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willowsnook · 2 days ago

Text

princess (18+)

request from @anyarhancock Bacon, tomato, rye, with mikes way - I’m begging you to make it HOT

lando norris x quadrant!reader

My heart is only yours to break

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

When you got a call from Max Fewtrell asking if you were interested in being a Quadrant athlete, you were hesitant. With the battle for the Women’s Snowboarding World Championship heating up, you weren’t sure you had time to commit to something else. It ended up being your friend Keegan who convinced you; he had been one of their athletes for a while now and loved it. He knew you’d be the perfect fit.

A month after signing the contract, you did some shoots with them, and they started to sponsor you, vlogging some halfpipe events. You’d met most of the team so far besides Lando Norris, who was the CEO. Being a professional athlete, there was a lot of gossip in the “industry,” and a lot of it painted him as a young playboy who needed an attitude check. Keegan was practically in love with the man, so you had hoped it wasn’t true, but your first interaction said it all.

After flying from the US to London for a team meeting, you were talking with Max about an upcoming competition when Lando finally made an appearance. He was supposed to be there hours ago but was just now showing up, sunglasses on, and clearly hungover.

“Hey mate,” Max said with a smile you knew was masking his irritation. “I don’t think you’ve met y/n yet.”

“Hi,” you said, sticking your hand out. Lando mumbled a greeting before leaving your hand stretched out to go to where the coffee machine was. You gave Max a look, and he tried to smooth it over.

“He’s not always like that, I promise,” he reassured you. “He’s just going through some shit.”

“Yeah, like a whole bottle of vodka,” you muttered. Walking into the conference room, you sat next to Keegan, chatting about the upcoming Olympics he was competing at.

Ten minutes later, Max started the meeting and you followed along, listening to new ideas being thrown around and events that were coming up.

“For the past couple of months, our content from competition vlogs has been doing the best, so we really want to keep that up,” Max said. “Y/n, great job so far; I'm excited to see what content you get in two weeks.”

“About that,” you started, carefully choosing your words. “That competition is a qualifier, so I really would like to be heads-down. I don’t think I’ll want to get any content for it.”

Keegan nodded in understanding beside you, his silent support reassuring you. Max opened his mouth to respond, but Lando interrupted with a sharpness that sliced through the moment.

“You do know you signed a contract to create content for us,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his irritated tone matched by the flash in his eyes.

The room went uncomfortably silent. All eyes turned to you, but you met Lando’s gaze without flinching, your jaw tightening.

“I didn’t realize signing the contract meant I should prioritize this over my actual career,” you replied, your voice cold and steady. “You know, the one that caught your attention in the first place.”

A flicker of something—was it guilt?—crossed Max’s face, but Lando didn’t back down. If anything, his expression hardened.

“It wasn’t my attention you caught,” he shot back, his words laced with an edge that made Max wince beside him.

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Of course not. It’s pretty clear who makes the decisions around here.” Your eyes flicked pointedly between Lando and Max, the tension crackling like static electricity.

Lando’s jaw tightened, his posture stiffening, but it was Max who tried to step in, his voice soft yet firm. “Guys, come on, let’s not—”

“No,” you cut him off, keeping your gaze locked on Lando. “Let’s not pretend this is something it’s not. I agreed to collaborate, not to give up everything that matters to me. If that’s a problem, maybe we should reevaluate this entire arrangement.”

Keegan shifted uncomfortably beside you, unsure whether to intervene or let you hold your ground. Max glanced between you and Lando, his expression torn.

Lando’s lips parted as if to retort, but whatever he was about to say got swallowed by the weight of your words. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually relent—but instead, he pushed back his chair abruptly, the screeching sound echoing in the room as he stood.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice low but simmering with frustration. “Do whatever you want.”

He strode out of the room without another glance, leaving behind an awkward silence that hung heavy in his wake.

“Y/n, that’s fine. Don’t worry about filming,” he said, and you smiled appreciatively at him. “Let’s take a little break.”

You stormed out of the room, Keegan hot on your tail as you bypassed the place's amenities and headed straight outside.

“Y/n, wait up,” Keegan called out to you, and you whirled at him.

“You got me involved in this shit,” you yelled at him. “You know how much pressure I’m under! This was supposed to be fun and a mission I could get behind. I don’t need to work for an asshole.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry about today,” Keegan said, and your anger faded at his wounded puppy dog face. “He had a bad race last week and isn’t doing well.”

“So it’s been said,” you replied. “I have bad runs too, but you don’t see me being a dick to people I don’t even know.”

Meanwhile, Lando was scrolling his phone, still stewing outside of the room.

“Wel,l that went great bud, thanks,” Max said sarcastically, approaching him.

“I don’t like her,” Lando said, not looking up from his phone.

“You made that pretty clear,” Max shot back.

“She’s cocky, rude, and not the kind of person I envisioned representing this company,” He said, finally looking up to Max, who just rolled his eyes.

“She’s the same amount of cocky as you are and I don’t care; we can’t get rid of her.”

“Why not?” Lando questioned.

“She has brought in twice as much money as anyone else here,” Max told him. “Look, I get it’s different. She’s bigger than anyone else we’ve signed, which means she gets more leeway with us; that’s just the nature of the business.”

“How has she even brought that much business?” Lando complained.

“Same thing as you, but with guys,” Max said, and Lando looked at him confused. “Dude, you know she’s hot. Just like you have a million fan girls who buy our merch and support us, she has a million fanboys. It’s just how it goes.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Lando muttered.

“You don’t have to like it,” Max retorted. “But if you’re going to be an asshole to her, I think it’s best that you just stay away.

—-------------a month later---------------------

Putting the finishing touches on your outfit, you did a little spin for yourself, admiring your work. Your friend Bella giggled beside you, watching you check yourself out.

You were staying with her in London and meeting up with some of her friends at a club tonight to party before you had to head back to reality in a couple of days.

Your season had a month-long break, and you had spent most of it travelling snowboarding in pretty places that you hadn’t been to before. At the end of the break, you flew out to see Bella and to cosplay being a normal person for a week. You and Bella had grown up together, and she moved overseas for college and never went back.

Bella made you take a million pictures in the mirror before the two of you finally headed down to get an Uber to a new club you were going to. The line by the door was a mile long, and you sighed, not enjoying this part of a normal lifestyle. But fate was in your favor; as you stepped out, one of the doormen caught sight of you and recognized you instantly. He waved both of you over, much to the annoyance of the people in line.

“Are you y/n, y/l/n?” He asked, and you nodded. He was around your age and very cute, so you gave him your best smile. “I’m a big fan; you’ve got the championship in the bag.”

“Thank you, I sure hope so,” you replied warmly.

“You two can come in right through here,” he said, gesturing for you to move through. You kissed his cheek as a thank you, and he flushed red; you could hear his fellow doorman chirping him as you walked away.

“It is very irritating how many men trip over their feet for you,” Bella grumbled from next to you.

“Would you rather us wait in that line?” You teased, and she sighed.

“No.”

“If it makes you feel better, it gets old,” you told her.

“What do you mean?”

“All these guys want me because they think I’m hot and know I’m rich,” you told her. “They want me because I’d look pretty on their arm, nothing more.”

“Only you would find a way to complain about attention like that,” she joked, and you laughed. Her friends were at a table insid,e and you joined them, greeting the ones you already knew. You got bottle service for the table, you’d use your money on the girls anytime, and you started to let loose.

Many drinks later, your bottle service was up, and you found yourself waiting by the bar to get a drink.

“I think I owe you a drink,” a voice murmured in your ear, smooth and self-assured. You turned, already bracing yourself, to see Lando standing behind you. He looked annoyingly good in his all-black outfit, the tailored fit highlighting every inch of his confidence. But the memory of your last encounter simmered beneath the surface, and your annoyance returned in full force.

“I think I’m good,” you replied flatly, turning back to the bar without giving him a second glance.

Undeterred, he slid into the spot next to you, close enough that his cologne's subtle, expensive scent filled the air. You hated how much you noticed it.

“Don’t be like that,” he coaxed, his voice light but carrying a hint of challenge. His eyes drifted down your figure, unapologetically lingering at your chest before flicking back to your face with a smirk.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes. “You do realize I’m not one of your usual girls who’ll fall at their feet for you, right?”

His jaw tightened, but the corner of his mouth curved in a sly grin. “And you realize I’m not one of your usual guys who’ll let you walk all over them, right?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the amused twitch at your lips. “Trust me, I’ve met guys like you before. All charm, no substance.”

“Funny,” he shot back, leaning casually against the bar. “I was about to say the same about you. Except, in your case, all bark, no bite."

You turned to him fully this time, your eyes flashing. “Careful, Lando. Push too hard, and you might get bit”

His grin widened, and for a second, you weren’t sure if he was irritated or impressed. “Big words,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “But I’m not convinced.”

Before you could respond, you were interrupted by someone saying your name.

“Y/n, is that you?”

You froze as you turned around to see your ex-best friend staring back at you, a look you knew to be fake on her face.

“In the flesh,” you replied, a tight smile on your face. The last time you had seen her, she was at your door, crying her eyes out about how her sleeping with your boyfriend was a mistake and that she couldn’t lose you. That was two years ago. The bartender interrupted her next words and she turned to order a drink. You quickly reached behind to grab Lando’s arm, pulling it to wrap around your waist. He stiffened at the contact, but Sophie turned back, eyes catching his arm placement, and he understood.

“How have you been?” She asked, taking a sip of her old-fashioned and wincing, which made you smirk. She only ordered those to impress guys she wanted, even though she hated the taste.

“I’ve been good, busy,” you said, not wanting to give her anything more to work with. Lando bowed his head to rest on your shoulder as he eyed this girl. He liked her even less than he liked you.

“And who might this be?” She asked, and you smirked. You knew she followed Formula 1, and you were proud of yourself for thinking so fast on your feet.

“This is my boyfriend, Lando,” you said, and you felt his grip tighten against you.

“Nice to meet you,” he offered and Sophie beamed.

“How long have you been together?” She asked, and you started to answer but Lando beat you.

“Just a couple of months,” he started. “I saw that video of her face-planting during one of her events and knew I just had to have her.”

You could tell he was enjoying this, but your elbow into his side was instinctive.

“Ope, sorry babe, are you okay?” You asked innocently as he rubbed his ribs.

“All good, princess,” he said, smirking and your smile tightened at the ridiculous pet name.

“You should really come visit us sometime,” Sophie said and you visibly stiffened at the mention of “us” which didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“I don’t think so,” you said sharply, and Sophie rolled her eyes.

“When are you going to get over that? I miss you,” she complained and you laughed. You genuinely could not believe what you were hearing.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Look, you weren’t a good girlfriend to him, and that’s okay. You just couldn’t help outshining him all the tim,e but he forgives you.”

“It’s hard not to outshine someone who’s a fucking loser,” you snapped, and she flinched. “Let me tell you the same thing I told you 2 years ago: don’t say my name. Don’t call me. Don’t talk about me. My life became so much better once I cleaned the shit from it.”

Lando snorted from behind you while Sophie’s jaw dropped. You turned, dragging Lando with you back towards your friends.

“Friend of yours?” He said with an amused smile on his face.

“Something like that,” you responded, rolling your eyes. Lando had come with Max, who you saw chatting with Bella at the table.

“Y/n!” He yelled as he saw you. He hugged you, and you gave him a big smile. “Has Lando been forgiven yet?”

“I pretended to be her boyfriend in front of this random girl, so I think so,” Lando replied and Bella gave you a look.

“Sophie,” you told her, her nose scrunched up.

“Ew.”

The drinks kept flowing and the night became very hazy. The last thing you remember was dancing with someone very inappropriately before the world faded.

Groaning as you came back to the world the next morning you tried to sit up but were restricted from something weighing you down. Opening your eyes, you saw an arm wrapped tightly around your naked waist, holding you down to the bed. Eyes traveling up his body, you wanted to cry the second you saw that curly hair.

“NO!” You yelled, throwing your hands to your face. Lando jolted awake, searching the room for whatever caused you to yell before glaring at you.

“Will you shut the fuck up? I have a headache,” he complained, and you moved your hands to his neck to strangle him. He pulled your hands off, holding them down on the bed while hovering above you.

“If you wanted round two, all you had to do was ask,” he said wickedly, and you groaned.

“Tell me this is a nightmare, and I just need to wake up,” you begged and his smirk widened.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he teased.

“Moment of weakness,” you groaned and he scoffed. “Did we actually have sex?”

“Afraid so, princess, not my best performance, though, considering you forced multiple tequila shots down my throat before we left the club,” he admitted.

“Good thing I don’t remember it then,” you said, slipping out of bed. The soreness between your thighs meant that it still was probably above average but you weren’t going to say that. Lando’s eyes tracked you as you made it to the bathroom, and he felt himself starting to get hard again. Squeezing his eyes shut he laid back on the bed, trying to think of anything besides you being naked in the shower.

You came out five minutes later, not bothering to hide your body from him. You looked through his suitcase and pulled out a quadrant hoodie to pull over your head, along with some boxers that would look perfect for your walk of shame home. Everything Lando did to distract himself went out the window as he stared at you in his clothes.

Your eyes flickered to the rising tent under the covers and you smirked.

“Something wrong baby?” You teased, and his cheeks blushed.

“Don’t be a tease,” he muttered, but his hand slipped under the blanket and you took a step closer. He pushed the comforter back and your eyes widened at the size of his cock but you quickly masked it with indifference.

“So this is what I got to see last night,” you said, bringing your fingertips to trace the base to his tip. Lando let out a deep breath, shutting his eyes while trying to control his breathing. “Did me showering get you worked up?”

He didn’t respond but you swiped your thumb over his tip, pressing gently, causing him to groan.

“Maybe just a little taste before I leave,” you teased and his eyes shot open, his hips involuntarily bucking up. Leaning down you stuck your tongue out, tasting his precum and swirling it around his head.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Please give me more.”

You took him completely in your mouth and to the back of your throat before pulling off with a pop.

“Too bad,” you said. “See you around Norris.”

With that, you got up and grabbed your purse, heading out of the hotel. He was too stunned to say anything.

—----------a month later-------------------

You were coming off a bad competition weekend when Max called you, begging you to fly to Vegas for the F1 race. He wanted to film some content and had the perfect idea.

A hot lap between you and Lando.

You only agreed because you felt bad about producing less individual content as your season ramped up. Max assured you it was fine a million times, but Lando’s original comments were still in your mind.

So here you were on a Wednesday afternoon at the track, fiddling nervously while Max set up the camera in the car. Lando strolled out of the garage, dressed down in sweats and a McLaren sweatshirt, and you shoved the image of what you knew he looked like under those clothes far out of your mind.

The roar of the engine echoed through the garage as you tugged the helmet over your head. Lando was leaning against the McLaren, his trademark smirk plastered across his face as he watched you strap yourself in.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice dripping with faux concern. “It’s not a Sunday drive, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the passenger seat. “Please, Lando. I think I can handle a little speed.”

“A little speed?” He laughed, sliding into the driver’s seat with a flourish. “Oh, you’re in for a surprise.”

The car rumbled to life as he revved the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Last chance to back out. I won’t judge you—much.”

You shot him a confident smile, adjusting your grip on the straps. “I’m not the one who’s going to be scared, Lando.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “We’ll see about that.”

The moment the car hit the track, the world blurred into a dizzying streak of color. Lando threw the car into turn after turn with expert precision, the g-force pressing you back against the seat. But instead of the scream he was clearly waiting for, you let out a laugh—loud and exhilarated.

“This is amazing!” you yelled over the roar of the engine, your grin wide and infectious.

Lando’s head snapped toward you, a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “You’re enjoying this?”

“Are you kidding? Go faster!” you challenged, your laughter echoing in the small cabin.

“Faster?” he repeated, shaking his head in mock offense. “You’re supposed to be clinging to the seat, not cheering me on!”

“Maybe you’re not as intimidating as you think,” you teased, shooting him a sideways glance.

His jaw dropped, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Alright, then. Let’s see if you’re still smiling after this.”

He floored it, the car screaming down the straight before diving into a hairpin turn. Instead of shrinking back, you leaned into the experience, your excitement only growing.

As the lap came to an end, Lando pulled into the pit lane, cutting the engine with a flourish. He turned to you, still grinning, but there was a hint of something else—admiration, maybe—in his gaze.

“You’re full of surprises,” he admitted, pulling off his helmet and running a hand through his tousled hair.

You shrugged, unbuckling your harness. “You’re not the only one who likes living on the edge.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Careful, you keep talking like that, and I might start to like you.”

You laughed, stepping out of the car. “Who says you don’t already?”

Max stood by, watching the interaction between the two of you. He had known his best friend long enough to know what the look on his face meant as he watched you walk away.

“I don’t like her, Max, she’s cocky and rude,” he fake imitated Lando, mocking his earlier words. “And look at you now: smitten.”

Lando scoffed, “I’m not smitten. We are just friendlier than we were.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Max said, grinning. “You like that she isn’t falling at your feet.”

Lando didn’t say anything, but they both knew he was right.

—------a month later------------

To celebrate the end of the year, Quadrant had gotten a massive Airbnb cabin in Vail, and you were very excited, especially since you hadn’t seen Keegan in a while. Also, you could use some relaxing snowboarding. The championship was in a month and would come down to that last run between you and one of your competitors.

It was almost blizzarding when you landed, but you were just thankful that your flight hadn’t been delayed. Finding an Uber took forever due to the weather, but finally, a brave soul in a very big truck picked you up. You dragged your suitcase through the snow and quickly punched in the code Max had sent you opening the door.

Lando padded into the entryway, amused at your snowy state. You flipped him off in greeting, but he ignored it, picking up one of your bags to help carry to your room.

“I have some bad new,s princess,” he said as you reached the room he had apparently picked out for you.

“Stop calling me that,” you replied.

He ignored you, “you were the last flight in. Everyone else has been delayed until Wednesday.”

“You’re joking,” you said in disbelief. That was in two days.

He flopped onto your bed, giving you a wide grin. “Just you and me.”

The two of you did not exchange a word for the next 24 hours. Lando mainly stayed in his room streaming with Max, and you wandered around the cabi,n switching from reading to watching trashy TV. It was actually kind of nice. You made dinner the first night, leaving some for Lando, which he texted you to say thank you for, but other than that you stayed out of each other's way.

Tuesday evening, you were engrossed in your book, a hockey romance, which made you flustered. Usually, you’d be at home so you had access to your vibrator when reading a book as filthy as this one, so now you were suffering.

Closing the book, you headed upstairs and to your bedroom. You passed the bathroom that Lando was currently showering in but noises coming from inside had you stopping. Pressing your ear to the door, it sounded like he was whimpering but not like crying. After he let out a string of curses and groans of frustratio,n you realized what he was doing.

Debating what to do for a couple of seconds, you turned the handle and opened the door. Lando heard you enter and poked his head out from behind the curtain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, but you didn’t answer; you just pulled your shirt over your head, and his eyes widened as he watched you strip. Once you were naked, you moved to the shower and he reached out a hand to help you in. He didn’t say anything; he just waited for you to make the next move.

“I’m going crazy in this house,” you said. “So all I’ve been doing is reading romance novels, and I need some kind of relief. I’ll help you out if you help me out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He smirked and started to reply, but you held your fingers to his lips.

“No talking,” you said, Lando's breath hitched as you knelt before him, the warm water cascading over both of your bodies. Your eyes locked with his, a silent understanding passing between you. This was about release, nothing more.

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his already hard length. He inhaled sharply at your touch, his hips involuntarily jerking forward. Slowly, you began to stroke him, feeling him throb in your hand.

Lando's head fell back against the shower wall, his eyes fluttering closed as you worked him. His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to tangle in your wet hair. You leaned in, your breath hot on his skin, before taking him into your mouth.

A low groan escaped Lando's lips as you swirled your tongue around him. Your free hand gripped his thigh, steadying yourself as you began to bob up and down on his cock, making sure that your tongue kept moving.

"Oh god," he moaned, breaking your no-talking rule. But you were too caught up in the moment to chastise him. He started moving his hips faster, his hands wrapped in your hair. You gagged around him and his hips started to stutter as he spilled down your throat.

He pulled you up, wincing as you gave his cock one last squeeze.

"My turn," he murmured, his hand sliding between your thighs.

You bit back a moan as his fingers found your most sensitive spots. The dual sensations of the hot water and his skin on yours sending you into a frenzy.

His lips found your neck, kissing and nibbling as his fingers continued their relentless assault.

"God, you're so wet," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with renewed desire.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. But when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right, a moan escaped despite your best efforts.

Lando's other hand came up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple. The dual stimulation was quickly pushing you towards the edge. Your hips rocked against his hand, chasing your release.

"That's it," he encouraged, increasing the pace of his fingers. "Let go for me princess.”

Your body betrayed you when he called you that, and you were sent over the edge, clenching around him. Lando was in heaven watching you finish in front of him. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back as you felt it all.

You caught your breath, and Lando kept his hands on your waist to steady you. His eyes were still looking at you, filled with lust. Without a second thought, you crashed your lips to his and he pushed you up against the wall. Your lips fought angrily for dominance and it was filthy.

“I want to remember this time,” you said, pulling back from his mouth.

He grinned, “Oh, you’ll remember.”

Grabbing your right leg, he lifted it so that he could line up with your entrance. His forehead rested against yours as he pushed in slowly, his mouth covering yours to swallow the sounds of discomfort you made.

The water continued to pour over you both as Lando began to move, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. His lips never left yours, swallowing every gasp and moan that escaped.

Your hands roamed his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, digging your nails into his back as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Lando's pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency.

"Fuck," he groaned, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your neck. "You feel so good."

You wrapped your leg tighter around his waist, changing the angle slightly and causing you both to cry out in pleasure. The new position allowed him to hit deeper, and you could feel the familiar tension building in your core.

"I'm close," you panted, your fingers tangling in his wet curls.

“Hold on, princess,” he panted. “Wait for me.”

You whimpered as you struggled to hold off your orgasm, but Lando was soon growling in your ear to let go. You clenched tightly around him as your climax hit you, and that sent him with you. Animalistic groans were coming from him as he came hard inside of you, and it was so hot that you felt yourself starting to build up again. Lando caught his breath and noticed, bringing his thumb down to rub your clit, not pulling out of you.

“One more for me baby. Can you do that?” He cooed. Your back was arched off the wall, supported by his arm as he held you upright. He brought his lips to nip at your neck before sucking harshly, and your third orgasm slammed into you. Your other leg gave out completely, but Lando quickly caught you, holding you up against him. Too fucked out, you could barely process anything going on.

“Let me take care of you okay?” He whispered. He made sure you could stand on your own before grabbing the body wash and rubbing it all along your body, being extra careful on your sensitive areas. When you were done, he wrapped you up in a big towel and helped you out.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you intensely. You smiled weakly at him.

“Yes, just a little overstimulated,” you said, and a look of guilt flashed over his face. “It’s not your fault, Lando, I asked for it. Let’s get changed, and I’ll make dinner, yeah?”

He nodde,d and you briefly went your separate ways. You made soup for dinner and ate together in a peaceful silenc,e followed by both of you cleaning up.

“Is it cold in here to you?” He asked, breaking the silence. You thought about it for a second and realized it had started to feel colder over the past hour.

“Will you check the thermostat?” You asked and he nodded, jogging away. He came back a few minutes later with a frown on his face.

“I think the heater is fucked,” he said, and your eyes widened.

“Lando!” You exclaimed. “It’s supposed to be like ten degrees tonight.”

“We could start a fire?” He suggested. “I don’t know how to, though.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering that you did, and he followed you into the living room while you got the fireplace going. You decided to watch a movie by the bed so the two of you settled onto the couch, on opposite ends. There was definitely an awkward tension in the air after the shower and you spent most of the movie thinking about it.

You decided that you let yourself get carried away because you were horny and Lando was hot. Lando was also thinking about it. He didn’t like you that much. But he knew he would be jerking off to that scene for the rest of his life. And he had been having a good time here with you anyway.

When the movie ended, the heat still wasn’t on, and you told Lando that you would strip your bed and set up a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace. He did the same, and the two of you got comfy and tried to get warm.

An hour passed, and you still couldn’t fall asleep, still shivering despite the pile of blankets.

“Y/n?” Lando whispered, and you lifted your head to see him looking at you.

“What’s up?” You asked sleepily.

“Are you still cold?”

“A little,” you admitted. He moved his blankets up and beckoned you over.

“Come over here, please; more body heat will work.”

You knew he was right, so you crawled over to his space, nestling yourself into his arms, his chest against your back.

“Are we good?” He murmured into your ear, and you turned your head to look at him.

“We are never good Norris,” you bit back but with no bite. “But why do you think that more this time?”

“I feel like you just shut down from me after,” he said, vulnerability filling his voice.

Pausing for a moment, you debated how much you were willing to admit.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that,” you said softly.

“Felt like what?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“Felt like I was safe,” you whispered, and his eyes softened.

The last handful of hookups you had felt like performances you were expected to give. They were always with random guys you met who knew who you were and wanted the full y/n experience. It never felt like you could be truly comfortable like you were always on edge. But with Lando, you had completely let go.

“Goodnight, princess,” he finally said, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Now, what do we have here,” a voice said from above, waking you up. You blinked open your eyes to see Max and his girlfriend standing above you, both grinning.

“The heat went out,” Lando mumbled from behind you. His arms were still wrapped tightly around you and he buried his head into your shoulder to avoid the lights.

Max gave a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the sight of you and Lando tangled together under a heap of blankets. His girlfriend nudged him, trying to stifle her own grin.

“The heat went out,” Lando repeated, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “And you’re way too loud for this early in the morning.”

“You’re just mad we caught you two all cozy,” Max teased, his grin widening. “Didn’t take you for the cuddly type, Norris.”

You groaned, pulling the blanket over your head in an attempt to escape the embarrassment. “Can we not do this right now?”

Max’s girlfriend finally stepped in, pulling him toward the door. “Alright, let’s give them a break. Besides, I’m freezing. Let’s see if anyone’s figured out how to fix the heat.”

As they left, you felt Lando shift behind you. “Well, that’s one way to start the morning,” he murmured, his voice still groggy but tinged with amusement.

You peeked out from under the blanket, turning slightly to look at him. “Thanks for the assist. I guess I owe you.”

He smirked, his face close to yours. “Oh, you definitely owe me. But I’ll let you make it up to me on the slopes later.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you still ended up in my arms,” he quipped, pulling the blanket tighter around the two of you.

The rest of the ski trip passed in a blur of snowy adventures, playful banter, and fleeting moments like this one—moments that made you question if there was something deeper between you and Lando. He was still his usual cocky self, but every now and then, there was a softness in his gaze or a quiet moment shared on the ski lift that made your heart skip a beat.

By the time the weekend ended and the cabin was warm again, you couldn’t deny it anymore: maybe, just maybe, there was something about Lando Norris that felt like home—even if you’d never admit it to his face.

—----------snowboarding world championship—------------------

You were fighting back tears in your eyes as you were handed the second-place trophy after a long day. You had done it all but still came up short, and you knew you should be happy to even finish in the top three, but the competitor inside demanded more.

The whole Quadrant team had flown out to support you, and you put on your best performance for them, convincing them that you weren’t breaking down inside. They wanted to go to dinner to celebrate, but you made an excuse for being exhausted and promised to celebrate tomorrow.

You let the tears fall freely once you were back in your room. You stood in the shower while you sobbed at the failure of a season, letting the water scald your back. When there were no tears left to cry, you changed into a big t-shirt before finding a comfort movie to put on. You had just settled in when you heard someone knocking on your door. Slipping out of bed, you opened the door to see Lando standing there, a bag of Taco Bell in his hands.

“Oh, princess,” he said, seeing your puffy eyes.

“It’s okay,” you said weakly, but he was already wrapping you in his arms. You comforted yourself in his arms, sighing deeply to collect yourself.

“I brought dinner,” he said, and you smiled, looking at the bag. Taco Bell was your favorite cheat meal; Keegan must have told him.

Retreating to your room, he followed you, kicking off his shoes before climbing onto the bed. You joined him, picking out what you wanted from the bag before handing it back to him.

“It was quite the performance you gave today to everyone,” Lando said, and you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t want to kill the mood,” you said, and he looked at you sympathetically. It was quiet as you both ate and then settled into the bed.

“When did it stop hurting?” You asked softly, and Lando tore his attention away from the movie so he could look back at you.

“It still hurts,” he said. “But the hurt drives my goals for next season. And I’ve learned to focus more on everything I accomplished and be proud of that.”

You let his words sink in, trying to find comfort in them.

“But you don’t have to think about that until later,” Lando said. “Right now, you are allowed to be angry and sad. That makes you who you are.”

You blinked back, fresh tears at his words, your chest tightening. “I just wanted it so badly,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I know,” Lando said softly, his hand reaching out to intertwine with yours. “That’s what makes you great, Y/N. You care so much. But you don’t have to carry it all tonight.”

The two of you fell into a companionable silence, the movie playing in the background. Lando shifted closer, draping his arm over your shoulders. For once, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his warmth seep into the ache in your chest.

“Thanks for being here,” you murmured after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Always,” he replied without hesitation, and you felt your heart flutter. It felt like everything clicked in that moment. What started as major dislike for the man lying next to you had turned into something else over the past couple of months.

You thought back to the night in the cabin, how you felt in his arms like everything was right. And tonight, he was the only one who could see through you.

“What’s on your mind, princess?” He asked, looking down at you.

“I just realized something,” you said, and his full attention was now on you.

“What’s that?”

“When I heard someone knocking on my door tonight, I had hoped it would be you,” you admitted softly. Lando smiled down at you softly.

Lando's smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He pulled you closer, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your shoulder.

"I'm glad it was me," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "I couldn't bear the thought of you being alone tonight."

You felt a rush of warmth in your chest, starkly contrasting to the hollow ache that had consumed you earlier. You shifted, turning to face him fully.

"Lando, I..." you started, then hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling emotions into words.

He waited patiently, his eyes never leaving yours. In them, you saw understanding, compassion, and something else—something that made your heart race.

"I think I'm falling for you," you finally whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, Lando was silent, but then he sat up and quickly pulled you up onto his lap.

“My heart is only yours to break,” he told you, and you felt a warmth fill your body.

The next day, the Quadrant team rallied around you, as chaotic and supportive as ever. Keegan teased you about your “Taco Bell therapy,” Max insisted on a group breakfast, and Lando made it his mission to annoy you into laughing. By the time you packed up to head home, the sting of second place hadn’t completely faded, but it felt more manageable.

You carried the lessons of the championship with you—every triumph, every misstep, every moment of self-doubt. And as you boarded the plane, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of determination spark within you.

Lando caught your eye from across the aisle and raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“Next season,” he mouthed, and you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The next season was yours to take.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 smut

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kaliforniahigh · 2 days ago

Text

maybe you want her, maybe you need her - n.s.

4 times Noah slept with you and 1 time he realized he was falling in love.

Warnings: the expression "slept with" is used loosely in this fic, talks of past experiences, Noah is a little nervous at first, smut (unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, fingering, mutual masturbation) a little bit of dirty talk and realization of feelings.

WC: 3.3k

Requests are closed for now / Click here to be added to the permanent tag list <3

The first Noah slept with you was experimental.

You had just agreed on a friends with benefits relationship a few days ago. He was having a conversation with you on his couch, the guys out there on the back patio grilling some burgers and drinking some beer.

Somehow, the conversation took a turn into the topic of relationships, and Noah expressed to you how he only seemed to find girls looking for a serious relationship. He was young and with a whole career ahead of him, not wanting to settle down with only one person yet.

And you expressed how you only seemed to find uninteresting and rude guys. How you never felt comfortable bringing these people into your home, or even going to their house. And that you weren't looking for a comitted relationship either, and these men only seemed to want a woman to be their housewife.

Then, Noah went into a interesting topic. Casual sex.

He mentioned that he never trusted people enough to have just nice, casual sex with them. He always had this doubt lurking in his head that in the next morning, a picture of him in a compromising position was going to surface on the internet.

You giggled a little at this idea, but completely understood his worries.

You, on the other hand, mentioned how difficult it was to find a guy who was even half decent in bed. Most of them only caring about their pleasure, and just left you unsatisfied while they put on their clothes and left, promising to call to arrange another date.

You blocked their numbers as soon as they left.

As the conversation progressed, you could sense that the same idea was lurking in your and his mind. The more you spoke, the more it sounded like you were the perfect person for each other.

It didn't hurt that Noah was probably the most attractive man you knew. And he's caught himself having dirty thoughts about you more than once.

So, you left his house that day with an arrangement. When you needed someone to satisfy your needs, you would give each other a call.

Turns out, it wasn't exactly a call, but a spur of the moment thing.

Jolly had called you over to help him out with something on his guitar. You knew they were starting to brainstorm ideas for a new album, and being a guitar enthusiast yourself, you participated from time to time.

You ended up staying for the whole afternoon, laughing and playing some tunes, trying to create something that would even resemble a song.

By the time the clock approached 6 PM, everyone was starting to leave. You put your things together, but hanged by the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You could hear Noah in the living room bidding everyone goodbye.

Noah entered the kitchen and saw you leaning against the counter, bringing the glass of water to your lips.

"Hmm", se hesitated a little bit, not really sure how to do this. He didn't want to be too straightforward and say things like "Hey, wanna fuck?", but he also couldn't lie and say he hasn't been thinking about you ever since that day. "I was thinking if maybe you'd wanna go up to my room?", he asked instead.

You thought it was adorable how nervous he was about this. A little smiled graced your lips.

"Yeah, sure", you agreed, setting the empty cup down. "Lead the way"

You followed after him as he opened the door to his room. You noticed the place was clean and tidy, and you remembered him saying he was a bit of a clean freak. You stood there, in the middle of his room and watched as he closed the door behind him and turned to face you.

The atmosphere turned a little awkward, and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. In the years you've known him, things have never felt like this. But the knowledge that you were here so you both could have sex undoubtedly shifted things.

"You can kiss me, you know?", you broke the silence, tilting your head to the side, appraising his reaction. He took a couple of steps closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm nervous", he laughed a little and you smiled with him.

'It's ok", you reassured.

He looked at you with the eyes that always held your complete attention anytime they were on you, and you felt his hand take yours, prompting you to get closer to him, until you were standing toe to toe. Slowly, his other hand went up your arm, slightly brushing over your shoulder and finally rested on the back of your neck.

He was soft as he brought his lips forward to rest on top of yours, the kiss tentative at first, but as soon as you gripped the sides of his shirt, it became more urgent.

You took a few steps back and he went with you, lips never separating, until you fell backwards on the bed, and he climbed on top of you.

That night, you found out that Noah was the most attentive partner you've ever been with. He took his time getting to know your body and the things you liked, and he never seemed to be in a hurry to finish soon.

You found yourself blushing everytime you let out a particularly loud moan and he asked "Feels good, angel?", and you couldn't find the words to answer that yes, it does feel really good.

Noah, on the other hand, was trying to cope with the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair, and the weight of your body on top of his as you rode him until the two of you reached your highs. He observed as you threw your head back, and he wanted to litter your neck and chest with hickeys, but thought that he might take it too far if he did as he wanted.

He got himself dressed along with you and followed you down the stairs, watching you gather your things to leave. He opened the door for you and bid you goodbye and observed as you got in your car to leave.

He stood there for a few seconds after you had already left, thinking about how much he wanted to call you tomorrow and do this all over again.

The second time Noah slept with you was the first time you had his dick down your throat.

It was in a random bathroom, in a party he didn't care about, in a house he didn't even know who it belonged to. But his friends invited him, and he decided to go.

Right now, as he felt your soft and velvety mouth wrapped around his shaft, he was sure it was the best decision he's ever made in his entire life.

"Fuck, that feels so fucking good", he groaned, throwing his head back and hitting it against the wall with a light thud. One of his hands was resting on the back of your head, but not really pushing, leaving it up to you how much of him you wanted to take.

Taking him out of your mouth, he watched as a string of saliva connected his tip to your plush lips, and he almost let himself go right then and there.

He arched his hips forward at the feeling of your delicate hand stroking him up and down.

"Wanna cum in my mouth?", you asked, with an absolute sinful look on your face, as you looked up at him from your position kneeling on the floor. He wanted to take a mental picture of how you looked in this moment.

"Yeah, baby. You gonna swallow everything?", he took advantage of your half open mouth and slipped a digit inside, your warm mouth wrapping around it and sucking his thumb as you hummed in response to his question.

Your hand worked along with your mouth to bring him to the edge, and he could feel himself falling faster and faster as the seconds ticked by.

It was when you took him slightly deeper and he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat that he knew he would cum very soon.

"Keep going, I'm gonna cum", his voice was tight and you looked up to see the veins on his neck straining, a pretty blush covering his chest and neck. Your hands ran up his abdomen, nails scrathing his skin and you felt his muscles go taut underneath your palms. Seconds later he spilled himself down your throat in warm and quick spurts.

"Fucking look at you", he grabbed you by the chin. "Such a good girl, taking all of my cum", he spread a little drop you let escape all over your lips.

You smiled at him. He was absolutely fucked.

The next time Noah slept with you, things got a little dirty.

He had you on his lap, on his couch, two knuckles deep inside your pussy, as you shook on top of him.

"I fucking love your fingers inside of me", you told him, eyes closed and hips shifting a little to get him to go faster.

"That right, baby?", he answered, lips finding your neck and sucking little kisses, feeling the faint taste of your sweat that lingered on your heated skin. "Just getting this pretty cunt ready for my cock", he said, picking up the pace of his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness making his dick strain against the confines of his sweatpants.

You noticed the lustful look on his face, and your hands moved on their on accord, as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough to take his dick out, and start stroking him up and down. He would tell you to be patient and wait, but he couldn't deny a handjob from you even if he wanted to.

"Fuuuck", he let out a low growl at the feeling. "That's not fucking fair, baby"

"Why not?", you had a fake innocent look on your face, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Wanted you to make a mess on my fingers before slipping inside you", he tried to be as clear as possible, but your hands were making it difficult for him to concentrate.

"Yeah?", you leaned closer to him, lips ghosting over his ear. "How about I cum on your fingers and then all over your cock?", you said, and looked to the side to get his reaction.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl", he smiled and captured your lips on his.

After a few more pumps of his long fingers, you could feel the knot in your stomach wanting to unravel. Noah could tell, since your walls started to clench around him. The feeling of your warmth and wetness engulfing his fingers were enough to make him spill his release all over his stomach, covering your hand in his cum.

You weren't far behind him, the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading all over your insides, as you shook above him, ultimately gushing all over his fingers and legs. His fingers kept their rhythm until you were too sensitive to take it anymore.

Your head rested over his chest, not caring about the sticky mess between you.

"Fuck, I didn't know you could do that", he observed, admiration all over his voice.

"I didn't know I could do that either", you answered, honestly.

You couldn't see it, but he had a stupid grin on his face. He was the first guy to make you squirt.

The next time Noah slept with you, it was on your bed.

"How do you want it, baby?", he asked you, not giving you much time to recover after he just made you cum on his mouth.

You didn't utter a word, instead, you got on your hands and knees in front of him, lifting your ass up in the air.

Usually, Noah liked to look at your face when he fucked you, but the thought of having you from behind made his head dizzy. Taking your plush ass in his hands, he kneaded the flesh before delivering a harsh slap to your ass cheek, making you jump slightly and whimper in the mattress below you.

"Gonna slip it in, ok?", he muttered above you, leaning down a little so you could hear his words clearly. He always got your reassurance before he started to fuck you, and that turned you on even more.

The feeling of his dick slipping inside of you little by little always made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and mouth hang open in pleasure. There was nothing like that first push.

Once he was shethed inside of you, you wiggled your ass a little just to tease him a little bit. And it worked, as it always does.

"Don't fucking do that", he hissed through his teeth, gripping your flesh harder. You tried to hide your smile from him, but failed.

Every time Noah slipped inside of you, he had to steel himself as to not cum within the first two pumps. He didn't know how it happened, but you had him in a chokehold, and no sex has ever felt like this.

He closed his eyes and looked up, trying to concentrate as he started to move back and forth. Soon, your moans filled the room, and your hands gripped the sheets crumpled beneath you.

Noah grabbed one of your hands and brought them to rest on your back, slipping his fingers in yours and intertwining them. But, soon, the contact wasn't enough for him anymore. His skin felt cold and he needed to feel the blazing heat of you on him.

"C'mere", he muttered, leaning down and hooking his arm on your neck and pulled you up on a kneeling position on the bed, back resting against his chest.

His hand roamed up and took a handful of your breast. You could feel his hot breath on your neck, and the feeling of him slipping in and out multiplied by tenfold.

The feeling of your quickened pulse under his palm, as Noah placed his hand over your neck, made all the filter between his brain and mouth disappear.

"No one feels as good as you do, baby", he whispered in your ear. "Love having you all pliant and fucked out like this"

You whimpered his name, because you too, loved having him pounding you into oblivion.

Your hands reached back to grasp his hair, tugging like your life depended on it. "Make me cum", you told him, looking back to lock your eyes with his.

"You wanna cum?", he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Then tell me who this pussy belongs to, baby", he inquired and gripped your neck harder.

"It belongs to you", you whispered, with no hesitation.

"Say my name", he inquired again.

Your head was spinning, and you were going to cum from his words alone.

"It belongs to you, Noah", you said, and his hands detached from your neck, and started to rub circles on your clit.

Your breath hitched and your eyes closed shut as you came with a cry of his name, shaking and relying on him keep you up, because your body felt like mush all of a sudden.

+1:

Noah replayed the last time in his head over and over again. He felt like he said too much, but then he remembered you never commented on it, and he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Since then, he's been hesitant to call you, to invite you over or ask if the could come over to your place. And he could tell you noticed it.

His texts have been shorter and fewer than usual, and you had to double text him sometimes to get a response from him. He felt bad, but he didn't know how to approach the feelings blooming in his chest. And he also didn't want to lose what you had.

The thing is, he started to feel like what you had wasn't enough anymore.

By the end of the first week of him being weird with you, you decided to show up at his house to talk to him. You knew Noah, and you knew that if you never approached the subject, he was never gonna talk about it.

Besides, you felt silly for saying what you said the last time you were together. It was clearly only some dirty talk to get you going, but the words falling from his lips felt so true at the time, that you couldn't help but agree with them.

And at the end of the day, they were true. Because you haven't thought about fucking someone else ever since you started this agreement. You didn't even want to.

You pondered over what you were going to say to him as you knocked on his door. You knew he was home, because his car was in the driveway.

He opened the door and greeted you with a hesitant 'hello".

"I think we need to talk", you told him, cutting right to the chase.

Noah felt like a million needles were piercing his heart. He had fucked up. He had fucked up and now you were standing on his doorstep, ready to end it all.

He nooded and stepped aside to let you in. You didn't sit on the couch, you were too anxious to even try and stay still.

You waited until he was right in front of you to start talking.

"Do you wanna end this?", you blurted out, watching as his eyes widened a bit at your inquiry. "Because if you want to, it's totally ok. I just don't want us to get weird with each other, you know? We can still be friends even if you don't want to...", he had to stop your word vomit.

"I don't wanna end this", he stated, quieting the flurry of words coming from your mouth.

"Then why have you been so distant?", you wondered. And watched him go silent for a moment. "Is it something I did? Is it what I said last time?"

"Fuck, no", he turned to look at you. "You did nothing wrong. It was me who shouldn't have said anything to begin with"

"So, you didn't mean it?", you asked, voice quiet this time, as if afraid of his answer. "You didn't mean it when you asked me if I belonged to you?"

"I didn't mean to put you in a uncomfortable situation"

"I meant it", you voiced. "I meant it when I said I belonged to you"

You watched as his expression changed to one of slight shock, and silence fell over the two of you like a weighted blanked.

"Noah, say something, please?", you inquired.

A little laugh fell from his lips, head shaking in incredulity.

"I thought I had fucked up, you know?", he looked at you. "I thought you'd definetely get scared and run away. And here you are, telling me you meant when you said you belonged to me"

"I haven't thought about anyone else ever since we started this", you confessed, and he took a few steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands.

"You've been plaguing my thoughts ever since that first time in my bedroom, baby", he stroked you cheeks lightly with his thumb. "I don't think I want to be with anyone else, and that scared the shit out of me"

"That's good. Because I don't want to be with anyone else either", you mumbled into his lips, smiling and feeling him smiled aling with you.

Maybe you failed at this friends with benefits thing, and maybe you'd have to figure out where to go from here. But the thought of having each other as you navigated this road of newfound feelings, made you feel like you could have everything with him if you wanted.

And Noah was sure he would give you everything if you asked him to.

Tag list: @concreteangel92 @foliosgirl @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @stardustsirenmelody @concretejunglefm @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @babygirlchuuya @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lacy1986 @romanreigns-supreme @xmads-omensx @missduffsblog @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc @badomensgoodomens @floatingkiwi @collective-heartbreak @dontwantthemoney @dream-machine-love @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @amelia-acero @montgomery-929496 @stardustsirenmelody @triedbimsoblu333 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @noyaisasimp @w0manof-flesh44 @geminigirlfromfinland @zozaline @deardelirium @turn-your-life-into-folklore @dominuslunae @shelbyrlxoxo @super-btstrash-posts @shayzillaaaa @wordskeeper @enemiestolovershoe @haehihello @anameunmusical @blade-dressed-in-red @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro @ohheykayyyxo @chey-h

Tumblr is not letting me tag some blogs, I don't know why. Sorry :(

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fluff #noah sebastian fluff #noah thoughts

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thankyouforthememoriesworld · 3 days ago

Note

Hey friend!

CD talked about Azzi's confidence during the Coach's Corner segment at 4:45. CD saying Azzi is their best 1 on 1 offensive player (and if Paige hears it she would be annoyed lol).

https://foxsports979.iheart.com/featured/husky-hq/content/2025-01-05-7-uconn-wbb-racks-up-30-assists-in-a-win-at-villanova/

It's interesting to have the audio, because you can hear the hesitation in her voice: she doesn't really know why Azzi isn't attacking as usual. She's guessing, like the rest of us, but I agree that playing will help her regain her confidence.

I thought CD was only joking around, but she was actually serious and thinks Azzi is UConn's best 1-on-1 offensive player (the staff's clear favorite).

#if only Azzi's brain would allow her to grasp that she is the best #thank you bestie #azzi fudd

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vidavalor · 8 hours ago

Text

<<On the less horny side, "wearing the horns" (also a predecessor to bunny ears) has another meaning entirely.>>

Yes. Something, something The Ineffable Quartet choosing each other when the demons are considered by Heaven/Hell to be Satan's property and the angels are not supposed to have lives of their own and, instead, to be effectively married to God and do whatever The Metatron claims is the will of God... it's a matter of perspective as to who is being cuckholded here.

Absolutely to all of the record references!!!

Journal in journalist! Nice catch. It also gets at something I think is wordplay-ish, which is the fact that Aziraphale calls his journal a diary. I know some English people do but a diary in the UK has also traditionally been more of a day planner. Speculation being that one of the reasons why Aziraphale keeps a diary is as a record of his life in the event of memory loss would then also make him calling it a die-ary darkly funny. His various licenses-- the non-euphemistic ones lol-- are also forms of records, too.

You've got me thinking now too about how artistic works are also records-- Jemimah's pot, the Gabriel statue... The Gabriel statue is this weird record of Gabriel's existence and it's more about who he is supposed to be than who he actually is. Records being made for him, not by him. He's not being seen through the statue-- it's actually making it harder for people to see him. A record he's not really in control of or giving permission for, which is also the case when he's being recorded by the people on Whickber Street when he arrives at the bookshop.

In Heaven, after he gets cast out, he's basically then just a file folder with a handful of papers to them, onto which has been handwritten re: the matter of Gabriel. The funny visual pun of Muriel putting their hand through the file folder-- the matter of Gabriel not containing any matter they can access, literally and figuratively.

It's also an interesting word nod back to Gabriel's dry "I don't sully the celestial temple of my body with rose matter" in 1.01. [Preemptive response before someone yells at me as they have every other time I've mentioned this scene: yes, it's "rose matter" that Gabriel says in response to Aziraphale offering him tea. His face says he thinks it's gross but he says 'rose'. We duel at dawn lol.]

If we go with the words-within-words here, too, within the word record are the words rec, short for recreation, aka play, and cord-- a tether, part of a knot, but, maybe, also a noose, if it's S2's no nightingales season and we're talking about C&A-- and cord's homophone of chord. Words about music and playing in the word record itself. 😊 Records are also discs-- the halo & the Discworld. [The discs on the walls in the scene below, too.]

Beez "likes this song." What song? "The music that's playing now."

Beez likes "Everyday", yes, but "Everyday" is also just a way to tell Gabriel that they like this thing between them, that they like being with him. They-- the two of them-- are the music and they're playing now-- out having some fun together-- and Beez likes it. The song/record contains useful information, as you pointed out that Beez pointed out. This song is a record that they've elected to make themselves, much healthier than the statue and the records of Heaven & Hell. Beez sees Gabriel for who he is and they like him and this song that they're writing together. The two of them use a record to agree they like making music. 😊

Then, the literal song now always there on the jukebox for Beez, especially in case of something happening to Gabriel, but the real thing being said being that Gabriel is the song that will always be there for Beez.

So, Aziraphale arrived in Edinburgh with a briefcase we never see him open and a hat that reads, among other things, "PRESS 66" on it, right?

And we might think that these are just Aziraphale's journalist cosplaying accessories but I think there are some hints that there's a bit more going on here than we might think-- all of it very relevant to The Finale.

We think that Aziraphale's arrival in Edinburgh is the first time that we see these things but, in true Good Omens form, the hat and briefcase are both actually glimpsed in a prior scene... rather significantly placed in that earlier scene, even.

Here they are, sitting together, the hat atop the briefcase, both in front of Jimbriel's once Fly-containing box, beside/behind the memory-wiped Muriel, in the scene below:

So, as Muriel is sitting there, not remembering Aziraphale, and as Aziraphale is sitting there, remembering Muriel and thinking all the things about the fact that they don't remember him at all? In the shot between them is the box into which Jim put his memory and brought it to Crowley and Aziraphale for safe keeping. In front of that box? Is Aziraphale's press hat and briefcase, seemingly drawing some connections between the journalist accessories and the memory plots in S2. Hmm...

What this scene also shows is that Aziraphale didn't just magic this stuff up as props when he arrived in Scotland. Even though we didn't see them in the car on the way up, they were there on the passenger seat for him to retrieve upon his arrival. He brought them with him from the shop. He packed them overnight and they were there, all ready to go, prior to Muriel's arrival, which coincided with Crowley coming over and moving the plants out of the car because Aziraphale planned to take it to Scotland. Why does this matter?

Because it might signal that there's more to the briefcase and the hat with its press credentials than we might initially suspect.

I think it would be safe to say that Aziraphale, by this point in the story, would be concerned that his memories were in danger.

He knows he's always been on a collision course with falling and this is all escalating pretty quickly in S2 in the two days prior to Aziraphale packing this press stuff and taking the car. Gabriel was The Supreme Archangel and he couldn't remember who he was and the archangels had shown up to threaten them and say that they're going to be spying on him even more closely, sending another angel to bug them the next day... the memory-wiped Muriel being quite an interesting choice, as that's sending quite a threatening message. Aziraphale also had roped Maggie and Nina into this and he knew he was likely going to have a confrontation with Heaven and Hell coming.

One of the first things he'd be concerned about would be his memories, right? and it's here where we can mention what we later learn about what Heaven can and cannot do regarding those memories... things that are new to us but that Aziraphale likely would have already known and factored into his plan, as we'll see.

Hints are given to this all season via Gabriel but it really becomes overt in this scene here:

This scene proves that Gabriel's memories aren't just in The Fly in S2-- they're also still in his mind. His memories are shown to be in two places at once. Gabriel's memories-- ones even directly related to the trauma he underwent-- actually began to come back before The Fly, in this scene. Gabriel felt safe and like he was talking with someone who could understand in this scene with Crowley so the memories began to come back for him.

The point here is that this scene shows that, when Gabriel "took his memories out" and put them into The Fly, what he was really doing was basically backing them up. He "uploaded" his memories into The Fly for safekeeping so he could retrieve them later, as a way to keep it so that they wouldn't be erased forever, but those same memories are still also on the "hard drive" of his mind. They were just mostly inaccessible to him for almost all of S2 because of trauma.

Before you say well, Gabriel might be a special case because he took his own memories out to avoid Heaven attacking him? Consider that Crowley didn't have a chance to do that-- but he tells Gabriel he knows how Gabriel feels.

Crowley has had the same experiences with his own memories. He's been able to bring some back at different times, without a lot of context, but a lot remains blocked. Crowley saying that he's been able to retrieve some memories means that those memories are still there in his mind, just very painful and difficult to access.

The idea might be that their memory loss is actually trauma-blocking. If Crowley's situation has the same effect as Gabriel's, it suggests that Heaven can't actually take people's memories-- they can only block them.

This would then be suggesting, as a lot in S2 did, that Gabriel didn't develop retrograde amnesia from taking his memories out-- he developed amnesia from the trauma he underwent.

When he felt safe enough to confront some of that trauma, the memories started to come back to him a bit.

What does this have to do with Aziraphale's briefcase, you ask?

It is connected because Gabriel's memory loss being from the trauma of Heaven trying to kill him, not from putting his memories into The Fly, proves that an angel could take his out their memories and not get amnesia from doing so.

Gabriel's story is showing that they could take out their memories whenever they want and still retain those memories also in their minds and be perfectly fine.

It's showing that Aziraphale could have backed up his memories in S2 without experiencing memory loss-- and the press hat and the briefcase are tied to just how he might have done that.

Aziraphale might have taken one look at Gabriel and his memory situation and the archangels circling the shop and thought that it would be a good idea to backup his memories and store them somewhere safe for if this all went pear-shaped.

What's interesting is that then, in a parallel shot to Aziraphale arriving in Edinburgh, we have this later scene when Aziraphale returns to London... note what's missing:

We see him park by the suit shop-- but no suitcase/briefcase this time. No hat. He's also taken off the raincoat. We never see them again for the rest of the season but we see a whole bunch of scenes that hint at where they are and why Aziraphale has left them in that location.

In this moment, we spend a strange amount of time on watching Aziraphale get out of the car and look around, hands-free, pat The Bentley, go for a little walk for a moment...

He talks to Nina, he goes back to the bookshop and greets Crowley and gets an armful of plants. The Bentley is largely the focus of the scene with Nina as well and its moving up in a scene that involves Nina and her bicycle-- another "mad 'American' woman on a bicycle", in parallel to Anathema in S1-- recalls Aziraphale miracling a bike rack onto the boot of The Bentley to transport Anathema's bike back to Jasmine Cottage. The key to getting Anathema and her bike safely home to her cottage was the bike rack Aziraphale made happen; the key to getting him and Crowley safely to the South Downs Cottage might be what Aziraphale stashed in the trunk of the car on his trip.

Here's where we can see that scenes before and around this involving Shax and Crowley show us pretty emphatically where the briefcase and the press hat are not located in the car...

They can't be on the passenger seat as they were on the way to Edinburgh because Shax wouldn't have been able to sit there when she got into the car on the drive back from Edinburgh. They also can't be in the backseat because the scene adjacent to Aziraphale's return to London is he and Crowley loading the plants back into the backseat. Crowley would have handed him his things if they were back there.

So, we have all of these shots of Aziraphale's return that are, among other things, emphasizing that the hat, the raincoat, and the briefcase are all not things he's taking out of The Bentley's trunk upon his return, even if they are his belongings and he brought them with him from the bookshop. He's intentionally leaving them all in the Crowley's car.

Aziraphale definitely did not leave his memories in a briefcase in The Resurrectionist Pub, even though that's the last place we saw the briefcase. How do we know that?

Because let's say that we're right here and Aziraphale did put his memories into the briefcase... either into something else that he then locked into the briefcase or just into the briefcase itself. What's the one problem with this?

He locked them in there for safekeeping, right? So...

He can't just leave the briefcase for Crowley-- he also needs to leave the key to the briefcase, yes? He needs to leave the combination somewhere... but he also has to hide that combination key. The briefcase wouldn't be very safe if just anyone could figure out how to open it, right? It needs to be something only Crowley can understand.

This is why Aziraphale is not a private detective in Edinburgh but a journalist because the key is in the hat.

How does one open the locked briefcase?

Press 66. 😉

The briefcase and the hat go together because the briefcase cannot be opened without the press credentials in the hat which, in very Good Omens and Crowley & Aziraphale form, look like they're one thing but are really another when you consider alternate meanings of words. Aziraphale knows that only Crowley would see Aziraphale's hat atop that briefcase and the 'Press 66' and work out that it's how to open the briefcase.

It would also be very Good Omens to nod to famous film Macguffins and then make them actually important in Good Omens' story. While a "what's in the briefcase?" thing here is very Pulp Fiction, the film that inspired the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is 1955's atomic noir Kiss Me Deadly, which is being referenced all over the place in S2.

The scene where Aziraphale picks Shax up from the side of the road is a homage to Kiss Me Deadly's opening scene, Gabriel's memory issues and his "I am in The Fly" note is similar to part of the central mystery of that film, and Kiss Me Deadly is the origin of the popularization of the word vavoom/va-va-voom.

Like basically every other film referenced in Good Omens, it's also known for innovative use when it comes to language-- particularly, coded cinematic language, in this case. Like North by Northwest, which is referenced in both parts of 1941 so far, Kiss Me Deadly found innovative ways to get around the Hays Code to tell its story. References to The Maltese Falcon in the story are also likely in relation to that story using etymology-based language to queer code aspects of its story, in a similar way to Good Omens, but also that The Maltese Falcon itself is a bit of a MacGuffin. In Good Omens, though, it seems like they're actually winking at those by making Macguffin-alluding things actually important parts of the story.

Anyway, the biggest fan theory about what's in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is based around the combination to the briefcase being 666 in the film and the idea is that it's Marcellus Wallace's soul, which he sold to the devil. Famously, the audience never sees what's inside the briefcase. We might be saying here that the combination to Aziraphale's briefcase being 66 may be nodding to Pulp Fiction's briefcase a bit and hinting at the Satan in The Final 15 ideas. 66 is also tied to Route 66 and rock 'n roll in America, Buddy Holly, and the paralleling Gabriel & Beez flashback, maybe especially hinting at memory-related things happening with the briefcase.

I won't spoil you on what's in the briefcase in Kiss Me Deadly but let's just say that it goes along with Good Omens pretty well thematically... in a much, much darker way. The film being very bleak noir makes it very different in tone from Good Omens but the fact that the briefcase is actually is relevant to the story in the end of that film might also hint that Aziraphale's disappeared briefcase might wind up being important in The Finale, too.

Adding to this theory is also that another briefcase in The Bentley's trunk/boot was also something shown earlier in S2-- on a very significant night in Crowley & Aziraphale's history:

When Aziraphale is in Edinburgh, we see him intentionally hamming up his newspaper man persona and, in doing so, he takes the briefcase into The Resurrectionist Pub, right? Bit of foreshadowing there as to what will happen to Aziraphale and what will need to happen to bring him back?

Yes, we don't see the briefcase again after this scene but I doubt he left it in the pub because it would be useless to Crowley without the hat, on which Aziraphale has hidden the briefcase combination hidden in plain sight. Aziraphale was seen wearing the hat in one scene set after we last saw the briefcase, proving that both of them and the raincoat are in the trunk of The Bentley:

Aziraphale wore this whole get up to Edinburgh so that, if anyone was watching him, they'd think he was Muriel-like cosplaying a newspaper man. I mean... we know the trench coat is a little Columbo-esque, but why wouldn't he just be a private detective and not a journalist, if the goal was just to play a role to help solve the Gabriel mystery? Because he had to be a old movie-esque journalist so he could have the word press there in the credentials, only for its other meaning for the briefcase combination.

Aziraphale definitely had a whole other list of motivations for being the one to go to Edinburgh. He wanted Crowley to rest in the shop and to talk to Gabriel, he wanted to be the one to go tackle the mystery, and he wanted to work on his 1827 issues by going to the graveyard again... but we might find we can add to that list that he also realized it would be a good opportunity to hide his memories in a briefcase in The Bentley with actions that are right there, in plain sight of anyone who is watching-- including us 😉-- but might not be deemed suspicious.

Parallel-wise, the briefcase and The Bentley are the matchbox and the moving box and PRESS 66 is Aziraphale's equivalent to I AM IN THE FLY... all before Aziraphale and Crowley actually figured out what Gabriel and Beez did to protect Gabriel.

He's pressing on the press hat he's leaving for Mr. Six Shots of Espresso... 😂 The press card is in his hat, like a feather... Crowley's "it'd be a real feather in your cap wing" joke from the foreshadowing "I'll be damned"/"It's not so bad when you get used to it" scene in 1.01...

That demon doesn't know it yet but he's driving around with Aziraphale in the trunk because Aziraphale figured out how to get around the worst case scenario. He knew he was on a collision course with falling and he found a way to potentially dodge the memory loss by stashing his memories for Crowley in The Bentley.

His enthusiasm in Edinburgh is him barely able to contain his amusement at getting one over on anyone watching him who think they know what they're seeing but don't realize what he's actually up to.

No wonder why he was walking on air when he got back to London-- it was mission accomplished. He'd managed to leave Crowley the ability to bring him back, tucked away in the safest spot possible.

The bookseller who, like the others, is a metaphorical book/paper, left their out for Heaven and Hell trying to kill him for Crowley's safekeeping in a briefcase... the thing people use for...

...paperwork. 😂

But wait... there's one other big question, though, yes?

Why didn't Aziraphale tell Crowley this?

There absolutely was enough time and opportunity to tell Crowley he'd backed up his memories and left them in The Bentley's trunk.

The fact that this didn't come up seems wild, right, because they both know that Crowley has been having a steady anxiety attack about Heaven and Hell circling all week. We would think that, if Aziraphale had figured out this plan to circumvent that threat, the first thing he would have done would be to tell Crowley about it, yes?

Except... while I wrote this meta from the perspective of what the end result of Aziraphale's actions with the briefcase might be in The Finale, I don't actually think that was Aziraphale's own motivation for doing what he did.

Aziraphale didn't take out his memories and leave them in the briefcase in The Bentley for Crowley as a backup plan for them to elude a form of death for Aziraphale.

He left them there for Crowley to find and have after Aziraphale was already gone. Why else would Crowley need the combination on the credentials on the hat, right?

If Aziraphale had intended on his memories in the briefcase being a plan to save himself, he would have told Crowley about it so that Crowley would know. Instead, though, it's something of a suicide note. He left them for Crowley to find and have in the future.

I think The Bentley was even warning of this suicide ideation and showing concern upon the return to London for Aziraphale over what he had put in its trunk. The car is worried. [I love Good Omens-- when else am I going to type a sentence like that? 😂]

Aziraphale first parked it in front of Battye [madness] & Palm [to take]. It's a shop reflective of a lot of that depression and suicide ideation happening in Aziraphale's story and leading to his fall that I looked at in The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

The Bentley then drives itself-- and all Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness in the briefcase-- up a few feet. What is The Bentley then aligning Aziraphale with?

Death.

The car parked itself in front of the Give Me Death half of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death...

... until Aziraphale told it to go back to where he parked it. Then, The Bentley backed up a few feet to Battye & Palm and all the madness that is the rest of the season. The car was foreshadowing the end, parking itself right along where it would be parked the last time we'd see it in S2.

The trunk is aligned with Give Me Death in The Final 15...

...fulfilling the foreshadowing of the end of S1.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta

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reboundttv · 24 hours ago

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Another one of these posts? Yeah sure why not.

So I know that there's a sort of, tongue in cheek joke about how the AU that Ekko ends up in, is WAY better because Vi is dead. That's a big one that people love to harp on: "oh Vi is dead in this universe and everything is okay HMMMMMMM how INTERESTING perhaps VI was the jinx after all HMMMMMM"

and like. no. shut up.

Because there are (no less than) TWO specific canon divergences that we are aware of in S2E7 that contribute to the way the cities are in that universe. The first is, obviously, that Violet dies in the heist in S1E1.

As an aside, I 100% agree with/believe the wiki entry that says that Vi and Caitlyn are soulmates in every universe, which means that Caitlyn probably also died in the Hextech explosion.

So Vi (and Caitlyn) dies and Hextech doesn't get developed. Neither Jayce nor Viktor are shown in this universe, so one or both of them are dead (Jayce likely via suicide if he wasn't imprisoned or exiled, and Viktor because he doesn't ascend to be Super Jesus with the Hexcore).

But there is another, less obvious one that gets a fair bit of screentime but isn't really like, touched on. And that is:

ZAUNDADS.

Silco and Vander are cool with each other. That's really important. It means that either:

They didn't fight because Silco found the note from Vander (S2E6), OR

They DID fight, but stopped themselves before they did something they regretted.

See, because in the main universe, neither of those things happen. Silco nearly gets drowned and gets bunch of sump water all up in his face, so he becomes dependent on Shimmer to keep the bacteria in his eye from killing him. He would assumedly lean on Singed to iterate on the formula, which is why he becomes the kingpin and rules over the Chembarons. The production of Shimmer, and its propagation through the streets of Zaun, contributes to things being arguably EVEN WORSE for the Zaunites.

But in the AU universe, he doesn't need Shimmer. I would argue that Singed is probably still on some fuckshit, but isn't helping anyone make Shimmer or chemtanks. This means that a lot of the industrial waste and runoff that's a byproduct of Shimmer production is also not there. Zaun isn't just better off because there's no Hextech, but also because there's no Shimmer.

Now, I'm gonna point a third thing out and I'mma use big ass letters so you can't miss it:

PILTOVER STILL DOES NOT SEE ZAUN AS EQUALS.

The heist still happens in this universe, which means that Vi and the other kids are still adopted by Vander. Which means that bridge riots or something similar still happened. There is still inequity and injustice in this universe; it's just not as dire as it is in the main one. They're still talking about Piltover like "yo fuck those guys" but it's less "they're hunting us for sport and killing us in the streets" and more "we're gonna show 'em up in this STEM contest that we're doing."

They're basically farther along in the "things will get better" timeframe than the main one is after S2E9.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #caitvi #arcane season 2 #violet arcane #timebomb #ekkojinx #zaundads #vander #silco #arcane silco

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psychoticbipolarbear · 2 days ago

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Gifts

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

summary: You and Spencer broke up two years ago, but now you received a gift on the anniversary of the biggest tragedy of your lives, so you give him a visit to confront him.

word count: 1.5k

tags: fem!reader, mention of a child's death

Birthday. Halloween. Christmas. Anniversary. Pi Day. Doctor Who Day.

Flowers. Small presents. Sometimes both.

It’s been almost two years since you and Spencer agreed to end your relationship, yet he keeps sending you stuff. There is usually a card with SR on it, but there is no other message. You never really understood why he keeps sending them, but you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing interest. You just throw them out. Each and every one of them.

Today you find another gift on your doorstep, wrapped in shiny blue paper, decorated with a big white bow on the top and, of course, it has the usual card tucked under the bow. You haven’t received a present on this particular day before, this is a first, and you can’t help but wonder what made him send one now. It’s sick and twisted, there’s absolutely nothing to celebrate about today, if anything, it’s a day to forget. But then you open the box, and it’s white-hot rage that fills your mind.

Without hesitation, you put the gift in your bag and head to Spencer’s apartment, already planning what profanities you’re gonna throw at him for messing with you like this. He from all people should know better than to remind you of this, in fact, you’re surprised he’s that okay with remembering what happened on this day. Each step that takes you closer to his door makes you a little more nervous, because you don’t know how talking to him about this will play out.

You knock, keeping it civil and gentle at first, but then you put a little more force into the move to make sure he hears you. Within a matter of seconds the door opens, and you’re standing face to face with the man who was the love of your life, the one who turned himself into the boogeyman with those gifts. But today’s present crossed a line, you couldn’t ignore the problem any longer.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you, sounding honestly confused to find your standing there.

It’s hard to bite back the sarcastic laugh that wants to erupt from your throat. Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you push him aside and march inside, waiting for him to come after you in silence. As you watch him move, you take a better look at him–at his face, at his movements, everything. He’s different. Very different. He looks exhausted and stressed, and you can’t help but wonder what’s causing it. Where’s the sweet nerdy guy you spent over four years with?

Clearing your throat, you open your bag and put the gift on the coffee table. “Explain this.” Spencer’s eyes move to the item, the fuzzy, reddish-brown, newborn-sized jumpsuit with the fox on it, then he looks back at you with a look that shows honest confusion. “In the past years, you gave me no choice but to get used to the gifts you’re sending. Fine, I throw them out and forget about them. But this? Why? This is the first time you sent me anything on this day. It’s sick, Spencer, you know it! You have a gun, shooting me in the head would be more gentle. Or did you turn into some sick sadist?!” you scream, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak up, but he struggles to find the right words for a while. “Okay, take a deep breath and calm down. The other gifts? Yes, those were from me, and I’ll stop, I promise. This? I have nothing to do with this one,” he promises as he runs his hand over the little jumpsuit. “But sadly, I have a pretty good guess who sent this so-called gift to you.”

“Is it related to one of your cases?” you ask hesitantly, knowing full well it could be an answer.

With a sigh, Spencer runs a hand through his hair. “Sort of.” When he turns back to you and sees your questioning look, he takes a deep breath and begins his explanation. “There’s a woman. She’s in prison, but she’s been messing with me, even from there. I think she wants to drag you into this. I’m so sorry,” he says softly, his tone giving away that he’s being completely honest.

It’s hard to look at him after this, so you sit on the couch and wait for him to do the same. Once he sits next to you, keeping a comfortable distance not to upset you, you can’t help but fidget with the zip of your leather jacket. “Are you in danger?”

“I’m more worried about you,” is all he says in response. When you turn to look at him, he gulps. “I’m going to take you home so you can pack a few things, then you’ll have to come back with me. I’ll protect you, okay? I’ll figure this out,” he promises as his hand slowly inches closer to yours.

You force yourself to look at him, your brain in overdrive as you try to figure out if you should trust him or not. This is the man you once loved more than anything, the one you had a family with, and the very same person your family loved so much. But he has changed. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but the feeling’s there, and you can’t shake it off. Your eyes flick back at the jumpsuit on the table, glued to the damn thing as if it was calling out your name, and the words spill out before you could stop yourself.

“You still have photos of her, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

“Of course I do.” When you turn to him, he’s watching you with a slightly tilted head. “You don’t?”

“No. I wanted to throw them away, I thought getting rid of them would help me move on, but my parents kept them, so…”

Spencer suddenly takes your hand, gently squeezing it in quiet reassurance. Losing your daughter hurt him just as much, maybe even more, which is why someone using the day she died against him must be a real hard punch in the gut. You can’t help but remember the nights he spent by her crib, telling her stories until he dozed off too. But your little family fell apart when she got sick, and no matter how good the doctors were, there was nothing they could do to save her. You both blamed yourselves, and grief eventually led to the two of you drifting away from each other.

He kisses the back of your hand to pull you out of your thoughts, flashing a sad smile at you when your eyes meet. “I kept her stuff in a storage unit. I know I said I gave them away, but I couldn’t. Guess this one fell into the wrong hands,” he explains, guilt filling his voice. Even though he falls silent, you can see the wheels turning in his head. “Just bear with me until I put an end to this, okay? I only want the best for you, you know that, don’t you?” When you nod, he leans down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Alright, let’s go get your things.”

“Spence?” With a questioning hum, he looks down at you, his hand still holding yours, ready to pull you up. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Saying no to couples therapy. I didn’t fight for our relationship hard enough. You deserved better,” you tell him with an apologetic look.

Spencer suddenly crouches to be more or less on eye level with you. “We can still fix things, just say the word,” he assures you with a smile, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I will always love you, no matter what. In fact, thinking about you helped me a lot while I was in prison.”

This freezes your brain temporarily. “You were in what?”

He shakes his head a little as he stands up. “Long story, but I’ll tell you once we get back,” he says, finally managing to pull you up too.

The two of you just stand there in silence for a short while, and you can’t help but wonder why you gave up that easily. Sure, the grief was bad, but you loved him so much, and you could have helped each other move on. Instead, you chose to be alone, hoping falling back into the steady, boring rhythm of your life would make things right. It didn’t. You’re miserable, still suffering from the loss of your daughter, and being in Spencer’s company is a painful reminder of that. But maybe, just maybe, this sick bastard who’s playing their sick little games with him might bring you closer to each other again.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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thelov3lybookworm · 9 hours ago

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Ice Cream (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: what is this new flavour in the air? mint chocolate of course. not love...right?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1935

Warnings: literally just fluff. azzie being a shy baby 🥹hes literally so adorable omg i love him 😭

A/n: YAYYY ITS FINALLY HEREEEE🥳🥳🥳 im going to be posting one more part, most likely on friday, in which these babies finally get together and ic finds out 🥹

anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n had known the male who bothered her day and night and almost everyday at the bookstore was the spymaster. The shadows gave him away before his dark, mysterious and broody nature could. But she had to wonder.

Was she mistaken?

For surely, no spymaster would be so clumsy and talk to the point of oversharing?

After Y/n had reluctantly let herself believe that this was not some cruel joke the spymaster was centering around her disappointment as the punchline, she had gotten dressed up in one of her better dresses, but tried to make it not overly fancy so as not to seem like she was trying to impress him.

As she had watched the sun descend closer to the horizon, she almost ditched the idea of him ever coming to meet her, and had just grabbed a book to read quietly by the fireplace when the knock on the door made her freeze. Her head had snapped to the door, her disappointment morphing into quiet anticipation. She had turned and set her book down, moving in quick steps towards the door, her light purple skirt swishing around her ankles.

He had been panting when she finally opened the door, a wide, shy smile on his face.

It almost made Y/n give him a wide smile of her own. But she had tamped the urge down and stepped out onto the apartment landing, with only a slight tilt to her lips in greeting, and turned away from him to lock the door of her small apartment. In hindsight, she had felt slightly insecure, wondering what he would be thinking of her, considering he most likely lived in the house of wind that stood proudly over the city like a soldier standing guard.

The entire building her apartment was a part of looked like a pebble in the face of that cliff.

It was an effort not to apologise to him for her living conditions. By no means was she struggling to get by, and her apartment was something many could only dream of, but it wasn’t the most lavish, either.

Azriel had spoken up and distracted her before she could beat herself up over the fact that he had seen her home, something so vulnerable and private, and guided her down and out, into the fading golden light that made Y/n feel ten times prettier.

After that, everything had gone pretty well, almost too well. It almost began concerning her when Azriel didn’t make any comments about things she was not comfortable talking to him about yet, as most men seemed only to be interested in taking her to bed for just one night.

But there was one thing that did concern her. The way he seemed to be physically unable to shut his mouth. It made her wonder, did he always talk this much? If yes, how the hell is he a spymaster if he keeps spilling secrets?

"-And then Cassian threw up all over me, and I had to scrub myself raw because I was so disgusted. I didn’t talk to him for a week." Azriel laughed, the faelights lighting up the air between him and Y/n in an attempt to make this more romantic and intimate glinting off his eyes. They were sitting in a diner, not too fancy, just the perfect amount of flashy and comforting.

Y/n tilted her head, lips twitching. When she spoke, it was not too hard to speak in her normal soft, quiet voice, considering she was in the presence of someone considered a predator. "Bet he felt so much guilt."

He nodded, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward, glancing down at his empty plate stained lightly with the leftovers of their dinner. "He wouldn’t stop apologising, and I felt bad for ignoring him. Eventually, I agreed to talk to him again if he promised to sit far from me the next time he drank so much."

Y/n huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, trying to imagine the scene he described. Silence surrounded the two for a long moment, letting her mind wander, before he pulled her attention back to himself.

Gentle in his voice, but commanding her every thought to himself as effortlessly as he did those shadows.

Or maybe not, because it seemed they were set on ignoring him. They kept reaching out to play with her hair, her fingers, the sleeves of her loose white shirt every time his attention left them. He blushed hard every time, apologising constantly.

At this point, Y/n couldn’t help but think if he’d apologised more than he’d spoken anything else.

"Are you ready to leave?"

Y/n straightened, nodding. She grabbed her purse, following him to the exit, where he had already paid before she could catch up. At her glare, he simply flashed her an innocent smile.

"You didn’t have to pay for me."

He shrugged, watching intently as Y/n pulled her jacket closer to herself before shyly extending his arm for her to hold. Y/n only contemplated for a minute, taking note of the blush on his face darkening under flashes of light from shops down the road, before slipping her palm through his elbow.

He continued talking, telling her of how he’d been to this shop-and oh! Cassian had the biggest infatuation with that lady looking after that shop.

The shadows continued to sneak up to her, twining with her hair and caressing her back lightly like some sort of a protective lover. They even floated by towards the hand she wasn’t holding Azriel’s arm with and slithered in between the fingers, their touch light and barely tangible, but still very much there.

Azriel slowed down while she glanced down at the shadow climbing up and under her sleeve, looking at a nearby shop. "Have you ever tried ice-cream?"

It was a treat that had recently become popular from summer court and spread like wildfire throughout prythian. With good reason too.

Y/n followed his gaze to a pink coloured shop with striped red and white interior. The seats inside were over exaggerated blue and purple colour and entirely too large to be anything but for attracting people.

She nodded. "A couple of times."

He fumbled for a moment before clearing his throat. "Would you be interested-"

"Yes."

She had already begun walking towards the shop, carefully manoeuvring so as not to bump into anyone. Azriel hurried to keep pace, and Y/n smiled to herself, turning her head away from him to make sure he didn’t see it.

"Which flavour would you like?" He questioned once the two were inside, gaze fixed on the plethora of flavours displayed under the glass case. Y/n did not even have to consider after she saw her favourite flavour.

"Mint chocolate."

He blinked, lifting his head to look at her in surprise. "You like mint?"

Y/n gave him an unamused look. "What, are you going to lecture me about how it tastes disgusting?"

His cheeks darkened and he shook his head, hurriedly proceeding to explain. "No- no, I was just curious. I’ve never tried it, but Rhysand once said it tastes weird, so I was surprised you liked it-" he took a deep breath, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

Y/n’s lips quirked to the side. "Your high lord doesn’t have very good taste then."

Azriel only huffed, contrary to what Y/n expected, and gave their orders to the worker who stood behind the counter. Y/n only watched him, her eyes following his every move as he talked and took the treats from the worker, as he turned, his gaze instantly searching for her and meeting hers as she stood against a far wall.

Even his eyes seemed to smile as he made his way over to hand her the mint chocolate.

To make conversation- and also to make some effort herself, seeing as he had been trying to keep her engaged and entertained the whole evening- Y/n curiously peeked at his hand. "What did you get?"

He smiled. "Chocolate."

Y/n hummed, picking up her spoon and scooping up a small amount of ice cream into her mouth, relishing the sweetness before turning back to him and extending her cup towards him.

"You can try if you want."

He coughed, choking on his ice cream before shaking his head so vigorously to the point Y/n was concerned he’d sprain his neck. "No no, it’s alright."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, bored, until he reluctantly dipped his spoon into her cup and tasted the divine gift from god that was mint chocolate. His eyebrows rose imperceptibly, and he glanced down at his spoon before looking at Y/n.

"It’s good."

She shrugged. "I know. I don’t get why some people don’t like it. I guess they just hate good things."

"I might just get obsessed with it." He laughed under his breath before shoving another spoonful of his own ice cream into his mouth. She offered to share their ice creams, and he refused at first but after seeing that she really was serious, he agreed. The two ate in silence, staring out of the glass floor to ceiling window, letting quiet settle between them.

His presence was calming, comforting as no one else’s was. Y/n felt safe, like the world could be going into destruction but their little corner in this ice cream shop, with him, would be protected. It made Y/n question if she was thinking too much with her heart.

Feeling his gaze on her, Y/n glanced at Azriel twice, but each time, he was looking elsewhere.

It made her cheeks heat for reasons she couldn’t figure out.

Too soon, the sweet treat was finished, and it was time to part ways. Despite that, as Y/n and Azriel stood in front of her apartment after he had walked her home, she did not want to leave. It was so unlike her, so foreign to feel that way, but she, surprisingly, loved it.

But maybe unfamiliar things are good for you, or however those sayings go.

Azriel’s head was bowed as he toed at the grey stones of the pathway, his neck and ears flushed. He refused to look into her eyes for more than a moment, so shy Y/n wondered if she was playing the intimidating and brooding bookstore owner role too well.

Finally, after she couldn’t handle the silence and his nervous neck scratches anymore, she spoke.

"So, same time tomorrow?" He looked up, wide eyed. She scoffed. "What? I didn’t think you told me all about your ancestry and your family’s personal lives just to have ice cream with me for one day. Did you?"

He cleared his throat. "Are you sure?"

Y/n raised a brow, trying her best to not let her lips lift in a smile. "Well, are you?"

He nodded quickly, something like hope beginning to glow in his hazel eyes.

They’re pretty, Y/n thought to herself.

She turned away, before pausing and looking at him again. His smile remained unwavering the longer she stared at him.

But the smile did vanish once she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently against his cheek. She smirked to herself, proud of her accomplishments, and then left him standing in the snow.

She couldn’t wait to have more ice cream with him.

She was almost… excited, to see where this path would lead to.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

@olives-main @hijabi-desi-bookworm

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

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(tagging people who asked for a part 2 as well heh) @peachcontour-blog @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ayme301 @tele86

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avatarcompanion · 2 days ago

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I get what you're saying, but that is kind of is what OP is getting at I think...

You are right they were wrong to promote it as "honoring" and staying true to the cartoon, because it made people go into it with higher expectations than they could live up to. I think that was a bit comparing it to the live action we don't speak about, and it is true this one is much more respectful to atla, because it wouldn't be hard to be (not casting super racist). I also think they were arrogant enough to think people would consider it even better than the cartoon. That is completely on them. The warning signs were actually them calling the show iffy and sexist and so on, as if they were gonna improve it.

So they should have said from the beginning things like "we are retelling with a bigger focus on characters like Sokka, Azula and Zuko. We are more interested in elements of the story such as x, we thing it's fun to bring in elements of later lore from the comics and a lok, etc".

However, looking outside of those comments, there was no reason to go into it expecting it actually would honor all those elements you talk about. Because most adaptions DON'T stay "true" to their source material. Most adaptions are OOC. Most adaptations do focus more on elements that the new creators care about, etc.

They should have embraced that, and in fact it's fine to do that. Most of your points that it's OOC I agree with, but it's only a problem because they said they were going to stay true to it. It is in itself not a flaw to make an adaption that differs vastly or represents a story differently than an original, if you are presenting it as such.

It's not worse or more OOC than many other adaptions of YA material like Harry Potter or Hunger Games. They NEVER capture the original heart, and shouldn't even try to. In this case, ignoring what they said, the story itself actually felt far more up front about radically altering things and NOT being a shot by shot adaption than those examples I gave.

That is why from the beginning I stopped expecting it to capture the same spirit or be in character. I started just watching it for all it did DIFFERENTLY, and actually only found those things interesting. Why? Because I already have 'the heart of atla' in the actual atla.

There is also the fact it's a freaking NETFLIX show (most of their own productions suck) and bryke left if for 'creative reaaons'. There was no reason to expect it to be good at all. The fact it's watchable and actually did interesting new things AT ALL with some characters (ex Azula, Suki) and was visually immersive, is a bonus for many who went into it with low expectations.

So the main problem is not that it's OOC and didn't have atla's heart, but their arrogance about it, and even more so, they didn't make anything anywhere nearly as relevant or creative on their own. Which might improve with more seasons.

Hot take: 90% of the people who are complaining about the live action ATLA either went into it wanting to complain about it or expected a perfect adaptation which they knew would never happen

#natla

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autisticfaun420 · 3 days ago

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I opened up to my mom about age regression

(if you are reading this and are new to my blog I am high support needs autistic and I already have childish interests please don’t say I’m infantilizing autism)

So first of all she kind of knew something was up with me, I brought my plushie with me to my disability day program. I showed her my blog, she said she hadn’t logged into my account to check yet so it was a surprise to her. First of all she was very proud and said I was brave for opening about some of my struggles and being so candid about it, I don’t know if it’s bravery or just autism making it so I don’t know what’s appropriate to share haha. Then I showed her my posts about age regression and how I learned about it here and was like, instant hyper fixation for me. I told her about how I never felt negatively infantilized by her and my dad almost never compared to people at school or strangers and I enjoy the connection we have when my parents kind of “baby” me the right way when they take care of my support needs. Like I need to have physical touch to calm me down and being cradled and my diaper changes are met with nick names, hugs and tickles, yeah very embarrassing I’m sure but whatever. I told her about “little space” and how I already enter it when she takes care of me sometimes and she said she always knew something like was going on but never pushed me or into it and made sure I was enjoying myself in those moments. She said if it would make me happy she and my dad would for sure be willing to help me out with little space. I told her that I want to take the power back from people who infantilized me negatively and assume I can’t think for myself by doing this and that surprised her but she said it made sense. I mentioned that I want to keep what independences and adult privileges I do have and I don’t want them to think I want this 24/7 and they said of coarse they will and I trust them. She had a talk with my dad real fast and they agreed to let me spend some of the money I saved up doing internet surveys, like a hundred dollars for an age regression starting pack essentially, my dad asked if this is really what I want and I guess the way I looked at him after and nodded made him believe me. My dad talked to me about how it’s important to keep my regression inside so others don’t get the wrong idea and I said of coarse and I shouldn’t do more then take my plushie with me in public and I agree. However I’m getting an adult sized bottle and pacifier, a mobile for my special needs cubby bed and a few fisher price toys. I am over the moon ecstatic and my mom said she’ll throw in the money for overnight shipping cause I earned it for using coping mechanisms when meltdowns could of gone worse lately.

I told them about pet regression too and they were still supportive of me being interested in it, they said they would feel uncomfortable with treating their disabled child like a pet personally and I can see where they’re coming from on that. They told me that one day I can find someone special to do that stuff with. As you can imagine dating is really hard with my level of needs but I’m not completely discouraged I’ll find somebody but that’s a post for another day. We did have a talk about how much I enjoyed being on an anti elopement harness and how I would pretend play as a puppy when out on walks with her, she said she knew had a feeling that’s what I was doing. Also I had my pacifier till 4 or 5 years and she said me giving it up was one of the hardest things she saw me go through and joked about it like I’m a drug addict about to relapse on it. I still have so many oral stims and use chewerly throughout the day so I think she has a point. Imagining what a paci would feel like in my mouth makes me feel so happy. I am just excited all around and can’t wait till tomorrow. For now my mom asked if I wanted some “little time” tonight and of course she said yes. We watched In the Night Garden on the big TV while she stroked my hair and cuddled when I normally only watch shows like that on my tablet as a form of stimming I guess. It was nice watching it where I could relax. I felt extra giggly at all the dumb stuff in the show, my friends describe it as an “acid trip” if that gives you an idea about what it’s like. My mom after the episode tickles me down and played games with me like I did when I was a little kid and I loved it. I started crying tears of happiness because I felt so loved I guess you could say. She teared a little bit too and told me every mother secretly wishes they could still baby their grown children so she said she had fun, I don’t know if it’s true or not but it’s a funny thought.

I feel so happy I wanted to write this out and share with you guys. I don’t know what else to say I think I wrote out enough. Now my mom wants me to get into my pajamas early I think she’s having too much fun with this but so am I and my dad is gonna run to get some of my favorite ice cream when I was a kid. I feel so lucky to have parents who can support my physical and emotional and disability support needs.

#Age regression #autism #high support needs #sfw agere #sfw littlespace

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 days ago

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I always used to wonder how Meghan is seemingly able to get away with so much bullshit she pulls everywhere she goes. I never understood why/how marrying someone powerful (or in this case, someone from a powerful family) enabled her so much. When the Blake/baldone situation exploded some people were making the same kind of argument about blake too , that she is absuing the power she has from being married to Ryan and ut has gone to head and she is trying to manipulate the situation.

Again, I like most, believe that women should support women. But inwanted to understand the power dynamics about blake, the bigger star and also a producer, working with a small time production house and first time director.

Then a couple days ago I came across this podcast on Spotify, called Reality Bites. It has a 6 episode (for now) series on the it ends with us situation. They do not discuss the lawsuits or accusations or debate the merits of the SH claims. Instead, they did a deep dive on the power dynamics behind the scenes during the making. Mainly, the star power of blake and Ryan, their (proven and spoken) ambitions about their careers and the decisions they have made in their careers recently, but most importantly the role the studios played in this whole saga. Along with the personal motivations of the PR reps and WME in creating/causing/escalating this situation between blake and baldoni.

I'll say, I had not heard this angle before, nor had it explained so well so far. The 2 ladies are producers of reality shows so they know the inner workings and know what they are talking about. If anyone is interested, give it a listen.

Some highlights for me :

- how scooter Braun may be tied up in this

- WME played a key role. decided to fire baldoni not because of the accusations but because they decided to go with the bigger fish, Ryan and his production company+ blake

- baldoni was very out of his depth from the get go

- blake had made a SH complaint against her make-up artist back in 2017 during MeToo, so she knew how to go about things and how/why to get SAG involved. So, why didn't she doesn't it this time when the SAG strike happened and they were fighting for the same kind of workplace rights at the time?

- blake pushed to get a PGA certification for herself instead at this time. She bulldozed Sony,wayfarer,baldoni and heath for letters for recommendations. After Sony and wayfarer refused because her involvement wasnt upto the mark. Then she blackmailed baldoni and heath personally saying she would back out of the movie. They agreed under duress and company communications from that prove this.

- she did not allow him to sit in on the initial editing process by himself with the editors, as per the rules of the DGA, which allows him to get a director's cut ready. She barged in from day 1, negotiated for a 2 day editing input and access, stayed for 10 days, and later stayed back in the editing rooms by herself. Later brought in the editor from Ryans movie and fired the actual editors. Changed the music score, fired the original music composer and made her own cut. Which as per DGA rules is not allowed. (There can be only 1 cut) And convinced Sony to show competing cuts to test audiences. She promised to agree to whatever the test results said but then later blackmailed Sony saying it she won't do promotions.

- apparently Ryan has previously done a similar things for Deadpool 2, where the original director then later left the franchise because of ryans harrassment. So they did the same on this movie for blake.

- the NYT article and how it came about is explained. And it's insinuated that it's a pr hit job.

- it's insinuated that Blake made baldoni sign a no- retaliation clause, per which, he wasn't allowed to say anything at all about her. He signed it as a sign of good faith when they resumed shooting after the strikes.

- all the claims she sites are from the period or may/June 2023, before the strike happened. And she never said anything at all to SAG or the producers. She was also a producer so she was in the place to make changes happening if the work environment was hostile. But she did not. Instead she started over extending budget, got involved in areas where she wasn't contractually obligated to and over ride Justine all over.

- she and Ryan both bullyed Justin and Wayfarer, going over his head to Sony all the time. Justin was under immense stress and it was do or die situation for him because he just wanted to make the movie and agreed to everything that Sony and Blake demanded of him.

- she orchestrated a smear campaign against Justin way before the public had any hints of strife between them. She did this knowing that Justin was legal bound not to say, do anything about it.

- WME played a hand in the marketing strategy for the movie, especially the placements of blakes hair care brand, alcohol brand etc. Sony's agreed to message was "Hope", extending to resilience. Not florals. That was all blake. Justin did use the word "hope" in almost all his interviews.

- they speculate that all this is make baldoni give up his rights to the 2nd book due to sheer public pressure, so blake can help that project. On another note, WME has recently signed up with collen Hoover for her new book. Colleens initial contract with Justin may include a clause that allows her a right to refusal or voiding of contract incase of any reputational damage caused by baldoni. This 2-fold strategy gives blake a better chance of acquiring the book.

- Ryan based the character of 'Nicepool' in his movie on Justin - the manbun, feminism spouting, goody-two-shoes. She eventually gets taken down by ladypool, Blake's charactor (her voice). This apparently happened right after Justin signed the "no retaliation clause". It's symbolically shows blake destroying Justin, and that was ryans whole idea. The lawyers could prove this with the receipts they have.

- Sam Jones and Blake's pr rep played a huge role in this saga. It was a personal vendetta between Sam Jones and Jennifer able that may have caused baldoni to become collateral damage. (Jones believed that Able may have been behind the articles exposing Jones for her horrible boss behaviors and misusing client info. The articles and a website, why Sam Jones lies, came out last year that damaged Sam Jones reputation amongst her clients. So she fired Jen for that and further pursued this vendetta by aligning with blake in taking down baldonis reputation. Jen is widely believed to be the whistle blower in jones' take down)

...

I know this is not the usual fare for this blog but you've been saying we've all had too much of HnM. And I agree. This topic got me really interested when I started reading up the documents. And looking at blake, I can see Meghan may even operate. The way she got p.morgan fired, how she got hold of all those female senators' personal phone numbers. How Harry tried to bully the NYPD into arresting the paps and tried to get those included in his lawsuits. It's amazing how much power the right contacts - PR agents , WME etc - have.

So, anyway, anyone else interested in the unending saga of This Ends With Us? Or is it just me?

Thanks!

There’s a lot of people interested in this who I’m sure will enjoy this. I’m not posting on Blake/Justin anymore because it’s too messy for social media and not something that can be easily discussed.

(Scooter is involved because he’s a partner in the PR firm that Justin is signed to.)

A few other recent developments for everyone who is following this:

1. Justin’s lawsuit against the New York Times means one thing: evidence discovery. He’s after something in evidence discovery that he doesn’t think will come up otherwise. My guess is that his lawyers are hoping discovery reveals a coordinated scheme between Blake, her PR, and the NYT against him since the basis of Justin’s lawsuit is that he wasn’t given adequate time to respond to NYT’s reporting.

2. Blake filed her lawsuit against Justin on December 31st. Blake hasn’t sued anyone yet. She filed a complaint with a labor board, which is a precursor to a lawsuit, but the lawsuit hasn’t happened yet.

3. Ryan Reynolds gets more and more implicated and embroiled in this the more information that comes out. I don’t think this will end with his reputation fully intact. There’s been some gossip that he pressured some of the IEWU actors and crew that defended Justin to switch sides by threatening to blacklist them from future work in the industry.

4. Blake is now complaining that her separate companies/brands are suffering (ie losing money) and she believes the loss of sales is because of Justin’s PR’s smear campaign.

5. Blake has shut down some of her social media accounts, including TikTok. I’m guessing the comments weren’t what she expected.

Like I said before, I won’t post on this anymore since it’s too messy for social media and while I do stray into entertainment/Hollywood topics from time to time, this has evolved so much that it’s out of my depth now. Sorry.

—

(Meghan got away with everything she did because she immediately made it about race, and then exploited it with PR tactics. The whole premise of the KP love shield is that she was being harassed because of her race.)

Edits

#Ryan-Blake

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kaede-yamada · 3 days ago

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Kaede listened to Lara and what she had to say about his daughter and he couldn’t help but agree. He believed that he had a good relationship with his child but he also knew that the experiences she was having at a young age were difficult. He worked hard to make sure things would be okay but she was also intuitive. If he seemed worried or stressed she’d always try to be helpful. He didn’t want Layla to worry about him she wanted her to just be a kid. “ I would rather her worry me than to keep it all inside. She does have other people than me to talk to though and I’m sure she does. “ he noted, because his daughter thought the world of his girlfriend and his cousin. “ interesting. Like there’s a connection there instantly?” He asked. “ when we adopted our cats I got siblings cause i didn’t want to separate them. And I didn’t like the idea of leaving a kitten home alone without a friend. Layla thought I was just getting her two cats for fun which I’m okay with her believing “ he added with a small smile. @laraxamarin

"She may present that she's tough but I think deep down she is still healing, she just doesn't want to worry her father about it. That's the amazing thing about kids, they're so easy to observe those around them to base on how to act." Lara said simply, although she doesn't have any kids of her own, she had younger siblings whom she had to help raise growing up. "You can just tell...it's in their eyes when they look at an animal. At least from my experience on adopting a few out which turned out really well." She had a few that her gut was telling her no and she always trusted her gut more than anything, it never stirred her in the wrong direction. "Perfect, I'll be sure to have your guys drinks ready." She said jokingly.

#lara

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bengiyo · 3 hours ago

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The Uncertain Melancholy of Our Youth

I’ve been sorting out how I feel about the end of Our Youth, and I’ve yet to arrive at something concrete that I want to say. I’ve been reading reactions from others to see if someone else could vocalize what I’m feeling, and in the process realized I wanted to talk about Our Dating Sim again.

Like many others, I’m left with a feeling of melancholy from this show. I feel a lot like @small-dark-and-delicious in that I think this ending felt very realistic for them, because Minase has never had friends he can count on, especially the “bespectacled demon” (@chicademartinica). I find myself empathizing a lot with @asiandramas-takeover about how bleak the future feels for them.

With this series overall, I’m a bit frustrated thematically. I was glad to have @wen-kexing-apologist offering insights about the manhwa while we were watching, because, like @worm-priest, I don’t think we did much with the different kinds of people theme.

However, I am left with some genuinely warm feelings for the characters and the actors. I loved mj’s post reflecting on how Hirukawa connects for people who dread becoming like their parents (@forcebook). Like @memiaatanonymous, I really enjoyed Motojima Junsei in this; I especially loved the way he managed his physicality and expressions when Minase had to flee Hirukawa’s house before the dad began beating Hirukawa again.

I also agree with @delasaria-blog that Minase in the special does a lot to close out this story; I don’t think I’d feel as positively as I do at the end of this without the effectiveness of the special episode. The implied growth of these two into a relatively stable couple (@incandescentflower) worked well for, especially because Minase was left with separation anxiety (@lurkingshan). I also really liked the way the show approached a closeted couple’s feelings about marriage as an inevitability (@jemmo).

I think it was @theside-b comparing this to the disappointment I know I felt at the end of Love is Better the Second Time Around that got me thinking about Our Dating Sim. In that show, we spend the majority of our time in the present with Shin Ki Tae pursuing Lee Wan again after Lee Wan abandoned him at the end of high school. Our journey with them is about how Lee Wan hurt Ki Tae and himself, and the consequences of Lee Wan's decision. We focus there on how Lee Wan has to grapple with the fact that Ki Tae was open to his feelings.

I think most of why I’m feeling a bit unfulfilled by this project is that I had hoped we’d spend more time in the present. The opening sequence had me waiting in anticipation for their eventual reunion and reconciliation. I had hoped we’d spend the bulk of the show on that, like in Our Dating Sim, rather than on the events leading to their separation. I think I set myself up for this because I brought too much of that to the table.

Reflecting on what the show did or didn’t do, I don’t think there was much for me to gain from seeing Hirukawa and Minase’s separate montages, though I think it would have been interesting to see Minase getting lonelier and see where he and Hirukawa lost touch over the phone incident. I personally feel like I’d have liked to see more of them getting back together and rebuilding trust, because I felt myself pulling away from this show as it spiraled over Hirukawa’s life getting worse in the middle. There was almost a really great moment of Minase trying to step forward and use his voice only to be silenced by the adults and friends in his life.

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended With Reservations. I’m not sure how I will feel about this show in the long term, and I want to thank everyone linked above for sharing their thoughts, and all the gifmakers included for their creations. There is a useful kind of melancholy here that I personally enjoy as a person who absolutely loved All of Us Strangers (2023) last year. I am always the type who, even though I know we’re seeing marked improvement in many categories, cannot erase the scars I carry from what I survived. I struggle to find a solid coherent thought I feel coming from this one, and I hope to read more compelling reflections in the weeks to come.

#Ben watches #Ben writes #our youth #miseinen #miseinen mijukuna oretachi wa bukiyo ni shinkochu #japanese bl #bl series

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snailsgoingdowntown · 3 days ago

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Leads Sister-in-Law!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Chapter 8

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: panic attack, vomit, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough until it bleeds), slight blood, mention/allusions to murder, very slight suicide ideation, one (1) suggestive line, implied child abuse, Maria being lowkey creepy (again), uncertainty about loving future kids, please tell me if I missed any.

NOTE: while I am happy that people enjoy this story, please stop blowing up my inbox about when the next chapter(s) will come out. Or telling me I should hurry up. Thank you.

NOTE #2: there isn't going to be any romance involving Roxana or any of the other characters and the reader.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/ BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACTION WITH NOR REBLOG FANDOM STUFF DNI (MAYBE ANIMAL BLOGS ARE OKAY BECAUSE THEY’RE CUTE). PLEASE DO NO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

= = =

Roxana’s heels clack against the tiled hallway as she glides through, making way to her room. Blond waves gently bouncing with each step, the girl can’t hold back the scowl that tears at her lips. Brows furrowed, her thoughts were full of the recent events - the dinner.

She didn’t mean to intrude. As a matter of fact, while curious, she had no intention of doing more than taking a quick glance - to see if what Jeremy said was true, that Dion Agriche was indeed having dinner with his poor, pitiful bride.

Jeremy got there before her.

Hiding within the shadows, the boy was glaring daggers into the second eldest son. So engrossed with the scene presented to him, Jeremy didn’t notice Roxana as she got closer and closer. No, the brash boy had announced himself before she could even pat his shoulder. Like a wild boar, he interrupted your dinner, uncaring for how it made him look. Not that he ever did.

And perhaps out of pity on your behalf, or sick curiosity to see how everything pans out, she showed herself as well.

An hour prior to the incident Roxana and Jeremy talked about you, the newest family member. She wasn’t the one who brought you up, but rather Jeremy. Her younger half-brother had asked her what she thought about the situation. It was the first time he asked.

‘Well… It is strange. I thought that father would have waited longer before finding Dion a wife, much less holding the wedding.’

‘Yeah,’ Jeremy agrees, a borderline sneer on his face, ‘but it’s stupid. She won’t last long.’

‘Shorter than a month?’

‘No, longer. But I’m not sure how much longer. Still, to be married to that bastard… She's fucked. Pretty sure she’s begging God to kill her already, or to keep him away and indifferent.’

The blond beauty stared at her brother in question. ‘This isn’t like you, Jeremy. Did you meet her before or is it because Dion is the one involved?’

He doesn’t answer immediately, grumbling out words she didn’t catch. ‘Watch, she’s going to puke in disgust soon.’ Blue eyes narrowing in annoyance, Roxana only becomes more confused. What’s with this sudden interest with a sacrificial bride?

‘Jeremy,’ she says, gingerly patting his head, ‘This is the first time you’ve shown interest in anyone. Why is that?’ Asking him directly, she hopes that she’ll easily draw answers from him. But, for once, he doesn’t budge. It’s concerning.

‘Xana, I heard they’re going to have dinner together later today. Do you think that guy will show up?’ Ignoring her question, he asks his own. A frown tugs at her coral lips. But seeing how aggravated he is, she decides to humor him. Just this once.

‘I’m not sure. If it was on father’s orders, then yes, of course. His word is law.’

‘What makes you so sure he’ll listen to all?’

She blinks at him, taken aback. It wasn’t often she gets rendered speechless, especially by her own younger brother. But his response also amuses her - hearing his resentment towards the twenty-year-old was always amusing..

‘Xana, he’s crazy. It’s only going to get worse.’

Before Roxana could respond, she got called away to Lant’s office, the butler bowing nervously after he brought the news.

Returning to the present, the blond lets out a deep sigh, a headache forming the longer she thinks about it. This wasn’t how the story went. There wasn’t a grand wedding for any of the Agriche family members - the closest thing was when Jeremy kidnapped Sylvia, and even then, that couldn’t be considered romantic.

Nothing in the story was romantic.

…not like her brother’s marriage to you was either.

Nothing made sense and it’s bothersome. Concerning even, for the moment you entered this play, she became unsure of when or if Cassis will show up - what if nothing follows the storyline at all, no matter how small? She knows he exists, she saw him at the wedding. Shining silver hair that reminds her of the moon and golden eyes that were filled to the brim with caution towards her family and the wedding, the male lead of this story exists.

But you didn’t.

Maybe in the original work, you did, as a nameless background character. Faith unknown and unimportant, you somehow stumbled across the stage, entangled in strings that now control your every move. It worries her - you worry her. Roxana can’t tell if you’re friend or foe, if you’ll survive and stay sane, if you’ll die soon, if she should consider taking you under her wing, seeing how you were nothing more than a victim.

But she doesn’t have that luxury. Ensuring her own survival was hard enough - how could she take care of a second person? Why should she bother herself with you?

You don’t serve any other purpose than being arm candy, a woman seen as nothing more than an incubator by your father-in-law. She doubts Dion cares for you; during the planning period he didn’t act out of character. He acted the same around her, still the annoying son of a bitch he’s always been.

…but, a few days before the wedding he kept his distance. Unconcerned with her presence, he made a few last minute purchases. Away from the prying eyes of Lant, Dion also added a secret guest - the doctor known as Ash Katopodis.

She heard a rumor that he also sent the redhead to you instead of the doctor Lant had appointed. The fifteen-year-old had found it strange once word reached her ears, brushing it to the side after concluding it was gossip for gossip sake. While it was bold of the servants to say such things, Roxana saw no point in punishing them for their senseless rumors - it had nothing to do with her. If they wanted to play with their lives with risky talk, then that was on them.

Upon reaching her room, she stops short of opening the door, manicured nails tapping against the door handle. She didn’t mean to intrude on your alone time with the brute. Yet she did and the sight of Dion in such a domestic setting made her sick.

Disgust threatening to tip over the scale, it’s hard for her not to sneer at the mere memory of it. Domesticity does not suit Dion. He does not deserve it. Playing house with an unwilling girl, dressed in pure white as the veil hid her anxiety and fright laid within her eyes and painted on her lips. Scared and left hopeless as her family watched as she kissed the monster, powerless.

The holy church in which the wedding was held became corrupted when the second Lant Agriche picked it out, Maria fussing over the details. Who sits where, ‘gently’ probing your mother into agreeing with the dress the third wife had picked, your makeup and hairstyle, the fucking lingerie until Sierra pointed out how weird it was for the mother-in-law to pick out such an erotic and intimate thing for the girl who was to be her daughter-in-law.

During the ceremony, Jeremy had kept mumbling to himself, clearly done with the whole ordeal. Obviously, Roxana was as well, but kept a pretty smile on, greeting you after the vows were said and said her goodbyes as you were dragged away to the bridal chamber. Only to find the morning after by Hana that you didn’t go there, instead led into the lion’s den that is Dion’s room.

How… odd.

No… what was odder was that you didn’t have separate rooms. Emily had told her as such out of the blue, preparing her breakfast. She questioned it then, and it’s only weirder, more worrisome the longer she thinks about it.

She shakes the memories away. It wasn’t her life. She had enough trouble on her plate already - she couldn’t possibly add you to the list of her neverending responsibilities she’s forced to juggle. She could pity you, but never love you. Touch you but never hold you. Talk to you but never make a genuine connection as sisters should.

She should stop with this foolish nonsense.

Turning the handle, she glides right in, letting the door shut behind her. Emily had retired for the night, and the blond also ordered Hana to do the same. After all, Lant had given Dion another mission, and the favorite son had to prepare to leave in the morning, too busy to bother you.

… why am I so focused on her…?

The moonlight lights up her room through the glass doors that lead to the terrace. With a huff, she sits in her vanity, and starts to remove her makeup with removal cream. It’s greasy as her dainty fingers spread it across her face, each action copied by the mirror. It’s quiet.

Her thoughts refuse to shut up, however.

‘What’s going on with Lant…? Choosing a daughter-in-law from a nearly unheard of family? Do they have something he wants and only used this marriage as a means to get closer? Most likely, but why?’

A frown tugs at her lips, face completely bare after she pats it down with a face towel. Ruby eyes stare into the reflection before her, and Roxana only sees frustration and confusion. She can’t rely on her memories of the story anymore.

She won’t be sure until the faithful day when her father kidnaps Cassis Pedelian, the Blue Heir. And even then, how could she be sure that it would be the same Cassis Pedelain that was mentioned in the novel? The same goes for his sister, Sylvia.

“...things are getting complicated.” Standing, her feet take her to the bed and she lays on it, back pressed against the mattress. The crystal chandelier sparkles in the moonlight. Ruby optics disappear behind her eyelids, blond lashes casting shadows on skin. The night is still young.

A small smile of amusement forms on her lips when she remembers your earlier conversation. You had called her an interesting person - far from what others say. They called her lovely, a Goddess of beauty - and you?

You called her interesting.

Still, you couldn’t hide the admiration for her in your eyes. You weren’t a stumbling fool and understood what her look meant when Jeremy went too far. But the most fascinating thing?

You listened to mental caution and drew a line, uncomfortable with her, with them, the gears turning in your head on what to do next. You even separated yourself from her without hesitation once the moment presented itself.

Regardless, you admired her in spite of your clear discomfort.

“...I must be tired.”

You called her an interesting person. In return, she’ll call you a fool.

- - -

His side of the bed was cold, patting it as your bleary eyes and murky mind clear up. Still dressed in the half undone dress and corset, you ignore how uncomfortable it is. No, right now, what you are focused on is the way your beating heart is thrashing against your rib cage, how cold your body has become, beads of sweat building and rolling down your temples, on the verge of gasping for air. Did you just fuck yourself over?

You don’t know what time it was - sun high in the bright, blue sky, birds singing their lovely tunes. The occasional footsteps passing by, the far off voices as the servants go about their business. None of them knock on the door. None come to ‘wake’ you up.

Or, if they had, it must have been a good while ago. Were you so deep asleep that they gave up?

“...He’s going to kill me, isn’t he… hah…” a humorless laugh passes through your chest, shoulders slumping as nothing but regret fills your head and chest. Are you going to be killed today? Or maybe tortured? Thrown out like disgusting leftovers?

You don’t want to die. Ah, but what could you possibly do? Get on your hands and knees like a dog and beg for forgiveness? …no. You’re already pathetic enough, you don’t want to lower yourself even more. Fuck.

“...Ah, fuck, what should I do?” Putting your thumb sideways in your mouth, your teeth clamp down on the poor digit. The taste of iron explodes in your mouth, teeth marks left behind on the now wounded and bleeding flesh.

A throbbing headache decides to join, adding physical pain to the list of your suffering. You bite down on your thumb harder. It feels like it might just snap in two but your mind is too fried to realize this. The only thing you can think about is last night.

Your husband was gone. Where did he go? Maybe he decided to leave you, seeing you as a broken toy he doesn’t want anymore. Does that mean he’ll give the least back to Lant? Is that why he isn’t here? To discuss how to dispose of you?

The thought makes your stomach churn, saliva glands overfilling as bile starts to raise. You were given to them as a pet - as some twisted sacrifice, and for what? Did this family want nothing else but a new ‘toy,’ to see how long a normal person would last within these walls? What then?

If they decide to kill you, or if you kill yourself out of desperation, what would they tell your parents? No, they wouldn’t tell them anything to begin with.

And your family wouldn’t be able to ask.

“Urk…” dry heaving, slapping your hand over your mouth, panicked tears forming. Your entire body shakes, blood staining the bed as your injured hand grasps at the sheets. “URK!” Without a thought you rush out of bed, slamming yourself down on your knees as you reach the trash can. All of your stomach continents come up, the foul taste of vomit coming forth.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you heave over the trash, blurring your vision. You’re breathing too heavily. You look at the door a few feet away from you. If anyone was right outside it, they would have heard you.

“...” you wait for a knock or for someone to burst through the doors with bated breath, your eyes shaking in their sockets, knees throbbing after the harsh impact. No-one comes. It is only you - alone in this room, a sinner who is paying the price. Must you go through this for a sin you’ve forgotten until now?

The answer is yes.

The answer is yes as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The answer is yes as you force yourself to stand, knees painfully throbbing as the flesh bruises. The answer is yes as your thumb still bleeds, teeth marks engraved into the skin. The answer is yes as your heart refuses to calm down, chest hurting.

The answer is yes as you walk over to the vanity, the reflection of a face that doesn’t look like your own.

You are a mess.

The tears don’t stop flowing as the urge to vomit returns. Crystalline droplets catch on your lashes, ugly sobs and hiccups breaking out, your shoulders shaking as you collapse onto the leather stool seat. A sinner always pays the price.

You bury your face into your hands, entire body jerking with each sob, each hiccup as anxiety for the future and present overtakes everything. This isn’t like you. But you were never strong enough to survive in an environment like this. You were pathetic.

Seconds turn into minutes and maybe even into hours. Time is a concept that you don’t bother yourself with by the time you finally calm down, red puffy eyes staring into the mirror as the tear streaks dry on your cheeks. Some snot peeks out from your nostril, hair a mess, clothes crumbled and sliding down, showing more of your cleavage. Such an unsightly sight.

Grabbing a face towel on the vanity desk, you wipe off the tears and snot.

“...Okay. Let’s… get cleaned up.” Your limbs feel heavy, dragging your feet towards the closet before finally, finally striping out of your clothes from yesterday. The articles of clothing pools at your feet.

How much longer can I last here?

Will there ever be a peaceful divorce? Can I divorce him? Would I be able to?

If the story events do take place and Roxana takes over the Agriche family… by then… would I have children…?

BAM!

Your poor knees-! At the thought of having children - his children - your body just gives up again, as always. That’s the only thing you’re capable of, as experience has shown.

“...children… right, children… I have to give that man kids… kids that will go through the same thing he went through…” Will you be able to love them, if they come into existence? You have to, they would be yours.

Or would you end up just like Jeremy’s mother? Horrified at the sight of her own child, refusing to spend time with them. Seeing them as an irredeemable monster that you would do anything and everything to avoid?

Chomp.

Your thumb once again becomes a victim to your teeth, the imprint becoming deeper and drawing more blood. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts- but as the thought of starting a family with Dion Agriche deepens, the more you need to find something sturdy. Your thumb is enough to keep you grounded, yes, it is, and no, you’re not planning an early funeral, visualizing the area you want to hold it, or the dress your cold corpse would wear, or your family’s crying faces -

No, stop it. This isn’t - this isn’t… this isn’t what I want to be.

Licking the flesh wound, accepting the taste and smell of iron, you are not met with clarity nor bravery; just, temporary acceptance. This is your life. This was what the Gods had planned for you. This is what you have become - a wife to the future Black Agriche Heir.

His first wife.

Despite the blood and saliva, your mouth feels dry. Nausea builds back up, gagging and breath becoming short. It’s becoming hard to breathe.

Your lungs are being squeezed, throat constricted with an invisible ball gag - vision blurred with what? What’s this hot liquid running down your cheeks? Are you crying ? Again?

Something is choking you. Your head is starting to feel fuzzy, a pounding in your chest you can’t get. Everything is warped, shapes turning into mush, black merging with white, a hammer bashing against your head. Only the sound of rushing blood and a running heart is heard. Only the thought of death remains.

“No…no, I - I - this-!” you curl into yourself, kneeling as your forehead touches the floor, hands interlocked around your head as your lower arms and elbows rest on the tiles. Sobbing violently, your mind crashes again. You were never strong.

Not then, not now.

- - -

“Young Master Dion has been sent off on an errand; the dinner with Master Lant has been postponed until tomorrow, at six o’clock.” Hana informs you as she sets out your breakfast: oatmeal and water. Just what your now very sensitive stomach and nerves need. Did she overhear your little mental breakdown not even an hour ago? Or was this the usual breakfast for the residents of the Agriche compound?

“I see.” You hoarsely reply, voice still recovering. This is a good thing - you don’t have to see the devil’s face for yet another day. Her news also answers your question; Dion is out on an errand and they weren’t planning to axe you. Yet. Hopefully never.

Still, the curiosity of your husband’s duties lingers. You shouldn’t involve yourself anymore than what you currently are. Curiosity always kills the cat. So, you bite your tongue, deciding against asking her what your oh so lovely husband’s chore is… but, if you are to play the role as a wife, his wife, should you ask him once he returns? Like how one would greet their spouse once they return from work.

Hello dear… ick, no. Hey, how was your day… no, next. Are you tired? Do you want a bath…?

Or maybe you should just ignore the subject all together. His business isn’t yours, so why bother?

Besides, what if he doesn’t like you ‘snooping’ in his business? But at the same time, he’s been acting so weird and unlike how he was portrayed in the story. So while that Dion would find your questions annoying or useless, this Dion may want you to ask about his day. Fuck, it’s all so confusing and irritating

“Hm. Hana, is there anything on today’s schedule?”

“No, not yet my Lady.”

Not yet. What does she mean by not yet? Does that mean she’s aware that someone will interrupt your tiny bit of peace at some point today? Her short dark brown hair slightly bounces as she shuffles her weight onto one leg. “However, my Lady, I could… tell them that you’re recovering from ‘last night.’”

Her suggestion makes your grip on the cup loose, dropping the glass onto your lap as water soaks it.

“My Lady! Are you alright?” In a panic, Hana grabs some of the napkins on the table and pats your lap to soak up some of the water after removing the now empty glass. “My apologies - I shouldn’t have brought up such a vulgar suggestion…” Her once collected face and behavior shatters at the drop of a hat, ‘concerned’ about your safety.

Or was it for hers?

“I-it’s fine… no worries,” a tight lipped smile that only makes her brows furrow more and treats you gentler. Like you were made of glass. Well, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth…

“No, really. I just need to change clothes…” Once she’s done with soaking most of the water up you stand and walk to the closet. Opening the doors you skim over the options. Hana’s footsteps stop right behind you. Why is it so hard to have personal space in this place…

Your gaze travels upwards and for the first time, do you notice the Agriche family's crest engraved into the wood. Bitterness explodes in your mouth. It seems that no matter where you are in this place, there will always be a physical reminder of where you are - of who you belong to. No matter, you tell yourself. Besides, this isn’t even your room -

It was your husband’s. And maybe after a month, if not less, into your marriage, you’ll be assigned your own. …why were you sharing a room with him to begin with? Probably to increase the chances of conceiving a child sooner rather than later.

“... does that even make sense?” you murmur in amusement. Lant wasn’t even dead yet. But, you think, maybe he wanted his son to have a child so he could start to shape them into this tainted and sadistic mold ahead of time before he kicks the bucket. To ensure that the child - your child - would follow in their father’s footsteps.

To see if they would carry the same air and expectations as your husband does.

How cruel.

“Hana, I’ll let you choose it; they’re all so… beautiful that I can’t choose.” In reality you’re getting a headache from looking at the family crest. Which just became yours.

“...yes, my Lady,” she follows your order without question, going through the options.

Not even a few minutes later she pulls one out.

It matches your husband’s eyes. A brilliant shade of scarlet, it practically glows. A sheer black neck piece that forms as a choker and covers your cleavage but leaves your shoulders bare. Black lace is on the hem, flowers engraved into the pattern. The body of the dress is a solid scarlet.

“It’s beautiful.” You compliment her choice of style hiding how the beautiful piece of clothing makes your fingers twitch and brings the urge to vomit forward. Oh, how horrible it is, to not even be able to enjoy such a sight.

How horrible it is, to be born into this world after a helpless first life only to repeat the cycle, but worse.

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