading. if there are any typos plz lemme know.

much love! - vibi

#yae miko x reader #yae miko x reader smut #male reader #reader insert #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #divider by benkeibear #°^° archive #kabukipookiedookie

[starshipsofstarlord]

Bing Bong Bing;

So I’ve seen a bunch of friends fics being written and I thought I’d give it a go so voila enjoy x

Summary - awaking in the middle of the night draws a fear to you, only for your best friend to find out your well kept secret

Pairing - Chandler Bing x Monica’s roommate!Reader

Warnings - dangerous use of frying pans, secret relationships

A racket reverberated from the kitchen, echoing through the hall and there was no doubt someone outside. You couldn’t help but walk out of your room which was next to Monica’s and plod through the living space through the dead of night, all to witness your roommate holding a frying pan suspiciously and Chandler cradling the crown of his head.

“What is going on here?” You groggily asked, screwing your eyebrows up at the situation, not knowing all too well how to intake the scene given the fact that you were still half asleep and wishing to god that all things remained sealed by any lips present. “Don’t tell me you hit Chandler with the pan Mon!”

“No I’m just holding my head for an entirely different reason and Monica hit somebody else on the head with it.” Monica had her arms crossed as she looked between the pair of you, her senses picking up on evidence of panic that was slowly growing from you as you awoke to an understanding state.

“Anything you wanna tell me y/n?” She asked, tucking her weapon of choice behind her elbow as she quirked a brow at you and crossed her arms. You could only imagine how her cooks responded to her but you weren’t ready to give in so easily, she’d have to cook you a little longer.

“I mean if it were Joey at least he wouldn’t be able to lose any more brain cells.” You offered with a sly smile, earning a eye roll from the younger Geller sibling. Chandler huffed, asking if anybody was going to fetch him something to ice his injury with before he walked to the freezer himself.

“About why Chandler was sneaking in at this time y/n? Got any ideas on that?” You bit your bottom lip for a second as you thought before the perfect excuse rang through your brain that hadn’t been rattled by a metal utensil or at least yet. You’d have to remember to leave your key at home if you went over to Chandler and Joeys otherwise you’d be caught red handed all again.

“Um I reckon he snuck in to steal food like he always does.” You shrugged causing Monica to silently turn to your male friend in question to see if that was really the reason.

“I’ve stolen food now to ice the lump that is gonna expand from my scalp.” He gestured to the bag of peas that he was holding to his head. “But yes I came here to get food because I love food, food is beautiful and I never want to spend a second away from food. I can’t sleep without food beside me because I worry about food and if I were in the same apartment as food I’d do the same thing to protect food if someone was trying to break in as Monica just did!” He exasperated breathing heavy from the metaphorical rant that he had just spoken.

“Food loves you too Chan.” You spoke, understanding all that he was putting across and as you had said that a weight was lifted from his very chest. “And food is sorry that Monica hit you with the frying pan.”

“Something tells me we’re not talking about food. I’m a chef and even I’m not this attached to it, I get it. You love him you love her, and you didn’t want anyone to know about this little affair behind closed doors, not even me…”

“Mon come on, it’s not like I didn’t want you to know, your my best friend of course I wanted you to. But-“

“Enjoy your food, I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She put the frying pan on the side and walked to her room leaving you and Chandler alone after the two of you had confessed your love for each other.

“Maybe next time I’ll get a takeaway at my place.” He suggested causing you to laugh as he walked closed and as he did so you grabbed the bag of peas and held them in place for him. “You know she’ll forgive you she’s just mad you didn’t tell her, all with pass and you’ll be as tight as magnets again.”

“Or as close as that frying pan was on your head.”

#chandler bing x reader #chandler x reader #friends x reader #friends imagine #friends fic #chandler Bing fic

[ladysophiebeckett]

I read you think Freddy knew about Armando and Betty or at least suspected something weird was going on (Wilson most likely too). At Inesita’s house, it was obvious that something was happening to Armando and it had to do with Betty, but the night at the bar the day she returned to Ecomoda, do you think Freddy suspected that Armando had feelings for Betty? We, as the audience, know that everything Freddy said about having a loved one looking more beautiful than ever and picturing them with someone else at that very moment was painful, which voiced out loud exactly what Armando was thinking judging by his reactions, but do you think Freddy picked up on that?

El Cuartel should have discussed this piece of gossip with Freddy because they notice Betty is being really cold with Armando and know they definitely had a falling out, but Freddy knows for a fact that Armando supports her presidency and admires her a lot, and also gets really defensive about her (well they all know that because they saw how upset he became with the dude that wanted to dance with Betty who wouldn’t take no for an answer). Anyways, I just can’t believe they didn’t suspect anything sooner. I guess this is one of the most unbelievable parts tbh or how about when Armando went insane trying to contact Betty when they told him she was gonna quit and yet they still didn’t think his feelings were genuine? Even after they found out he broke up with Marcela for good, didn’t do anything with Alejandra, not even Inesita, of all people, dared to think he was jealous for real? (She does pick up on this later when she sees his desperation, but not before he had a breakdown and destroyed Mario’s office). I’ve seen people say Armando and Mario share one brain cell, but also El Cuartel sometimes 😂

I can't take credit for the Freddy knowing addition, one of my mutuals added that and i had to go back the episode to confirm. And also super agree(!!). If Freddy suspected it at Inesita's house, then the scene in bar the night of Betty's return confirms it. let me get the caps:

like why is freddy saying 'y, usted?' for? he knows that something happened between them but freddy is discrete. (like, everyone at ecomoda knows about armando's infidelities towards marcela, why wouldn't Freddy, who takes care of armando's car, has access to armando's apartment and probably took care of that dog that disappeared---why wouldn't he know about betty and armando?). he's the closest employee to armando that's not betty.

going back to the bar convo--yes i think Freddy picked up on it, lol.

el curatel was never gonna discuss that with freddy bc, well they didnt know he had important information, but also bc he was only sometimes an honorary member. they themselves wouldn't have discussed this with freddy bc they would say its not his business. (son cosas de mujeres). cuartel loves gossip but they're hit and miss with their investigations. they never suspected be The Quiet One to be having an affair with her boss (this aside from the fact that Betty is 'ugly' (we know she isn't but thats how they perceive her).

Bertha is actually the closest person in el cuartel to finding out about the affair. She literally saw them leave the exhibit together and Armando shut her down quick from saying anything to Marcela. So it's very convenient that she gets sent away bc of her pregnancy right when everything at la junta directiva is coming to light. convenient also that her return to ecomoda is also the day that betty returns to ecomoda. the one person that could have pieced part of it together while armando was on a binge and betty was away, was also missing in action.

Regarding when not believing Armando and not telling him where Betty is--I think part of it is that they know what he did and that doesn't exactly give them incentive to help him (on top of Betty giving instructions not to tell him). At least that's how Aura Maria feels about it, bc she's the one who doesn't waver and also the last one to support Armando at the end (I mean the eps of the arrival of Michel).

They're not completely dumb bc whenever Betty is sad or upset, they notice it but they never know the reason why bc Betty wont tell them. Tho they're heart is often times in the right place, they're very nosey and get caught very easily. That's why Betty doesn't tell them everything. (probably why Freddy doesnt either).

#ysblf #anon #ask #bertha is often in very important scenes #we need her to get the plan going #and also the day betty reads the letter and shes crying in the bathroom #they're all like 'whats wrong?' #and bertha herself says 'don armando must have done something to her' #she was right on the money #she's a chismosa but she was never wrong

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

I Am Looking Disrespectfully, Sir

Summary: This is a ficlet that goes in the secondary series that I started as a complement to the main A Herrmann/Halstead Production series. (That series is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.)

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Connor Rhodes/Will Halstead

Warnings: Language and super awkward flirting...

A/N: This is Connor's POV for the break room scene from Chapter Three of Wingman? Wingwoman? Wingperson.

I Am Looking Disrespectfully, Sir

Connor

There was something going on with Will today. He was…twitchy. And blushing way more than usual, not that Connor was complaining about that at all.

He and Will were headed toward something. That was a fact. Connor was holding firm on not crossing any lines though until Will gave him a clear signal to move forward. Given everything the man had been through and was processing, he wanted to be respectful of his boundaries.

But damn, if he didn’t want to see how far that blush went down.

Connor let mind wander in that scenario, just a little bit, when the day finally calmed down long enough for him to slip away to the lounge for a coffee.

The lounge coffee was disgusting, but he doubted he’d make it out to the cart across the street before being called back to the ED so needs must.

Will arrived shortly after and Connor smiled at him from his spot at the counter as he fixed his drink. “Hey, crazy day, eh?”

“Always is,” Will sighed as he grabbed a bottle of water. He stared down at it like it had caused him some kind of personal grievance.

Glancing over at him, Connor raised an eyebrow and Will reached for his wrist with his free hand in an aborted gesture before grimacing slightly.

“You okay?” Connor asked, getting flashbacks to a similar interaction earlier in the day. Something was happening with Will and Connor couldn't stamp out the feeling that it might have something to do with him.

“Yeah.” Will rubbed at his arm and the grimace deepened, a determined line creasing his brow. He strode over to his cubby and pulled out his white lab coat. “Air conditioning’s getting to me a bit.”

“Won’t you get overheated in that?” Connor asked, watching as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. The air conditioning was good, but it wasn’t that good. Especially down in the ED where it was crowded and the outside air blew in with the constantly opening doors.

Will shrugged. “I can always do this,” he said, grabbing one sleeve and folding it back a couple of times.

He shot Connor a little sideways look and—

Hunh.

Yes.

Something was…definitely happening here.

Okay, Dr. Halstead. You have my attention.

Connor took a sip of his coffee to hide his smile, watching as Will slowly—oh, so slowly—pushed the sleeve up over his elbow.

The man did have a nice forearm.

Will’s sudden grin had him itching to drag him out of that coat entirely, but Connor also couldn’t help wanting to see where this went.

Setting down his water, Will went to start in on the other sleeve when the sly look on his face dropped away, bent arm frozen in the air in front of him.

“Hang on,” he grumbled, fumbling with the fabric and trying to pull it back down and—

Oh, he was stuck.

Sexy Moves Halstead was stuck in his coat and it was the most adorable fucking thing Connor had ever seen. He didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that slipped out.

“Hang on, let me help,” Connor said as he set his coffee down and stepped into Will’s space to gently tug the bunched-up fabric over his elbow and down his arm.

Connor kept his touch light, well aware of the way they were dancing all over Will’s carefully drawn lines at the moment, and looked up when he was done. “All fixed.”

He hadn’t let go of Will’s arm yet. Didn’t want to. Not when he could feel the muscles flexing beneath his fingertips.

Will stared back at him and then—

Then.

That motherfucker bit his lip, ever so gently before letting it go.

Connor’s eyes zeroed in on the move and firmly reminded himself that he could not make out with Will in the lounge.

“Go out with me,” Will blurted out and it took Connor a moment to process the words

“What?” He blinked in surprise, taking a small step back. Did he just?

“Would you, Connor,” Will said, deliberating over every syllable. “Like to go out on a date with me?”

Something was happening.

The best thing.

Finally.

“I would love that.” Connor’s cheeks ached at how wide his grin was stretching them. “How about tonight?”

Will lost his bravado for a moment and looked stunned, like he hadn’t expected Connor to jump right on his offer. As if Connor would be stupid enough to hesitate. “Tonight sounds perfect,” Will said, biting his friggin’ lip again into another little smile.

Connor was only so strong. He moved in closer, invading Will’s space. “I could pick you up in my fancy car.”

“Ah, no,” Will laughed, poking at him. “The asker gets to do the picking up.”

Connor shrugged, unfazed. “Fine by me,” he said, not one to let an opportunity to pass him by. “I’ll pick you up for our second date.” 

Will’s eyebrows flew up. “Second date? Feeling pretty confident about there, are we?”

More like thrilled to actually be taking the steps Connor had been fantasizing about for ages. If Will was finally giving him the greenlight, of course Connor was going to start locking him down.

Second date. Third date. All the dates.

“Let’s just say—” Connor was practically pressing Will against the counter at this point and sincerely hoped no one would come in to ruin this moment. “I’ve thought a lot about getting you in my car.”

Will’s eyes widened and Connor figured he was imagining exactly what had been going through his own mind over the past few months, but then he let out a strangled noise. “Oh, ah, haha…”

He might have blown over those lines a little too quickly, he realized. “Too much?” Connor took a careful step back, giving Will some room.

“No?” Will said, voice pitched about an octave higher than normal. “Maybe?”

The doubt that had been seeping into Connor’s brain started to dissipate as Will straightened up and reached out to stop him from retreating completely.

“It sounded a little too good,” he confessed, taking a deep breath. “I had my fill of fast and fun in New York. I never really had anything that lasted and you know all about the reasons behind that.”

He did and Connor found himself once again wanting to track down Pat Halstead and punch him in the face. He leaned against the counter instead, keeping his face open as he listened to Will talk.

“I want to take things slow here with you,” Will said. “Because this is important to me. You’re important to me. I want…whatever it is we’re starting here to last.”

This man…

This man was going to kill Connor and he’d never been happier about anything in his life.

“Me too,” Connor said, reaching out to squeeze Will’s hand and press the truth of his words into the motion.

“Good,” Will said before shaking his head. “Still going to be thinking about you and that damn car for the rest of the day though so thanks for that.”

Any lingering tension Connor felt instantly melted away at those words. He released Will’s hand and shot him a shit-eating grin. “Good.” He shouldn’t be the only one plagued by those visions.

And now they were one step closer to someday making them a reality.

Connor headed for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Pick me up at seven.”

“I’ll be there,” Will replied in a voice full of promise.

It took all of Connor’s will power not to do a victory dance the second he was out of the room, but the ED floor was quite possibly an even worse place to do that.

Maggie looked over at him with a knowing smile. “About damn time,” she said.

He let his grin speak for him because she wasn’t wrong. It was about damn time, but also—

It was exactly the right time.

A date.

With Will.

Best day ever.

A horrible thought hit him right then.

…he was never going to be able to look at a lab coat the same way again.

Click here to read I Am Looking Disrespectfully, Sir on ao3:

#A Herrmann/Halstead Production #chicago med #chicago fire #chicago pd #one chicago #one chicago fanfiction #Not Fics and Ficlets and Fun Bits #ficlet #will halstead #connor rhodes #rhodestead #awkward flirting #fluff

[spookyspecterino]

The Slaughter of a Lamb

Chapter Six: Surrounded by Diesels

Tangerine x F! Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

SFW; Fighting, mentions of death, injury, drugging, slow burn, language.

With their available sources of information dwindling, Lemon and Tangerine don't have many people left that they can turn to. So, they schedule a lunch with an unlikely ally.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the gap between updates! I'm moving into a new apartment due to some life stuff and it's turning into a nightmare. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I will try to post the next one soon! Love you all!

----------

It really was a complicated affair trying to tell the head of a criminal family that one of her most important lieutenants was found dead, and in the boss’s own car no less. Lemon did his best to comfort Mother Vati’s assistant while Tangerine went and found someone—anyone that could help them. And while he found someone, that person soon had to go find someone else, because they surely had no clue how to handle the situation.

That continued on for about 30 minutes, all while the priest was leading prayers and giving sermons about the importance of life. By the time other high-ranking members were pulled away to the scene of Piestra’s body, the funeral was almost over. The general consensus was to let it finish before anyone spoke a word to Mother Vati. What wasn’t said aloud, was that no one wanted to be the one to inform her.

Tangerine wished nothing more than to leave, but with 10 or so people standing around him he got the impression that neither he nor Lemon were going anywhere anytime soon.

When Mother Vati was finally informed, she was there within seconds and the throng of people around Tangerine and Lemon parted for her. She marched up to her car to assess the situation, barked a few orders to remove Piestra’s body and to search the grounds for evidence. By the time she called the twins over, she was standing with her hands on her hips, staring at the ground with a barely contained anger. Being near her reminded Tangerine of the electricity in the air right before a nasty storm.

“How is it…,” she spoke slowly, as if she were addressing children, “that not only do you two manage to let Fox get away each time, but also fail to catch her before she kills someone?” Her eyes flicker toward Tangerine’s necklace, and they almost bulge out of their sockets. Seething, she hisses, “You even got your little necklace back, how interesting.”

Lemon moves like he’s about to defend his brother, but Tangerine puts a hand on his chest with a stern face. There really wasn’t an excuse for how poorly they’ve been doing. It’s embarrassing really.

Mother Vati continues on, gesturing wildly. “I am not pleased that I have to be dealing with this in the middle of my Lamb’s funeral. I put you in a position to do your jobs—you fail. I give you space, like you asked—and you still fail!” She throws her arms up. “Did I hire professionals?”

It was hard to meet her eyes, but Tangerine forced himself to hold them as he spoke. “Yes, you did. We’re doing everything we can.”

She points a finger at them, lips pressing together in a thin line. “You’re very lucky that I don’t have many other options. Or I would have you spending the rest of your careers searching for work in chat rooms on the dark web!”

To Tangerine, the woman before them is very different than the woman accepting condolences next to her daughter’s casket, and leagues different than the woman the twins had originally seen in the online meeting. It was like entirely different people. She may have been the best example for the type of person Lemon would label as a Diesel.

Mother Vati straightened to her full height, squaring her shoulders. “You are walking on very thin ice, gentlemen. I do not want to see you or hear from you unless you have made significant progress. Do not let her get away again or there will be consequences.” Without another word, she spun around and marched back toward the procession, a long line of people shuffled behind her.

Lemon mumbled under his breath. “Hm, that could have gone better…”

The ride back to their flat was silent. Each brother caught up in their own thoughts about the day. Mother Vati’s scolding lecture was insulting, but expected. And, quite frankly, they deserved it. Poor marks all around and they knew they could do better—their shoddy performance made them feel like young armatures again.

But that wasn’t what lingered for Tangerine. He felt more affected than he would like to admit from seeing Piestra’s body in the back seat. The idea of Fox being there, right under their noses—perhaps even watching them, made his stomach twist in a sort of giddy excitement. Which made entirely no sense to him.

And his necklace, left precisely where he would find it; in their own car… no big display or fight, nothing. It was almost as if she didn’t want that to be a part of Piestra’s murder. A small thing, just for him to see. It was as intentional as placing Piestra’s body in Mother Vati’s car for her to find. But, for the life of him, Tangerine couldn’t see the act as a taunt. He saw it more as a surrender, an apology. Keeping the necklace would make it a prize; giving it up was an admittance of some kind. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

He looks up at the sky, deep in thought, to see the faint outline of the moon. And he’s suddenly struck with the idea that Fox is out there, somewhere, looking up and seeing the same thing.

The city falls into a lull as the evening rush dies out and everyone settles down to relax from the day; many decide on what they want to eat, or make plans to go out. All things considered, it’s a beautiful evening. It’s almost a shame when they drive into the private parking garage for their apartment complex. The abrupt change from gentle evening light to stark florescent bulbs puts a bad taste in Tangerine’s mouth as his thoughts are interrupted and he can no longer see the moon.

As they exit and walk inside the building and through the lobby, Lemon notices his brother’s gloomy expression and slumped shoulders, he speaks up in an attempt to get them refocused. “What should we do now?”

Tangerine’s jaw flexes a few times, considering their options carefully. “Now that Piestra is—” He stops, and lowers his voice as they pass by a cleaning lady, she puts bottles of chemicals away on her cart. “Now that Piestra isn’t around anymore… I’m not sure we can trust anyone else from the Family.”

The button for the elevator clicks as Lemon pushes it. Silver doors at the back of the lobby slide open with a ding. Once they close, Lemon resumes the conversation. “Not Tim and Tom?”

“I suppose their trustworthy, but how much do they know?”

“Fair point.”

. . .

“Try calling again.”

“She’s not going to answer just because we keep calling her, mate.”

Tangerine rubs his forehead, lines deepening as he frowns harder. His breakfast sits untouched on the kitchen counter beside him. “Is it because we haven’t paid her yet?”

Lemon shook his head. “We’ve run up worse tabs. If I know Momo, she’d answer just to lecture us about it.”

“You’re right. Bollocks, this isn’t good.”

Lemon pushes his bacon around the plate as he stares down at his phone. “You think somethings happened?”

“I don’t know.” Tangerine pauses, pushing the plate away; appetite lost. “We’ll have to find another source of information.”

Both men are quiet as they considered their options. Lemon made a face and glanced at his brother.

“What? You’ve got a look, what is it?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Spit it out Lemon.”

“I know of a particular source, sort-of on the inside, that could help us out. He’s even saved one of our lives.”

“No. You know how much I hate him.”

Lemon leaned on the counter, leveling himself with Tangerine. “We don’t have to do anything more than invite him to have lunch, ask him a few questions, and that’s it.” He brushes his hands together as if they’ve already completed the task. “Then we can go our merry ways.”

When Tangerine’s expression remains sulking, Lemon straightens. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“…I don’t, no.”

“Well then, I’ll give him a call and we can meet for lunch.”

. . .

The little pub they met in was small and out of the way, much like Lemon’s favorite place to eat, except it served hard liquor any time after 12pm. It was your typical sports pub, TVs above the bar showed different matches and highlights from the past week, all muted, and casting blues and greens into the surrounding dimly lit space.

One TV, in the very corner, showed a press conference with the city’s mayor. The cycling text at the bottom read: “Generous donation pushes city council to completely demolish re-development area”. Reading the scrolling text made both men glower; Tangerine scoffed so hard that the bartender looked up from the glass she was cleaning. He took the opportunity to wave her down and order something.

Whiskey was right on time, arriving to the bar dressed casually in a black leather jacket and jeans. His arm had recovered from the fight with Fox, there wasn’t even a sling or anything indicating that he was once hurt. Striding in, he flashed the bartender a bright white smile as he made his way to the twin’s table.

Tangerine grumbled into his pitcher as he caught sight of the man. He’d made an agreement that Lemon would do most of the talking, since this was his blasted idea. The plan was to ask him about his history with the Family and see how involved he really was in this job. Lemon, in particular, wanted to ask some digging questions and see how the man reacted.

Sitting across from the twins, Whiskey flashed them the same bright smile that he gave the waitress. “Fellas.”

Lemon greeted the man with a polite smile that Tangerine did not share. “Your arm looks to be doing much better.”

Whiskey looked down at it with a roll of his shoulder. “It was only dislocated. A day later and I was up and ‘attem again.”

A few seconds later and the bar tender was coming over to take his drink order. After she had gone, Whiskey gave them a curious look; Tangerine wasn’t sure if it was real or not. “You know I don’t think I caught your names the last time we met.”

Lemon gave him a pleasant smile and pointed to himself. “I’m Lemon, this is my brother…”

“Tangerine.”

Whiskey leaned forward a little, a light smile played on his lips. “Those your real names?”

The eyes of both brothers narrowed on instinct, but Lemon was faster to quip back, “Is Whiskey your real name?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, the look in his eyes changed to something unreadable. Before the air became tense, he leaned back with a laugh. “Fair enough.” He folded his hands on the table. “So, what’s our little date about?”

Scooting forward, Lemon glanced at his brother before starting. “We have some questions for you.”

Whiskey gives a knowing smile—just bordering on a smirk, lips twitching upward. “What kind of questions?”

“General things, for curiosity’s sake. We’d also like to know about Fox, and what Mother Vati is currently up to.”

Whiskey’s eyes draw a slow line over the brothers, looking smug. “She cut you off huh? No more special treatment…Well, you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.” Tangerine opened his mouth to challenge him, the man’s words may not have seemed it, but they implied a threat. A hand raised to cut him off as Whiskey chuckled. “I’m only jokin’. Ask away, boys.”

Tangerine simmers. Whiskey’s smile could drive him to smash his head through a brick wall. Lemon, on the other hand doesn’t seem to mind a bit. “Have you worked with Mother Vati before?”

“Yes and no. Just a few odd jobs here and there, stuff that the lower ranks didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t necessarily say Mother Vati knew about them.” He gave Lemon and Tangerine a wink. “But that can be our little secret.”

Lemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he picked up from his last question without hesitation. “You said you were from the next city over, how often do you make the trip here?”

Whiskey’s eyes wander around the room as he thinks. “Pretty often, I’d say.”

“Why?”

“The big city has more work opportunities; you know what I mean?”

“No work for you in your own city? The Locke Family is there, they must give out opportunities.”

There’s a glint in Whiskey’s eyes. “You obviously don’t know Garrett Lanton at all. The man won’t hire anyone that doesn’t match his particular style.”

“What does that mean—his ‘style’?”

“Flashy, self-assured, and good at fighting and killing.”

Tangerine smiled thinly. “That pretty much fits you to a T, doesn’t it? And you were damn close to getting Fox without a problem, even when she had a gun.”

The mention of Fox’s weapon acts as a reminder of the cool metal that’s currently pressed into his back, tucked in his belt. It threatens to distract him with thoughts and memories of her.

Laughing, Whiskey spoke casually. “Heard that Fox is a terrible shot and I took the gamble. And when it comes to fighting,” he grinned, “I’m just better. Assume whatever you want, but the fact that I’m here and not with Lanton pretty much speaks for itself, don’t ya think?”

Lemon taps the table with a finger—thinking, and is about to ask something when the bar tender comes over with Whiskey’s drink. He takes a few sips and holds the pitcher in his hands.

Taking advantage of the break in conversation, Tangerine leans forward and asks his own question. “You ever see Fox before you took this job?”

The man’s eyes seem to light up as he looks at Tangerine. “Few times, but we never had any official business together.”

The way Whiskey said ‘official’ sounded like there was a hidden meaning in the word—implied history, and it pissed Tangerine off. He decided to keep prying. “Ever have a conversation with her?”

“Once or twice. Nothing too in depth. She was always busy, no time to chat. Which is honestly a shame, she’s real prett—”

Lemon cleared his throat to cut him off, he could see the small vein on the side of Tangerine’s head starting to pulse. “Let’s talk about Lamb. You said you were doing the job for her, what’s your reason?”

Whiskey took a long sip, eyes never leaving Tangerine. When he set it down he leaned back and crossed his legs; he looked completely comfortable, even with a testy contract killer less than two feet away from him. “This is starting to feel like an interrogation and not like a fun little lunch date.”

“Nobody said it was going to be fun, mate.” Tangerine grumbled, fingers tracing along the glass of his drink.

“Well, I have to ask—what do I get for all this info?” Before Lemon or Tangerine could answer he held up a finger. “Oh, I know. I get to ask you some questions. That sounds like a fair trade.” His smile was laced with something unreadable, something challenging.

Tangerine was going to say no, but Lemon agreed with the caveat that they don’t know a whole lot. That was good enough for Whiskey whose eyes lit up once again. He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. “My first question is, why are you two still on this job?”

Lemon answered instinctually, “Money.” But Tangerine kept silent, sipping his drink and letting his brother speak for him.

Whiskey nodded as if he understood while he studied Tangerine closely with a glint in his eye. “Why’s Fox got a crush on you?”

Tangerine sputtered on his drink. Wiping his mustache with a hand he fixed the man with a scorching look. “Beg your fucking pardon?”

That got a laugh out of Whiskey. “Relax, I’m only trying to figure out why she’s been letting you live this long.”

“You came in and stopped her from killing me, mate.”

“Sure, but she could have finished the job at Lamb’s funeral. She didn’t.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Heard about Piestra’s death from a few different folks. Lotta people at that funeral, yet nobody saw Fox at all.” His eyes glanced to Tangerine’s necklace. “She chose to leave you be. Curious isn’t it?”

Tangerine decided to sip on his drink and let Lemon answer for him. “We’re not sure what her motivations are. We thought she’d be too injured to do anything, but she proved us wrong.” He echoed the words of Hagnam with a distant voice. “She’s always five steps ahead.”

“Think she’s following you?”

“Don’t see how she could be, everyone in the city is looking for her.”

Tangerine chimed in gruffly, “And, we’d spot her—we’ve been doing this kind of work for years. We can tell when we’re being followed.”

Whiskey nodded, expression turning contemplative as he fell silent.

Sitting forward, Lemon repeated his question from earlier. “What’s your motivation behind bidding on the contract?”

“That poor little girl. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Who was she to you?”

“No one, but it’s a sad story don’t you think? I often wonder, is there a ‘Mr. Vati’?”

Tangerine huffed dryly. “Didn’t get the impression she needed one.”

“Oh of course, of course. I just think it’s all very interesting.”

Lemon took a deep breath; he was getting the distinct feeling that Whiskey was toying with them now. “What is?”

“How she keeps having all these kids.”

Tangerine opens his mouth to answer that the woman can have children with whoever she wants, but the phrasing makes him pause. “What do you mean?”

“She had another kid, ‘bout 4 ½ years ago. Same name, but it was a little boy. Never did find out what happened to that one. Everybody just…swept it under the rug.”

Lemon’s answer was carefully weighted. “If you know something, say it and spare us the games, mate.”

“Hey, we’re on the same team here. That’s all I know—I’m not in the Vati Family, I don’t get access to all the little gossip circles.” His lips were curling up ever so slightly.

Now he was starting to piss Lemon off, fingers tightening around his drink. “What is it with this city being full of nothing but Diesels…”

Whiskey sat forward as if he didn’t hear him properly. “S’cuse me?”

“Nothing. What is Mother Vati having you do now? Are there any leads on Fox?”

Whiskey shakes his head. “She’s elusive, disappears into thin air. Mother Vati doesn’t want anything from me unless it’s concrete, and I haven’t seen hide nor tail of Fox since that morning on the roof.”

He sits forward like he’s about to ask something, but Lemon is moving to stand. Tangerine is surprised at the abrupt ending, but wastes no time in rising with his brother.

Lemon throws down some money onto the table. “Alright, mate. We appreciate you meeting with us. Don’t worry about your drink, we’ve got it. Enjoy your day.”

The smirk on Whiskey’s face sours only for a fraction of a second before it turns carefully neutral and he leans back to raise his glass to the brothers. “Much appreciated. See ya ‘round.”

The twins don’t offer a response as they leave, pushing open the door and walking into the bright sunlight. Lemon’s foul mood matched Tangerine’s as he sped down the sidewalk, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That was a mistake. Bastard was leading us in circles and smirking the entire time. Fuck me, what a Diesel.”

Tangerine brought out his cigarettes, snapping open the golden case. Lighting one with the clink of his lighter he spoke through pinched lips. “You think he was telling us the truth about anything?”

“No clue. Do me a favor, when we get in the car try giving Momo a ring one more time. If she doesn’t answer we’ll swing by her shop.”

. . .

This time she answered on the very last ring, her voice was raspy and haggard sounding. “Boys! I’ve been meaning to call you! A lot has happened!”

Tangerine was about to ask what was wrong—she sounded quite frantic, but she spoke so fast there was no room to get a word in. “Listen, my shop has been broken into. I wasn’t there when it happened and I’m fine, but the ruffians trashed the place. It was a warning, nothing was taken. Now I—”

Lemon was shouting in an attempt to interrupt her, hands tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “Momo! Momo, who did this?! Point us in a direction and we’ll kill ‘em for you!”

Momo’s voice crackled through the phone’s speaker. “No, no! That’s too much fuss over little ol’ me. It was the Vati Family—no doubt about it. It’s just what I get for being careless with an insider source—not that I had any idea she would go and get herself killed.”

Tangerine shot Lemon a look and mouthed ‘Piestra?’. Lemon raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Momo, unaware, continued on. “What you could do, is forward some money my way. I want to be drinking margaritas on the beach while the city sorts itself out.”

“Of course Momo, I’ll transfer you everything as soon as we hang up. Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Sure am, but do me a favor and don’t go anywhere near my shop. I don’t want to be worrying over you while I’m on my paid vacation.” She practically cackles the last part then pauses. “Actually, why don’t you boys come with me? We can all wash our hands of this mess.”

Tangerine can see Lemon glance at him in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t return the look. Speaking for both of them, “Thanks Momo, but I think we’re in a little too deep to be stepping out now.”

Clicking her tongue, she’s obviously disappointed. “How many times do I have to tell you that money isn’t everything.” She gives a huff and Tangerine can imagine her shaking her head at him. “Alright, just watch out for one another. The beehives’ been kicked. And do an old gal a favor—when this is all over, let me know that you’re both ok.”

“Sure thing, Momo. Enjoy the beach.”

“Stay safe you two. Tangerine, watch out for your brother!” There was a beep and she was gone.

Silence filled the car as they neared the parking garage for their apartment. Tangerine wasted no time in sending Momo the money they owed, with a little extra for her shop. Without her around, both brothers felt more vulnerable.

Lemon broke the heavy silence first. “Why didn’t you agree to go with her? We could have left this mess behind.”

Tangerine figured this was coming and he had a response already thought out, he just wasn’t sure if it was the truth. “Like I said, bruv. We’re in too deep. You really think Mother Vati is going to let us walk away from this after everything? If she wanted us gone she would have sent us away ages ago, or worse.”

“Not so sure about that.”

“We could leave, but I don’t fancy watching my back every second while on a beach. Plus, if they came after us, we’d be putting Momo at risk and she’s already been through enough.”

That seemed to hit home for Lemon as he bristled. “Can’t believe those fuckers broke into her shop. All for trading info with Piestra.”

“The Mob takes their personal affairs very seriously. Momo’s not an idiot, she understood the risks of working with someone deep inside the organization. Let’s just be thankful that she wasn’t there when it happened.”

“I swear, they’re going to pay for this.”

As they parked the car and entered their building Tangerine changed the subject. “So, Mother Vati had another kid with the same name. Have any clue as to why?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet. Using the same name over again, that’s got to mean something, right?”

“Definitely. I’m thinking, that when we get to the flat I’m going to do some research into the tourist business here in our city. Maybe I can find a few leads. At the very least we could go and scope out the areas and see if Fox is prowling around.”

As they got into the elevator Lemon groaned. “I hate the tourist district. They take too many pictures and then turn around to complain. ‘The city smells’ or ‘the smog is too thick’, well why’d you choose this fucking city as your vacation spot, you tosser.”

Lemon continues his rambling complaints as they go down the hallway, passing by another cleaning lady who was facing away from them and bent over her cart of supplies. Tangerine eyed her, thinking they must have hired someone new, because this one was taller than the other and, usually, she would have been done cleaning this floor by now.

But the thought was whisked away as they entered into their apartment. Tangerine tossed the keys onto the counter and moved to take off his suit jacket, hanging it neatly in the side closet by the door. Lemon mumbled something about going to the loo and disappeared around the corner.

A few moments later there was a knock on the door. Frowning, Tangerine paused, they don’t usually get visitors. Looking through the peep hole in the door, he saw the cleaning lady outside, facing her cart and shuffling things around.

Tangerine was in the middle of rolling his eyes as he opened the door, sounding quite irritated to be disturbed. “Thank you, but we don’t need cleaning services. And while you’re at it, please take our flat off your list—”

When she turned toward him, she gripped something slim and sharp in her hands. The glint of a needle caught Tangerine’s attention. His head darts up and meets the eyes he’s been seeing in his dreams every night looking back at him.

Fox’s hand whips toward his neck and he’s just fast enough to catch her arm, halting her before a needle makes contact with his neck. She presses forward, pushing him back through the door and into the entryway. He slams into a wall with a grunt. Her eyes flash to meet his as her breathing becomes labored. It must have taken all of her body weight and strength to move him. Tangerine shoves her away, creating some distance, and shouts Lemon’s name as he reaches for the gun in his belt.

Lunging for him again, Fox stops him from pulling out the gun and pins his hand down. She isn’t that strong and Tangerine fights back. He elbows her ribs, hoping it was the same side as her injury, and finds he was right as she sucks in a harsh breath. Fox tries to retreat, but he flips her around and pins her against the wall with his body. Her hand holding the syringe comes up and he grabs it. In a last attempt effort, she tries to knee him in the groin, but he twists and blocks with his thigh. He can tell she’s quickly losing steam, beads of sweat dot her forehead and neck.

Tangerine forgoes trying to pull out his gun as he closes his fist around her throat. She looks back at him with gritted teeth and he can’t help but smirk; he’s not even winded. Taking a moment, he looks over her, she’s not even trying to struggle anymore. There’s a blooming patch of red on her side.

He tuts, edges of his mustache curling. “I’d hate for you to bloody up the walls, but if you think I’m going to go easy on a feisty little thing such as yourself...well, I’m not making that mistake again.”

Fox’s face twists into one of those grins and she makes a few strangled noises that Tangerine can only guess are attempts at laughter.

His eyes find the syringe in her hand, he raises an eyebrow at her. “Hm, and what were you going to do with that, love?”

Something flashes through her eyes and she makes a choking noise as if she wants to say something. This causes Tangerine to move in a little, hot breath fanning across her face as he teases. “Sorry, what was that? You’ll have to speak up.”

There’s a commotion down the hall as Lemon rushes out into the living room to take in the scene. “Holy shit! You alright Tangerine?”

He laughs as he sees Fox blink at him. “Yeah, Lemon. Just fine. Little minx tried to—”

Tangerine was cut off as she successfully kneed him in the groin and he doubled over in pain. Moving as fast as she could, Fox swings the syringe forward and the needle sinks into the base of his neck, right above his collar bone, with a solid thunk.

Lemon shouts as Tangerine stumbles back, hitting the opposite wall, clutching at the syringe and pulling it out. He makes an attempt to grab at something and right himself, but whatever was in his system was dragging him down and making his limbs too heavy to move as he slid to the floor.

Fox whirls around and starts throwing whatever she can reach at Lemon as one hand clutches her side. Vases, pots, pans, anything they left out on the counter from earlier that day. She picks up an iron cast skillet and rushes toward him, but Lemon pulls his gun before she gets close. Glancing at Tangerine he shouts at Fox to stop, and she does, backing away from the gun now pointed at her.

They’re both breathing hard. A few feet away, behind Fox, Tangerine’s eyes are wide as the drugs slowly take effect. He blinks furiously and looks around trying to keep his bearings.

“Stop! Stop right there or I’ll blow your fucking kneecaps out!” Lemon shouts, both hands holding his gun. “What’d you do to my brother?!”

Fox speaks slowly and calmly. “It’s just a sedative.”

After another glance at Tangerine, and judging that she’s telling the truth, Lemon’s mouth works from side to side. “Before I shoot you—don’t worry, it won’t be fatal—I want you to look at something for me.”

He ruffles through his pockets with one hand. Fox shifts her body weight to the other foot. She looks as if she’s going to try and shuffle closer before Lemon brings out the slightly crumpled photo of Lamb. Fox’s expression softens. The hard look in her eyes disappears, turning into something close to adoration—even her stance relaxes.

Lemon watches with a sort of fascination as he asks, “Why’d you kill her?”

Her eyes dart to his and then away, lips thinning into a line as she takes a step back like she’s retreating. Next to her feet, Tangerine sprawls and kicks at her weakly with a numb foot; he’s quickly losing feeling in his limbs. Fox doesn’t even acknowledge it.

Lemon holds out the photograph, pushing it closer, and asks again. “A little girl—an absolute angel, why’d you do it?”

But it seemed that Fox wasn’t going to talk as her eyes darted around the room, ignoring him and looking for an advantage. She gripped the skillet with white knuckles. Lemon changed tactics. “And what about Piestra? Not hours before her death, she called you her friend!”

This time Fox flinched at the mention of her old captain. Her words came out seething as she worked to control herself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Taking a step forward, Lemon set his jaw. “Piestra told us all about you, Fox. You took her in under your wing, made her into something formidable, just to turn around and kill her. And Lamb? You were close to her too, right? Watched her for Mother Vati—protected her. Did you kill her previous kid too, from 4 ½ years ago?”

Fox, for the first time, looked as if she was suddenly unsure, startled and shaken. Her voice rose with a sudden anger. “How do you know about that? Who told you about that?!”

 Lemon took another step closer. “So, it’s true then, you’re a ruthless child killer.” He shakes his head at her. “How do you fucking sleep at night?”

After studying him for a moment, Fox’s face suddenly twists into a sneer. Lemon thought it looked odd, not quite right. Her voice came out with a force behind it. “Yeah, I killed them. And you know what else,” she raised her chin, “if I had my way, I would’ve killed your brother on that roof.”

That really set Lemon off and he tossed Lamb’s photo onto the counter to hold his gun properly, taking another couple of steps forward. Fox grinned, confidence returning as she sensed a nerve had been struck. “What would you have done when you found him? Cry—wail for Victoria to help you? I’d love to see your face when all she did was laugh.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her grin widened. “It would haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

Lemon was within two paces of her now and he made an attempt to grab at the skillet or push it out of the way as Fox held it up between her and the gun. She inched it to the side, just out of his reach and took a half step back. As Lemon followed, and tried to grab at it again, she pressed into the wall.

She had pressed herself back into the light switch and flicked the lights on and off in a rapid fashion. Lemon’s attention went up for a split second and Fox swung the skillet into the gun, knocking it out of his hand. Flicking the lights off and leaving them in the dark, Fox swung again and Lemon felt iron connect to his temple just before everything went black. There was a slump as his body hit the floor.

Fox flipped the lights back on. Tangerine, who was seeing double and struggling to stay conscious, saw Lemon on the floor and he tried to choke out a few words. That was the only thing he could do as his body shut down; he felt cold—like he was slipping into an ice bath.

Walking over and pulling Tangerine forward, Fox grabbed the gun from his belt. When she saw it was hers, she glanced at him and smiled faintly. He watched as she went up to Lemon and pointed the barrel at him.

Cold panic, colder than he currently felt, set in—buzzing through him. Tangerine’s nostrils flared and he really had to fight as he grunted, attempting to howl and thrash. The world tilted and he felt a wave of nausea. The only thing that moved were his legs, and only for a few spasming, jerking motions, but it was enough to grab Fox’s attention. She looked at him curiously, head tilting to the side as she watched him fight against the drugs with everything he had. Keeping her eyes on him, she slowly lowered the gun and placed it on their coffee table.

Slumping over with a huff and breathing hard, the corners of Tangerine’s vision was going black, creeping in, leaving only a shrinking window of sight. The last thing he saw before falling unconscious was Fox pick up Lamb’s photo and tuck it into her pocket.

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#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine imagine #bullet train 2022 #lemon and tangerine #bullet train movie

[navree]

Actually I think Female Daemon might set up a scenario, where she is seemingly Damsel in Distress and it’s a ruse to lure Criston into her web/claws.

I think one thing to remember, at least if we're referring to the ask I got about how a female Daemon might be characterized, is that a Daemon who had been born a woman would have a very different way of going about the world than out Daemon. A female Daemon would come from a place of privilege, yes, being a Targaryen princess and sibling to the King, but nowhere near the same privilege as we see Rhaenyra have. Rhaenyra is the king's eldest and for the longest time only child (and his clear favorite at the expense of all his other kids I'm not mad who said I'm mad), as well as an official heir and claimant to the Throne, while Daemon wouldn't be, nor would have ever been considered as such. So while Rhaenyra can afford to flout some rules and is a more playful, free spirited person, like we see in her seduction of Criston in episode 4, Daemon wouldn't be, because that's not how she would be socialized at this point. It'd be much more calculated, and much more understated, given that Daemon's bombastic tendencies come from his sense of superiority of being Viserys's natural heir.

Another thing to focus on his motive. Rhaenyra goes for Criston because she's young and finds him physically attractive and wants to have some fun, and again, has been socialized to expect a life where she can do what she wants due to her unique status as Viserys's heir, as well as Targaryen exceptionalism (and this socialization is a huge part of episode 4, it's specifically brought up by Alicent in their first scene together), and she likes him personally so she chooses him. Criston and Daemon wouldn't have that same history, or that same emotional drive from the woman's perspective, as Daemon wouldn't have been afforded any special treatment (and would also likely still be in an unhappy marriage). If we're meant to take the characterization at face value, then Daemon's meant to be a shrewd operator, and if put in a position where that was the main thing to rely on, then the primary drive behind a lot of actions would be a very simple "what's in it for me? how does this help me?" mentality. Daemon might definitely try to manipulate Criston, but likely more to gauge what kind of person he is and how he views her, before ultimately deciding if there's any kind of benefit to trying to pursue anything, especially with the added risks of this being a woman pursuing an extramarital affair, in patriarchal Westeros, while not offered the same protection Rhaenyra gets due to her father's favoritism.

#personal #answered #anonymous #trying to theorize on what daemon would have been like if he'd been a female character instead of a male one #is an incredibly interesting thought exercise and i thank you guys for it

[effrvsnt107]

absolutely yes to your answer!

alec definitely had some sort of hero complex going on with claire, he was her rescuer, knight in shining armour. also obviously alec doesn't see this (i don't remember him doing so) but claire flipping the table like the hulk was a dead giveaway. another thing that struck me was how claire switched so fast (brilliantly acted) from the helpless scared damsel to  a very spiteful and mean person whenever things didn't go her way as also another glaringly red flag. it's not surprising how when we see the truth of sandbrook and find out one death was uninentional, but the youngest was. orchestrated by claire and it's sickening the way she lulled pippa into a false sense of security and manipulated her, preying on her feelings and pretending to care - sound familiar? i also don't think it's a coincidence that the girl claire and lee killed was the youngest and the same child hardy pulled out of the water. the child who made him think of his own.  another scene i always think about as an example of claire doing that switching thing was when they were at the house and she suddenly started talking fast and waspishly at alec telling him to leave and she didn't need his help, and the camera kind of cascades up and down his body close to her face and she is raising her hands like she's gonna touch him but never does. it's so...layers i say! i feel like hardy never directly answers the "did you sleep with claire" line because the answer is that he might as well have. he's crossed every other boundary. it's crazy because when i first watched, i did not trust clarie and knew she was lying when she claimed lee drugged her. speaking of lee, lee comes across the hard man but when his vulnerability slips out i felt upon rewatching that he was trying to communicate to hardy that claire was not as innocent as she looked.

tess hardy is quite the character and i wish they didn't cut the bit where hardy is with her by the water - the affair is clearly well underway because you would have thought she was his colleague in that scene.

Sorry for the late response! I agree entirely with everything you said, and with some snippers of the Broadchurch season 2 novel (a collection of short stories), I can give you screenshots to back up everything you said. I was planning go like in depth but these snippets just sum up anything i could have said.

The story for Alec I’m lifting is set the day before Danny’s murder and Ellie coming back.

Here is a little paragraph detailing the saviour complex

That feeling of being her “self appointed protector” as they put it absolutely did a number on him. Not only that, but he wanted to be (kind of) her captor, because while he phrases as wanting to do nice things for her, he and Claire both know it’s so he can have an extra slither of control over her to find out more about Sandbrook.

When I was reading this, I was thinking that if you change the characters to anyone else, this would look like a textbook example of financial abusive. I bring this up because last time you said about the allegations Claire made about being assaulted by him, and that while Ellie doesn’t believe he would ever do anything like that, she wants to take it seriously. And this makes me think no wonder. I would say he is justified in doing this, after all she is manipulating him and did kill a child knowingly, I also just want to put this here and see what you make of it.

Onto Claire and her manipulation!

“Never the same woman twice” is what really got me. It’s very evident she can switch on a dime and she is doing everything in her power to manipulate Alec. She is basically trying everything and seeing what makes him tick and what makes him fall into her demands. Also the line about “long been mystified by females” took me out and that has nothing to do with Claire at all.

Ah, the classic, baby yourself so that Hardy sees you as younger and vulnerable so he won’t get mad. He references this later in the story but I can’t find the exact quote right now.

To be honest, this is making me even more confused about the stance of their relationship. Like while I am very on the side ‘Alec didn’t fuck Claire’ why was the line “How long has it been since a woman looked after him like this? How long has it been since a woman touched him?” If not to confuse me on the stance.

The fact that is going through his mind. For the first time in a long time, he is the vulnerable one here. He is the one being looked after and this makes him uncomfortable because she shouldn’t.

Honestly though, Eve Myles was so brilliant in conveying Claire and her switch’s.

Also, your thoughts about Tess, absolutely. Through another short story, like you said, the affair was well underway. In fact, her and Dave were shagging in the back of his car in the middle of the search for Pippa and her cousin. The same day Alec pulled Pippa out of the water. The story also mentioned how she felt felt contempt towards him for not being able to see the fact she was having an affair or that she was growing distant.

Cutting out that scene was just tragic because it was so good and could have showed so much of both her contempt and her distance but also his tunnel vision because he just didn’t notice. I wish they gave us a couple more scenes with Tess honestly, because even with seeing him all pathetic and wanting her back, I didn’t know why. There’s a deleted scene where he calls her “love” which gives it anyway, but I want more scenes of them together! I want to see why they worked in the first place!

Something I really just want to point out as well (but what we touched on last time) was him underestimating women. He never thought that Tess would be affected by his absence (although the cheating and subsequent loss of Sandbrook wasn’t in any way his fault), he never thought Claire was capable of murder (he did think she was hiding something though) and he didn’t think Ellie was good at her job, saying “If she wasn’t good enough, that’s her problem.”

Each time he was proved wrong.

Alec Hardy could only ever be a man.

When you finish season 2 let me know because I want to hear your thoughts when you do!

#this is lowkey long #sorry if this didn’t explain a lot and just flung quotes but book! novel! it shows you are right #🍎

[raggaraddy]

your writing is amazing 🥺

could i ask for a yoongi version of the reader being shot because of them? your other ones are so good!!!

Family affairs

@dramaclub-thin

A/N: Thank you, sweetheart! I'm glad you're enjoying the series. This one has a bit of OT7 and I hope you like it too. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Jimin

Taehyung

Jungkook

Summary: You'd tried so hard to hide your relationship with Yoongi from your father. You knew when he found you were dating someone from a rival club that he'd kill you. You just didn't think it would be literal.

Trigger warnings: Violence, Filicide, Blood, gun usage.

Yoongi

Mafia! Yoongi

Mafia! BTS

"Yes Daddy," you poke your head through the door to his office with a little knock. Normally you would never bother your father while he was working, but one of your brothers came to your room to let you know he was calling for you.

"Ah, Darling. Yes, have a seat." He stands up from his desk, gesturing to the chair ahead of him. "I need your advice on something."

For a moment you get a flutter in your stomach. He never asks you for anything. Your his pretty princess on a pedestal. And he never involves you in anything that a woman wouldn't have been responsible for in the 1950s.

"Of course," you smile, shifting comfortably.

"I know you're tech-savvy, so maybe you can explain this to me. I had some photos printed, but I think there must be something wrong with the camera. Have a look,"

Reaching into his desk drawer as he speaks he pulls out a stack of A4 photos. As he lays them out your eyes jump straight back up at him. Checking for his reaction, a sharp pang of absolute fear hitting you. They're pictures of you and Yoongi, his arm around you when you were coming out of the Bangtan clubhouse.

"I know the camera has to be faulty, because that" he tapes your image, "looks like you. And I know my one and only daughter wouldn't be socializing with those Bulletproof scum."

"Daddy, I-I," you stutter with no idea what to say.

You thought you were so clever, so careful that there was no way he'd ever find out. Even when Yoongi would worry about you possibly being caught you would shrug it off. Your love was invincible and meant to be, and you were smart. No chance your family would ever know you're with Yoongi, and no way his family would ever know you were from a rival gang. As far as they knew, you were just Y/n Brown, the hairdresser from one district over.

But clearly, you weren't careful or clever enough.

Your stark silence is loud enough for your father and he nods a sombre confirmation. "How long Y/n?" He questions.

"Daddy, I don't-"

"How long?!" He's quick to anger, making you jump.

"A few months," you lie, your eyes dropping to your lap. Telling him it's been closer to 18 months is only going to enrage him further.

Slumping back into his office chair he lets out a heavy sigh.

"You think you raise your kids right. To know loyalty and family." He derides looking at you fiercely. "But then you find out your own daughter will open her legs for any cretin. In complete disregard of everything she should know."

You knew it would be awful if he ever found out, you know he is a terrifying dangerous man, but hearing your father's derogatory comments are harder to take than you ever expected.

"What did you tell them?" He sits forward. His demeanour, his expression going from disappointed father to cold mafioso.

Your mouth going dry, you swallow hard. Shaking your head softly. "Nothing."

"Bullshit!" He yells. "You expect me to believe they just let the daughter of Bastille get all cosy with one of the 7 without you giving up something."

This is so bad. You knew your parents, your brothers, the entire Bastille would disown you for this, but they'll actually kill you if they think you've sold them out.

"No. I didn't tell them anything. None of them knows who I am. Only Yoongi knows. And I didn't tell him shit. You know I wouldn't." You defend yourself trying to reign in your distress.

"Well, there's a lot of things I wouldn't think a daughter of mine could do." His voice is so detached. He's stopped looking at you. This is so so bad.

"Dad. I didn't say anything." You restate, fighting to convince him. Feeling like you're trying to prove the case for your own life. "I know the rules. Don't talk to anyone. Not cops. Not friends or enemies." You repeat the words that had been drilled in your entire childhood. You knew nothing, you saw nothing. Those are the rules.

"I don't believe you." He says bitterly.

Your hands are trembling, you're panting heavily. You know being with a rival club member is a stupid thing, but the clubs are in a truce.  And despite your father's opinion, you would never be so stupid as to actually say anything. And Yoongi would never let you, even if you decided to. You did one thing wrong, but you made sure you did everything else right.

Leaning back, he opens his phone book. Searching for a number.

"Dad," You plead for his attention. Raising the phone to his ear he shushes you, placing a finger over his mouth.

You have no idea what to do. You've seen him decimate people for so much less than what he's accusing you of. You don't know how to prove your innocence.

The call answers and you can hear a distant 'hello'.  Putting the phone on speaker he puts the receiver down.

"Warren L/n here. I believe I have something of yours," he says.

"What are you talking about?" You inhale a staggered breath, hearing the familiar gruff voice of Kim Namjoon.

Your dad's plan was simple. If you were telling the truth about Bangtan not knowing who you were, their leader would be confused and concerned that you were with the leader of Bastille. But if they knew who you were, this would be a much more straightforward issue. Namjoon would understand right away why he was calling.

And if you were lying about one thing, he could assume you were lying about more.

"Say hello Y/n." Your dad prompts, his look daring you to refuse.

"Hi," You squeak, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Your own safety aside, Namjoon was going to kill Yoongi.

There's a brief pause. The background noise on Namjoon's side disappearing. "Kidnapping women? I didn't realise you were handling that personally now."

"Who said kidnap?" he leads the conversation.

"Then maybe you want to explain what one of our girls is doing with you?" Namjoon growls, sounding protective.

That was enough confirmation for your father. The leader didn't know what was going on. But he was about to.

On Namjoons side of the line, he was pacing back and forth in a closed meeting room at the entrance of the clubhouse. Your father was revealing the secret that you and Yoongi had fought so hard to keep.

The phone call ending, Namjoon was in a rage. Marching across the bar he stormed at the table with other members around it. His maddened expression drawing Yoongi's attention. But the older member didn't have any reason to think this fury was directed at him and so he doesn't react quick enough as Namjoon punches him in the face, knocking him from his chair.

The other boys instantly becoming alert, Jungkook jumps to Namjoons side holding his arm out in front of him, looking ready to intervene. Jimin standing between the floored Yoongi and the enraged leader.

"Hyung, what the hell ar-" Jimin snaps.

"You fucking idiot! Bastille's daughter?!" he roars trying to push through Jimin. Jungkook stepping in to help keep him at bay.

Climbing back to his feet, nursing a split lip, Yoongi's eyes go wide. Completely caught off guard by Namjoon's revelation. "How did you-" he gapes.

"Everything she's seen, everything she knows! Do you have any idea how much you've exposed this club?" He lunges again, bowling the mediating members out of the way. Diving through Yoongi, the two men trade blows as they scuffle on the floor.

The scene quickly gets out of hand, and as Yoongi throws Namjoon through a table, Jin and Hoseok come from a backroom to step in also. The four of them now working to pry the two battling men apart. Jimin and Hoseok holding back Yoongi. The oldest and youngest members trying to keep Namjoon at bay.

"Enough!" Jin scolds with a firm shove to Namjoon's chest. "Someone explain what the hell is going on!"

"Just Suga thinking with his dick, instead of his brain." Namjoon spits.

Shirking off the boys, Yoongi barges forward infuriated by the provocative comment. War breaking out again with a solid hit at Namjoon, a gash opening over his eye. Another difficult struggle beginning for the members, grappling and clawing them apart. Having to fully restrain them to have them stop. Being held as they bleed.

Grabbing both of them by the collar, Jin demands their focus. "The next man who throws a punch leaves here with a bullet in his leg!" He growls. "Am I clear?!" His fist tightens, stiffening their necklines.

"Yes,"

"Yes, Hyung."

The two of them conceded, their energy dropping as their eldest releases them. "Good. Now sit down so we can talk this shit out."

It takes several minutes and a round of drinks, but the room calms down enough for the members to sit down. They send the few 2nd levels out and the 95's girlfriends. The bar remaining with only the 7 original members. Taehyung coming back just as the disclosure began.

Namjoon starts, passing along the information your father had given him. The 6 of them all sharing disappointed, worried or angry glances towards Yoongi.

"She wouldn't have said anything." Yoongi insists, after explaining his side also. Trying to defend his decision. To defend you.

"You can't know that," Jimin argues, flumping back in his seat. Taking a sip with a pissed-off scowl on his face.

"Yeah, we've all been pussy blinded before. You're not thinking clearly." Jungkook snips.

"Maknae-" Yoongi warns. Getting tired of the disrespect that keeps getting thrown his way.

"Hey, watch it." Jin interrupts, correcting Jungkook's blunt attitude. The youngest shrugging, downing the last of his drink.

"Look, if she was giving information to L/n, then why would he call to tell you that he knows." Yoongi disputes. Hoping to bring reason back into the debate.

"He wants to trade. The latest shipment of horse for Y/n." Namjoon answers with a frustrated scoff and a roll of his eyes.

"That's close to 500 K. That's not happening," Hoseok jumps in. The rest of them firmly nodding in agreement.

"Okay, but if that's the case. If he's trying to sell her off, that means she's not working with him. Right?" Taehyung backs Yoongi's point.

"Idiot," Jimin shoves his friend, "It could be a part of the plan. A way to rip us off for half a million."

"Or it could be a set-up," Namjoon adds. "Let's say Hyung's right, and she isn't working with her old man. If we're willing to sit down, if we try to buy her back, it confirms that she knows enough that we're concerned about it."

"I'm telling you, she doesn't know anything. She didn't want to know anything. And even if she did, she's not gonna give it up." Again Yoongi vehemently defends you.

"Well if she doesn't give him anything then L/n kills her." Namjoon finalizes. "To hurt the club, and as retribution for her betrayal."

"What I don't understand is why you would let her go back? If you trust her and you know how ruthless Bastille is, why would you let her keep going back to him?" Jin asks, genuinely baffled.

Standing up Yoongi can't take anymore. He's furious. He's upset. At himself most of all. Feeling to blame for allowing you to be in this situation, he leaves in anger. Needing some time to himself to think.

"I don't know, she seemed pretty cool," Taehyung mutters, leaning into Namjoon. "You don't really think he would kill his own daughter, right?"

It's been 2 days and you've been locked in an empty storage shed at the edge of the property like a captive. Your father turned your world upside down looking for information. His people went through your computer, your phone, your car, your room. Everything that was yours he and his men had raided. And just like you said, there was nothing there. No information about Bastille, and nothing about Bangtan.

"Suga. I'm guessing that's Min Yoongi? Unless you're cheating on him." Your dad muses holding up your phone. That is so humiliating. So many nudes and dirty texts are in that chat. There may not be revealing information, but there was still plenty of personal stuff.

"You know Darling, I don't like to admit when I am wrong, but it looks like you were telling the truth. I can't find any proof that you gave up any family details." He smiles softly, your heart lifting with relief for a moment. "But then I was looking through your camera roll and, in the pictures where you actually have clothes on, it's just full of Bangtan." He comes further into the empty shed, leaning on the wall alongside you. Showing you the screen as he scrolls through. The only entrance being blocked by one of his more grizzly looking men. "See here, there's you and a bunch of them at a restaurant. There's you and the leader. You and the crazy one. Here's a family-style photo, isn't that nice."

He keeps scrolling through shot after shot, exhibiting an entire album full of Bangtan family pictures.

"I'm sure you never expected anyone else to see these. I guess I should have been teaching you not to put the same password for multiple devices." He scoffs. "But the interesting thing, when I'm going through these photos you seem to be really close with all of them. Some of these even go back to last year. Which makes the timeline you gave me a little off."

He shows the details of one of the pictures to you, the time stamp from when you had already been with Yoongi for 6 months.

"This one is from May 2nd. Last year. On the 10th those bastards stole one of my shipping containers. With nearly 100 grand worth of merchandise. Did you know about that?"

"You mean people." You sneer, his characterization of human trafficking as 'merchandise' making your skin crawl.

"So you did know." He smiles coldly.

"I found out- I knew after," you justify. Even as you continue to defend yourself, you have a sick feeling that it's all for nothing.

"I'm really curious what else you know." He hums, walking around the front of you to get back into your eye line.

"I don't know anything," you tell him for the 1000th time with an exasperated shake of your head. Moving away to the far side of the shed.

"Darling, I'm your father and I'm telling you we need to reconcile this. Your mother is worried sick. I'm here losing sleep over this. I'm giving you a chance to repay all the damage you've done. A chance to forget all this. You tell me everything you know about Bangtan, and just like that," he snaps his fingers, "you get to return to your comfortable life."

You don't trust his change in tone or his promises for a minute. You may not have known the darkest parts of who he is, but that's how you can be sure that his offer to forgive and forget is rubbish. Not even the father in him would let you forget a mistake. Especially one this major, not with the way he is reacting. And he's so much more brutal when it comes to Bastille.

"And if I don't?"

"Then you've betrayed your family. And we'll find out what we want to know in other ways." he taps the back of his hand in the other, symbolizing a beat down.

You shake your head hard. You might love your dad. But you don't like him. You've known for most of your life that he was a bad guy. And Yoongi, Bangtan, they might not be the good guys, but they've been the family you've always wanted. There is no way you were telling him even the most insignificant detail.

"Hit me all you want dad, I still don't know anything." You snarl.

"I could never hit my own daughter." He taps his heart, a feigned pained expression on his face. Nodding his head in your direction, he trades places with his man who advances on you.

Breathing hard you step back only to hit the wall.

The tall, square-built man swings. The back of his hand slapping your cheek, the force so strong that it smacks you into the corner sidewall. His hand, like a vice, grabs ahold of your head and mightily slams it into the steel beam running down the sheet metal wall. Pushing your hands against his chest, you weakly attempt to fend him off, but he ends your efforts with another solid wack against the frame.

As blood streams down your head, his focus switches. The majority of his attacks landing on your torso.

With you curled up on the floor, wheezing and gasping for breath, the assault finally stops. But not out of mercy. Even through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the outburst of gunfire in the distance.

Both your dad and his man rush out, leaving you locked away. While it's for an equally terrifying reason, you're thankful to have this time to catch your breath. Although every laborious intake brings agony.

After some time, light floods back into the room, your father standing in the doorway outlined by the setting sun. "I'm sorry Darling. If I had to do this, I hoped it would be a bit more ceremonious. But we don't have the time for that now."

You gasp at him raising his gun at you. He shoots three times. One in your chest, one in your shoulder and one in your stomach.

The shock, the impact takes the breath from you. And you can't draw it back in. Your eyes glassing over, your head filled with nothing but white noise. Feeling a fleeting moment of relief as everything goes quiet and dark.

"Fuck. No!" Yoongi howls. He, Jin and two 2nd ranks had chased after your father as he fled.

Bangtan's siege on his property was highly successful till that point, and he had run downhill to the storage garage. Looking to make a getaway.

The other's continue after him as Yoongi stumbles into you. His steely outer shell crumbling away the moment he sees your body limp and bleeding out.

Falling beside you he leans over shaking and in tears. Kissing your lips gently with heartfelt pleas "I'm sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this. Please."

Jin doubles back, watching distraught from the entrance as his brother falls apart.

Lifting your head up, Yoongi brings your forehead to his. The movement making you splutter blood. The first sign of life that either of the men had seen.

"Holy fuck, she's alive." Jin gawks, jumping in beside Yoongi pressing on the hole in your stomach. The bullet in your shoulder and chest had both hit bone, stopping the slug from going through, blocking the wounds from severe blood loss. The bullet in your torso shot through your bowls and thankfully not through your vital organs. Meaning your chances of survival were much higher. It was either 3 highly unlucky shots or three precisely placed ones.

"I'm so sorry Y/n." Yoongi's in shock. Devastated and guilt-ridden, and unable to make himself function.

"Dude, get your shit together or she's not gonna make it." Jin smacks the side of his brothers head, snapping him out of his grief-stricken daze.

"Can you save her?" He asks rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Not a chance. But I can keep her alive for a minute until we get to the clubhouse. Call the doc, tell him to meet us there." Jin orders, having much more clarity at this moment. "And get the boys to bring the car around. We're going to need a few of us to move her."

Yoongi follows Jin's lead, wiping the blood from his hands onto his pants to dial.

"Think of it this way," Jin smiles shortly, trying to soothe Yoongi's fear and panic with an ill-timed joke. "If she survives, at least she'll have proved she's Bangtan."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #bts yoongi #min yoongi #mafia!bts #Mafia!yoongi #bts yandere

[promenadewithme]

hello darling! I'm so happy you have reached that milestone so quickly! but not surprised because everyone can see your writing is amazing ❤️

Can you write something for your 50 follower challenge with the song 'Can't help falling in love' by Elvis Presley and Anthony Bridgerton? My pronouns are she/her.

you have absolute creative freedom!

Keep being amazing darling 🌼

Thank you so much, Lalla!! You are so sweet💙   I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it!

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem! reader

Song: Can’t Help Falling In Love - Elvis Presley

Warnings: fluff and Cressida being a b-word

Word Count: 1,3k

Can’t Help Falling In Love

_____________________________

Dearest Readers, 

it has come this this author’s attention that the Viscount Bridgerton has begun courting Lady (y/n) (y/l/n) earlier this week. The pair have been seen promenading on several occasions and Mr. Bridgerton has sent flowers every day. Are we to expect a new Viscountess in the ton? Rest assured, if they are to wed, this author will find out.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown. 

_____________________________

“Do you truly think he will propose, mama?” your asked your mother. She had woken you up with the latest society papers in hand.

“Of course he will! I would not be surprised if he dances with you four times at tonight’s ball!” your mother replied, a proud smile on her face.

“Don’t be absurd, mama! That would be extremely improper!” you exclaimed, but a crimson blush still appeared across your cheeks at the mere possibility of being close to Anthony for that long. It was no secret that the eldest bridgerton had your affections, but you were not sure if you had his. Despite his actions, the Viscount was known for being a rake of the worst kind and didn’t tend to show his emotions aside from the occasional smile or brooding demeanor.

“My daughter! A Viscountess! Who would have thought?” your mother hugged you tightly, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“Don’t be hasty, mama. You forget he has not yet proposed, he might not at all.” you answered. 

“Don’t be absurd my dear! Tonight you shall wear the family diamonds!” she declared and stepped out humming joyfully. 

You didn’t want to rush into this, but your thoughts circled back to him during the day and you realised I can’t help falling in love with you, Anthony Bridgerton.

“Do you think she will be here tonight?” asked Eloise to her eldest brother.

“She guaranteed she would.” Anthony replied, the same brooding look as always on his face as he looked at the entry expectantly. 

“My son, why don’t you dance with one of the other ladies? I’m sure they are just as fine dancers as Miss (y/l/n)!” the Dowager Viscountess said, already looking around for someone appropriate for her son.

“I do not wish to dance with anyone else, mother.” he responded, still looking at the door.

“My son, bear in mind that you are choosing the future Viscountess Bridgerton, this is not just one more of your affairs. You have only been courting her for a week, it’s still the beginning of the season. Only fools rush in.” Lady Violet muttered so only her son could hear, a smile on her face to keep away the prying eyes and ears of the ton.

Anthony finally looked back at his mother and said “This is not just another affair. (y/n) is different. I -” he looked around then back at his mother. “I’m falling in love with her.”

Violet’s eyes softened, a small smile appearing on her face. This is all she had ever wanted for her children, to find love and live a happy life.

“Well then, I think you would like to know that your dearest has arrived.”

Anthony’s gaze went straight to you and, smiling softly, he thought you looked like an angel. You were wearing a white gown with gold details, long gloves, diamonds and a small tiara. He immediately made his way to you and bowed.

“If I may be so bold, Lady (y/n), you look absolutely stunning. May I have your first dance?” he said with a shy smile. You blushed at his comment.

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton. It would be my honour.” with that, he took your gloved hand, ever so softly, and guided you to the dance floor. 

The scenery was truly breathtaking. It was an outdoors ball, so light of the moon and the stars shone upon you. There were also a few lamps scattered, but just enough so the ambience was filled with romance. Taking your place in the midst of the other couples, you looked at each other as you waited for the music to start. 

“I meant what I said earlier, you look breathtakingly beautiful tonight.” your heart was beating much faster that normal as he held one of your hands and placed the other on your waist. 

“Just tonight?” you remarked in a humorous tone, trying to distract yourself from the feeling his compliment brought you. Only Anthony didn’t catch on, his eyes widened and he stuttered.

“N-no! Of course not! Not just tonight! I-” you felt pity for the poor Viscount and replied “I’m only joking, my Lord.” he relaxed his tense shoulders, chuckling.

“Of course you are.” he mumbled with a smile before spinning you and pulling you back in his arms. This was not part of the dance, so you gasped and started laughing, throwing your head back. Anthony looked at you in awe and thought like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.

“You always take my breath away.” he mumbled tenderly. The song ended and you parted, you looked back and he was still looking at you with a silly smile, making you giggle. You turned your gaze forward right before bumping into someone.

“Cressida! How lovely to see you!” it wasn’t.

“I know what you are doing, (y/n).” she said with the fakest smile you have ever seen.

“And what would that be?” you asked, truly curious as to what she was talking about.

“Don’t be daft, darling. It’s not very attractive. Everyone knows you are trying to seduce the Viscount.” she stepped closer to you and continued “This will never work. He would never marry someone like you. A Viscountess should be elegant, beautiful, sociable and everything else you are not. So, do yourself a favour and bow down while you have time. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself when he chooses me over you.” she was grinning when she stepped away and you were holding back your tears. 

Not wanting anyone to see you cry, you went to a more secluded part of the garden. What you didn’t know was that Anthony saw the expression on your face as you left and ran after you.

Sitting on a bench you found far away from the party, you cried, hands on your face. The scene broke Anthony’s heart. He stalked to you and said angrily “What did she say to you?” you were startled at first, but when you saw that it was Anthony, you relaxed a bit. 

“It was nothing, just Cressida being Cressida.” you tried smiling, but failed miserably.

“It was something if you are here alone and crying.” then he realised. You were alone, unchaperoned. But you were also crying and obviously sad. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? he thought. Anthony looked back one more time to make sure no one was coming and hugged you, wiping away your tears. 

“I can’t stand to see you this way, can’t stand that she hurt you.” he muttered. You looked him in the eyes and asked “Why?” he didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, but still he said “Because I can’t help falling in love with you.” 

You were shocked, but still answered smiling. “I’m falling in love with you too.” The Viscount grinned at that, holding you tighter in his arms.

“I know it is still early in the season and I have only just started courting you, but I can no longer wait.” he knelt to the ground and continued “(y/n), take my hand, take my whole life too. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. He stood up laughing, spun you around and gave you a soft kiss on the lips.

“Are you going to tell me what Cressida said to you, future wife?” he asked with a satisfied grin. You laughed and looked at him sheepishly.

“She said you would never marry me, that you’d choose her and that I was not fit to be a Viscountess.” 

“Well then” he linked his arm with yours, walking back to the party “I think she will be very surprised with our wedding invitation.” you laughed at that and he resumed. “As for the last part, to me you are perfect and that’s all that matters.”

General tag list: @power-of-words23

Anthony Bridgerton tag list: @multifandomfix

Tell me if you want to be added to any of my tag lists!!

#Anastasia's 50 followers celebration #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x (y/n)

[1kook]

right place, wrong time

— a someway, somehow jungkook drabble summary Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. warnings angst, heart ache, its actually kinda sad :/ lmfao, jk is a little... uh... como se dice.... jerk without realizing it.... justice for oc.... also there’s a scene where oc throws up so !! rating m wc 1.5k

notes THIS TAKES PLACE 5 YEARS BEFORE SWSH ITSELF ! OK ! enjoy <3 i wanted to try writing angst again <3 also i have no self control i said i would post this in 7 hrs yet here i am. and its not proofread <_<

When you were kids, the fact Jungkook’s birthday fell early on into the school year was a huge deal; everyone in your class was invited, both new and returning students, and the event itself was practically the opening scene to the school year itself. As you got older and he began to move away from colorfully decorated parties, his early birthday still earned him a lot of attention, had everyone at your high school congratulating him from the moment the first bell rang until the last. There weren’t any grand birthday bashes during high school, but the Jeons were a loving family, party or no party, and always got him a cake to celebrate each new year. 

Up until you left for college, you had never missed Jungkook blowing out the candles for his birthday. Be it a backyard party bustling with kids or a smaller affair at his favorite restaurant, you had always been invited, always cheered for him with each new year of life he welcomed. 

As a kid, you had always been adamant on getting the spot closest to him as you sang happy birthday, beaming at your best friend like he was your entire world. His childhood photo albums had been proof of that, filled with a chronological sequencing of every birthday he’s had with you at his side, your smiles changing with the times— from missing teeth to full of braces, you had always been at Jungkook’s side. 

As a young-adult, you had to bite down your pride and watch Sojin fulfill that spot. 

You had missed his last two birthdays since entering college. Your first year away from home, everyone you knew warned you about not going home too early into the year, something about how it would solidify your homesickness and you’d never be able to assimilate afterwards. So you had congratulated Jungkook from Taehyung’s phone screen, greatly appreciating the way Taehyung angled the phone away from Sojin as best he could. Then your second year, you had been drowning in that first wave of projects and essays, and simply couldn’t squeeze a five hour drive there and back into your schedule. Jungkook understood; there was no party this year, just a simple family dinner. The video call ended soon after you congratulated him, his attention drawn away by the voice of another woman you knew all too well. 

For his twenty-first birthday, Jungkook was adamant that you attend. He had told you about it before you had left for the new semester, bent over by the front wheels of your car, making sure everything was in tip-top shape before you went off again. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat, trails running down his hairline, over the prominent veins of his neck.“I want you there,” Jungkook had said, taking your offered hand as he stood back up. He must have miscalculated— or maybe it was on purpose —his step, because when he stepped forward, he was all too close. He didn’t let go of your hand. “Please?” 

Your eyes flickered over his chest, to his neck. He smelled like home, or at least the image of it you had created in your mind during your last two years away. Home was lavender fabric softener billowing over you in waves, the faint traces of this morning’s cologne, the subtle scent of his metallic work tools. It was his chocolate curls tickling his eyebrows, his easygoing smile, the way he pulled you closer, made the scents wash over you all over again. 

It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook and his warm touch. It was Jungkook and his softened gaze. Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. It wasn’t this Jungkook and the hickey on his neck. 

The sight made your stomach recoil, eyes quickly averted from the site of the crime. He had gotten here later than usual, said something about having to take Sojin somewhere first. So that’s what that meant. Jungkook, unaware of the fact the collar of his t-shirt has let you in on his private life, squeezes your hand. “You’ll come, won’t you?” 

And you were stupid and you were in love, so of course you said yes. 

It’s a cookout this year, his backyard filled to the brim with relatives and friends and so many cans of beer you don’t know what to do. His parents are ecstatic for your return, babbling on and on about how much he missed you for the last two birthdays. You take it in stride, and maybe in a different timeline you would have believed it, but not this one. Aside from greeting you at the door and taking your keys off your hands, you had barely seen the birthday boy all day. You mingle with old friends, his relatives, tentatively sip at your can of soda. You’re tired, the long drive having sapped the majority of your energy for the day. 

Sometime around sunset, you meet eyes with him across the yard. Jungkook smiles, he always smiles. You okay? he mimes with a thumbs-up, and you want to say yes, but Sojin is sitting on his lap, an obnoxiously loud display, and when he puts his hand back down, it immediately finds its home on her thigh. You send him a half-hearted shrug, play it off like you're still a little carsick from the long drive here. 

(Truthfully, you are sick, but you’re not sure it’s from the drive.) 

Even at twenty-one, his family maintains their tradition and sings him happy birthday. With your return, his mother delegates you to cake cutting duties again, so you’re on standby for the song, at his side with the cake cutter in hand. Jungkook is grinning from ear to ear, Sojin attached to his hip, his arm sling around her shoulders. His family sings and sings, and Jungkook is happy. His eyes jump around the table, taking in the sight before him the way he does every year. And when they reach you at his side, Jungkook beams, reaches for your hand beneath the table and squeezes, all the while keeping his girlfriend closely hugged to his other side. 

You cut the cake. Sojin gets her slice and promptly whisks Jungkook away. 

By ten pm, you find yourself in his upstairs bathroom puking your guts out. It’s the carsickness, you tell yourself, or maybe the cake frosting, throat gagging around nothing, tears clinging to your lash line. But is it really?

“__?” someone says, and you make a weak attempt to turn towards the door. You don’t know what you expected— had you actually wanted Jungkook to find you in this sorry state? —but it isn’t Jungkook. “Shit, what happened?” Taehyung worries, hurrying to your aid. And you’re grateful that there’s someone here to help you, to save you from yourself and your stupid, heartbroken thoughts. But it’s not the man you want it to be, and that has you squeezing your eyes shut tightly, until the mascara on your lashes imprints itself against your under eyes instead. 

The man you want bumps into you downstairs, catches Taehyung helping you into the spare bedroom to lie down. “__?” Jungkook calls out, eyes big and scared. “Where— what’s going on?” he asks, thrusting his plate into Sojin’s hands before rushing to your side. He grabs your forearm, and the touch burns, so you yank yourself away. 

Faintly, you hear Taehyung explain. “She’s sick,” he says, pulling you closer. “She’s been out of it since she first got here. I think it was the long drive.” Yes, it was the long drive, you agree. 

Jungkook, unfazed by your first recoil, reaches for your arm again. “I’ve got her,” he tells Taehyung, underestimating his strength when he tugs you closer, has you stumbling into his chest. His rough handling makes your stomach tighten, your head feel dizzy. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp, hand on his chest. “Wait— I’m—“ And he’s trying to move you back up the stairs, probably into his bedroom to lie down. But the sight of the stairs and his overwhelming scent and the hickey on his neck, the hickey Sojin left on his neck, makes you nauseous all over again. 

Taehyung yelps in your defense. “Jungkook,” he scolds, carefully maneuvering you out of Jungkook’s harm’s way. “You’re making it worse.” 

From a few feet away, Sojin calls out his name. “Jungkook?” she says and her voice is so sweet, yet so sticky; it makes you gag. “Baby, they’re calling for you outside.” 

And everyone is saying his name, so he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know who to prioritize, not when everyone wants his attention. He looks at you, and your heart soars for a millisecond. Then it plummets when he settles on Sojin instead. “I— you’re right, Tae,” he sighs, backing off, letting go. “You got __, right?” Taehyung nods. “Call me if anything happens.”

And he leaves, slips his hand around Sojin’s waist and guides her out the door. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even tell you to get better soon. He just leaves. 

Taehyung lays you down, doesn’t say a word when you start crying because he probably thinks it’s about your stomach and the vomiting. “It’s okay,” he soothes, helping you out of your shoes. “Does it hurt?”

Yes, you sob. It hurts very badly.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #jungkook #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #jjk #bts x reader #swshd #mine

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Honesty. Horrible, Horrible Honesty. (Chapter Seven)

Summary: This is Part Eighteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, pre-Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (this chapter opens with a continuation of the scene Chapter Six ended on. There is violence from Ty directed at two characters.), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Injury, Swearing, Characters Working Through Trauma, Repairing Relationships, Fluff, I Swear There are Funny Bits Along with the Emotional Bits

A/N: Am I done my work? NO! Did I need a break? YES! Here is a new chapter for you. Not a ton happens, but at least you know everyone's okay. :D Not sure when the next update will be - might take a few weeks again, but then we should be back up and running.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Bex

Every evasive measure and self-defense move Jay had ever taught Bex was pushed out of her brain by one overwhelmingly terrifying thought:

Emery.

He was here for Emery.

To take her.

To hurt her.

“You’re done keeping her from me.” Ty snarled as he held Bex in a bruising grip, slowly crushing the air out of her lungs. “Give me your keys. Now.”

Panic began to crawl up her throat as she struggled to take a breath through her nose, tried to get any kind of air, tried to think.

Ty gave her a tooth-rattling shake. “I said now!” he yelled.

She let out a muffled scream against his hand and he yanked her head to the side painfully. “What did I say about making a sound? Hm? You’re making this harder on yourself. Give me. The fucking. Keys.”

Bex kept an iron grip on the keys in her hand and thrashed in his arms, trying to break away.

If she could do that, she could run.

Whipping her head back as hard as she could, Bex felt the thunk when she made contact with Ty’s face.

He groaned and she was able to yank herself free from his loosened grasp, but only made it two steps before he snagged her arm and was hauling her back.

“You fucking bitch!” Ty threw her against the car with one hand as the other cupped his bleeding nose.

Bex dropped her bag at the force of the impact, breath knocked right out of her, but she still had the keys. She was thinking about tossing them somewhere when he grabbed the front of her shirt and slammed her back once more.

“Now I’m gonna—”

A dark blur came flying through the air and tackled Ty to the ground.

What the—

Bex staggered, managing to keep her feet after being released so suddenly and tried to focus on the flailing limbs on the ground.

Jay.

He must have followed her home.

And now he was grappling with Ty on the pavement, looking absolutely furious. He had the upper hand at the moment, but Ty was getting his own hits in and she didn’t know how long Jay’s skills could hold out against Ty’s bigger build.

She needed to help him.

Phone.

Where the fuck was her phone?

Finally spotting her bag a few feet away, Bex scrambled over, dropping to her knees to dig through it until she found her phone. Ignoring the sounds of the fight and more squealing tires and slamming doors in the background, she unlocked it with shaking fingers to call 911.

“911, what is your emergency?”

She rattled off her address, the situation, and the fact that an off-duty police officer was involved, hanging up when the operator confirmed that help was on the way.

That was great, but Jay needed help right now.

“Bex!”

A sob of relief ripped its way out of her when Chris, Will, and Connor came running into view.

“I’m okay. But Jay—help Jay,” she said, pointing at the still fighting pair. “It’s Ty. He—he tried to get my keys so he could—and he—”

“Hey,” Chris crouched down beside her as Will and Connor rushed over to help Jay. “Breathe, sweetie. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her that she realized how much she was shaking.

*** Jay

“Jay. Jay!” Will yelled as he shoved him back. “You’ve gotta stop, man. Come on.”

“He was hurting Bex,” Jay snapped, trying to dive past Will so he could keep punching the smirk off of that asshole’s face.

“I know,” Will said, gentling his voice as he grabbed Jay’s shoulder and made him keep eye contact. “I know. And you protected her. You stopped him. But now you’ve got to stop or these cops pulling up are going to have to arrest you too.”

He huffed out a breath, knowing Will was right, but not able to quiet the fucking rage bubbling under his skin.

“Hey, we’ve got this.” Will nodded at the asshole who was held tight between Connor and Will despite his continued struggles. “The ambo’s here now too. You should get checked out.”

“I’m fine.” Jay shrugged off his concern. He’d been in enough fights to know when something was actually wrong. He was bruised to hell, but he’d live. “Bex.” The image of his sister being slammed against the car came rushing back to him. “Is she okay? They should look her over.”

Jay didn’t wait for Will’s answer, needing to see her for himself.

He spotted Chris leading Bex over to the ambulance with an arm around her shoulder and rushed over to them. “Bex!”

Her head whipped up at his voice. “Jay!”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He reached out to check her over, trying to be careful in case she was hurt, but not seeing anything obvious.

“Me? What are you—I’m fine, but you’re bleeding,” she said, touching his chin gently as she tilted his face and took inventory of every cut and bruise with worried eyes. “You need to let them take a look at you. You could be seriously—”

“I will,” he cut her off with a promise, not willing to put up a fuss when she looked so scared. And he would. But that wasn’t what he needed right now. “First, can I just—”

Bex’s frown melted away, understanding immediately what he was getting at. “Yeah, Jay, jesus,” she said, stepping toward him and letting him wrap his arms around her while she carefully did the same. He squeezed her tight despite his screaming ribs.

“That was really scary,” she whispered as she tucked her face into his shoulder.

“They’ve got him now,” he murmured, resting his head on top of hers. “This’ll be enough to put him away for a bit.”

The two of them stood there for a bit, reassuring themselves of the other’s presence.

“I’m sorry, Bex,” Jay whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She nodded against him before stepping back and wiping her eyes with a sniff. “You should let them check you out now. Make sure everything’s okay.” She took another step back before he could say anything and the paramedics swooped in—one of them leading him over to the ambulance while the other started asking Bex questions.

He could feel the space widening between them once again. Jay kept trying to get back to her, but everything was too chaotic.  

The police officers on the scene took Ty off to be checked out at the hospital as soon as two other sets of officers arrived.

Jay and Bex were given the all clear by the paramedics (they may have suggested taking Jay to the hospital to be more thoroughly checked out which he may have thoroughly rejected).

Then they were separated to give their individual statements to the officers.

Chris, Connor, and Will were interviewed as well.

Pictures were taken of the scene.

Jay was glad they were being so strict about procedure—making sure his own butt was covered—but exhaustion was creeping in. A bone-deep kind of tired.

“Do you need us for the rest of this?” he asked the lead officer on the scene. McKinley? McKechnie? McSomething.

“No, we can get you to sign off on your statement tomorrow and take photos of your injuries then,” she said. “You can all head home.”

Great. He fought off the urge to sigh and thanked her instead, walking off to let the others know they were free to go.

Will, Connor, Chris, and Bex were huddled around her car. Bex tucked into Chris’s side while Will rubbed her arm gently, speaking quietly.

“Hey, man,” Connor nodded at him, first to notice his approach.

“Hey,” Jay cleared his throat as the others looked up. “They said we can all go. They don’t need us for anything else right now.”

“Oh, thank god,” Bex sighed, sagging against Chris. “I need to pass out—in a normal, this day has been too fucking much kind of way,” she said, pointing a finger at Connor and Will who both looked two seconds away from examining her again. “Not in a ‘hidden head injury’ kind of way. Relax.”

“Fair enough,” Will said. “Let’s get you inside.”

“Bex,” Jay held out a hand. “Wait. Please.”

He couldn’t end the night like this.

He just couldn’t.

***

Chris

Bex was right.

This day and night had been too fucking much and it didn’t look like it was going to be over any time soon. As soon as Jay asked her to wait, Chris felt Bex stiffen at his side.

Things had been so much easier when he could put them both on time outs.

Not that either of them had been great at following those even back then.

“I just—I know you’re mad,” Jay began and Bex let out a sigh, pushing away from Chris to stand in front of him.

“I’m not mad,” she said to Jay. “I don’t have it in me to be mad anymore.” Bex pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes and shook her head before looking up again.

Whatever look was on her face had Jay’s falling.

Chris moved closer. They might be adults and they might need to talk this out on their own, but he could still be ready to step in if he needed to.

“I’m sad, Jay,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sad and part of that is because of you.”

Jay made a small pained noise at that.

“I know,” Bex nodded. “I know there’s reasons and things you need to talk about, but—it hurts. It hurts and I’m sad and the worst part is—I never thought that you would be the reason for me to feel like this. I don’t—I don’t really know what to do with that.”

“I’m so sorry, Bex,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said again with a sigh, stepping closer to cup his face in one hand. Jay leaned down, gently touching his forehead against hers. “I love you, okay? Nothing is ever going to change that.” She stepped back with a sniff, wiping at her tears. “But right now, I need to go upstairs and you need to go home. We will talk, but it can’t be tonight.”

Jay looked like he was going to protest before he gathered himself and took a steady breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll wait until I hear from you.”

And now Chris was stuck because he didn’t want to leave Bex alone, but like hell was he letting Jay go home by himself either. He needed two of himself, but—oh, hang on.

There kind of was.

He looked up at Will who was already looking over at him. Chris nodded subtly at Bex and raised an eyebrow at Will who gave him an equally subtle nod back.

“Yeah, yeah, big brothers divide and conquer time,” Bex muttered, pulling Chris in for a hug. “Will and Connor will take care of me,” she said. “Please look after Jay. He definitely needs to talk and he’s already leaving. Love you.”

Oh, crap. “Love you too, kiddo,” Chris said, squeezing her back. “Talk soon.” He clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder and nodded at Connor before hurrying after Jay. “Hey, wait up, bud!”

His long night definitely wasn’t over yet.

***

Will

Holy crap, what a night.

At least it was done.

Well, almost.

Chris had managed to call Emery from Bex’s phone earlier and give her a head’s up about what was going on and convinced her not to come downstairs. If the police needed to talk to her, it could wait until tomorrow (or technically, later today, but whatever.) In any case, she didn’t need to see any of it and she definitely didn’t need to see Ty.

But now they were headed up to the apartment where she was waiting for actual information and none of them were getting to sleep any time soon.

Will couldn’t help glancing over at Connor a few times as they herded Bex upstairs, trying to gauge how he was feeling about all of this. It was a lot for anyone to deal with and considering they’d barely started dating…

Connor caught him looking and reached out to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze and shooting him a small smile. He raised his eyebrows at Will, mouthing ‘you okay?’

Will nodded, smiling back.

Even if it was a lot, he was glad Connor was here. That was probably selfish of him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Every step felt more manageable than the last with Connor by his side. Holding his hand.

Hopefully this debrief could be quick and both Bex and Emery would head to bed sooner rather than later.

He needed to kiss his amazing boyfriend.

Emery was sitting on the couch, clutching Kol as she waited, and she burst into tears as soon as they came in. She rushed over to Bex, stumbling over her words, trying to apologize.

Bex grabbed her up in a hug, shushing her. “None of this is your fault,” she said. “We put it on Ty where it belongs.” She steered Emery toward the couch where they sat back down.

The three of them were able to fill Emery in on what had happened without getting too intensely detailed. Bex distracted her when she started to get upset again by re-enacting the whole AJ scene for her.

Will had almost forgotten about that part of the evening.

He was proud of Bex for how she’d handled the whole thing (the re-enactment was fairly entertaining), but his heart hurt for her having to handle it at all.

The universe had thrown way too much at her lately.

After reassuring Emery once again that everyone was okay, she stumbled off to bed in Bex’s room and the three of them headed for the kitchen.

There was an unspoken agreement on the need for snacks.

Will started pulling out sandwich supplies from the fridge when Bex reached over him to pull a bottle of vodka out of the freezer.

“Bex,” he frowned up at her. “Is that a good idea? You’ve been going kind of hard on the drinking lately.”

“I’m not drinking drinking,” she said, plucking three shot glasses out of a cupboard. “But I thought we could all use a shot.”

Connor shot him an apologetic look. “She’s not wrong,” he sighed.

“Fine,” Will caved because she wasn’t. “But I’m doing the pouring.” He straightened up and took the bottle from Bex to pour a reasonable shot for each of them before putting it right back in the freezer. She wasn’t wrong, but he also didn’t want to leave room things to get out of hand.

Again.

They did their shots without fanfare and then Will got back to his sandwich making while Connor poured everyone a glass of water. Bex wandered off to sit at the kitchen table.

She was still sitting there, staring off into space when he and Connor joined her.

“Hey,” Will said, setting down a sandwich in front of her. “You okay?” 

Bex startled a bit before smiling up at him and then taking in the sandwich. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, waving him off. “This looks more than fine though, wow, thank you.”

“Eat up,” Connor said, nudging one of the glasses in her direction. “And drink all of this. It’ll help settle your system.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes before Will tried again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bex blinked owlishly at him. “…which part?”

Connor snorted which set Will and Bex off and soon all three of them were giggling helplessly in their chairs.

It wasn’t funny.

It shouldn’t be funny.

But—

“There’s too many things!” Bex wheezed out.

“I could actually go for another AJ re-enactment, if you want to start there,” Connor suggested between giggles.

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Bex threw a piece of crust at his face with a pout.

“You really yelled to the whole street that you’re good at sex?” Will laughed only to also be smacked in the face with a piece of bread.

“It was directed at AJ! It was the principle of the thing,” she grumbled. “I knew I should have edited that bit out of the story.”

“Nooo,” Connor said. “You have to keep that in forever.”

Bex’s frown gave way to another grin. “You should have seen Chris’s face.” Her imitation set them off on another round of giggles before they finally managed to quiet down.

“Seriously, Bex,” Will said, bumping his knee against hers. “It has been a lot so I’m here to talk, okay? Anytime.”

“Thanks, Will,” Bex said, her smile just a bit wobbly.

“Me too,” Connor piped up, shrugging when they both looked at him. “Sometimes it’s easier, you know? Talking to someone who’s a bit removed from things.”

“That is so sweet,” Bex said. “…that you think you’re removed from things.”

“I just meant—”

She shook her head, cutting off Connor’s attempted explanation. “You’re in it now, bud. One of us. One of us.”

Will leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s not too late to make a run for it.”

“I think I’m good,” Connor said, moving in for another kiss.

“That’s enough adorableness for me,” Bex said, gathering up her plate and taking it to the sink. “I’m going to take a shower and then pass the hell out.” She came back to give first Will and then a slightly surprised Connor a hug and a smooch on the top of their heads.

“Thanks for being there tonight, guys,” she said. “Love you.”

She wandered off toward the bathroom, leaving the two of them at the table. Connor looked a little bit stunned and Will reached out to give his hand a squeeze.

“Still good?”

Connor met his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, pulling their joined hands closer to kiss Will’s knuckles. “More than.”

Will felt his face heating up and ducked his head. “Good, that’s uh, that’s good,” he said, ignoring Connor’s chuckle. “I’m going to get this stuff cleaned up. Yeah. Yup. Okay.”

He jumped up and started clearing the rest of the dishes and Connor joined him, the two of them working in sync to put the kitchen back to rights.

Then they flopped on the couch, Kol hopping up right after to snuggle in between them for pets.

It was quiet.

It was comfortable.

It was exactly what Will needed.

Almost exactly.

“Hey,” Will said softly and Connor looked over with a questioning hum. “Do you—” Will took a breath and started again. “Do you want to stay over?”

Connor’s eyebrows flew up.

“Not like that,” Will said quickly. “I just—after today, after all of that—I want you closer for a bit longer. If that’s okay? Is that—”

“Yes, Will,” Connor said, snuggling in closer to lean against him. “I’d love to stay over.”

“Oh,” Will said, biting his lip against the grin trying to spread across his face. “Good. That’s—that’s great.”

“It is.” Connor reached over, pulling Will closer so he could capture his lips with his own.

Okay.

Will sank into Connor’s embrace.

Now he had exactly what he needed.

*** Bex

Bex could hear Will and Connor talking softly on the couch as she hustled from the bathroom back to her bedroom.

Despite how intense everything else was lately, at least those two had figured themselves out. And were moving rapidly from figuring themselves out to being disgustingly cute.

Maybe she could live vicariously through Will’s happiness for now.

She couldn’t see her figuring out her own shit anytime soon.

Bex towel-dried her hair to ‘good enough’ and threw on some sleep clothes before crawling into bed beside a conked out Emery. It was good to see her sleeping so soundly. Bex was worried she’d walk in to find her still awake and fretting, but exhaustion must have won out.

Unfortunately, after lying there for an hour, Bex was not turning out to be so lucky.

Her brain just kept shuffling through scenes from the evening like the world’s worst slide show.

She couldn’t make it stop.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back forcefully before taking a slow, deep breath. All she had to do was relax and be calm. She could do that.

A sob broke free before she smothered the rest with both hands.

Relax and be calm.

Come on.

Relax and be calm.

What else could she do? Wake up Emery who had all of her Ty trauma to deal with? Go and bug Will and Connor who had already been through the wringer tonight and had to work tomorrow?

Call Chris who was trying to help Jay?

Call Jay who was going through his own shit?

Call Mouse?

No, she could do this on her own.

Relax.

Fucking relax, Bex.

A light scratch at the door made her jump before she heard the quiet ‘boof’ that followed. She eased her way out of bed and tip-toed over to open the door. Kol pushed his way inside.

He stared up at her with big, judgmental eyes.

“I was dealing with it,” she whispered.

He head-butted her legs.

“I was working on dealing with it,” she amended, closing her door.

Kol huffed out a little sigh before stretching his head up to gently take the hem of her t-shirt in his mouth and tug her back toward the bed. She climbed in and he hopped up to wiggle his way in between her and Emery.

Once she was settled, Kol shuffled around until his head was resting on her stomach. Bex reached out to pet him and he snuggled in deeper.

“Relax and be calm,” she whispered.

Kol answered with a tiny grumble.

No more talking.

Message received.

With the added weight of Kol beside her, her brain finally started to slow and Bex fell asleep.

Click here to read Chapter Eight. Click here to read Chapter Nine. Click here to read Chapter Ten. Click here to read Chapter Eleven.

Click here to read Honesty. Horrible, Horrible Honesty on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @iunnowatuwant, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat

#A Herrmann/Halstead Production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #jay halstead #will halstead #christopher herrmann #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #a herrmann/halstead production #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #working through emotional trauma #repairing relationships #fluff #family feels #canon typical violence

[universalimagines]

Saw that you are writing for pll and I am hyped!!! Could I request the scene where Spencer was in the dollhouse with all the blood and she actually hurt the Reader because A made her do it but she can't remember? Reader remembers but doesn't want to talk about that? Once at the hospital after escaping, Aria sees that Y/N has a huge knife cut on her abdomen that gets stitched up and she is telling the girls in Spencer's hospital room? Reader is repellent to Spencer because she got the most hurt in the house because A thinks she is the weakest? Maybe after Spencer gets through her they talk about it? (Angst and fluff in the ending pls!!) 🍓

Spencer Hastings x Reader

The door opened to your room inside the hellscape that was A's Dollhouse.

The lights on the ground illuminated the path A wanted you to take. After you and the girls had tried to escape during A's Prom, she'd locked you all in your rooms for God knows how long.

Part of you wanted to give A the finger and tell her to screw off, but then you'd remember what you endured at A's hand and realized it would be easier to obey... for now.

You followed the lighted signs and saw that you were at Spencer's room. The door unlocked and you were let inside. On the floor was Spencer, passed out.

"Spencer!" You cried as you ran over to her and flipped her onto her back as the door shut behind you. Looking at her face, you saw massive bags under her eyes as if she hadn't slept in days. It didn't take long for you to realize A must have intentionally been sleep depriving her.

Suddenly Spencer's eye opened and she lunged at you screaming bloody murder. She was up so quickly that you only just noticed the giant Ka-Bar knife in her hand. She swung it brazenly at you drawing blood from your forearm.

"Spencer its me!" You yelled trying to calm her down.

But it didn't work. As you looked into her eyes and she kept coming after you, you saw they looked just like when she'd gone manic when she'd been addicted to drugs. You knew that in this state, she couldn't be reasoned with, only worn down.

As you attempted to continue dodging her, you made a miscalculation and tripped falling on your back. Spencer came down right on top of you screaming as she attempted to plunge the knife into your chest. And then she made contact. Her blade pierced your lower abdomen and she kept slamming the blade into you.

Your vision started to fade as Spencer in exhaustion gave up her assault and collapsed on top of you. Before you passed out, you felt an unknown person drag you away from Spencer and out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Eventually you and the girls did manage to escape that hellhole. However thanks to your injuries, the paramedics had to carry you out so you and the girls could be sent to the hospital.

Now the girls except you were all gathered in Spencer's room having taken the time to discuss their next course of action.

As the conversation of what to do with Spencer's revelation of someone called Charles, the conversation led to your notable absence.

"I wish we had Y/N to bounce some ideas off." Emily comments.

"Yeah. Where is Y/N anyway?" Hanna asks.

Aria fidgeted nervously in her seat. "I was with Y/N in the ambulance. They took Y/N to surgery.

Spencer shot up from her seat in shock. "What... why!?"

Aria continued. "They found Y/N in a room with a badly dressed stab wound. They moved Y/N to surgery as soon as we arrived."

"Let's go find the room. We need to be there for Y/N." Spencer said suddenly feeling a wave of energy as she marched off to the nurses station with the others in tow.

"Excuse me." Spencer said to the nurse. "We were all brought in with a friend, Y/N L/N. Can you tell me what room Y/N is in?"

The nurse turned to her computer and typed in the info. "Room 213."

"Thank you." Spencer said as she rushed off to your room.

As you came to, you saw that all the girls were hovered around your bed.

"Y/N's awake." Emily called out.

"Girls?" You mumbled. "What are you all doing here?"

"Aria told us someone stabbed you down in that hellhole." Hanna replied. "We wanted to make sure you're ok."

"I'm so glad you're ok. "Spencer then tried to grab your hand and you recoiled.

The girls were quick to notice this and Spencer looked like she might cry.

"I'm sorry... I... I'm just tired." You said trying to sound convincing.

The girls silently nodded and slowly dispersed from the room with Spencer lingering for an extra moment.

XXXXXXX

Back at home things just kept getting harder. It was still impossible for you to sleep without dreaming of the Dollhouse. But even worse, you'd been trying to avoid Spencer for the time. The encounter at the hospital hadn't been a one time affair. Anytime she tried to touch you, you'd recoil. You'd hoped time would ease the wound but it didn't

As you were out for a run trying to calm your mind, you saw Spencer leaning against her car clearly waiting for you to return. You tried to turn before she saw you but you took a bad step and tripped.

"Argh!!!" You yelled as you felt the pain in your leg.

"Y/N!" Spencer cried as she came running to you trying to help you up

"I'm ok." You protested as she helped you back to your feet.

"Like hell you are." Spencer retorted.

You noticed Spencer was holding you arm again and you mind briefly slipped back to the Dollhouse. On instinct you slipped your arm out of her grip.

But this time Spencer was ready and moved herself to she was blocking your path. "Y/N we have to talk. You've been avoiding me."

"I haven't" You lied.

"Yes you have." Spencer tried to hold back the tears. "And every time I try and touch you, you break away."

You tried to deny it but no words came. "Please Y/N talk to me. I love you and I don't know what happened down there but please talk to me." Spencer pleaded with tears streaming down her face.

"You don't remember?" You asked and she shook her head. "Spencer... the reason I had to go to surgery. The person who stabbed me was you."

This time Spencer recoiled hard in shock. She put her hands to her mouth in disbelief and started to back away.

"Wait Spencer!" You grabbed her wrist to stop her. "A let me into your room after we tried to escape. You were passed out and then you came at me. You were completely manic at the time. You didn't know it was me."

"I'm so sorry." Spencer cried.

"It wasn't your fault." You said as you gently took her hands in yours. "A set the entire thing up. A's the one to blame."

"I don't know how to get passed this." Spencer asked.

"We'll find a way." You said drawing her in for a hug. "Together."

#spencer hastings #spencer hasting x reader #spencer hastings imagine #pretty little liars #pretty little liars x reader #pretty little liars imagine

[confused-as-all-hell]

oh i know.

cym as things that happened in rwrb

i love you, yknow that?

you as the scene where the six go out until three in the morning, and there's spraying champagne and smudged glitter and henry on his knees on the makeshift stage and alex losing his goddamn mind and bea with the rose between her teeth and pez helping june on top of the table that they both instantly fall off laughing and nora sprawled over everyone and drunk in the backseat of a car and they're all so very intoxicated and it's just intoxicating // because you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anyone in the world like i love you. so i promise you one day we'll be able to to just be and fuck everyone else // that's the choice. i love him with all that, because of all that, on purpose.

@saltyfortunes as the scene where henry and alex are by the lake in the house making breakfast, early, before anyone else is even up, and they're trying to make pancakes and laughing and stumbling over their own feet, and it's just so inconsolably happy and flushed with summer and safe. it's somewhere you want to stay forever // henry kisses his mouth over again over again and says quietly, "you are good"

@investmentofmyheart as the scene where it's raining and alex storms into henry's apartments and yells for him to let him in, and it's slick and raining outside because it always is in london, screams, your royal fucking highness at henry's door and refuses to leave until he shows up. and when henry finally lets him in, he and alex are both shouting at each other in the palace where henry says a hundred heirs of history would hate what they've done, and just alex says, i fucking love you, okay? as if it's the only thing he was ever sure of, and if loving henry's the only thing history will ever remember him for, he'll be happy, even if history hates them, as long as they knew that alex existed and he loved henry, and i have strong feelings about this, forgive me // i want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? all that time. i’m so sorry // "what do you want?" "i want you--" "then fucking have me"

@twelve-kinds-of-trouble as the scene where the president finds out her son is bisexual, and comes up with a powerpoint that basically says, i support you, i love you, i'm so happy you're with someone but how about anyone but the prince of england? or as the scene where alex admits he loves henry, and ellen goes, do you feel forever about him? and alex, so slowly, nods because of course this is the boy he loves, but will the world be okay with it? can he trust the world with his heart? and the world says, yes, yes, yes. // it’s a mural of himself and henry, facing each other, haloed by a bright yellow sun, depicted as han and leia. henry in all white, starlight in his hair. alex dressed as a scruffy smuggler, a blaster at his hip. a royal and a rebel, arms around each other. he snaps a photo on his phone, and fingers shaking, types out a tweet: never tell me the odds.

@the-sky-is-full-of-stars as the scene where henry and alex are arguing, bickering over some stupid slight or another, and it escalates and one's lip is bleeding and an ankle trips a leg and they both tip into the Crown Prince's wedding cake and accidently start a war over the pettiest fight ever // someone else's choice doesn't change who you are

@wafflesandschemingfaces as the implied scenes where alex and nora, iconic best friends, get drunk in hotel rooms together, watch a fuckton of movies in secret, and pretend at having sex so the papers think they're having an affair, just so alex can win the bet he schemingly made with june // i was young and full of hope, and you let me embody the american dream: that a boy who grew up speaking two languages, whose family was blended and beautiful and enduring, could make a home for himself in the White House. you pinned the flag to my lapel and said, “we’re rooting for you.”

@thebonecarver as the love letters alex and henry wrote to each other -- letters of love so inherently indomitable. letters written about the curve of a spine and the nomenclature of saints and the swell of hips and the forbidden romance of a laugh and confusion and youth and a stumbling first love. you love a little like that. fiercely. you love your friends like it's the only thing you ever want to be remembered for // have i told you lately that you're brave?

#i am so sorry