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Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works.

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Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases.

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally.

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room.

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother.

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas.

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject.

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte.

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises.

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention.

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly.

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked.

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away.

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received.

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework.

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done.

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you.

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming.

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense.

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg.

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’ ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip.

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited.

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind.

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair.

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever.

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head.

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day.

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head.

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap.

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea.

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed.

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick.

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up.

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye.

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks.

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself.

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there.

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger.

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that.

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do.

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences.

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now?

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores.

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content.

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine.

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed.

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by.

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter.

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better.

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice.

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did.

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet.

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions.

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind.

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for.

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man.

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of.

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh.

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation.

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance.

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family.

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly.

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone.

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met.

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn.

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so.

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely.

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for.

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves.

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here.

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family.

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools.

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit.

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek.

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping.

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think.

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do.

You screamed bloody murder.

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’ you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you.

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply.

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired.

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire.

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled.

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname.

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape.

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities.

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff.

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it.

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment.

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture.

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste.

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide.

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot.

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner.

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms.

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet.

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie.

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you.

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you.

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you.

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied.

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you.

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire.

‘Yes, mother.’

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words.

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss.

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time.

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.”

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted.

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours.

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio.

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone.

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio.

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens.

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave.

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

To be continued...

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notmyneighbor · 14 days

Text

a new neighbor | francis mosses x female reader

chapter 3

words | 5k

cw | explicit sexual content. cheating, fondling, oral sex

ao3 link

taglist | @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227 @the-lazyyy-artist

Francis doesn’t sleep that night.

He’s too anxious, his mind wandering. Thinking up his next batch of excuses for upcoming absences, granting him more to spend with you.

It’s the freedom of you he really craves. That notion that you represent youth and possibility. A future that had been squandered in his own timeline. But being with you is like a second chance. Stolen. Undeserved, maybe. But he can’t resist that kind of temptation.

He’s on the couch tonight, the springs creaking as he tosses and turns. He thinks about you one floor above. Dressed in some frilly, feminine thing. Hand shoved beneath the waistband of your pajamas, touching yourself like he’d told you to. Biting your bottom lip, turning and burrowing your face into the side of your pillow to keep silent when the pleasure got to be a little too much. The milkman recalls the taste of you, the feel of your mouth on his. Your fingers wrapped around his cock. He wishes you were there right now. Pinned beneath him. He’d wanted to fuck you right then and there in the stairwell earlier. Take your virginity for his own.

He’s not even guilty when the idle strokes of his erection beneath the sheet draped over him become more intentional and deliberate. He spills over his hand, hips spasming. His face is tucked into the side of the couch, braced on either side by the pillow below his head and the cushion beside it. It’s only when he’s blown that load that he finally feels some of the tension ease. He can sleep now.

***

“I’m going to stop at the store to pick up some things we need.”

Francis stands at the kitchen sink later that morning, rinsing his coffee mug. Nacha glances over at him from her position behind the stove. “Thank you. That would be really helpful.”

“I’m going to take Ana to the park tomorrow, too.”

His girlfriend sets the fork down she’d been using to fluff the scrambled eggs, shutting the stove off and moving the pan to a cooler burner. She smiles, a gesture that seems to come easier these days. She’s really enjoying being out of the house, pursuing her passion. He truly is glad for her newfound joy.

Now he wants his turn.

“You know,” she begins, moving to stand beside him at the sink. “The other night was a lot of fun. More like the old days, you know?” She reaches for his bare arm. He’s still wearing pajamas. Their daughter isn’t even awake yet.

“Uh, yeah.” He doesn’t meet her gaze. He doesn’t want to reflect on that moment, when he’d been pretending the mother of his child was actually the babysitter. Leaving her to finish herself, because he’d given up trying to figure out what she actually needed to achieve that goal long ago. You though. He would always make certain you’d get off with him.

The freckle faced woman is now behind him, wrapping her arms around him. He can’t help but tense up. He doesn’t want this. He’s not hers, he’s yours.

“You’ve been trying. I can tell. Helping out more. I appreciate it. Maybe…” She kisses his spine.

Francis gently pries her hands free. “Ana…” The old standby excuse of being caught by the young schoolgirl is always ready, always plausible.

“She’s dead asleep. Snoring.”

“Nacha. Nacha, listen to me.” He turns to face her. “This is never going to be…we’re not really engaged. Not even dating.”

“Well of course, I know that.” She shakes her head, the sleep tousled curls bouncing with the movement. “But that doesn’t mean…”

“No,” he says, and the word is such a sharp, vehement denial that the woman actually takes a step back, her different shaded eyes widening slightly. “No,” he repeats more gently. “You should be with someone that can give you what you deserve. The whole package. The emotional components, too. We should both try to find that,” he adds.

“But Francis, we can’t. The entire point of living together and telling people we’re engaged—”

“—is so people didn’t ridicule and codemn you. So Anastacha could have two parents instead of one. I’m not saying to give any of that up. I’m just saying…” What was he saying?

“You want to see someone else.”

“Someday,” he says vaguely, suddenly very interested in the cup of coffee he’s poured. They’re out of sugar. It’s bitter.

“Did you meet someone else?” He can hear how she tries to make the query light and airy, as if his answer isn’t all that serious. He knows better. He’s making her suspicious. This conversation is heading into dangerous territory.

“No, of course not. Who would I meet? I never go anywhere.”

“You see people everyday, Francis.”

“For work.”

“You’re telling me there’s not one attractive housewife out there that’s caught your eye?”

“Now you’re encouraging me to have an affair with a married woman?” He nearly chokes on his heated beverage.

“Relax, I’m teasing. I know you’d never do something like that.” She nudges his arm playfully and the dark liquid almost spills over the edge. “I’m going to go wake Ana up now.”

He watches her exit the kitchen and sets the mug back down on the counter, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall.

Your piano lesson begins in four hours.

***

The neighborhood you’re taking your music lessons in is nice.

Well manicured lawns. Houses kept in good repair, with fresh coats of paint. He wonders briefly what it would be like to dwell in one of these residences. No longer having neighbors just on the other side of thin walls. No longer hearing the constant noise of the city. Fresher air. A proper yard for Ana to play in.

More privacy.

Already his thoughts are shifting. He squirms in his seat, adjusting the fabric of his slacks slightly, trying to relieve some of the tightening pressure. He cranks the window down for air and he can actually hear you playing through the parlor window that’s also been lifted. The weather was holding, warm and fragrant with spring flowers. He shifts again and he can just make out your profile, those delicate hands working over ebony and ivory keys. Of course you’re talented. He’s not surprised by the smooth melody that seamlessly issues forth. He wonders if you’d had a piano where you’d lived before. It must be difficult not being able to practice at home anymore.

The song ends. He hears the murmur of voices. You emerge and he straightens in his seat, reaching for the key in the ignition.

You look puzzled at first. The car. You don’t recognize it. He doesn’t need to remind you to tap out the secret knock today. Your fingers work against the doorframe, the other hand clutching the book of sheet music to your chest, your brow furrowed.

“Did you think I was going to pick you up in the delivery truck again? With no seat for you? Get in here and give me a kiss.” His fingers drum the correct sequence back over the steering wheel.

Relief washes over your features. You slide inside the car and the older man pulls the book from your hands, tossing it on the back seat. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

The urge to kiss you, onlookers be damned, is overwhelming. Instead he focuses on reversing out of the driveway.

“How was your lesson? I could hear you playing. You’re very talented.”

“Good, yeah. I miss being able to practice at home, though. Now I can only do it at school.”

He hums sympathetically. “Put the window down if you want. I know it’s warm today.”

You grab the crank and rotate it, the glass partially retracting from sight before you settle back into the padded seat.

He can’t resist reaching towards you, tangling his fingers with yours. “I like your dress.” He thinks you could wear anything (or nothing, even better) and it would look wonderful on you. This one has some tiny print, the same image repeated over and over. Flowers? Cherries. Little paired bits of juicy red fruit and emerald leaves.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks are slightly flushed. You’re looking at the hands joined together. “I didn’t know what to think when I saw this car, I admit I was a little scared for a moment there. Silly, I know. As if a doppel would know to kidnap me from my piano lesson.”

“It’s good you’re being careful. What did your dad say about you getting a ride?”

“He was okay once he found out it was you picking me up. I said we were going shopping together.”

The irony of that first statement isn’t lost on the milkman. Two truths that shield a greater lie. Your father trusts him.

“Is Nacha home with Ana?”

“Yes, that’s why I was able to borrow her car. She’s not going out today.”

The hand entwined in his suddenly pulls free and Francis glances over at you. Did the mention of Nacha upset you?

“This is her car.”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

You fold your arms tightly. The scowl is back. Darker this time.

The driver sighs. This was becoming an issue with you. This jealousy. There was no point to it. You had absolutely no reason to feel this way. He remarks as much out loud.

“It’s not the same for you. You don’t have any competition. I’m not living with a boyfriend.”

“We’re not really dating.”

“Not really engaged, either.”

“No.”

“Never sleep together either, right?”

“I spent last night on the couch, as a matter of fact.”

“I mean fucking,” you snap, and his face jerks to regard you.

“I told her we should see other people this morning.” His voice is deathly quiet.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Francis had been driving without any real destination in mind. He won’t be picking up groceries just yet because perishable items would just spoil while he spent time with you. He’s reached a less savory part of town. These houses unkempt. Yards overgrown. An abandoned family run grocery store that had failed due to competitor's prices and selection of goods has a large lot in the back, where he parks the vehicle now. The asphalt is crumbling, weeds already poking through in stubborn reclamation. A shopping cart rests forgotten against the side of the brick building. Perhaps not the most impressive place to bring you. He really should prepare better. It’s just the other, more lustful thoughts always take hold and steer his brain away from common sense. He shuts the engine off and turns to face you.

“Look at me.” You stubbornly stare through the windshield. “Look at me,” he repeats, more firmly, and your eyes reluctantly meet his. “She didn’t say much of anything. That’s my entire point. She doesn’t care. Not really. It’s not real. It’s an illusion. You’re letting yourself be duped. You have no reason to ever think you’re in competition for my attention.”

You’re still silent. It’s so soon in the relationship to be this attached, to be this possessive. Maybe it’s your youth and inexperience making you feel that way.

“I am doing everything I can to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

“This isn’t going to get any easier. It’s only going to get more difficult. You’re going to have to keep lying. Over and over and over again. And you’re going to have to pretend. That you don’t have an issue with Nacha. That there’s nothing between us. Are you sure you’re ready for that? I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind.” He’s giving you another out. Another chance to clear his conscience.

He doesn’t really want you to take it. Isn’t really bothered about the smudge on his soul, as it were.

“I want this.”

“I don’t want to spend our time together arguing. We have so little of it. Let’s not waste it.” He leans towards you and captures your lips. You’re still a little stiff, tense and miffed. But then you melt, your body surrendering to what it wants. Your hands come around his shoulders and your tongue touches his. Instant sparks surge through him. He has to have you. He has to. “Did you do what I asked you to do last night?” His voice sounds ragged.

“Yes,” you murmur beside his cheek.

“Good girl.” His hand dips beneath the edge of your dress, sliding along your thigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, about this…” He’s reached your panties. Your hips grind back against the vinyl as you widen the opening, making room for him between your legs. “You’re always so hot and wet and ready for me.” Unsure who gasps louder when his fingers streak across your damp sex. Your kisses grow fiercer. You nip at his bottom lip and lick the arch of one cheekbone. You hum against his neck and dig your fingers into his scalp. That urge to suck your throat until the fragile vessels beneath the skin surrender and burst washes over him again. Marking you. Claiming you. A secret he has to keep, denying this dark desire for now.

The console between your body and his is annoying, constantly impeding his movements. “Get in the back with me,” he implores, swiping one last teasing stroke across your clit before he moves back, panting and hot, too hot, the upcoming summer with you will destroy him.

Once you’ve both made your way the rear seat of the car the milkman shoves your sheet music book carelessly to the floor, his hands seating heavily on your hips, tugging to indicate he wants you to move. You’re just able to crawl onto his lap, your head bent so you don’t hit the roof of the car. His hands are already back under your dress again, buried beneath that lightweight, fluttery material with its tempting little fruits.

He strokes your thighs and you lick the sweat from his brow. He mashes his face between the breasts still hidden from sight, inhaling that clean soap and powder scent. Everything about you is so fresh and new. Pure, until he makes you otherwise.

His hands cup the curves of your buttocks now, squeezing the soft globes of flesh. His appetite for the taste of that sweet candy mouth of yours is insatiable. It doesn’t even matter if anyone were to see you together now. A patrol officer, Nacha, your father, hell even the DDD or one of the doppelgangers themselves could be just outside the window and he’d tell them to fucking wait because he’s not giving you up, not for anyone or anything. Had he thought you too possessive earlier? He understands the notion completely. He wants you to be his. Only his.

“I want to taste you,” you breathe against his skin.

Oh, does that make his cock rise to full mast. He wants that, too. But it’s not going to be easy for you. A lot to take. And the actual flavor, once he bursts on your tongue…

“It’s not delicious like you, baby girl,” he cautions.

“It’s you. I want it,” you persist, and his prick lurches in agreement. Well, far be it from him to deny you.

You ease back off of Francis’ lap and sit beside him. He watches as you open his pants. No belt today. He’s made things slightly easier for you. Once that flushed organ is revealed there’s the slightest beat of hesitation. Suddenly reminded of his size. But there’s no turning back now. Your face is already bending. He hastily gathers your hair as you descend, mostly getting it out of the way, keeping his view of you unobstructed. Your tongue darts out and he hisses, his hips already rising to meet your mouth. It’s going to take every ounce of willpower not to deepthroat you, to roughly fuck that wet tunnel until he reaches the nirvana waiting for him. He’s shaking with the effort of it. You’ve managed to engulf the head of his cock and for now, that does just fine. A bit of a scrape with your teeth, but he knows you’ll adjust. A fast learner at everything.

He feels the moment your jaw loosens, slackening a bit, relaxing to ease more of him inside your mouth. Still barely reaching a third of the way, but it’s progress. Wet, warm progress. Your tongue digs into the slit as if seeking more of the precum that had escaped earlier. Your fingers curl around the base of the shaft but he pushes you away from that nest of dark curls. He just wants your mouth and nothing else right now. Those sweet lips spread in an inviting ring for him to pop in and out of. Narrow, but nothing like your pussy would be the first time he violated you.

No, don’t think about that. He doesn’t want to cum this soon.

Your mouth releases him and you gasp for air. He can see your lashes are wet from the strain, your lips already swelling. He imagines there’s some tingling, there and elsewhere. Drooling for him in more than one opening. You spit a wad of clear lubrication on the crown and stroke your saliva up and down and it’s just about the fucking hottest thing he’s ever experienced. Where did you get these ideas from? Did you gossip with other girls? Sneak a dirty magazine from somewhere? He just can’t envision you doing something so naughty. Then again, you’d been asking to suck his dick. And doing it so, so well.

Francis doesn’t hesitate once your mouth closes over his turgid member again. He’s fucking your mouth, still much shallower than he’d like, but enough to really test your gag reflex. He loves the lewd sound it makes, that moist suction with every collision. He’s pulling your hair more than guiding your head but it’s really gone beyond any kind of tenderness now. Forget holding back. He wants to fill that pretty mouth with his sperm and he wants you to swallow it all down. Every single drop.

“So good, baby girl. You feel so good.”

You moan. Maybe a protest. Maybe a bit of wonton desire. Perhaps a little of both. The older man continues to fuck your teenage mouth. He’s close. He’d give you a warning but he doesn’t want you pulling away at the last minute. He jerks your head back so he’s balanced on the edge of your tongue, so he can see your face when he floods your mouth with his seed, ropes of thick cream that pool along that muscle. You flinch and he tugs harder, making sure to keep you in place.

“Stay right there. Swallow it, honey.” He wipes his cock off on the corner of your mouth and your lips close. A grimace as you taste the acrid fluid, holding it for the briefest of moments against your taste buds before gulping it down.

Fuck, you were perfect. Every depraved action performed so well. Still innocent and yet not. Moving a little further along that path of depravity he’s leading you down.

You’re much wetter when his hands return to the soft flesh beneath your panties. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to coax an orgasm from you, working feverishly against your partially hooded bud. He doesn’t relish the taste of his jizz in your mouth but the flavor dissipates soon enough and there’s just your flavor again, that honey taste accompanying those siren moans as you achieve your release against his prodding digits, making him want you all over again.

But there simply isn’t time. He really does have to do the shopping, then return home to put it away before going to the bowling alley for his first time out with the neighbors.

“Are you still coming to the park with me and Ana tomorrow?”

Francis is back behind the wheel again and you’re in the passenger seat.

“Yes.”

“We’ll come by around noon. Have lunch there.”

“Okay.”

“Did you have fun today?”

Another nod. More words of praise for you. A few last kisses. Then the milkman drives to a different grocery store, to one of the larger chains that had put the abandoned one he’d been parked behind that afternoon out of business, leaving that silent witness to the affair behind.

***

Francis digs a quarter out of his pocket for the rental later that afternoon at the bowling alley, finding shoes that match his size. He doesn’t really like wearing something that’s been on countless other bodies. Not everyone was clean. But those were the rules.

He’s never been much of a fan of bowling, the craze that was sweeping the nation baffling him. It was on television multiple nights a week. There were so many competitions. The evolution from needing pin boys to reset the field, emerging from behind the curtained flaps to line them in a profession that was more than a little risky if the timing was just the slightest bit off, to the convenience of faster moving automated pin setters that put those same youths out of work, had really elevated the popularity of the sport.

There was quite a variety of age groups in the alley that afternoon. Maybe he should have brought you here. He wouldn’t be able to touch your or kiss you. He’d have to pretend, and that was hard enough in front of Nacha and Ana and your father. He barely knows his partners for the evening, Izaack and Angus and the Peachman brothers.

Only for you would he go to this much effort. Securing a plausible alibi for a future time with you. That softens the unpleasantness a bit and he studies the shellacked wooden floor. That was part of the trick of it, or so he’d heard. Something about the interaction of the slick floor coating and the texture and weight of the rubber balls making them easier to roll and collect a strike. Of course, there was still skill involved. He doesn’t quite have the flow down, the correct arch of back and swing of arm to really send his ball towards the targets at precisely the correct spot eluding him. The floors are slippery and he doesn’t want to land on his ass. This is awkward enough as it is.

“Have you met the new neighbors yet?” Angus directs this question to anyone within range, marking his score on the card. The salesman was good, but so far the reporter was further in the lead.

“Who?” The younger of the two brothers looks puzzled.

“You know, the ones on the second floor.” He nudges the other shoemaker and the redhead stares until he comprehends what his older sibling is trying to discreetly imply. Of course there was only one way to snag an apartment in the building these days. The previous tenant had come to an unfortunate end. It’s a sobering thought that leaves the small group silent for a few moments before Albertsky speaks up again.

“So who are they?”

“A college professor and his daughter. A high school senior. Mother deceased.” Izaack divulges the information with the same clinically detached voice he uses when delivering the newscast on the local network, not even looking up from the small notepad he’s scribbling in. No doubt at work on some new feature he’ll be presenting in an upcoming televised report.

“How come you know so much?”

“It’s my job,” the raven haired man says with a tired sounding sigh of resignation. Something he probably has to remind people of often. The milkman doesn’t envy him his career.

“She’s pretty. I’ve seen her in the elevator. Nice body on that one,” Angus murmurs, his teeth flashing in a feral grin.

Francis slips and the ball lands in the gutter. Robertsky barks a laugh and he glowers at him, his ire shifting to the bachelor salesman.

“Whoa, if looks could kill, you’d be dead right now, Angus,” Albertsky quips.

Izaack looks up from his work finally, the foot crossed over one knee freezing, no longer jostling in some gentle rhythm. His blue eyes lock onto Francis’ features. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he says through gritted teeth. He sucks in a deep breath to steady his nerves, aware that he’s caught the attention of the entire group now. You just…you shouldn’t talk about her like that. Imagine if it was your daughter being leered at like that.”

“Sure, except I don’t have a daughter.”

“I would kill someone that looked at Ana that way,” he says vehemently. Another awkward silence stretches between the men. He means it. He’d do anything for his daughter.

Of course, it’s not your virtue that’s making him defend you right now. It’s jealousy, rearing its ugly head. Another emotion he’d condemned you for experiencing earlier, burning in his gut and cleaving his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He’s livid, seething. Most of all because the very accusation he’s making hits so close to home. He’s guilty of far more than just lecherous thoughts of you. He’s acting on them. The very worst sort of person. Suddenly all his justifications feel thin as gauze. Ephemeral. He can claim he’s just trying to find the affection and happiness he’s been denied for so long all he wants. The end result is the same. He’s corrupting you, little by little.

And he has no intention of stopping.

“Ah, he’s just being a protective parent,” Robertsky says dismissively, breaking the silence at last, scratching at his moustache nervously as he waits to see how this response will be received.

“She’s eighteen,” the cleft chinned reporter murmurs, and Francis directs his withering gaze at the suited man. Great, now he was encouraging him.

“See? There you go. Not really a child anymore. Legally an adult. It’s hardly a similar comparison,” Angus protests.

“Drop it.” The milkman slouches on the seat next to Izaack, watching bitterly as the ball Robertsky’s sent careening down the lane neatly knocks over every one of the ten pins.

A score he knows he’s never going to be able to achieve.

***

It rains the next day, ruining Francis’ plans to take you and his daughter to the park.

He knows he’s sulking and he doesn’t really care. Last night had been sheer torture. He’s got a headache and he just wants to shut himself away for the remainder of the day to brood.

Instead he gets ready to go to your apartment, because your father has invited the milkman and his girlfriend and child over for dinner. His appetite for food has abandoned him again, but his hunger for you is never really sated. It’s an awkward mix of desire and reluctance propelling him to your door, Ana’s small hand clutched in his, his culinary gifted roommate on the opposite side. He’ll have to make small talk. Not let his eyes linger on you too long.

How the hell is he going to make this work?

You open the door, clad in another dress he hasn’t yet seen. This one a solid color with a more demure neckline. He still likes it, admiring how put together you always look. Nothing out of place. You set the table while everyone else converses in the living room. It’s no use. He just can’t come up with any contributions to the current discussion, the idle chatter. He suddenly rockets to his feet, insisting on helping you, grateful that Nacha has Ana in her lap, keeping her occupied. He doesn’t want his daughter tagging along. He knows he’s being obvious already, or maybe that’s just the paranoia haunting him.

You glance up at him midway through setting a fork down, the steel cutlery glinting in your hand. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you murmur softly.

“Why not?”

“You know why not,” you hiss back. He follows you into the kitchen. The room he’d first kissed you in. God, he really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. Lifting you onto the counter. Rubbing his cock against your pussy…

“You told me we had to pretend.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not pretending. It’s written all over your face.”

“What is?”

“Francis, we can’t both be…” You turn, the exasperated sound dying in your throat as you see his expression. That raw, naked, desperate want.

“Can’t both be what?” He’s crowding you back against the sink again. Your eyes dart to the open doorway.

“One of us has to be the voice of reason.”

“I got robbed of my time with you earlier. I don’t really give a flying fuck about reason right now.”

“Francis, no…”

“I need you,” he says, planting a rough kiss on your lips, his palm following the curve of one hip.

“Please. Not now. Not here.”

“When, then? Where?”

“Tomorrow, after I’m done watching Ana, you can walk me back, my dad will be at work.”

“No. Sooner than that.” His grip on you tightens.

“Francis, I don’t know…”

“Don’t you want me?” He’s practically whining. If you asked him to kneel and beg right then, he’d do it. He’d actually do it.

“You know I do,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“Are you ready to serve our guests? Need a hand?” You’re father’s voice carries from the living room.

“No, dad, I’ve got it. Francis is helping me,” you call back, shooting him a pleading look. “Later, then,” you promise. “We’ll figure something out.”

Somewhat placated, the milkman steals another kiss before he moves away.

Later.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn smut #francis tnmn #francis mosses smut #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn milkman #divider @cafekitsune

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utilitycaster · 8 months

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Talking as players outside the game is an incredibly important part of having good PC/PC D&D relationships, and obviously the characters involved in the relationship talking to each other in meaningful ways is crucial, but I think the importance of talking in-game in depth to other people is really underrated, in that it not only tells the other player what your character is feeling without having to reveal it in-game to them, but also serves to engage other characters in the story and deepen those platonic bonds to the point where they might even serve as confidants or wingmen. To give a bunch of examples and what they achieved:

Vax telling Gilmore he didn't want to string him along made it clear out of game that his feelings towards Keyleth were his priority, even though it happened where the other characters were not able to hear.

Similarly, Vex giving her blessing eventually after her initial resistance signaled to Liam that this would not be a major break between the twins.

Vax asking Vex what she intended to do about her feelings for Percy served not only as an opportunity for her to voice them to someone; it also serves as a big green light for Taliesin as Percy to kiss Vex later that episode (which he had already from Vex's resurrection ritual, but it underscores it).

Pike talking about Scanlan with Keyleth and Vex allows her to make it clear that she does ultimately like a lot of things about him despite sometimes being annoyed, and her talking to him through her earring while Scanlan is very much not there but Sam is at the table also serves as this kind of green light.

Jester asking Veth about kissing in relationship to Fjord lets Travis know where Jester is at and invests Veth in-game in the relationship.

Caleb asking Jester if she's "sweet on [Fjord]" lets her openly reassess her feelings after an intense arc and also indicates in-game that Caleb has noticed.

Beau waiting to hear the sound of thunder signals to Ashley (who was not at the table but who was presumably staying updated on events) that Beau has feelings for Yasha; it also allows those playing Yasha (often Matt for pure RP and Travis in combat) to return that flirting, since the baseline was already established.

Possibly the most obvious example, but Beau and Fjord's conversation on Rumblecusp not only clarifies to the whole table where everyone is (opening the door, for example, for the scenes in the beer garden a few episodes later of Caleb having Fjord and Jester dance together and Caduceus encouraging Yasha to pursue Beau) but very much serves as a green light to Ashley and Laura respectively. This is then mirrored by them talking after Beau has asked Yasha on a date and Fjord and Jester have kissed, and everyone involved can "debrief" with their partners not present in-game.

As mentioned, this is mostly about PC/PC relationships because PC/NPC is an inherently different dynamic mechanically though still should be a conversation, but Veth describing Yeza and Jester asking Caleb about his feelings about Essek both give Matt clues for playing these NPCs and how things might be received.

FRIDA mentioning their crush on FCG to Deanna means it's not a complete surprise to Sam, since it is a very sudden relationship, and lets him prepare and decide how FCG would feel in the moment, and also establishes how Deanna will feel about it.

Similarly in the C3 Uthodurn arc, Fearne going to Chetney about Deanna is an incredibly good move from Ashley (to the point that talking about this is what led me to write this whole post). It lets Travis play out where Chetney is. It lets Aabria therefore hear not only where Chetney is, but also know that Fearne is potentially interested. It establishes a ton of the dynamics for a relationship that out of game everyone knows will not have a full campaign to play out since one of the characters involved is a guest. And finally, it signals to Christian as FRIDA what the situation is in case Deanna confides in them.

#critical role #genuinely this came from hearing snippets of rose city and Ashley's choices as fearne and thinking through some of her greatest hits #and also just thinking about how like...and this is a separate post #but how silly little small talk and joking and tiny reciprocated moments are so much of the connective tissue of a relationship #like...there's a reason why ashley's characters' relationships are good even when she wasn't around a ton in past campaigns #and it's because she does try to make the characters have moments when they can so it will count #the i've seen you a lot line or like that awkward watch early on are tiny but do so much and let Marisha as Beau know to keep going

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littlebigmouse · 10 months

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List of Small Things™ I enjoy about Fullmetal Alchemist in no particular order

Everyone in FMAB/manga is just Some Guy™ and very human and I love that so here goes:

Falman getting stuck with a serial-killing suit of armor in his appartment for days and his reaction to it. It may have been weeks. He's been on sick leave the entire time. He's a guy in his early thirties with a flock of early-greying hair because being in a dead-end-role in the military is stressfull, ok. He gets stuck at home with a funny little serial killer (and eventually some foreign body guards, and a foreign prince?? lighting signal fires in his backyard?? like man what a week)

The whole military ambush against the Devil's Nest was yes, kind of kickstarted by the gang kidnapping Al for Greed, but it was mostly kickstarted because Ed was down south to do his yearly official report and Bradley and Armstrong just happened to be present when he was informed Al had gone missing. Greed's entire operation was done in by a teen doing his paperwork

on that note, Greed really decided to spend his immortality wisely by pursuing absolutely none of his supposed ambitions and just decided to settle down with a bunch of buddies. An offshot of the buddies he was initially made to guard, too. I don't think Greed is aware of this either

everyone on that radio building. The radio host 100% down to get some coup-shenanigans into his station to drive engagement. The guys sympathising with Mrs Bradley and taking care of her. Breda taking control of the narrative with a perpetual frown by the skin of his teeth.

I know the story of how the Bradleys met is technically not canon(?) but Mrs Bradley slapping her future husband upon their first meeting because he got his flirting tips from his siblings will never not be funny. Idiots. All of them.

EVERYTHING about Darius and Heinkel. They lost their jobs and became wanted criminals upon helping out some scrawny 15 year old. They have families they miss dearly. They haven't looked back since. "You guys don't HAVE to help me save the world" - "It's not like we have anything better to do"

i was going to say the Ice Cream Truck, because it's iconic, but actually, when told to disguise a vehicle, 15-year-old pinacle of edgelord fashion Edward Elric turned it into a colourful nightmare of spikes that barely resembled a car but might be closely related to the worlds deadliest parade float. None of this was necessary. Ed is just like that.

Hawkeye growing her hair out after meeting Winry, and Winry getting piercings after seeing Hawkeye's

Denny Brosh bursting into tears when he sees Maria Ross is still alive. Dude managed to not quit his job despite working in the same city (department?) where his best friend's killer was his supervisor. They were also very real for showing us that this is a guy who oversleeps and is older brother to at least three younger siblings. There was no need to give us more on Denny Brosh but every little detail hit so hard when they reunited.

okay so remember that time Ed and Ling ate Ed's shoe. Remember that Ed spend some time on a "deserted island" as a kid. Gluttony's stomach had nothing on him. Izumi raised some anime-ass boy-scouts. 100% Farm boy behaviour. These kids are so 15 it makes me want to bite things

immortal, soul-spliced dwarf in a flask got rid of his Sloth and still managed to procrastinate on his world domination plan until the last minute. Most Human disaster.

the entire half-episode they spend on Dr. Knox and his regrets and family. FMA is so good about humanising everyone.

everyone bullied Yoki because he was a small town fraud exploiting workers for his own benefit. Simply a jerk. He also hit Pride with a car in an epic rescue, and cried and screamed the whole way through

that one shot of a kid curiously poking a soldier they found bound on the ground with a stick

(I know it's technically not canon, but-) "I'm trying to save your life, asshole!"

Edward Elric

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #fmab meta #of course there are more #'it's not like they have a tank or something- fuck'

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acewritesfics · 17 days

Text

I'm Yours | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: Yes from Wattpad

Warnings: Tommy's possessiveness. Featuring John Shelby

Word Count: 680

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Why are you not ready yet?" Tommy asked Y/N who stands in her chemise looking through her closet.

He stepped out of their bedroom's ensuite to see she hasn't gotten dressed yet. They are expected downstairs in 10 minutes for dinner with both their families. They are to announce their engagement this evening.

"I still have 10 minutes, Thomas. No need to rush," she says causing her fiancee to shake his head and go back into the bathroom to finish getting ready himself.

She decides on the beautiful red dress that she wore on their first date. He had taken her to the races and then out to dinner. She couldn't think of a better dress to wear.

She's about to put it on when the bedroom door swings open revealing John. She holds the dress against her to shield her body.

"Shit, I'm sorry Y/N." John quickly apologises covering his eyes as he turns his back to her. "Thought you'd be ready by now. Is Tommy in here?"

"Thomas, your brother needs you!" She calls to Tommy. She keeps her eyes on John, making sure he doesn't turn back around before she's able to put the dress on.

It was no secret Tommy's younger brother use to have a crush on her. John was the one that introduced her to Tommy, in hopes of her gaining his approval to join the family and maybe one day be a good fit to become his wife. Tommy not realising that she was the woman that John never shut up about, he pursued her and fell in love with her just as quickly as John had. She of course fell head over heels in love with Tommy, only seeing John like a brother. John got over when he married Esme, and soon fell in love with her but a little part of him still wondered what it would be like if Y/N had fallen for him instead of his charming big brother.

"John, is everything alright?" Tommy asked walking out of the bathroom, putting his cufflinks in and standing between his brother and his soon-to-wife even though she was now dressed.

"Polly wants to know if you've heard from Ada and if she'll be coming tonight," John informs him.

"She will be," Y/N speaks for Tommy as she moves over to her dresser to collect her earrings. "She called me earlier, said that her and Karl will be here."

John looks from Tommy to Y/N, his eyes lingering on her longer than they should as she hooks the earrings into her earlobes.

"Is that all?" Tommy's voice came out a little harsher than he expected it to, his eyes glaring at his younger brother, as a warning.

"Uh... Yeah," John nods, his cheeks warming at being caught staring. "I'll see you downstairs." He quickly leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Can you zip me up please, love?" She asks as makes his way over to her with her back turned to him.

He obliges and steps closer to her, doing up her zip. He moves her hair to the side and kisses up her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tight against him.

"I'm the only one whose allowed to see you half naked," he says softly into her ear, his voice stern, with a hint of possessiveness.

She turns around in his arms. "I'm yours, Tommy. I have the ring to prove it. Just next time make sure your brothers know to knock before bowling into our room unannounced."

"From now on, I'll be making sure those bloody doors are locked," He frowns glancing towards the doors.

"With the way your brothers don't listen, that might be best," she jokes pulling out of his arms and turns to face him.

Tommy pulls her back to him, pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. "You're mine," he mumbles into the kiss.

"Always," she kisses back before pulling away and leading her soon-to-be husband, the love of her life, out of their room and down the stairs.

#acewritesfics repost #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

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nunalastor · 2 months

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At some point in the future, when things have settled down after the Extermination and everyone's more or less settled into the new hotel with their new housemates, Lucifer finds himself in the unfortunate position of catching feelings for Alastor.

Unfortunate because at this point in time, he's still wearing his wedding ring. Still holding out hope for reconciliation with Lilith. But he hasn't so much as heard her voice in over seven years now and maybe each of them have pursued things sexually with other people before, but he's never really sought out another relationship. He and Lilith may be separated, but it still feels like cheating.

After a few shots of liquid courage and an insightful chat with a grouchy bartender, though, Lucifer decides he's not going to put his own happiness on hold waiting for Lilith anymore. But there is at least one other person he needs to talk to.

Charlie's got mixed emotions when Lucifer talks to her about him potentially dating someone other than her mother. Of course she misses Lilith as well and, yeah, she wants her parents to be together and be happy. But after Lucifer has spent so long shutting himself away from people and being a depressed mess, she's thrilled by the prospect of him engaging with people again, on his own terms. And when she finds out it's Alastor of all people her dad is interested in? Well, she can't help but notice a distinct lack of vitriol when the two of them fight these days. It can't even reasonably be called fighting, more like banter. She knows from Rosie that Alastor's ace, but she still thinks that it's worth Lucifer's time to talk to Alastor about pursuing something romantically, platonically, whichever! Charlie gives her full support.

So Lucifer works up his courage. He asks Alastor to meet him somewhere private, somewhere they can talk about something important. And, feeling more nervous than he remembers being in thousands of years, Lucifer confesses his growing feelings for Alastor.

Alastor's like a deer in the headlights.

After a long, awkward silence, Lucifer begins to babble out an apology. No, of course Alastor doesn't feel the same, what was he thinking? He'll just go find a rock to crawl under and stay out of Alastor's way for a hundred years-

Alastor cuts him off. He's still got a weird, panicky look on his face, but he simply asks Lucifer for time to think before deciding how to answer. Lucifer feels a faint spark of hope reignite in his chest and readily agrees to Alastor's request. They part ways.

The next day Alastor is gone from the hotel. Husk and Niffty remain, but all of his possessions, the personalized changes he made to his room and select areas of the hotel with his magic, they're all gone. Charlie gets in contact with Rosie. Alastor's not with her, but she promises to let Charlie knows if she sees him.

Days pass. Weeks. Alastor hasn't shown up to any overlord meetings. Neither Zestial nor Rosie can attest to his whereabouts. Mimzy swings by once, hoping Alastor's changed his mind about sending her away. She's as shocked as anyone that Alastor's gone. Even Vox can't find him anywhere on his spydrones.

Alastor's gone from Hell, vanished without a trace.

👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #nunalastor asks #lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #ghosted

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starlightandetherealshadows · 11 months

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☾. DEMO (24k) ☾. CHARACTERS ☾. PLAYLIST

Latest Update: Chapter 1 released on 08/25/2023

Your story starts like any other. Your life was normal, until it wasn’t. Two years after an invasion ravaged the Earth, you’re struggling to find purpose. The lonely life of struggle and survival is not for you. You’d promised yourself that if there was an apocalypse, you’d end it. That was then. That was when hypotheticals existed. Instead of dying, you lived against all odds and continue to do so. Why? You don’t know. You wake up fortunate to be alive. Everything between the sunrise and sunset is white noise. Insignificant. Now, your normal shifts again. You’re surrounded by a group of strangers, their faces unfamiliar except for the exhaustion in their eyes. There's something coming, something worse. It isn't hard to believe. After all, still water is an infested one. For the first time in two years, you aren't sure who is a predator, and who is prey. Caught between a millennia-long war, the human race is but a spoke in the wheel, narrowly avoiding being crushed by powers beyond your comprehension. At the end of the world, there is only one question. Who is running from whom?

☾. FEATURES

Customize your MC. Play as male, female, or nonbinary. You can determine their appearance and personality, updating it (voluntarily and involuntarily) as the story progresses. Are they charming or intimidating? Do they use their fists to solve problems, or their keen mind and deductive reasoning? Can they talk their way out of trouble, or do they avoid it in the first place?

Become an asset to your group. The perfect team has balance. Choose your MC’s strengths and weaknesses; develop them as you see fit. Make decisions that change the lives of your found family, or sit on the sidelines and watch chaos unfold. Do you believe in fate, or will you change your future by force?

Engage in romance, or keep it purely platonic between 5 love interests. There are two options for short term flings, and one poly option available.

Survive. Easier said than done.

☾. ROMANCE OPTIONS

For each of the romanceable characters, there will be options to increase flirtation, friendship, or antagonism.

☾. Ayana Tsosie (F)

Compassionate, intelligent, tactical, and ambitious, you have no doubt that A is a natural born leader. Despite her warm, welcoming demeanor, A is reluctant to pursue close relationships for fear of it interfering with her sense of responsibility to the group. You catch her crying in the early hours of the morning. Whose ring adorns her necklace?

☾. Cecelia/Chase Quinn (F/M)

Always up for a laugh, C isn’t interested in the doom and gloom. That doesn’t mean they lack competence. C is damn good with technology, able to rig up electricity seemingly from their back pocket. They take their friendships seriously, and will be the first to defend you when trouble comes knocking. Still, you wonder why they flinch at any sudden movements.

*C is demisexual; it takes a high friendship for them to reciprocate any romantic/sexual feelings.

☾. Delphine (F)

A succubus alien from the planet Cypress Velo, Delphine has been on Earth long before the Nion 8 invasion. At the end of the world, the seedier clubs and places of indulgence stand; Delphine works as a bartender and dancer at said places. Wealthy, gorgeous, and playful, Delphine can flash her fangs and have the world on it's knees. You can't help but gravitate towards her. Is she using her powers on you, or is her magnetism all natural?

☾. Zero Chevalier (M)

Having been plagued by night terrors since they were teenagers, Z can't close his eyes without hearing things. Seeing things. His parents, friends, and psychiatrists tell them that it's all in his head. Z prefers the shadows to the spotlight; at least the nightmares hold him close.

*Zero is locked in a v-type polyamorous route.

☾. Xa'eks/Xa'veed (F/M)

X never wanted to be in the military; they didn't know that until their species invaded Earth and they realized that others have a choice. Those words: choice, love, want, fear, longing, regret. It is all foreign to them. X knows their people cannot hide forever. The time for war is coming; but what sort of militia would they be if they couldn't see a lost battle a mile away?

*Memento Mori is a 18+ interactive fiction game that is best suited for the genres of sci-fi, romance, and horror. Wrecked and ravaged by an alien invasion, Earth is on the brink of war. War with who? That is yet to be determined, as no one knows who is the predator, and who is the prey.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Thank you all so much for your interest and support. It means the world to me!! ♡ ♡

All my love,

Cheye (she/her) :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･

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the-witch-of-one-piece · 5 months

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Hatori Sohma x F! Reader: I always have 18+ WC:3.9k / Resident: @enchantedforest-network / Masterlist(coming soon)/ Synopsis: The words 'I love you' never came out until it was too late. Seeing the man you grew up with was planning to wed his new girlfriend. You couldn't come to terms with it. Always hearing from friends he does love you, you begin to doubt it, till you talk to him. You didn't want to come between him and his new love and decide to leave. Coming back after a few years it was just you and Hatori at Shigure's home. The discussion that was long overdue for many years finally happens and it comes full of surprises. Tw: Angst in the beginning, oral sex (receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, making out, a curse being broken for Hatori, comfort, and sex in someone else house, discussing Hatori's injuries. *MINORS DNI 18+*

It’s been a while since you were faced with him. Hatori wearing his nice suit the cigarette he was exhaling from before he looked over at you.. ‘He hasn’t changed a bit’ you said to yourself as you both faced one another.

-Past-

Your mother married into the Sohma family when you were 5. You grew up knowing about the curse on the family and the members affected by it.. Growing up with Hatori, Ayame, and Shigure, they were the closest friends you had. They never made you feel out of place always including you in things they were doing. Out of the three, there was always a sense of comfort being around Hatori. Getting older it was evident that there was a connection between you both. But it would change when you left the country to pursue your own goals while Hatori attended medical school becoming the private family doctor for the Sohma’s.

It killed you to be away, but you had a goal...to do it you had to leave. You and Hatori kept in touch over the years of being over seas, but it seemed to slow down after about a few months to the point where you hadn’t heard from him. When arriving back at the estate, you found out about his engagement to Kana… Your heart broke to see the smiling woman next to Hatori when you met her. Putting on a smile in front of them, congratulating the happy couple. Maybe the feelings were one-sided all this time. Everyone was happy to see Hatori happy with someone, you had to pretend to be happy . But even when you tried to hide it was noticed by everyone your smile wasn't as sweet as it was. Ayame and Shigure knew this would be painful for you to witness.

The whole conversation played vividly in your mind when you spoke to Shigure when arriving back. “Was it all a lie?” you looked at him. You were trying to find some falseness in his eyes. “It wasn’t a lie ______, it just happened we didn’t expect Hari to fall in love with someone else when you left…I don’t think he expected it either.” Shigure watched the pain in your eyes as you were walking around the living room of your home. “This is just a thought …maybe he thought you were going to find someone out there who would make you happy, someone who can actually hold you and comfort you. things you know he couldn’t do...”

“I should have told him before I left. Why did I think waiting after so many years of being in love with him it would have taken me long to do so and now…. I can’t” Your eyes filled with tears as you quickly wiped them before they fell. “I can’t even let him know how I feel… It doesn’t matter.”

Shigure felt a bit of your pain seeing that there was always that spark between you both. To see one friend happy and another in pain he was conflicted. “I’m not saying it's too late to let him know maybe you still should. To get that closure, between you both it could help you move on.” You were contemplating Shigure's words, maybe you should… Waiting after some time till it got dark you walked towards his home. Walking down the sidewalk flashback memories of your childhood of you and Hatori displayed so vividly you thought it was real. There wasn’t one bad memory you both had. Knocking on the front door of his home you anticipated when you heard the door handle click then open to find Hatori there. “_____? It’s everything late okay?” He asked you to see if there were any injuries, if he was able to see, or if you weren’t feeling well. “Hey sorry to come so late...I’m okay.” Your tone was slightly weak paired with a small smile.

After he invited you in. You can see the photo of Kana at his side table “What brings you here?” he asked. His hands were in his pocket walking towards you he stood a few feet from you. He could see you weren’t yourself, you didn’t respond to his question originally. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

The words could leave your mouth. This was a bad idea for you to even come here, but you were here and there was no turning back. “I just wanted to talk to you about something, I just… can’t find the right words to say what I have to say without it sounding so forward.” Hatori watched your body language as you fumbled with your fingers. “There were a lot of things I hadn’t got to say before I left... one of them is a secret, I’ve kept to myself for so long debating if I should tell you or not…” Hatori could see where this was going, a part of him was hoping you weren’t going to say what he wanted to hear from you and something he couldn’t bring himself to say as well. He was with Kana someone he was planning on marrying but the girl he fell for since the moment she entered the Shoma’s estate was here in front of him. “You don’t have to say it… I know.” His purple orbs looked at you.

“I always have… I wanted to tell you but every time I got tired, I got too nervous or it was interrupted. It was hard to be in love with your best friend without expressing it. Not wanting to ruin the friendship… if it didn’t work out. I wish…” you stopped yourself in mid-sentence. “I wish I would have told you sooner and not wait till now to say how much you really meant to me.”

Hatori let out a low sigh. “It goes both ways ______. Don’t blame yourself. I had opportunities like you did and didn’t take them… When you left for school, I thought you would have forgotten about me and anyone there would sweep you off your feet. Me and Kana…. it…it just happened.” “I don’t want you to think I’m here to break you both up. I’m truly happy to see you found someone who makes you happy.” As much as you hated to say that you accompanied it with a smile. “I know she will make you happy just like you will make her happy. Seeing you smile this much I hadn’t seen since we were younger.” The smile was hiding your pain, but he could see it through the smile. “_______...” there was no doubt the feelings he tried to repress came to the surface quickly. He wanted nothing more than to bring you in his arms but the curse upon him wouldn’t let him do so. “I’m sorry.” He has a bit of resentment in his tone.

“Don’t apologize if you truly love her then marry her… I’m happy I really am.” You were trying to hold back the tears. “I-I think I should get going, I have to be leaving soon…” “leaving?” He saw you walking past him towards the door before you could reach the door, he grabbed your hand. “You're leaving, but you just got back?” “I was offered a permanent position where I was working. I was deciding if I should take it or not. I think it's time for me to move on.”

Hatori stopped himself from saying ‘don’t go’ then Kana’s face appeared in his mind. His hand released yours “If that is what you choose to do. I’m wishing you all the luck…” You nodded, still fighting the tears back. You could see the ache he was feeling as well. Your hand reached for his cheek, his eyes closed as your soft hand was gentle against his face. Even though this was goodbye for you both you had to say it to him “I will always love you.” His hand was resting against yours. “I wish things were different. I would have told you I loved you a long time ago.”

When you blinked the tears fell from your eyes. You had to get away, you couldn’t break down in front of him. You had to remove her hands from his cheek before quickly leaving his home. The more you tried to keep it together you were silent weeping to your home. You couldn’t even hear Shigure and Ayame calling out to you. That night you packed and called for the earliest flight.

“I told you nothing happened.” you walked past Shigure and Ayame who were trying to figure out what was going on. “Obviously something happened and you're not telling us,” Ayame said as he stood in front of the door causing you to stop. Noticing your eye was a bit swollen like you were crying... “As your friend, I know when something is wrong.” “I can’t just stay here knowing the person I fell in love with is going to marry someone else okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? And things would have been different if we just told each other how we felt long ago… I’m saving myself from the pain of seeing that okay?”

“He told you then…” Shigure said “Listen, you're not thinking clearly enough, maybe just getting some rest will clear your mind before taking this job offer?” “I can’t I booked the flight and this is only one departing for the next few days.” zipping up the luggage as the taxi arrived. Placing everything in the taxi you looked at Aya and Shigure. “I’m sorry guys. I know it's sudden but I have to do this for myself…I will call you when I can.”

Hatori watched from a distance, both of you looking at one another before you got into the taxi. It would be the last time you both saw each other. The following few days, Hatori and Kana wished to be married and the same day he was injured. One thing after another losing you and losing Kana wiping her memories of what they had. He was alone, he felt like he was unlovable at one point. One's memories were erased while one remained with memories of pain.

After hearing what happened to Hatori you couldn't help but feel guilty, leaving the way you did without saying goodbye properly. It was all weighing on you. Maybe he wouldn’t have asked so quickly if you just didn't tell him at all how you felt. There were times when you wanted to call him but with the first ring, you hung up. You just wanted to hear his voice and ask him how he was doing.

~~~~~~

3 years would pass when you finally decided to visit. Shigure told you that he wanted to talk to you at his home. When arriving at his home no one was there but one person. Sitting on the patio in the back to find hatori smoking a cigarette. “Hatori?” you looked at him. Putting out his cigarette he stood up. “______ it's been a while.” His voice was still so smooth and calming.

“Yeah, it has been... I was supposed to be meeting Shigure here. I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Well the moron I figured he was up to something. The rest of the Sohma’s knew about your arrival today and he asked me to come here to check out something with his finger. When I got here I saw a note he had to take off but he was expecting company and asked me to stay here till they came.” Letting out a sigh you rubbed your face. This was something that Shigure would have done. For years he wanted you both to speak and you wouldn’ be surprised if Ayame had something to do with this as well..

There was a brief silence between you both as both of you looked at one another. “I think I know why we are both here.”

“I do too.” Hatori said he looked around outside thinking Ayame and Shigure and whoever else would be around. “Let's talk inside.”

Both of you entered the home as Hatori closed the door and headed to Shigure's office. “That last time we spoke I’m sorry… I felt like I was responsible for what happened to you,” “It wasn’t your fault… I don’t want you blaming yourself over something there was no control over. We didn’t expect it to happen.” Hatori said “After we talked… it was hard to get you out of my head.. I thought rushing to get married would help me forget you but it didn’t. Deep down I knew it was a bad idea but I went with it still.” Walking towards Hatori your hand reaches you to brush his bangs away from his eye. Your hand slid against his cheek. “I wish I was there to get you through that tough part. I fought with myself wondering if I should come or not, only thinking it would get worse if I came. So I stood away. I didn't want to be the reason for you getting hurt again..”

“I know _____… after the incident, I gave up on love for a while. I didn’t even try, just keeping myself busy with work. But still, you were there, always pondering in the back of my mind. Wondering if you found someone that was gonna make you happy. Shigure and Ayame would keep me updated with you and how you were doing. Seeing some photos you sent made you seemed happy.” “Hatori…” you were gathering what you were going to ask him. “Do you remember the last thing I told you?”

He nodded “I will always love you… is that still true _____?” “I never stopped.”

“The only time I was truly happy that I could remember what was being around you and it was all the time. For you to love someone like me after everything that has happened...I haven't stopped loving you since the beginning.”

The next movement that happened so quickly was when Hatori pulled you into his arms holding you closely. You were anticipating for him to turn into a seahorse but he stood the same, still holding you in his arms. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to hold you in my arms.” Coming out of your state of shock you held him back. It only meant one thing that could have happened: the curse was broken. Even if Shigure stuck his nose where it shouldn’t belong he knew one thing he wanted to happen: he wanted his friends happy. Knowing how you both cared for one another deeply. Hatori could hear the sniffles coming from you. He slightly pulled away his thumb wiping away the tears “No need to cry _______. I’m here now…” his fingers tilting your head up at him he leaned in slightly softly whispering “I don’t plan on letting you go.” leaning more forward the touch of his lips against your felt so unreal words couldn’t describe how wonderful it made you feel. Hatori held you closer closing the gap between you both, his hand resting on the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist. The built-up passion you both had been suppressing from one another was coming up to the surface and quick. It was a matter of time before you were against the padding cushions of the floor Hatori undoing his jacket placing it on the empty desk beside you both. “Ha-Hatori.”

“Yes?” bringing himself down lower to you. “Should we be doing this here? What if someone shows up?” asked him. “I don’t think they will. Shigure knew well enough…damn him. Did you want to stop?” he asked, you responded shaking your head quickly, and he let a low chuckle out. He leaned into your lips once again, this time deepening the kiss more feeling the tip of his tongue graze your bottom lip. You granted him access and he took no time as his tongue entered your mouth. He didn’t want to hold back anymore and now that it was just the beginning he was just getting started. Hatori undone the top buttons on the dress. The doctor's hands pushed the top of the dress open to expose your breasts. His hands moved to cup them gently, his thumbs brushing over hardened nipples. His lips found your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

Biting your lip enjoying his lips against your skin. Your fingers ran through his silky hair as you let out a breathy moan. Closing your eyes for that brief moment heightens the feeling of his lip on your body. Hatori made a small sound of pleasure as he felt your fingers running through his hair. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, kissing lower still.

His comment was sincere to you and caused you to blush hard. Your body is being exposed to him. Him seeing you this vulnerable was a bit embarrassing but you couldn’t bring yourself to cover up and ruin this moment between you both. "Hatori.”

"You were always the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Hatori whispered against your skin as undone the rest of your dress, his nose brushing against your panties. Your heart was racing quickly. You made brief eye contact with him. Hatori looked up at you, your eyes meeting for a moment before he returned his attention to your panties. With gentle fingers, he slid them down your legs, revealing your soft, wet folds. He inhaled sharply, the scent of arousal filling his senses. your eyes focused on his next action eager for his next action anticipation was running through your veins.

His gaze locked onto your aroused form how wet you already become. Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your folds teasingly before finally his tongue slid between your slits. You felt your legs trembling feeling his tongue between your folds.

"Mmm..," Hatori moaned softly as his tongue slid deep inside of you, tasting you thoroughly. He thrust his tongue inside of you, moving his lips against your folds before sliding back inside, slowly, deeper and deeper.

"oh god," you were biting back the moans but it was hard. Even if someone was around the home they were gonna hear your voice. Your back arched as your tongue explored between your aching lips the sound of him slurping at your throbbing cunt was filling the room. Hatori was savoring every moan coming from you. It was turning him on causing his member to throb inside his slacks.

Hatori groaned softly as he continued to taste you, his tongue sliding in and out of your slick heat as he explored your folds and stimulating your clit with his tongue. Your hand began to explore your own body as you began to massage your breast. "Hatori mmm you're gonna make me cum. I- I don't wanna cum just yet." whimpering at his touch.

"Really now?" a bit of taunting was on his voice, lap at your folds continuously. His fingers found their way between your legs,sliding into you."You're so tight..." his skillful hand began to pump in and out of you.

"Hatori~~~~!" you cried out.

Feeling you starting to get close, Hatori increased his pace, his fingers thrusting faster and deeper inside of you. "Cum for me, ______," he whispered against your folds, his other hand finding its way up to massage one of your breasts. The heat of your body began to increase as your body began to release the blissful sensation that was coming on strongly. The sudden shudder of your body as you climax rushed through your body. You held your breath for a brief moment as the pleasureful ambiance took over you.

"Oh, sweetheart," he slid his fingers out of you coated in your juices. your body was still trembling from your orgasm, raising his body up he finished getting undressed. Bringing himself down. Hatori's lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you want,______." You felt his body against yours

"For you to claim me, Hatori." your hand cupping his cheeks, your thumbs swiping backs and fourth across his cheeks dropping his head closer to your overwhelming him as he rolled his hips forward, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"Are you sure, love?" whispering in a soft tone.

"It's all I ever wanted. I give myself to you." With a soft smile, Hatori leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hands slid down your body. The sudden movement of his cock sliding into you made you tense up just a bit as he was stretching you out. Hatori was going gentle as possible a he could feel you clenching around him. "nnnngghhh"

Feeling your tension, Hatori held onto you whispering soothing words that made you relax a bit so it didn’t hurt much. "Let me show you how much I care for you." he gave you a moment before he proceeded to thrust slowly inside of you knowing you needed to adjust to his length. You expected it to be painful considering this was the first time you had done this but when the pain began to subside the thrusting continued to pick up speed. Hatori continued to thrust slowly inside of you, feeling the tightness of your walls grip him. He moaned softly, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive spots with each thrust...Your fingers intertwined with his and the moans were being muffled as you both locked lips with one another. Each time he pushed deeper, he felt your walls pulse around him. Hatori's body sank into yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. both your lips found one another once more. your arms draping around his neck. His tongue danced together with yours. As Hatori felt the heat between them intensify, he began to pick up the pace even more, his hips slamming into yours in a rhythmic pattern. Letting a slight yelp out. Both of you exchanged sweet words feeling the tension building within you both. "You have always been the one _______" His fingers dug gently into your hips, urging him deeper inside you. ‘This feels so good. I’m not gonna much longer. ’

" Hatori don’t stop nghhh." whimpering as he obliged by your request. Seeing you quiver as he could feel you clenching around him.

"_______" he moaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm close." gritting his teeth

"m-me too” your lowered eyelid expression showed a hazy appearance in them. Seeing your pupils dilated became too intoxicating to him.

Feeling the surge of climax approaching, Hatori couldn't hold back any longer. His thrusts became harder, faster, driving deeper into you. His moans filled the room, echoing off the walls as he found release within you. His pelvis pressed against yours holding the position as his cock began to milk inside of you. His eyes didn't pry from yours not one bit. Even just after the climax, it took you both a minute to regain some form of conciseness, your hand reaching up to him as your thumb slid back and forth against his bottom lip.

Panting heavily, Hatori leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I will always love you, ________."

~~~~~~~

Scoping behind the bushes around his home. They were ready for love story to unfold infant of them. When Shigure and Ayame saw you and Hatori enter the home and close the door. They popped their heads out of the bush. “Aww I was expecting them to just say it all right now confessing their dying love for one another,” Ayame spoke in his theatrical tone.

“Well maybe I would have liked to hear what they had to say to one another, possibly give me ideas for another book I’m doing” Shigure scratched the back of his head. Few minutes of silence they couldn’t hear anything. “Let's get a bit closer and see if we hear them talking.”

As both the men approached the back patio was when they heard something that froze them in their place. You call out Hatori’s name. Doing a quick turn they walked away from the patio. “Are they?” Ayame asked

“Oh yeah.. In my house….” he cleared his throat “Well I guess we can call it the love shack!”

Both he and Ayame gave each other a thumbs up.

#hatori sohma #hatori x reader #fruba x reader #fruba #the witch of one piece #val's writing #enchanted forest #fruits basket x reader #year of the dragon!

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faded-if · 11 months

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DEMO (TBA)

Have you ever had everything you thought you wanted? Everything you could ever dream of just within your grasp? Only to find out it was all built on quicksand?

You were the lead singer in the most popular band to grace the music industry in over a decade-- breaking records, amassing fame and fortune, and launching your career into a height you never believed possible. Everything was going great, better than you could ever hope to imagine, until it wasn't. Until everything started to fall apart. The dreams you had thought you wanted, the life you thought you'd be able to build, began to crumble around you.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do, you ran. Left the band that you had created within a garage back in high school, and the people that had been with you through it all, behind. Never thought you'd go back, that you'd simply fade into obscurity, but the past has a way of catching up with you. Even after five years of being away, you'll always find your way back home.

Just like you find yourself back in the world you thought you'd left behind for the Legacy Tour-- an event that could right all of the wrongs you had caused.

Will you be able to save what's left of your career, your relationships, and your passion for music? Or will it all simply fade away once more?

Faded is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug/alcohol use, potential violence, morally questionable behavior, and more!

✯ FEATURES ✯

Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, gender, hobbies, facets of your personality, various vices, public image, and more!

Delve back into the world of the music industry! Will your MC enjoy being back or secretly long for the simplicity that they have carved out for themself?

Create your own music! Will you share it during the Legacy Tour? Wherein millions could finally hear the true story behind why you departed so swiftly?

Engage in romance with a variety of characters! Some may cause more gossip than others, and be notable for the tabloids, but it's all in the name of love!

Interact with fans, new and old, and discover what they think of your departure. Will you be able to win some of them back?

✯ THE ROs ✯

Hudson Lock ✯ He/Him, 26 ✯ A fan that still remembers when you had met years before; citing that you're the reason he has pursued his passion for photography. His passion, as well as his fervent drive to do better, is something to be commended-- especially when it's focused in the manner it seems to be during the Legacy Tour.

"You've been someone I've looked up to for so long, I hope that I can be someone you can rely on when it counts too."

Noah/Nora Fox ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 28 ✯ Your oldest friend and the person that had helped create the band with you-- the only person that had believed in you during the earlier days. The very same person that can barely look you in the eyes, and has shifted from a happy ray of sunshine to the classic partier that sleeps around. Will you be able to fix what's been broken?

Special Romance: Choose to have simply been best friends with them or have been in a relationship prior to you leaving.

"I hate how much I love you sometimes, I hate that it's still your face that I want to see first thing in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I fucking hate that you destroyed me, yet you still hold all the shattered pieces."

Angelina Thorne ✯ She/Her, 28 ✯ The woman that has taken over for you within the band. With an attitude as fiery as her hair, Angelina isn't one to back down from a challenge, especially if she feels threatened. It'll take a while to break down her walls, but she may just be worth the effort.

"I don't know what bugs me more. The fact that you're here or the fact that I can't fucking stand it when you're not."

Elijah/Elizabeth Knight ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 34 ✯ Your old manager hasn't changed in the slightest; barring that they're no longer married. You don't know how you feel about the news, nor do you wish to comprehend what it could potentially mean, but you do know that nothing would ever happen as long as they kept you at arm's length.

Special Romance: Choose to have had a crush on them, but nothing ever happened because they were married.

"You are, and will always be, my only exception."

Jaime Winters ✯ They/Them, 28 ✯ One of the few people you've let close to you within your new "normal" life. They're not the most talkative person, which you can appreciate, but they always make sure you know that they're listening, and they can brighten any room with a signature smile of theirs. Plus, when they do get comfortable their teasing quips and sly remarks can lighten the mood if needed.

"You're still you. You'll never be anyone else to me. I don't care how famous you are."

Harry/Harley Sharpe ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 29 ✯ A security officer that's been placed to protect you, and the band as a whole, during the duration of the Legacy Tour. They seem to be overall a gentle individual, surprising given their career choice, but their drive to protect and serve creates quite an intimidating presence for anyone wishing to cause you harm. Will you be able to resist their gentle eyes and understanding nature?

"I don't know why this happened, or if it's smart that it's continuing to happen, but I can't stop. I don't know if I'd even want to if I could."

#faded #interactive novel #interactive fiction #if wip #interact if #no demo #choice of games #hosted games #dashingdon

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tachibubu · 2 years

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Hi hi, how are you?

Could you write an Aegon fic with the reader where she is pregnant with their first child (a girl)? But while the reader is in labor, it's being too risky, so when she asks everyone to leave, she leaves shortly after her room and as she passes through the hallway where Aegon's family is waiting for the news, they see her heading in. towards the garden, where the dragon is. The reader is afraid of dying during labor, so she asks her dragon Moraxx to set fire on her, Dracarys, but at the time Aegon appears and manages to prevent it, and in that, the birth ends up happening right there and everything ends up fine.

With You

∆ PAIRING ; Father! Aegon Targaryen II x Pregnant!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; (Almost what httpjijikook said!) Aegon and (Y/N) expects to have a newborn baby soon. Though conflicts came and a dreaded question soon clouded Aegon's choices.

∆ WARNINGS ; childbirth and the traumatic shts it brings, angst with comfort, idk why fluff is a warning but fluffy ending, Aegon being a great father, Aegon finally standing up for himself, I DONT HATE ALICENT BUT ALICENT IS KINDA MEAN HERE, slight parallel to Laena's death but if Daemon fckin talked and helped her like hes supposed to fuckin do in the shows, it is not stated which house reader in so lets pretend you learned high Valyrian for aegon or you're from a house who speaks it whatever u wish

NOTE ; I kinda read the request wrong so I changed some bits of it, hopefully this didn't destroy your vision! Also there are High Valyrian in this fic, I italized the meaning beside it usually since I hate placing the meanings by the end of the story.

I was listening to Here With Me by D4vd while reading this so you might as well check it out!

Aegon was never acknowledged to be a loyal, dependable, trustworthy kind of person. The youthful prince is commonly portrayed as a womanizer, drunkard, and generally irrational person who has no desire to ascend to the throne. Of course, no one outside of the Red Keep is aware of the latter.

So you can imagine Alicent's astonished expression when her son asks to cancel the wedding with his sister and instead desires to be engaged to you, (Y/N), of a House who are loyal to Viserys and his heir Rhaenyra.

This did not sit well with Alicent, who perceived it as another ploy by Aegon to get her sympathy. Alicent was horrified that her son might be bewitched by you. Even after he promised to control his urges and impulsiveness, she still forbade it.

Even so, Aegon pursued you and planted a baby inside of you behind the Queen's back. Alicent became aware of this two months into the pregnancy. She considered giving moon tea, but Aegon saw right through her and argued with his mother about the upsetting idea. By drinking it, it could not only kill the babe but you as well, and he wouldn't forgive his mother for that.

When Aegon turned 180° during five months, Alicent gradually came to terms with the pregnancy and the request for bethrotal. This was acquired when Aegon, as his mother would have wanted, would study and get ready for the probable day of his reign. Aegon did not like doing this, but if it meant being with you, he would do everything.

You and Alicent were not necessarily close just because she welcomed you into the family. There were some pure moments in which Alicent prepped you for your first foray into parenting, albeit there were a few fake smiles thrown in because of your lineage and which side it was on.

As your belly grew bigger and bigger, Aegon's fixation with infedelity and other things gradually faded away. From a sour teenager to a tender-hearted, loving father. Yes, he would still occasionally flirt at court, but he would compensate for it by spending time bonding with you after his lessons and crafting an embroidered handkerchief by hand out of his new passion. (Helaena taught him, but Aegon wouldn't admit it. The man was too prideful.)

One month earlier than predicted, the water broke. Aegon and the Greens became concerned about a potential miscarriage as a result.

Your wails can be heard in the back, Aegon cried at the top of his voice, "Do something!" His fists seized the collars of the Maester as he awoke just a few minutes ago. "You bald piece of shit, I'll let you taste something worse than childbirth if you make any mistakes!"

Midnight was when it occurred. As you arched your back in agony, your face was drenched in sweat. You were in excruciating pain, and Aegon's yelling and threats did not help. Your lady in waiting was standing next to you, wiping your sweat and encouraging you softly as you tried to push once more before howling.

Ser Criston, a well-known knight, trudged into the room, saying, "My prince, her grace requests your audience first at council."

"She never liked (Y/N), and now she wants me to miss the birth of my child? Is she fuckin' crazy? What the fuck does that bitch want?"

The white-cloaked knight said casually, "I advise you both discuss this one out, my prince."

Before Aegon could proceed to step out of the door against his own will, he softened when he heard your pleas, crying out for his name. "A-Aegon..."

"My love?" Just by hearing his name, he rushed towards your side. He knelt next to you and gently stroked your hands.

"Please don't leave." Your eyes were red, as was your nose. Aegon was always sensitive regarding his feelings, whether it be anger or sadness. So, seeing you in this position, begging and hurting, he couldn't help but start to weep as well.

His other hand supported your head while his thumb wiped away your tears, saying, "I won't. I'll come back quickly."

"Please don't..." you weakly muttered.

He kissed your forehead and murmured, "I promise," before getting up. He is aware that in order to gain their trust in this marriage, he must comply with his mother's, or rather the queen's, expectations. So he walked towards Ser Criston, but not before saying, "Avy jorrāelan", a pledge of love in High Valyrian. The words mean, 'I love you'.

"Take me to her," he growled as he walked irately past the knight.

The council's discourse was the same as it always was. Pertaining to the heirarchy and how bearing a son would support his claim to the throne. Aegon pondered if this gathering was even worth paying attention to as he fidgeted with his wedding ring, something you had suggested to Aegon. Although not traditional, he found it lovely and continued along with it amidst the disapproval of the septon.

But his worries soon became a reality as the Maester hurriedly entered the room without any introduction, drawing raised eyebrows from the small council. Aegon's heart sank when the old man said that it was either the baby's life or both the infant and the mother would perish. He hurried over to your quarters but discovered it to be empty. He learned that the midwife, who was in charge of keeping a tight eye on you, was preoccupied enough to let you pass through the door. Aegon grew furious and almost killed the poor old lady. However, this was only momentary as a stableboy entered the room in a pant and announced that he had seen you enter the garden near the horses.

On your side, only you could hear your cries for help. When you heard the maesters speak about the possibility of your baby and yourself dying in childbirth, you couldn't bring yourself to meet the stranger on the bed. You had wished for a dragon-rider's death alongside with your baby. So there you were, facing your dragon, Moraxx, as it sent a curious, beguiling glance your way.

"Dohaeris, Moraxx!" As you drew closer to the dragon, begging to be killed with fire, you yelled at it to serve you while leaving trails of blood in your wake. "Dracarys!"

"Kostilus.." you begged, your body in pain yet still holding up. "Dracarys!"

Alicent halted Aegon in his tracks before he could continue after you in the garden. She started by pressing both of her palms on her first child's face, attempting to soothe him down. However, her eyes were filled with conflicting emotions: "She won't survive this Aegon, nor the kid. I trust that you will make the right choice. It is your obligation as a husband to choose wisely."

His face showed pain and betrayal before he shook off the hands on his face as if it was mere dirt. "Screw duty, I'd rather be fucking dead with the one I love than be the crown's slave."

He entered the gates without any more words, his hair ruffled at how fast he fled inside. When he had spotted you almost laying on the floor in front of your dragon, screaming for it to burn you, he began to sprint towards you as if his life depended on it while yelling in panic, "Lykiri!" He screamed for you to calm down and stop amidst his run, "Kelītīs!"

When he eventually got to you, he assisted you up while cursing at you and shaking your shoulder vigorously. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Please, Aegon, please kill me, I beg you now.." You pleaded with the frightened prince.

"I wont fucking do that!"

"I can't handle it anymore, please..."

He stroked your face as you both exchanged glances. Fear, despair, and love for one another were all seen on both faces. "(Y/N), look, and listen carefully. Remember our talk when we visited Highgarden? About death and such?"

"Skoros morghot vestri?" He asked, 'What do we say to death?' it meant, though the way it was said seems like he demanded or ordered you to. When you hadn't replied and your breaths were shallow, his tears didn't stop from flowing before he asked it again, stuttering, "(Y/N),... S-Skoros morghot vestri?"

Your eyes would have almost succumbed to the haziness if it weren't for Aegon's pleading eyes and voice. With your new-found determination, you felt yourself regain a bit of energy. Using it, you held his shoulders as you forced yourself to push out the life inside of you. His eyes never left yours until you had finally felt something release inside you, and you slowly laid down on the pavement with him helping you down with worried eyes.

With a final push, the new baby was born. It wasn't a boy, but Aegon loved her regardless, as he took the baby and held it in his hand. His one hand cradled it while the other held yours. Slowly, he started with a mere chuckle before he let out an excited laugh. He shared both looks between his daughter and his wife, muttering "gevie," Beautiful, he said.

You smiled at him, taking slow breaths before giving him a loving kiss. You answered his question from before, "Tubī daor". A response in which he smiled properly before responding. "Yes, it is not today."

The maesters and a few knights were summoned to help you and the healthy infant back to your chamber. Aegon was by your side the entire time you were mending. Your husband placed a chair next to your neatly made bed and slept there as you did. You both fell into a deep slumber, holding hands. Tiredness consumed both of you as you were both woken up by the maestar on the morrow, congratulating you both on a successful birth.

"You did so well, my love." Aegon whispered as you cradled your baby in your arms before you heard your husband thank you in your shared native words. "Kirimvos, for not giving up."

You smiled before kissing him, "avy jorrāelan."

Tell me why is fuck aegon the first thing that popped up in hashtags as i add my tags HXHXBDBDNDN

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mythsandheather · 5 months

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What I hate the most about LO is that Rachel is making the romance between actual gods backward. Aphrodite and Hephaestus were a couple but Aphrodite found him repulsing so she cheated on him with Ares. Even after that cheating on Hephaestus, Ares, and Aphrodite were the only sane couple in Greek myths. Apollo had his fair share of lovers (if you exclude Daphne) with him being in love with BOTH male and female and how does Rachel do justice to his character? By making him a R*****

The saga of Ares, Aphrodite and Hephaestus is often terribly misunderstood and LO is no exception, except that she weaponises it in her narrative and portrays it arguably at its worst.

The original story of these three is often stripped down to the bare basics along the lines of either “star-crossed lovers and ugly loser dude who got in their way” or “bad slutty woman cheats on poor helpless (but still ugly loser) dude with angry frat bro” and it’s wild. It’s a story, at least how I see it, about love, pain and compromise for what you need for yourself.

Hephaestus is hurt, angry and traumatised by his parents abuse of him, specifically Hera, and so he traps her in his specially made throne. He has a point to make and for the first time in his life, he will not be ignored.

Aphrodite is offered as the prize for freeing Hera, without her consent, and so is also hurt, worried and angry, especially when Hephaestus wins her hand. She is handed off to a man she barely knows, let alone loves, and can’t do anything about it

Ares is both not strong to free his mother, nor able to keep the woman he adores from being handed off to someone else — his own brother, no less, and has to just sit and watch. He is humiliated, he is hurt, he is angry.

The retelling I like the most is from Stephen Fry’s Mythos, where Aphrodite and Ares are already engaged when the throne incident happens, Zeus assuring them that surely since Ares is the strongest, he’ll be the one to free Hera. Even Zeus is humanised. Aphrodite’s hand being offered is him making a rash decision to motivate the other gods out of his desperation to free his wife.

When Hephaestus arrives and frees Hera, it’s not what anyone expected and Hephaestus makes it very clear that he’s not doing this to get the girl, so much as to make it clear he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He had Aphrodite seperate shortly after their marriage and she goes on her way with Ares while Hephaestus goes about his work, now with the respect he wanted for his craftsmanship. Ares, Aphrodite and Hephaestus are all on relatively amicable terms as later stories unfold too, especially compared to the fighting of the other gods.

In some versions, Dionysus intervenes and convinces Hephaestus with some alcohol both to free Hera and not to pursue Aphrodite, and Hephaestus agrees.

Now, you might be looking at all this and thinking “wow, what a nuanced tale and what a mature way everyone ended up handling it! Everyone here is flawed yet you like and relate to all of them! Surely this would make a great adaptation for a ‘feminist retelling’!” You’d be wrong.

Ares is a douchey dudebro who is obsessed with Persephone cuz reasons and exists to say every oversexualised, gross, objectifying thought Rachel herself has while drooling over her self insert but can’t make Hades say cuz he’s supposed to be a gentleman.

Aphrodite is a petty caricature of influencers and Kim Kardashian and her hyper sexualised nature is a bad thing and entirely her own fault when something bad happens to her. She’s also purple. I will never not be mad about Aphrodite not being pink.

She and Ares break up because -insert slut-shaming, not like the other girls logic to defend Persephone- here and she marries Hephaestus.

Hephaestus is set dressing, at best. Every cool attribute he has is stolen and given to Hades and instead of being ugly due to injury or physical deformity and this being a source of how mistreated he is, he’s just…black-coded and with prosthetic legs. If that made you slightly uncomfortable, it should.

Speaking of minorities being taken, chewed up and spat out by Lore Olympus, that brings us to Apollo. Poor, poor Apollo. One of the most beloved and influential of the Theoi, literally unrecognisable and reduced to being the self-insert’s r*pist because, you guessed it, reasons.

Let me add to all the people saying it, because it needs to be repeated; APOLLO DID NOT ASSAULT PERSEPHONE IN THE MYTHS OR ANYWHERE EXCEPT LORE OLYMPUS.

I know it’s probably not intended to be homophobic how Apollo is treated in LO, but fuck it, that’s how it smells to me, so that’s what I call it.

Every character, every relationship, every story serves to boost the Rachel x Mads fapfic Persephone and Hades love story and it’s nasty. How the fuck are you gonna call yourself a folklorist and do this?

#antiloreolympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical #lo criticism #anti lore olympus #lore olympus criticism

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cfr749 · 3 months

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So in the interest of engaging in a respectful way, I wanted to put my thoughts into words about why this situation with the picture is far bigger than the picture for me personally. I also don't think the picture is that serious. I do think the pattern I talk about below is problematic.

If you love everything about the show and how Tim and Lucy got together, I think that’s wonderful.

But before getting annoyed that people are voicing their opinions and concerns, I hope that people at least try and consider these are layered issues.

Lucy is a woman of color in the LAPD who ended up in a relationship with her former boss, despite knowing it could come at a price for her professionally.

For me, it is important to see a story where Tim and Lucy choose each other, respect each other, and support each other. Equally.

And, for me, that is not at all the story we got in seasons 4 and 5 (and the end of season 3). These are my issues, and why I think it’s important the show be more balanced in its storytelling going forward:

What we got for Lucy: Multiple instances of Lucy being petty, jealous, immature and unprofessional at work (and mind you this is a character that is hyperaware of how hard it is to be a woman in the LAPD, and specifically the optics of romantic relationships between officers, and I think it's shitty that the writers chose to portray her like this not once, but multiple times)

The Katie Barnes storyline

Webb and the cat personality test + vocally reacting in roll call in front of her fellow officers when Tim chose Smitty over her to be his aide

Being clearly invested and heavily focused on bets and competition with Tim

What we got for Tim:

a retcon of his bad behavior in S1 being because he needed to show Lucy the world could be a scary place. Because, as a woman who was literally threatened with sexual assault and a car jacking in the pilot, she was too naive and inexperienced and "empathetic" to know that.

Tim putting Lucy in her place and reminding her about the seriousness of their work by calling off the bet

***

What we got for Lucy:

Obvious jealousy over Ashley (you're in a relationship? you're dating a lifeguard? break up with her! the reaction to the proposal, etc.)

What we got for Tim:

Setting Lucy up with another man without a second of hesitation.

Encouraging her to end things with Chris (a WHOLE other issue I won't get into), after Ashley had dumped him

***

What we got for Lucy:

Being seemingly more invested in and concerned about Tim's relationship than her own (Tim's planning a vacation with Ashley, while Lucy doesn't want to meet Chris' parents and is very concerned about whether Tim is going to propose)

Dumping Chris, not of her own accord, but because Tim was able to “open her eyes”

Specifically dumping that guy FOR Tim, in a way that made her look like an asshole

What we got for Tim:

being in a relationship with a woman he was absolutely into, despite their clear incompatibility (we heard from Eric himself that Tim was genuinely interested in Ashley, happy and invested in his relationship with her; we heard Tim say he could see himself marrying her)

Choosing not to break up with Ashley despite all of the indications they weren’t right for each other and being willing to cheat on her

Not being willing to retire for her, but still not ending the relationship

Being made into the victim when Ashley dumped him in a way that made her look like an asshole

Only pursuing a relationship with Lucy after he'd been dumped, while she was still in a relationship

If you don’t feel the story was lopsided and unfair to Lucy, or have a completely different perspective (I'd genuinely love to hear it!!), just don’t care, or find it that serious, that’s great for you, but it’s completely valid that people feel this way.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see a woman in a relationship be valued and treated well. That has nothing to do with insecurity or jealousy. That has to do with respect and representation. We all come from different perspectives and have different backgrounds that reflect in our perception of how women of color are portrayed on TV.

#chenford #the rookie #my unsolicited opinions

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tytoalbatross · 12 days

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god damn i do not post often but can i talk about intentionality for a second?? one second please

i'm gonna be talking about bg3 but this really applies to any fandom space. people will, surface-level, agree that a Black character is not getting enough content compared to their white counterparts because it's. obvious . take wyll, who is several hours behind on voiced lines compared to other origins despite being one of the original five (before they added karlach and whiteified her too but that's another post). it's hard to deny cold hard facts

but then instead of engaging in content that uplifts Black characters and creators, they'll go right back to pumping out more and more content of just their white faves. on its own, it's not actively harmful, but here's what the implication is, whether they acknowledge it or not: yes wyll has less in-game content, yes his writing didn't get the attention it deserved, therefore i don't like him as much. it only perpetuates wyll's lack of content by contributing to his sidelining in fandom spaces

what i would love for fans who claim to be allies to do is to step out of the comfort zone of their initial favorites (which can, in fact, be biased!) and start pursuing content centering Black characters with intentionality. like all things, anti-racism (actively pushing back against racism rather than simply "Not Being Racist") takes practice and effort. you can't really agree with us that wyll needs more content, then in the same breath say that it's because of that that he's not interesting to you . the point was right in front of you doing a jig and you still missed it

#bg3 #wyll #wyll ravengard #this isnt even including people who didnt notice that wyll had less content in the first place #which is. a very damning admission. so you werent paying Any attention to him...? at all....? its obvious even on a first playthrough tf #i had to physically stop myself from saying specific white boy names in the main post bc i knew it would just be fanning the flames #and thats not productive. as much as i hate to admit it.#anyway we all know why halsin is so much more popular than wyll. the white man with as much personality as a cardboard cutout #ITS HARD TO APPRECIATE HIM WHEN HES 1) boring and 2) part of the reason wyll got less content bc adding him meant less time for the others #if people start things in the replies im deleting this post if im being honest. this needed to be said but #i am not in the habit of arguing with strangers on the internet and i am not starting now #tyto speaks #man i didnt even mention how white side characters with maybe 5 min total of screentime get so much fan content .#while wyll a whole ORIGIN character gets left out of party art and either infantilized or villianized beyond the point of recognition

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formulas-bitch · 2 months

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Forbidden Love Pierre Gasly x Leclerc/reader

4.8k words

warnings: charles being a dick sort of

On the morning of June 17th, a day that would change his life forever, Pierre Gasly woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. The sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across his bed, and he could smell the freshly baked bread from the bakery down the street. He stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of being completely unencumbered by the weight of responsibility that had been pressing down on him for so long. Little did he know that this carefree morning was about to be interrupted by the arrival of a woman who would turn his world upside down.

As Pierre made his way to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, he heard a knock at the door. He crossed the room, still in his bathrobe, and opened it to find a beautiful woman standing on his doorstep. She had long, flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture his attention instantly. She introduced herself as Madeleine Leclerc, the older sister of his best friend, Charles. As they talked, Pierre couldn't help but feel a strange connection with her. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, and he found himself smiling and laughing at her jokes.

After a while, Pierre invited Madeleine inside to have some coffee. They sat in the living room, sipping their cups and continuing their chat. As they talked, Pierre noticed how intelligent and interesting Madeleine was. She had a way with words that made everything she said seem profound and meaningful. He also noticed her striking resemblance to her brother, which only made her more attractive to him.

As the morning wore on, Pierre began to realize that he had feelings for Madeleine that went beyond friendship. He found himself becoming more and more infatuated with her, and couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with her. He knew that pursuing a relationship with her would be complicated, given their familial connection, but he couldn't shake the desire that burned within him.

Madeleine seemed to sense his feelings, and their conversation became more intimate as the day progressed. They discussed their shared passions, their dreams for the future, and the things that made them happy. Pierre felt a deep connection with her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alive. but the only thing stopping him from persuading his feeling for Madeleine was Charles.

As the afternoon sun streamed through the window, Pierre found himself lost in thought about what he should do. He knew that pursuing a relationship with Madeleine would mean potentially hurting his best friend, and that weighed heavily on his heart. He didn't want to lose either of them, but he couldn't deny the intense desire he felt for her. He decided that he would wait, bide his time, and see how things unfolded.

The next few months passed by in a blur of work, social engagements, and quiet reflection. Pierre tried not to think about Madeleine too much, but her image seemed to seep into every corner of his life. He couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same way about him.

One day, out of the blue, Madeleine called him to ask if he would like to join her and a group of friends for a weekend getaway at her family's cabin in the woods. Pierre hesitated for a moment, torn between his feelings for her and his fear of hurting Charles. In the end, he decided that it might be best to confront his emotions head-on.

The weekend was filled with laughter, hiking, and late-night conversations around the fire. As they sat together under the stars, Pierre couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for Madeleine. He knew that she was now in a relationship with someone else, and that he had to respect her choice. But the feeling he had for her was too strong to ignore.

As the weekend came to an end, they all said their goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. Pierre found himself unable to concentrate on anything other than Madeleine for the next few weeks. He would daydream about their time together at the cabin, wishing things could be different. Finally, he decided that he needed to talk to her. He needed to know where she stood and if there was any hope for them.

He texted her, asking if they could meet for coffee, and she agreed. They arranged to meet at a cozy little café near her workplace. As Pierre waited for her, he felt a mixture of anticipation and dread in his stomach. When she finally arrived, he couldn't help but notice the way she walked, the way she smiled, the way she moved. It was then that he knew he had to say something.

They ordered their drinks and found a quiet corner to sit in. The air was thick with tension, and Pierre couldn't help but feel that their relationship had changed since the weekend at the cabin. "Madeleine," he began, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. "Of course, Pierre. You know you can always talk to me."

Pierre took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I just wanted to say that I've been thinking about our time together at the cabin, and…well, I can't help but feel that something has changed between us." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I care about you very much, Madeleine. More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And I want to be with you."

Madeleine listened carefully, her expression growing more serious with each word he spoke. Finally, she leaned in closer and placed her hand on his arm. "Pierre, I appreciate your honesty. You know how much I value our friendship, but I'm in a relationship now. With someone else. I can't just ignore that."

He nodded, understanding her words but unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes. "I know, I just…I didn't want to lose you. I couldn't help how I felt."

Madeleine leaned back in her chair, her expression softening. "I appreciate that, Pierre. It means a lot to me to know that you care so much. But I need you to understand that I can't be with you the way you want me to be. I love my boyfriend, and we're trying to work through this. I want to keep our friendship, though. I don't want to lose you, too."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Pierre wasn't sure how to respond. He knew he should respect her decision, but the pain in his heart was almost unbearable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Okay, Madeleine. I'll try to respect your wishes. But I just want you to know that I'll always be here for you, if you need me."

Their conversation drifted to safer topics after that, and Pierre did his best to act as if nothing had changed. But every time he looked at her, he could see the spark that had once been there, dimmed by the weight of their situation. They continued to meet for coffee, and sometimes they would even share a laugh or two, but the connection they'd shared at the cabin seemed to be gone forever.

As the weeks turned into months, Pierre tried to move on with his life. He threw himself into his work, spending long hours at the gym , hoping that the distraction would help ease the ache in his chest. He dated other women, but none of them compared to Madeleine. He knew that she was the one who had gotten away, and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever find someone like her again.

One day, out of the blue, Madeleine invited him over for dinner. Her relationship with her boyfriend had ended, and she wanted to catch up with him. Pierre couldn't believe his luck. He accepted the invitation without hesitation, eager to see her again.

As they sat down to dinner, Pierre couldn't help but notice the way Madeleine seemed different. She was more confident, more sure of herself. He wondered if it was because she was no longer in that relationship, or if something else had changed.

The conversation flowed easily between them, and Pierre felt a sense of joy he hadn't experienced in months. It was as if they had never skipped a beat. As they ate and drank, their laughter filled the room, and Pierre found himself wishing that this moment could last forever.

Later in the evening, when the dishes had been cleared away, Madeleine leaned back in her chair, her eyes meeting Pierre's. "I just want to say thank you," she began. "For being there for me when I needed it most. You were always so understanding and supportive, and I appreciate that more than you know."

Pierre felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. "Of course, Madeleine. That's what friends are for. I'm just glad I could be there for you."

Their conversation continued into the night, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their childhood memories. As the hours passed, Pierre couldn't help but feel a sense of longing growing inside him. He wanted more than friendship with Madeleine. He wanted to be the one who made her laugh, who made her happy.

Finally, the moment he had been waiting for all night arrived. Madeleine let out a soft sigh and leaned back in her chair, her eyes locked on his. "Pierre," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something." as she was about to speak, a ringing of a phone interrupts them . The ringtone is an old, familiar tune from their childhood. Pierre recognizes it instantly. It's her brother's phone call. He always calls her on this number. The excitement and anticipation in Madeleine's eyes vanish as quickly as they appeared, replaced by a look of apprehension and dread.

"I'm sorry," she says apologetically, "I should take this." She quickly excuses herself from the table and hurries into the other room, closing the door behind her.

Pierre listens to the muffled sound of her voice on the other end of the line, his heart sinking with each word. He can't help but feel a stab of jealousy as she speaks to her brother, Charles, their childhood friend who had always been there for her. They had always been close, and it was clear that their bond was as strong as ever.

He tries to focus on his own conversation with Madeleine, but her words with Charles keep creeping into his mind. "I should get back to him," she says at one point, her tone distant and apologetic. Pierre knows that there's no point in pressing her about it; whatever Charles has to say, it's clearly important.

As the night wears on, Pierre can't help but feel a growing sense of unease. He wants to believe that Madeleine will eventually come back to him, that she'll choose him over her brother. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that their connection has been irreparably damaged. Their friendship, once so close and easy, now feels strained and fragile.

He decides to take a walk to clear his head, stepping out onto the quiet street. The cool night air does little to calm his nerves as he paces back and forth, lost in thought. He wonders if he should confront Madeleine about her conversation with Charles, or if it's better to give her space. The thought of losing her as a friend, or worse, as a potential romantic partner, is almost too much to bear.

As he stands there, uncertain of what to do, a car pulls up beside him. It's Madeleine, her eyes red from crying. She steps out of the backseat of the car and looks at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and guilt. "I'm sorry, Pierre," she says softly. "I need some time to myself right now. Can you just give me that?"

Pierre nods, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "Of course, Madeleine. I'm here if you need me." He tries to keep his voice steady, but he can't help the quiver that creeps in.

Madeleine takes a deep breath, wipes away a tear, and then says, "I just need some time to sort things out with him… with Charles." Her voice trails off, and she looks away, out the window. "I don't know what to do."

Pierre nods, understanding the weight of her words. He knows that Charles has always been there for her, and that their relationship runs deep. He doesn't want to interrupt her, but he also doesn't want to leave her alone. "I'm here if you want to talk about it," he offers gently. " and i know Charles is your brother and everything but …i want you to know that I care about you too. and if you need someone to lean on, I'm here. and i don't want you to be in a position where you would have to choose me or him. he's your brother and I'm just the brothers best friend."

Madeleine looks at him, her eyes full of emotion. "I know that, Pierre. And I appreciate it. More than you know." She takes a deep breath and composes herself before continuing. "Charles and I… we've been through a lot together. Our dad died when we were young, and he was always there for me. He took care of me, made sure I had a roof over my head and food on the table. I owe him everything."

She pauses, her voice wavering. "And now, with everything that's been going on… with you and me… it's just… I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose either of you." Her voice cracks on the last word, and she fights back tears.

Pierre listens, nodding understandingly. He knows that their situation is complicated, and there aren't any easy answers. "I get that, Madeleine. I do. But I want you to know that I'm here for you too. No matter what happens with you and Charles, I'll always be your friend."

He reaches out, gently taking her hand in his. Her skin is cool and smooth against his, and for a moment they sit in silence, their hands intertwined. It's a small gesture, but it feels significant somehow. Madeleine looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for some sign of reassurance.

"I love you, you know that," Pierre says softly. "And I want what's best for you. Whatever you decide, I'll be here for you. You're not alone in this." He leans in, kissing her forehead before letting go of her hand.

Madeleine closes her eyes, taking in his words. A small, fragile smile appears on her lips. "Thank you, Pierre," she whispers. "That means more to me than you'll ever know." She looks at him for a moment longer, then takes a deep breath, composing herself. "I need to go home. I'll see you at the grand prix tomorrow, okay?"

Pierre nods, his heart heavy but determined. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. And remember, no matter what happens, I'm here for you." He offers her a reassuring smile, trying to hide the pain he feels inside.

Madeleine returns the smile, a little more convincingly this time, and then opens the car door. As she steps in , she turns back to face Pierre one last time. "Thank you, Pierre. For everything." With a deep breath, she closes the door and is driven away, disappearing into the night.

Pierre watches her go, his heart heavy with a mix of love and concern. He knows that things between her and Charles are complicated, but he can't help feeling a sense of loss as he imagines the two of them growing further apart. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and then climbs back into his own car. As he pulls away from the curb, he can't help but wonder what the future holds for them all.

As Madeleine makes her was into her home, she finds the lights turn on and knows for sure that she turned them off before she left. as she makes her way deeper into the house she finds all three of brothers, Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo in her kitchen.

"Oh, hello Madeleine, we were just talking about you." Charles says as he looks at her. There's something in his voice that makes her uncomfortable.

Madeleine glances around the kitchen, noticing that Arthur and Lorenzo are there as well. They all exchange awkward looks before she finally decides to speak up. "What were you talking about?" she asks, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.

" oh just how you are going to be moving into my apartment since im not home most of the time and you did tell us you were looking for a new place to live. so i was thinking why not have my older sister move into my place since i have a spare bedroom and it will help you save money too" replied Charles happily.

Madeleine's heart sinks. She knew something was up when she saw them all here, but this… this feels like a betrayal. She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "Charles, that's not funny. You can't just assume that I'd want to live with you, or that I need your help financially."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations. Charles' expression sours, and he glares at her. "I wasn't being funny, Madeleine. I'm serious. I think it's the best solution for everyone involved." "everyone" being Pierre is what Charles meant Madeleine thought

Arthur clears his throat uncomfortably. "Look, Madeleine, we're not trying to push you into anything. It's just that…well, we're worried about you. You've been working so hard, and we want to make sure you're okay. If you need us, we're here for you."

Madeleine feels a lump form in her throat. She knows they're not being malicious, but the situation still hurts. "I appreciate that, Arthur," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can take care of myself. I don't want to live with Charles, and I don't need you to pay my rent. I just need some space."

Charles scoffs. "Well, we can't exactly let you live in that dumpy little apartment forever, can we? It's not like you're some charity case. You need to start thinking about your future."

Madeleine feels her temper flare. "My future? You mean the one where I work my butt off to support your extravagant lifestyle? The one where I live in the shadow of your success, never getting to make my own choices?"

She glares at each of them in turn, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "You know what? Fine. If that's how you all feel, then maybe it's time for a change. Maybe I should move out, find somewhere else to live. Maybe I should start focusing on me for a change.maybe what i need is to get away from you."

Madeleine storms out of the kitchen, leaving the three brothers looking at each other uncomfortably. She heads upstairs, slamming doors and throwing things in her room until she's too exhausted to move. She collapses onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow, feeling more alone than she ever has before.

Later that night, Charles finally works up the courage to call her. He apologizes profusely, admitting that he didn't mean to push her away and that he was just worried about her. He offers her the option to stay in his apartment, but promises to give her space and not interfere with her life. Madeleine listens, feeling a mixture of anger and guilt. She knows Charles means well, but she can't help but feel betrayed by her entire family.

She decides to take some time to herself and think things over. She spends the next few days avoiding everyone, going for long walks and spending time alone in her favorite cafes. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she does need a change. Maybe it's time to move out of the city, find a new job, and start fresh somewhere new.

Madeleine finally returns Charles' call, thanking him for his apology but telling him that she needs some time apart from the family. She explains that she's considering making some major life changes and that she needs space to figure things out. Charles is understanding, but she can hear the disappointment in his voice. He promises to be there for her if she needs anything, and she knows that deep down, he means it.

As the days go by, Madeleine begins to feel a new sense of freedom. She starts packing up her things, slowly but surely preparing to leave the only home she's ever known. She thinks about the possibility of moving countrys , where she has family and friends who will support her. The idea of starting over is both terrifying and exhilarating, but she knows it's what she needs to do to find herself again.

One afternoon, as she's working on her laptop in a cozy corner of a local coffee shop, she feels a presence beside her. She looks up to see Charles, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Hey," he says tentatively. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Madeleine is taken aback. She hadn't expected him to come looking for her. "I'm doing okay," she says, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about what comes next."

Charles nods, leaning in closer. "Look, I know I've been a bit overbearing lately. I just want what's best for you. But if you need any help, any advice…I'm here for you."

Madeleine feels a pang of guilt. She knows Charles means well, but she also needs her space. "Thanks, Charles. That means a lot. But I think I need to do this on my own for a while."

Charles nods, understanding. "Of course. I just want you to know that you're not alone. You can always come to me if you need anything." He hesitates for a moment, then says, "And if you ever change your mind, about staying in the city or needing some help…just let me know."

Madeleine appreciates his words, but she's determined to make this decision on her own. She's been so caught up in pleasing everyone else that she's lost sight of what she truly wants. As she sips her coffee, she can't help but feel a sense of freedom and possibility.

The weeks go by, and Madeleine continues to make progress in her new life. She finds a job in the countryside, working at a small bakery that specializes in artisanal breads and pastries. The owners are a warm and welcoming couple who treat her like family from the start. The work is hard, but Madeleine finds herself loving every minute of it. She's surrounded by nature, breathing in the fresh air, and making connections with the locals.

as the days pass by not a moment goes by where Madeleine thought about Pierre and how he is doing.

The bakery owners, a kind and loving couple named Thomas and Emily, noticed her preoccupation and asked her if everything was alright. Madeleine confided in them about her past, her family and her love for Pierre. They listened patiently and with understanding, telling her that they too had gone through similar experiences in their lives. Emily shared with her a saying from their village, "The heart knows what it wants, and sometimes it takes leaving home to find it."

Madeleine found solace in their words and began to focus on her new life. She threw herself into her work at the bakery, learning the art of bread-making and pastry-making from Thomas and Emily. The small town embraced her with open arms, and soon she had made many friends and felt at home.

One day, as she was taking a break from her shift, she received a letter in the mail. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Pierre's familiar handwriting on the envelope. With trembling hands, she opened it and began to read. Pierre apologized for his behavior and told her that he loved her and wanted to make things right between them. He asked for her forgiveness and invited her to visit him in the city, where they could talk and work things out together.

Madeleine was stunned. She felt a mixture of emotions: happiness, confusion, and fear. She didn't know what to make of Pierre's sudden change of heart. But she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. She decided to give him a chance, at least to talk. She wrote back, accepting his invitation and making plans to visit him in the city.

As the day of her trip approached, Madeleine felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She had grown accustomed to her new life in the countryside and wasn't sure how she would adjust to being back in the city. But she also knew that she couldn't ignore the love she had for Pierre.

The train ride was long and lonely, and by the time she arrived at the station, Madeleine felt overwhelmed by the bustling crowds and the familiar sights and sounds of the city. She found Pierre waiting for her outside the station, looking nervous and eager. His smile was genuine and heartfelt, and it calmed her nerves a little.

They walked together through the city streets, making small talk as they caught up on each other's lives. Pierre seemed sincere in his efforts to explain his behavior and make amends. He took her to a cozy cafe where they could talk without interruption.

As they sipped their coffee, Madeleine found herself feeling a sense of peace and contentment. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the same feeling Pierre had felt when he left her all those months ago. She asked him about it, and he admitted that he had been struggling with his own feelings and the pressures of his family's expectations. He had thought that leaving her was the only way to find happiness.

Madeleine listened carefully, trying to understand his perspective. She told him about her own journey and how much she had grown to love her new life in the countryside. She explained that she couldn't just give up everything she had worked so hard for, but she also didn't want to lose him. They decided to take things slowly, to see where their feelings led them.

As they continued their conversation, they began to discover new things about each other. They shared stories and dreams, hopes and fears. The cafe around them faded into the background as they became lost in each other's words. It was clear that they still had a deep connection, despite all they had been through.

Madeleine found herself missing the simplicity of life in the countryside. The peacefulness, the fresh air, the close-knit community. She wondered if she could ever find that again, now that she had tasted it. Pierre seemed to understand her feelings and promised to visit her often, if she decided to return.

They continued their conversation for hours, lost in each other's company. As the sun began to set, they walked hand in hand through the bustling streets, admiring the city lights. They stopped at a small park where they sat on a bench, watching the people go by. Pierre took her hand in his and told her that he would do whatever it took to make her happy, even if it meant moving back to the countryside with her.

Madeleine was touched by his words and felt a renewed sense of hope. She knew that their relationship was far from perfect, but she also believed that they could make it work if they were both willing to put in the effort. She told him about her dream of opening her own bakery one day, and Pierre nodded, smiling. He promised to support her in any way he could.

As they continued to sit in the park, they talked about their future together. They discussed the possibility of finding a compromise, where they could live part-time in the city and part-time in the countryside. They imagined weekends spent in the country, enjoying the peace and quiet, and weekdays in the city, exploring the bustling streets and the endless opportunities.

as they sat there talking, Madeleine realized that didn't need Charles or anybody's opinion on who she loved or what she did, as long as she has Pierre by her side she is happy

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