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fayes-fics · 24 days ago

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Ingénu

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday, Benedict loses his virginity with you on a warm summer's night...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Loss of male and female virginity. Sex education (sort of, mostly innocent leading innocent), vaginal sex, alfresco sex, withdrawal method, orgasms (them lucky kids). Childhood friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: A fic I started more than two years ago, from THIS anon suggestion. Please note, the age of sexual consent in the UK is currently 16, so everyone is legal, although, in Regency, it was 10 (yikes). Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Err, enjoy! <3

Benedict Bridgerton.

If you were to give yourself to anyone before marriage, you know it would only ever be him.

You grew up as neighbours, your family estate bordering his family’s in Kent. Born five months apart, it’s like destiny that you would be close. You shared your first chaste kiss when you were both twelve and then a French kiss at sixteen. And now, well, perhaps a lot more.

It’s his eighteenth birthday party when, while Colin draws attention to himself, Benedict grabs your hand and whisks you away without anyone noticing. Perhaps the brotherly distraction was by design.

Wordlessly, he leads you far from the house into a small clearing in the woods around Aubrey Hall. There is a blanket, some pillows, and even some candle lanterns that he now lights. It appears he has something planned, and it causes a flutter in your stomach.

“Benedict, what is this?” you enquire sotto voce, his hand so large wrapped around yours. So safe.

“A quiet spot just for us,” he smiles back.

“To do what?”.

“To celebrate my birthday privately. In a manner that I know we are both so keen to,” he proclaims at first enigmatic, before clarifying: “You said you wanted to know a man before you are married, and I wish to know a woman.”

“But….”

Beyond that, words fail.

You had indeed said as such just the other day. It was an idle, throwaway comment as you lay together in the long grass by the lake, squinting at the sun and enjoying the summer heat on your face. A languidness in your being had made you carefree with your words.

“It may be fine for you, Benedict, but I must be a maiden when I marry,” you point out.

“Well, what if you were to marry me someday?” he contends matter of fact.

“Is that a proposal?” you splutter. “Because I find it to be severely lacking.”

He chuckles at your affront. “No, you shall receive a ring when I propose,” he affirms.

“So, it is a when now, is it? “ you volley back, a smile tweaking your lips, unable to be anything but playful with him, as you have been for many a year now.

“Of that, you can be certain.”

There is a seductive edge to his voice, which seems so much older than his eighteen years; it’s quite captivating.

“But how can you be certain my answer will be yes?”

“I cannot,” he admits, seeming bemused by your quirked brow. “But I hope it will be after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure of my answer about tonight?” So much fun to toy with him.

“Again, I cannot,” he replies with a slight shrug but a soft, crooked smile. “I can only hope you deem me worthy,” he adds, gesturing around you.

“It is rather romantic,” you allow, watching in the lantern glow as he breaks into a much bigger grin that reaches his eyes. Candle reflections dance in his enlarged pupils.

“I am so pleased you think so,” he beams. “I rather suspect Anthony plans to take me to a brothel this weekend. He did as such for his eighteenth and is of the firm opinion that I should follow suit. But in truth, I, well… “ he hesitates and takes a step forward, grabbing both of your hands in his. “...I want my first experience to be with you.”

The heartfelt, almost bashful admission has you squeezing his hands reassuringly, hoping it silently telegraphs how much you want the same, despite your reservations about preserving your honour.

“May I kiss you?” His tone is so sweet you don't want to say no.

Instead of answering with words, you push up onto tiptoes and land your lips on his. It’s familiar and exciting all at once. You’ve kissed secretly a few times now, and on each occasion, it has been incredible—like a live wire sparking between you. You push into his tall frame as your mouths open and your tongues gently touch. He tastes of peaty scotch and the smoky tinge of cigars, both likely birthday indulgences.

His hold around your waist tightens as your kisses get more insistent and probing, tongues parrying. This time feels different—portending something more profound. Only breaking apart to take a breath, then, after a fleeting exchange of shy smiles, your lips smashing back together urgently, exploring anew.

As you cling to his waistcoat, his hands slide down your dress to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been grasped there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks. You stutter his name as your lips part, his aromatic breath gusting over your face as he flexes his fingers. He observes your face closely, the material of your dress bunching between his knuckles.

“I like the feel of your bottom,” he declares with tender honesty.

You beam up at him and trace your hand down his back, running over the crisscross pattern of laces on his waistcoat before landing on his behind. His eyebrows raise as you splay your fingers over rounded, taut muscle.

“I like yours too,” you respond in kind, emboldened by how his pupils dilate and his mouth falls open at your pluckiness.

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, diving in for another kiss, more demanding than before, your boldness catalysing a new urgency in him. His fingers trail down your neck, skating over your pulse point that you know is hammering hard, then sweeping lower over your shoulder.

“Is… is this alright for you?” His voice is full of awe as those fingers slip inside your dress, the heel of his palm resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Y… yes, it’s… wonderful, actually.”

It seems like he is mapping your skin, the contours of bone and muscle across your chest, sinking lower until his hand is resting on the swell of your breast. He worms inside your neckline, and two fingertips catch against your nipple. It pebbles hard at the slightest brush, your breath catching. You meet his blistering stare as he slowly swipes a finger over the puckered skin again. Heat prickles through you, a heavy tingle between your legs.

“Does that feel good?”

His timbre is a beguiling mix of tease and hope as his fingertips gently swirl a circle around your areola. You nod, your lower lip snagging under your top tooth as a new tide of sensation washes through you.

“Where did you learn such things?” You marvel, your hands still on his bottom, flexing slightly, a mirror of his movements.

“My brother has told me some things,” he elucidates with a slight smirk, “including that if I touch your breasts, you will be excited for more.”

“I am,” you confess as intrigue steals your tongue: “What did he tell you to do next?”

“That I should remove your dress and kiss your naked body, especially here.” he counsels, sliding over your nipple again.

“What else?” you pant, the thought of it making you lightheaded.

“I should feel between your legs for wetness that shows you are ready for me,” he intones as if recalling a verbatim conversation, even as his fingers spider across to your other nipple. You gasp again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Ready for you?” You echo, mildly embarrassed that you do not know any detail of what happens between a man and a woman. You have only a vague notion from the overheard gossip of people in your family’s employ.

He grabs your right hand from his bottom and guides it to the front of his trousers. There is a hardness straining the material that you swear wasn't there before.

“What is that?” Your breath catches as its warmth seeps through the material into your palm.

“That is my cock, and if you wish to know a man, it is an essential part of the process,” he smiles winningly.

You squeeze gently on instinct, the resulting low growl in the back of his throat enthralling you.

“I think we should take off our clothes now,” he proposes, and you nod your acceptance.

His hand slips from inside your neckline and lands on the buttons between your shoulder blades as yours slide up from his trousers to his waistcoat, popping its buttons as those on your dress also relent.

“Is it alright to undress each other, or should we undress ourselves?”

“Either is acceptable, but I am rather enjoying this,” he divulges as you push his waistcoat off his shoulders.

“So am I…”

He pulls off your dress, the silk pooling around your feet, a yen to crowd into him as the cool night air seeps through your gauzy chemise.

“You do not wear stays?” he seems taken aback, his gaze now intent upon your nipples, jutting out against the thin cotton.

“No, not yet. Mama says I am but young, and my bosom is still perky,” you explain, aroused by how his breath becomes a little laboured as you voice it.

“I like it when you say such words,” he rags, pulling you into him with a firm grip, his hands so hot through the thin cotton of your chemise. You have a sudden tart need to be naked with him, a tingle between your legs that can only be excitement.

“Take off my chemise, Benedict,” you encourage, guiding him to the ties at your neckline. You pull the bow loose, the material bunching in his hands as you both tug either side down, exposing your breasts.

He groans as your nipples instantly pebble in the cool air. He tilts you backwards in his arms, his face descending. You rasp his name, your hand flying into his hair, twisting his chestnut waves between your fingers as the contrasting heat, suction and wetness of his lips enclose your nub. It's exquisite, and you never want this loop of pleasure coursing through you to end, pushing your breast further into his mouth.

While he lathes with his tongue, you slacken the neckline further and shimmy out of the chemise, keen for more, already addicted to this wondrous feeling coursing in your bloodstream.

He takes a step back to look at you as the last scrap of fabric flutters to the ground.

You see the quiver in his hands and the tented outline in his trousers as his eyes drink in your naked form, lingering on your nipples, wet with his saliva, and the patch of hair between your legs that is also damp now, a slickness between your thighs that has you wanting to squirm.

His pupils are blown wide, his lips glisten, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is wild from your tussling as he suddenly whips off his shirt. It sails through the air in a puffed arc. The captivating sight of his pale skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight ties your tongue.

But your admiration is short-lived as he is on you again, propelling you into his arms. Your mind buffers as his broad, smooth chest collides with your dampened breasts, his kiss plundering your mouth.

It feels like you are both drunk on a fascinating cocktail of urgency and nerves, navigating new territory with a bumbling, innocent, but innate excitement.

“Lay down,” he whispers delicately into your mouth as you emerge for air.

You do as bidden, holding his hand as he assists you onto the blanket and laying back to stare up at him, towering over you now. His hands fall to the buttons on his britches, and you can't help but bite your lip, a shiver of anticipation to see how he looks naked.

He seems almost nervous as he pops the buttons and then shuffles the woollen material downwards over his thighs. But you only have eyes for what lies between his legs. Like yourself, there is a patch of hair there, but also something entirely other that makes your thighs clench together reflexively. This must be his cock. It is a rigid mass, reddened at the flared tip, jutting out from his body at least half a foot and beneath are adjoined sacs that droop a little.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmurs, perhaps misinterpreting your curiosity for fear.

“I know you will not hurt me, Benedict,” you placate, your eyes flitting up to his face and reaching for his hands to bring him to lay down with you on the blanket.

He sighs as he kneels beside you, his hand cradling your cheek. “That is the thing, my sweet; my brother says it might hurt for a lady on her first time.”

Your breath catches at the term of endearment he employs, placing your hand over his. “I know you will do everything to mitigate such.”

His eyes go soft, and he rolls on top of you; so much warm skin. An all-consuming sensation as you lay together naked, that cock branding your inner thigh as he settles atop you.

“Indeed ‘tis true…” he confirms, then hesitates before continuing in an ardent intonation: “I meant what I said. I wish for you to be my wife one day. I do believe I love you, y/n.”

Your heart soars at his tender confession. “And I believe I love you too, Benedict.”

His responding smile lights up his whole face.

You may only be seventeen, but you know the contents of your heart. There is no man you have met whom you trust as much as this wondrous boy, now man, you have grown up alongside. You sincerely hope to have the privilege to grow up and, indeed, old with him.

“Are you certain?” he checks sweetly, and you can only nod as his touch trails down over the ticklish skin of your belly, leaving little lines of fire that sear in his wake.

There is a jolt to your entire being as his fingers slide into your most intimate area, somewhere only you have touched before. You keen and press up into him, quite certain nothing has ever felt like this before.

“Oh, you are very wet,” he stutters, almost stunned. “But that is good,” he quickly appends before you can become self-conscious. “It means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“I do desire you, Benedict,” you are at pains to express, a restlessness fizzling under your skin and a clawing need for him in your bones, knowing this can only be of his doing and wanting to burn so much more. “What happens now?”

He guides your hand gently between his legs. He moans as your hand instinctively curls around it, the skin so silky even over a mass so rigid. “I put my cock inside you,” he stumbles. “Into the place you are leaking from…”

“Will it fit?” You frown, unsure you have a place within yourself to accommodate it.

“Yes.. well, at least, that is what I have been told.”

His slightly vulnerable admission makes you release his cock and grab his face, tilting his gaze to meet yours.

“We shall find out together,” you assure, smiling when he nods gently.

This is just another adventure you will embark on together, much as you have since you were children.

He kisses your knuckles and guides you to hold onto his shoulders as he shifts above you. Butterflies behind your ribs as he looks down at what he is doing, a slightly anxious expression as he grabs his cock and manoeuvres it between your legs.

You spread your feet wider to the edges of the blanket, its threads scrunching between your toes as you feel blunt pressure between your damp folds. You can't help the noise you make from the intensity of it.

Benedict’s head shoots up to scrutinise your face, concern flooding his handsome features.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so, just nothing I have experienced before…”

Then his eyes go as wide as yours as just his tip slips into your leaking channel.

“You are so hot and tight,” he stumbles, floored by what he is experiencing as much as you are.

“You are so hot and large,” you answer in kind, gripping his bicep as he presses deeper and an odd pinch of pain flares; it makes you hiss and bite your lip.

He mumbles an apology, pausing. “I assume that is what they were referring to. Sh-should I continue?”

“Yes, I am alright now,” you reassure him, briefly touching his cheek, curiosity outweighing the fading, dull ache.

You are slack-jawed in astonishment as your channel stretches wider to accommodate his push forward. He is panting, and his eyes are almost like saucers as he stares down upon you, neither of you blinking.

“Oh my goodness,” he mutters enraptured. “Please tell me this feels as good for you…”

“It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you promise breathily, a warmth unfurling behind your ribs that he would care as such. “Intense, yet wonderful.”

“Same,” he exhales shakily, a vein throbbing rhythmically on his neck as he sinks deeper.

Each fractional inch has you surprised anew, a captivating gradual invasion. Just as you think you could not be any fuller, he stops.

“I am entirely within you now.”

You try to catalogue all the feelings at once, to savour them, but it's impossible. The sense of him inside and surrounding you, flesh entwined, is all-consuming; defies words or descriptions.

“I shall move when you are ready,” he whispers into your cheek before kissing you softly.

With your nodded consent, he withdraws and then surges back in, your channel clinging to him—a sensation unlike anything you have ever experienced before, so intimate and powerful. Your fingernails claw into him, hugging him down onto you, wanting his skin upon yours.

“Oh Benedict….”

It’s all you can voice.

A tremble all over as you share this moment, tentatively moving with him in a complementary rhythm, almost a dance like that in a ballroom. Give and take, push and pull. And there is no one you would rather be dancing with. Your bodies meld together perfectly as if designed to be joined as such. You certainly don’t understand why some women dislike relations with a man—you would happily do this anytime.

Benedict's motions speed up, your folds swelling around his plunging cock, your heart hammering against your ribs, watching the ripples of ecstasy wash over his expression, a dew gathering in his hairline.

“It’s.. it’s overwhelming,” Benedict shudders.

Indeed, there is a quake in his being, like he is a simmering pot about to boil over, even as his face appears anxious, like he does not yet want that to happen but is powerless to stop it. You quell his movement, clutching the belt of muscle above his hips.

“Rest within me a while,” you suggest, and he stills, a staccato exhale into your hair as his cock twitches inside you.

It is wonderful to be pinned under his weight. You run a soothing touch over his skin, the soft cotton of the blanket rubbing your shoulder blades as you shift under him, wrapping your ankles around the back of his knees. Your toes tease his fuzzy calves in soothing strokes as his breathing returns closer to normal. You know, somehow you should not kiss him, an incitement he does not need.

“I do not wish this to be over too soon,” he laments quietly into your hair—a swell of emotion within you at his honest admission.

“Neither do I, but it is our first time. We cannot expect to know or be good at everything, Benedict,” you rationalise, pausing for him to meet your gaze. A sheepish mien that makes him look so adorable. “We can learn to get better together.”

The knit on his brow loosens a fraction as he hums in agreement.

“I have heard that should I finish before I want to, there are other ways I may ensure your satisfaction,” he offers humbly.

“What does that entail?” Enchanted by the idea he would be concerned for your pleasure as much as his.

“I may touch a nub between your legs that is like a freshwater pearl nestled within folds of dewy flesh,” he states, a poetic description you are sure must be from some book.

When he pulls up to glance at where you are joined, it makes his cock prod a new spot inside you. An incredible bloom of novel sensation that has you gasping and grabbing his arms. Your channel ripples around him, and he groans heavily, collapsing back upon you inelegantly.

“Holy fuck,” he curses, sounding winded.

And you know the time for talking is over. You are impatient for him to move again, for his cock to graze that spot once more.

“Bring your legs up higher,” he tutors, intuiting your needs.

Just as your heels curl around the shapely curve of his bottom, he moves again, making you cry out in pleasure as he hits that exact target, your nails digging into his back.

“Don’t stop Benedict,” you appeal over a ragged gasp as he grazes it again, your eyes rolling, clinging to him.

His motions are jerkier now but rougher in just the way you need. He holds nothing back, both of you fumbling towards the ecstasy growing inside. Hands grabbing, moaning into dewy cheeks, wetness matting into the downy hair below, the most debauched of sounds from where your bodies meet as he pushes into you over and over.

All your muscles start to tense, a delirium washing over you that makes you impulsive. One of your hands worming between you to strum an engorged nub just above where he fucks you, knowing on some instinctual level it is key to your pleasure. You cry out, and your pussy clamps hard onto him. Benedict groans his approval as he takes a final harsh snap, you falling over an edge, fluttering hard around his now rippling cock.

He growls and wrenches himself out of your channel rapidly. But you are barely cognizant of a milky liquid spurting over your belly as you writhe under him, body febrile mind a thousand miles above amongst the summer stars

When you return to yourself, you feel him collapse onto the blanket next to you, pulling you into his arms as if there is a compulsion to always have your naked skin on his.

“No one warned me your body would do that,” he pants, astounded. “It took all of my strength to withdraw…”

“Why did you?” You crane your neck to pout at him, believing it would feel so much better to reach that peak wrapped around his cock.

“I thought it unwise to leave you with child…” he frowns as if his reasoning were obvious.

You buffer for a few seconds, then sit up and twist to look down at him, shock flooding your already overloaded senses.

“This?!” You splutter, “This is how babies are made?”

He chuckles at first, then tempers his face when he realises you are serious.

“I… I thought you knew…”

”No! I have not been told a thing!” you bemoan, only now realising how much of adulthood you have yet to navigate.

He delicately pulls you down to rest on top of him, nuzzling your cheek.

“I am sorry that is the case. One day, we shall have children, I am certain. But perhaps tis not a good idea just yet. We are still young, not even yet engaged.”

You vehemently nod in agreement, flooded with gratitude that, even as he was in the throes of his first sex, too, he had the respect and forethought to care for the consequences for you both.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, burrowing into his embrace as a gentle waft of breeze cools your flushed skin.

“‘Tis me who should be thanking you.” he insists, caressing your shoulder. “That was amazing. I am so glad we did this together.”

“As am I,” you return, as you lay entwined together, knowing already this will be the first of many.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

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

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yayll · 5 months ago

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~ a little something about the complicated way you and Dazai acknowledge each other's feelings ~

"We can't let it end like this. We simply can't."

"Dazai, what are you talking about? I'm literally just going on my lunch break."

"... I'll find a way for us to be together! Someday!"

You've been bickering back and forth with him ever since you stepped foot in the agency this morning, or more like he's been performing a whiney one sided narrative that you and your co-workers are more than familiar with. Though it's only ever directed at you. The confusing declarations of love, the lack of personal space, and then there are the days he won't even look or speak to you at all. It was emotional whiplash, but you did your best to drown out the feelings he evoked in you.

Dangerous ones you wouldn't dare indulge in, because if so, you get the feeling your heart would never recover from a man like Dazai. You grab your wallet, and push in your desk chair when he calls out to you once more in a much more serious tone, one that sounds bored.

"If you must leave, will you please pick up something on your way back for me?"

"What is it this time?"

"Bandages, I suppose"

He says that like it's an afterthought, like he couldn't care less for whatever he was asking for.

He's been asking you to go on odd little shopping trips for him for weeks now, and you being the dog you are, say yes every single time. You think about how Dazai loathes dogs. It makes you physically ill the way you feel about him. Whatever it is. You nod, and reply softly.

"Okay. Sure."

"So compliant! If I didn't know any better l'd say you're madly in love with me. Should we run off into the sunset and get married?"

You simply stare at his sardonic smile for a long while, and he stares back. It's like you're sending each other psychic waves, secret messages only you two could decode. Only you two could fathom. He stares into you with that piercing gaze of his, the one that might as well call you an idiot for ever thinking there's a real person behind his heavenly face. His eyes are pretty, they make yours feel dull in comparison. After a while, a faint half smile creeps onto your lips, trying to feign the same indifference as his. You fail, obviously.

"Mm, sounds too hopeful, even for you."

"Yikes! Right you are. Commitment. How awful.... No one wants that kind of trouble."

Dazai states cruelly, leaning back into his chair at his desk, arms crossed. He has to bite down to keep from smiling and giggling like a fool, as this is exactly what he wishes would happen.

His heart flutters for a brief moment at the visual of such a fantasy, such privilege to have you forever. He knows how badly you secretly want this too, but he doesn't plan on putting you out of your misery just yet. Shame on you to think of him as a real person who's allowed to pursue the things he wants! He continues when he sees you've gone completely silent, standing with your keys in your hand like a mannequin.

"Besides, I'm sure you've met plenty of other guys that are far more suitable for you. I mean, look at me, I used to be a criminal." He winks at you, hinting at his sketchy past. He's such a fantastic performer when he's at his worst.

"... And no one wants that kind of trouble, right?" You echo his past words back to him, once again failing to match his rejection.

"Oh you wretched little creature. Right again!"

You can't take much of this any longer, smiling politely as you simply turn around, and walk out of the agency. Your eyes sting.

Dazai just sits there, staring at the door, counting the seconds until you're back. He rests his chin on his palm, unblinking. He taps his fingers on the desk, and lets out a deep sigh. It's all he does, all he looks forward to every single day you leave.

You finally come back nearly an hour later, carrying a small bag and leftovers from your lunch. He lights up like the moon during the clearest night sky, and stands up immediately. His demeanor completely changes as he flashes you a delighted grin, rushing to you.

"You're back~"

"Yeah, here are your bandages."

"My what?"

"The bandages you asked for..?"

His eyes widen for a moment, and then he chuckles, shaking his head. He flicks his own forehead.

"Of course! Thank you. Now, may I have the receipt as well?"

He looks excited, his open palm cupped in front of you, as if you were giving him a treat. You raise a brow and shrug, handing him the crumpled piece of paper. You don't even question it anymore. He frowns. You think he looks like a disgruntled little kid.

"Ugh. You wrinkled it."

"What? Why does it matter?"

"Well I obviously wanted to keep it, silly goose."

You try to make sense of what he could possibly mean, and you decide it's not worth getting into. You can't afford the heartache nor the brain cells.

"That's the weirdest thing you've ever asked me."

"Not true. I've never asked you for a kiss~"

You almost drop to the floor with the way his eyes darken, despite his tone being the complete opposite. You stare at him yet again for what feels like ages, your heart set ablaze, with Dazai being the pyromaniac who won't let your embers die out of his own amusement. Your voice comes out low, meek.

"Well I'm clearly not the person you dream of, so no."

You could swear his awful smirk falls off just a tiny bit, but any evidence of that is gone in a blink of an eye. His voice comes out soft and laced with a hint of honeyed bitterness.

"And if you weren't, l'd dream of you anyway."

He mutters under his breath as he looks out the window, as if you weren't supposed to hear that. the sun is slowly setting and the moon will illuminate soon after. He wishes he could see what you look like at night.

You roll your eyes because if you don't, you'll bury your face in his chest and sob. Oh, he's the worst. You put on your best cynical voice followed by a scoff.

"That's lovely, Dazai."

"You look lovely." He states simply, still looking at the way the moon ghosts in the sky.

"... Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." He murmurs, solemnly. In that moment, you don't catch it, but he's telling you he loves you too.

And just like that, you slowly walk past him and sit at your desk. You might have a stroke, but you still have reports to finish.

Dazai quietly does the same, sitting down and opening a drawer, and then a secret compartment within it. He glances at you for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he flashes you an exaggerated smile when you catch him looking, then turns his attention back down, the smile dropping.

He places the wrinkled receipt into a larger stack of countless other receipts, all from past errands you've run for him lately. He smoothes it carefully, for it is a priceless sentiment amongst his collection of the things you so graciously give him. It's pathetic, but it's like holding your hand. It's like kissing you. It's like true love.

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emilyprentissluvr · 2 months ago

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Three Steps Back (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 6)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Warnings: Typical Criminal minds stuff, mentions of death

Words: 2.8k

Emily could feel the migraine forming behind her eyes. After hours of staring at the same case files, she still couldn't find anything. She let her head drop to her desk, hoping it would just swallow her whole and then spit her out when they made a break in the case.

"...Prentiss," At the sound of her last name, her eyes flitted to the person leaning on her desk.

"Your phone," JJ finished as she pointed to the buzzing device on Emily's desk.

"Oh, right," Emily mumbled as she gave JJ a small smile of appreciation before picking up the phone.

When she saw Y/n calling her, she returned her phone to her desk.

"Your mother?" JJ asked as she perched on Emily's desk.

"I wish," Emily muttered. Then, cursing under her breath as her phone started ringing again.

"Someone worse than your mother? Yikes." JJ said as she tried to discreetly see whoever was calling Emily as the brunette completely shut off her phone.

"You could say that," Emily sighed as she tossed her phone to the back of her desk.

Emily looked up and saw JJ still perched on her desk, giving her the look. Emily hated that look because it meant JJ was about to pry, and she did not want to tell the team that she was talking to a serial killer.

A small part of her knew she should at least tell Hotch, but she couldn't risk him cutting off her only means of communication with Y/n.

"Did you need something, JJ?"

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted coffee, but now I want to know who was calling you," JJ smiled, making herself comfortable on the brunette's desk.

"It's no one," Emily rolled her eyes, "And if you're going out for coffee, I'll take my usual."

"Em, come on, who else other than your mom would make you glare at your phone like that?" JJ inquired, completely ignoring Emily's request about the coffee.

"You want a list?" Emily snarked back.

"Oh! Oh! Was it, Hannah?" JJ asked, even more interested now.

"Wait, Hannah, as in your ex-girlfriend Hannah is calling you?" Spencer chimed in from his desk across from Emily's.

"I thought she ghosted you," Derek added from his desk.

The two women whipped their heads around, not even realizing that Spencer and Derek had been listening to their conversation. The glare Emily shot the younger agent made him wish he'd never spoken in the first place. Derek, on the other hand, was more than amused.

"For the fifth time, Hannah did not ghost me! It was a mutual breakup!" Emily huffed.

"Whatever you say, princess." Derek smiled, earning him another glare from Emily.

"The term ghosting became popular in 1990's hip hop- Ow!" Spencer yelped as Emily launched the stuffed animal cat that Penelope bought her right at Spencer's face.

"I wasn't ghosted! And I'm done talking to you guys!" Emily frowned as she turned her chair back to her desk and ignored the three other agents.

Derek and Spencer chuckled at her antics while JJ rolled her eyes.

"I'll be back with your coffee, Ms. Grouchy," JJ said as she pushed off Emily's desk, earning a small grumble of gratitude from the brunette.

JJ was halfway to the door when Penelope came full speed through the doors, "BAU Assemble! I've got something!" She yelled, running surprisingly fast in her high heels to the conference room.

"I guess that means no coffee," Emily grumbled as they all made their way to the round table.

As soon as everyone sat down, Penelope turned the TV monitor on and passed out numerous case files.

"In 1991, there was a serial killer that operated in rural Virginia at the same time and place that Alex Painter was murdered," Penelope explained as she pulled up pictures of about 15 women on the TV. They were all of different races but looked around the same age.

"All of these women were kidnapped, held for a week, and then dumped in the woods. They were all beaten, barely recognizable by the time their bodies were found." Penelope continued, making a point not to look at the crime scene photos.

Rossi looked between the case files and the TV when a spark of recognition came to his eyes, "I remember this. Gideon was the lead profiler on the case. They called the killer��The Wood Stalker"

Back then, the BAU members worked solo, only using each other as consults rather than working on cases as a team. "I helped Gideon build a profile, but he never found the guy." Rossi finished.

"That's right," Penelope agreed, "In March of 1992, The Wood Stalker vanished. And with no leads or suspects, the case went cold."

Emily frowned as she looked over the case. There was something off, but she couldn't put her nose on it, "So how does Alex Painter tie into this? She's not in any of these files."

"Ah, right! Thank you for the segway, my brooding brunette," Penelope said, and no one even batted an eye, used to the technical analyst's ways by now.

"While you guys are the profilers and I am the mere but mighty technical Goddess-"

"Garcia." Hotch intervened, raising an eyebrow to keep the blonde on task.

"Right." Penelope nodded, "I found it odd that Alex Painter wasn't mentioned in any of the files, especially since she matched victimology."

"Why did they rule her out as one of his victims then?" Derek asked as he flipped through the case file. "I mean, we know now that Y/n killed her. But if all I was looking at were these files, I'd agree that The Wood Stalker killed her. It seems negligent to not even investigate her death."

"That's what I was thinking! And we all know Gideon is very thorough." Penelope said, and a slightly uncomfortable wave washed through the room.

"That's one way to describe him," Spencer muttered as he stared down at the table.

Rossi was about to say something in his friend's defense, but Hotch shook his head, not wanting to further the conversation.

It had been less than a year since Gideon left without a word, and the team had mostly moved on. But it was still a touchy subject, especially for Spencer.

"So, who investigated Alex Painter's death then?" JJ asked, and everyone was thankful that she had cut the awkward silence that had fallen around them.

"Well, this is where things get even more odd," Penelope said as she pulled up the picture of Alex's file. "Detective Anthony Scott was the lead on her case. So I did some research on the guy, and to an untrained eye, he seems normal."

"Well, you are far from normal, baby girl." Morgan complimented, and Penelope smiled. "Very true. Anyways, I dug a little deeper and found that Detective Anthony Scott doesn't exist."

"What do you mean he doesn't exist?" Emily asked, a skeptical brow raised.

"I mean that someone very tech-savvy created Anthony Scott. I'm talking bank accounts, birth certificates, marriage licenses, and more." Penelope continued.

"Why would someone go through all of that trouble to cover up who investigated Alex Painter's death?" JJ asked. And once again, the team felt like they were getting into something a lot larger than they were hoping for.

"Could it have been Y/n?" Derek asked.

"Why would she try to cover up something she already told us about?" Emily countered, more defensive than she would have liked, but she would think about that later.

"Yeah, and there's no way Y/n could have created an identity that thorough. There's only a handful of people I know that could do that, but they wouldn't have any reason to." Penelope agreed.

Emily bit her bottom lip in concentration; she knew what this sounded like. Fake identities that seemed too good to be true. Seemingly unimportant cases swept under the rug...this had CIA written all over it. And if the CIA was involved, it meant that whatever information they had now was all they were going to find.

But how on earth did the CIA get connected to all of this?

Maybe she could make a couple of phone calls. Contact some of her old handlers and see if they could find anything pertaining to this case.

"Why aren't Gideon's notes in here?" Hotch asked, pulling Emily out of her head as she realized she had missed whatever the rest of the team was talking about.

"Well, since it was before I came to the BAU, his notes weren't digitalized. And when I went down to the archives, almost everything about this case was gone." Penelope said regretfully as she took a seat, having no more information to give the team.

"His notes should still be in there, though. The case is still classified." Spencer said, and it affirmed even more to Emily that the CIA or some other agency has something to do with this.

"I feel like there's dead ends everywhere we turn with this case," JJ muttered, and the team silently agreed.

"I know we all feel a little discouraged, but we are further than we were yesterday. I'll call Gideon and have him come in as soon as possible. Hopefully, he can provide us with more information. But for now, let's get back to work," Hotch said quickly before dismissing himself to his office, leaving the team in a little shock. Hotch was never one to give a pep talk, so maybe this was even worse than they imagined.

"I'll give Gideon a call, too," Rossi said as he left for his office, not wanting to see the other agents' reactions. It was an odd situation, the complex feelings he had for his friend were different than those of the younger agents.

But Gideon was also one of Rossi's oldest friends, and after everything they'd been through, he still had respect and loyalty to him. So, he did not want to hear what the other agents had to say about him.

"Has anyone talked to Gideon recently?" Penelope asked in the conference room, trying to break the ice since the topic of Gideon was now unavoidable.

"Since he left all of us with a note?" Spencer asked sarcastically, a tone that surprised everyone, "No," He continued as he gathered his stuff and practically stormed back to his desk without looking at anyone else.

"I was just..." Penelope trailed off sadly, not having predicted that reaction from the youngest profiler.

"It's not your fault, Pen, it's just a hard subject for him," JJ said as she squeezed Penelope's shoulder.

Emily had stayed relatively quiet on any subject that involved Gideon. She shared vastly different opinions on the older agent than her friends did.

She knew that Gideon didn't like her. In fact, everyone knew, because it wasn't like he tried to hide his disdain.

Towards the end, he tolerated her, but the way he left and the effect it had on everyone just solidified her dislike of him, not that she would ever voice that aloud.

"I'll go talk to him," Derek said before leaving the room and leaving the three women to themselves.

It was silent for a moment before Emily's phone started to buzz. She sighed and ignored the look JJ sent her as she picked up her phone.

Y/n (1:34 PM): Call me back tonight. I have a surprise for you.

Emily (1:34 PM): I don't like surprises.

Emily typed back before pocketing her phone. She heard her phone buzz again, no doubt another text message from Y/n, but she did not want to deal with this right now.

"What was that?" Penelope asked as she motioned her hand towards Emily.

"What was what?" Emily played dumb with a shrug.

"Don't even try, Pen. She's been like this all day." JJ rolled her eyes.

"Who is causing you to glare at your phone like that?" Penelope pressed, ignoring JJ.

"It's no one," Emily said as she grabbed her case files and started to stand up, not looking at either blonde.

"Emily! Indulge me in something that is not this case!" Penelope begged, always the one to get into people's business.

Emily scoffed, finding it quite ironic that the person she was texting was the reason for this case. "It's a personal matter."

"Even better!" Penelope continued, earning a stifled laugh from JJ.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that no one was going to give this up any time soon, "Fine, you know what? It is Hannah! Now, can everyone just mind their own business?!"

"Hannah unblocked you?!"

"What? How do you know she blocked me?!" Emily gaped at Penelope and then instantly realized that was a stupid question.

"Never mind. I'm done talking. And stop hacking into my phone!" Emily practically growled before exiting the room, leaving the two blondes wide-eyed.

"Well, we know it's not Hannah," Penelope said, earning her a slap to the shoulder.

"She's going to kill you," JJ said as she gathered her stuff, and Penelope just shrugged it off. Emily had always been all bark and no bite. She was a secret softie once you got to know her.

"Where are you going?" Penelope pouted, not wanting to be left alone.

"I'm going to buy her a coffee before she kills me too."

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

It was after eight by the time Emily unlocked her apartment door. The team had been working nonstop for hours, but it felt like the more they uncovered, the more questions that arose.

Eventually, Hotch sent everyone home, stating that they should just wait for Gideon to tell them everything he knew before jumping to conclusions.

But Hotch and Rossi were having trouble reaching Gideon, and if they couldn't contact him, then this shitstorm of a case was going to take even longer to solve.

So when Emily fell onto her couch, she didn't even have the energy to take off her shoes, let alone cook anything. She stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes before remembering Y/n's text.

She reached for her phone and opened Y/n's text from earlier in the day that she never looked at.

Y/n (1:35 PM): I promise you'll like this one.

Emily sighed as she debated whether or not she should call the younger woman.

Ultimately, she gave in, knowing, at the very least, Y/n would reveal something new.

She quickly dialed her number before she could talk herself out of it.

"I was wondering when you were going to call," Y/n answered after the third ring, a cocky smile evident in her face.

"It was a long day at work, thanks to you," Emily answered shortly as she sat up fully on the couch, crossing her legs under her.

"To me? So you're thinking about me all day long?" Y/n grinned. Something was going on in the background of wherever Y/n was, but Emily couldn't decipher what it was.

"Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I'm thinking about you is because you've murdered 300 people." Emily scoffed.

"300 men, not people." Y/n corrected.

"What about Alex Painter? She wasn't a man."

"Really? Is that all you've got on her so far?" Y/n chuckled.

"Pretty much. And you knew that the information you gave us would only lead to dead ends." Emily remarked.

"Alls fair in love and war, darling. And besides, I thought the BAU was the best. I have to say, you guys are disappointing me."

"Disappointing you?! That's rich," Emily scoffed and was reminded once again that she was talking to a psychopath.

"It is rich! Because I'm starting to get bored, and you know what happens when I get bored." Y/n started, and Emily heard the sound of a door slam on the younger woman's side of the phone.

"What was that?" Emily asked as she sat up a bit straighter, a knot starting to form in her stomach.

"It's your surprise! Or did you forget why I told you to call me?" Y/n smiled.

"I told you, I don't like surprises." Emily gritted out as she heard the sound of a scuffle on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, you'll like this one!" Y/n chuckled, and then Emily heard the sound of a gunshot.

"Y/n!" Emily gaped as she stood up, hoping this wasn't what she thought it was.

"His name is Howard Barnes. Oh, wait! My bad, his name was Howard Barnes." Y/n chuckled.

Emily was frozen for a moment; her usual fast thinking was nowhere to be found.

"Don't worry, Emily. He's not your gift. He's just some perv that needed to die before he hurt anyone else. Your surprise is on his kitchen counter; I think you'll like it." Y/n smiled as she branded the angel wind behind the dead man's ear.

"I'm going to find you," Emily said, finally out of her frozen state as she shrugged her coat on and grabbed her gun from her safe.

"You have such a way with words," Y/n laughed, "Also, say hello to Gideon for me. And tell him I'm not afraid of the dark anymore." Y/n finished, and with that, she hung up.

Emily paused as she took the words in.

Y/n knew Gideon?

So Gideon had to have been involved in Alex Painter's investigation. Further proving that someone wanted this case covered up.

But why?

Christ, everything is even more confusing now, Emily thought as she dialed Hotch's number.

"Hotch." He answered on the first ring.

"Y/n killed again. We need to figure out where Howard Barnes lived," Emily said quickly, trying not to think about the future conversation she was bound to have with Hotch, explaining all of this.

This was going to be a huge mess.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #jennifer jareau #criminal minds #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #david rossi

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izzasecretredacted · 9 months ago

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Homework for Those Who Have No Context for Drake's Public Execution

I've been an off and on fan of rap for a while, based on whether or not my hyperfixations takes me there. With the absolute blindsiding of the Kendrick/Drake beef breaking tumblr, I figured I go back and find some stuff I remembered hearing about in the past. I'll put them here as a brief history lesson, in case you want to know just what Kendrick is talking about and why everyone is rejoicing in the downfall of some popstar that you maybe heard at the supermarket or something...

btw, I'm not posting these in chronological order, but the order of how relevant I think they are and the order I think they're best absorbed.

youtube

This is an essay from about 2 years ago, and is the most indepth source that I'll post here. It talks a lot about Drake's place in Hip-Hop, and also goes into the idea of Drake as a culture-vulture.

This is a 3yo article that has a lot of "Fresh Hot Drama" vibes to it (might be a misread on my part tbf), but is a great secondary source of things that made people question whether Drake was a predator. None of it is completely definitive, but at least a handful of what's presented is very Yikes.

youtube

This is a very brief video that's a whopping 7 years old, but really only stopped being relevant this month (with the exception of a period in time about 2 years after this which will be clear later). It explains Drake's reputation as being untouchable whenever he finds himself in a rap beef, even when very real violence is involved. It also has some foreshadowing to present day. 4:06 in particular is really interesting in hindsight.

youtube

Lastly is the only diss track before now that really put a mark on Drake's reputation, even if it was a small one in the strictly long term. I'm posting a lyric video because the cover to the single is an old picture of Drake in the most blatant blackface imaginable (no, really, blackface is super fucked up in all forms, but this is ssuuuppppeeerrr fucked up) and I didn't want to lock this behind a content warning. The song mentions some of Drake's family (such as his parents, Sandi and Dennis), as well an extremely wild allegation that I guarantee you could not make up. You'll know what it is when it comes up in the song, it's why the song is called "The Story Of Adidon". Its also important to note that Drake admitted that that allegation is true... after a year.

I'm open to anyone else commenting on what I might've missed, but hopefully this should be enough that you can go through was is now an EP's worth of diss tracks from Kendrick and get a more full sense of what's happening around them.

#kendrick lamar #aubrey graham #meet the grahams #not like us #Youtube

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lionhanie · 8 months ago

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lee riwoo ; everything i didn’t say

VERY angsty (be warned i cried), ex boyfriend! riwoo, first love gone wrong :(, i refer to riwoo by his birth name (sanghyeok), did not really proofread :P

word count: 1.4k

warnings: cursing, relationship issues (yikes), angst

this work is part of my boynextdoor as old 5sos songs series! ↳ if you want to listen to the song, link is here

a/n: i can't lie i think i wrote riwoo out to be kind of a douche in this but it was For The Angst ok. and also he's remorseful about it so... it's fine i guess loooool

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

sanghyeok is stuck in a loop. photobooth pictures of the two of you, the (now) dead bouquet you got him after his first performance, the hoodie that you’d always wear when you came over. he can’t look around his apartment without being reminded of your relationship, but he’d rather die than get rid of the remaining traces of you in his life. the two of you were highschool sweethearts; becoming dance partners at random in a club after school and the rest was history.

your chemistry was unmatched, not just while you were dancing together, but even when the music stopped, it was just you two in your own world. really, it was perfect-- everyone around you two was convinced you guys were going to be together forever with the way you looked at each other with literal hearts in your eyes.

that is, until it was time for the two of you to part following your graduation. sanghyeok was moving a 3-hour train ride away from your hometown, making it much harder to see each other frequently. it worked for a while, he likes to think. every other saturday, you’d always wake up early in the morning to catch the first train over to your boyfriend-- but even then, you’d only get to spend less than a full twenty four hours together before you needed to go home for class on monday. there wasn’t any… bad blood between you two per se, but rather life seemed to get in the way of your relationship.

“the way you held me / i wish that i’d put you first / i was wrong i admit, numb from your kiss / while you were slipping through my finger tips”

sanghyeok was heavily involved in the dance club at his university, oftentimes running to practice immediately after class. practice /alone/ would eat up a couple hours of his limited free time, and the rest of the time he would spend trying to catch up with coursework that was slowly creeping up on him.

his texts become less frequent, and when he does finally send you a message, he’d never be active long enough to actually have a meaningful conversation. the two of you pinky promised that you’d try to call every night to keep in touch, but sanghyeok would often miss your designated calling time, explaining that he was still in the studio, or was stuck trying to learn the material from this week’s classes, or that he was simply too tired to call that night.

“all the wrongs that i hoped would erase from your memories / holding onto a broken and empty heart / flowers i should’ve bought / all the hours i lost / wish i could take it back to the start”

maybe he was too naive to think that the distance would be fine-- that your relationship would be exactly how it was in high school, where the two of you had butterflies in your stomach each time you saw each other. he didn’t realize how neglectful he’d been until you called him in tears one day, a little past one am (and long past your usual 9pm call time, that he missed, again), when he was on his way back to his apartment after practice. huh? that’s odd. you aren’t usually up this late.

“do you even care anymore? i want you to be honest, sanghyeok, please.” your voice is coarse, it’s obvious that you’ve been crying, especially with the small hiccups you can’t seem to hide as you speak. “if you aren’t going to try anymore, we should just break up.”

“y/n? baby, what are you saying right now? what do you mean we should break up?”

you almost scoff at his words, in complete disbelief that /he/ doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. “this is the fourth time this week you’ve avoided our calls. jesus, have you even read any of the past texts i’ve sent you?” your voice breaks, filled with both frustration and utter heartbreak.

“to be honest, i really needed you tonight. you know, you’re not the only one who’s busy. life has been kicking me in the ass lately and the only thing that keeps me going recently is the thought of hearing your voice at the end of the day, but now i can’t even get that! shit, i’ve been so patient with you, sanghyeok-- with us.”

“hey, i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i didn’t read your texts earlier, and sorry for missing our call earlier..” he takes the phone away from his ear, checking the time and putting you on speaker. 1:15 AM. he hasn’t even started studying for the test he has in the morning. “but can we talk about this tomorrow? i just left the studio, and i really need to get to studying once i get to the apartment. and there’s no rehearsal tomorrow, so i’ll be able to call-”

“you don’t get it, don’t you? it doesn’t matter that tomorrow you’ll finally be able to call, it’s the fact that i’m always your last priority these days. it fucking hurts, sanghyeok. you’re my number one, and yet i can’t even get a text back from you anymore.” he stops in his tracks, listening to you on the other end of the phone. surely he hasn’t missed that many of your calls. he was almost certain he texted you good morning the second he woke up. he curses under his breath at himself when he looks at his notifications. 2 missed calls. over 10 texts from both yesterday and today, unopened. he must’ve forgotten.

“we aren’t in high school anymore, okay? it shouldn’t be a burden to put in a little bit more effort for someone you love, even if you’re further away now… you always used to send me flowers whenever you missed me, or call me in the middle of the day just to hear my voice. what happened to us?” your sniffles stopped by now, instead being replaced with all of the emotions from the past couple weeks finally being aired out.

“why am i always the one who wakes up at four in the morning every weekend just to spend some time with you? why do i have to be the one to sit and wait for your calls, only to see that you’re busy again? damnit, i just wish i knew you still loved me, sanghyeok.” he can feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“with all of the mistakes i’ve made / from all the letters that i’ve saved / this is everything i didn’t say / i wish i could’ve made you stay / and i’m the only one to blame / i know that it’s a little too late”

fuck. he’s crying again. he can’t recall how many times he’s reread the love letters you once exchanged in high school. they used to sit in a pretty decorated cardboard box on his desk, but his bedside drawer is their new home; it’s much easier to read them every night when they’re right next to him. he’s extra careful not to get any of his tears on your writing, just in case those are the last letters you’ll ever write for him.

if he had just noticed sooner… if he wasn’t so focused on himself, maybe he would’ve seen how much the person he loved most was hurting, all because of him. sanghyeok almost feels sick thinking about how you kept in your feelings for so long; enduring all the pain in hopes that he would turn things around eventually.

“i hope you know / for you i’d sacrifice / to make this right / some day i’m sure / we’ll pass each other by / until that time…”

and at the end of the night, when sanghyeok’s head hurts from crying for too long, and another tissue box is empty beside him, he goes for a walk. it’s his routine, after all. he’ll walk down the same dim path he walked on the night you two broke up, and he will sit on a bench and look up at the sky through the clearing between the trees. he’s waiting for a shooting star.

...by the time that star comes, he’s already prepared with his wish. he doesn’t even need to think about what he wants most in this world, because he knows the only thing he would wish for is one more chance to make things right with you.

#boynextdoor x reader #bnd x reader #riwoo #boynextdoor riwoo #riwoo x reader #boynextdoor riwoo x reader #kpop fic #boynextdoor writing #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor imagine #kpop #ᯓᡣ𐭩 my writing #boyfriend imagines #lee riwoo #lee sanghyeok #x reader

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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago

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Max Verstappen X HornerDaughter!

Part 6- here’s the LINK to part 5. Thank you for all your support! Only a small chapter, but 100% more coming, just you wait… When Red Bull fail to establish their dominance in Singapore, it seems nobody can get off of Max’s back, despite the fact he’s happy for Carlos and the McLaren boys on the podium. All the doubting gets to his head and in the end there’s only one person he turns to for support. Leni secretly freaks when she realises her and Max keep getting closer… Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24

“But is Max Verstappen really happy for Carlos Sainz, or is that just a cover up?”

“Max- Max how do you feel? Should it have been you up on the podium today?”

“Max how does it feel that the Red Bull dominance has been broken?!”

“We’re sensing some tension lingering around Max Verstappen today in Singapore after he takes 5th place. It was an astonishing race for Carlos, we can’t quite say the same about the man who has been dominating the 2023 season!”

Poor Max. It was no wonder the poor guy just wanted to get out of the media’s eye. He was so happy for his friends on the podium, he was still confident and self-assured, but the media kept portraying him to be some kind of villain that was spiteful for his own close friends. Even Checo, the media harassed to shit, but Max seemed to take the brunt of it.

No matter how happy he was, it wasn’t enough for the press who constantly accused him of being a brat, or pissed off about the race. I was positive there was nothing Max could do to please them, so when he headed back to his hotel in peace, I was disappointed, but not so surprised.

Me on the other hand, after four drinks in I’d twisted my ankle and ended up limping back to my room, the kind receptionist from downstairs offering me an icepack. It was pretty boring sitting alone in my room when everybody else was out, even my whole family was somewhere but I’d drunken too much too quickly and paid for it soon after.

That’s when I thought of Max. He too was in his room, probably asleep after such an exhausting day. In my tipsy mind I lifted my phone up, glancing through our previous texts. I’d not responded to his last message which was just a simple not explanation of why the RB’s didn’t work so well on specific types of circuits. I’d seen him in person and felt too awkward to text when we were in the same proximity.

Snapping a picture of the ice pack over my ankle I sent him a bunch of pissed off emojis, feeling playful.

Leni: don’t drink Prosecco it fucks you over It wasn’t so long later when Max actually responded. I was surprised it was so quick, but god- I wanted him so bad. I felt like having him, especially now, so soon after a break up would be a little sour for everybody around us, never mind that my own dad was his team principle.

Max: wtf Leni how did you manage that, are you ok?

Leni: hahahaha don’t even ask I’m good, are you?

Max: yeah just pissed off with all the media today. I don’t want to see a single person else. I cringed at his words. Yikes. That was my invite gone. Rereading my messaged to make sure they made sense, I sent a simple message of; Leni: I don’t blame you

Max took a while to respond after that. I was actually falling asleep, my eyes feeling heavy until the buzzing of my phone aroused me quicker than I could process.

Max: unless you wanna come chill with for a while “Oh, Max. I don’t know how you deal with them. They make it out like you’re gonna start a war with Carlos just because you didn’t get a podium, once.” I sat on the edge of his bed, continuing to hold the ice pack to my ankle.

“Exactly, and I don’t know why!” He paced from one end of the room to the other. “They like drama.” I pointed out.

“True, but…” Max plopped himself on the hotel bed. “I feel fine for Japan, I’m confident, but when you’ve got millions of people doubting you it gets kinda irritating.” I winced slightly at his words. Max usually didn’t be so open about his feelings with this side of the media, I knew truthfully he never really give two shits what they thought, but when people were constantly at him I was positive he must’ve found it jarring.

“You’ve also got millions supporting you again.” I responded as he smiled gently. “Yeah. I know that.” His voice was gentle, grateful, he sounded humble. It was a side to hum media didn’t like to show, especially in drive to survive.

“I know I will be.” I shrugged, glancing over to see him smiling down to his sweats. It was a miracle to see him something other than jeans. “Thanks, Leni.”

“Or maybe I’ll switch teams completely and start going to the Ferrari garage.” Max threw a pillow at me in response.

“Dick.” I snickered, scooting further up onto the bed to rest against the headboard, besides Max. There was still possibly the largest gap between us that I’d ever witnessed.

“Could you imagine what my dad would say?”

“I don’t think he’d be too happy.” Max smirked. “Neither would I.”

“Really?” I gazed over his expression. He was still smiling, indicating he couldn’t have been too serious. “Yeah, I mean, you’re part of our team. If you’re not there it would be weird.”

Hours passed and soon we’d both retired under the covers, watching the TV in a comfortable silence. The alcohol that once streamed through my body had fallen stagnant and I was feeling more nervous than when I initially arrived into Max’s room. I stole a glance at him, his eyelids were heavy as he watched the movie, something I hadn’t paid attention to in a good hour.

The gap between us had closed slightly, and I felt myself overthinking more and more about how soon it was to be in this position with him. Friends do this, right? As long as there was no physical contact, as bad as I wanted it, it would be fine.

So the minute I felt Max’s hand brush against the bare skin of my elbow I felt myself completely freak, fidgeting my legs and accidentally kicking my bad ankle. “Ow, fuck. I kicked myself.” I pushed myself up, pretending to be completely and utterly blind to how close we were laid previously.

“Are you ok?” Max too, pushed himself up. I pushed the covers off me and glanced at my slightly swollen ankle. “I’m fine, just… hurt.” I winced, lowering it off the side of the bed.

“Oh- you can stay… if you want.” Max muttered, sounding a little nervous. My stomach grew butterflies, my heart felt like it exploded and as badly as I wanted to say yes and jump on him- something was stopping me.

“It’s okay. I better go to bed, thank you though.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“30 seconds down the hall?” I giggled as he shrugged like it was obvious. I realised how rude that sounded, to turn down his offer. “It’s okay, thank you though, Max. I would stay but Blue is there- and if I don’t come back, you know, it looks a little…”

“I get it. Then they all start asking questions.” Max agreed as I offered him another smile. “Yeah. Exactly.” I turned my head a way, hesitating to actually turn around and leave. Max stood besides me at the door and to avoid any other form of intimate interaction I avoided eye contact at all cost.

By the time I’d got back to my bedroom I’d well and truly wanted to top myself. Well done Leni, well fucking done. That could have been one of the most finest moments of my life, not!

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #Max Verstappen x OC #Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter #max verstappen #F1 x reader #f1 x oc

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nina-ya · 1 year ago

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Cooking with Law

A/N: Yay first post on this blog! These were supposed to be headcanons but I went a bit overboard whoops. Pairing: Law x GN!reader CW: None WC: 728

Law typically isn't the one in charge of cooking aboard the ship. That duty usually falls on the rest of the crew. However, it's not as though he's completely clueless in the kitchen. He might not be a top-tier chef, but he can hold his own and help others when needed. His infatuation for you has slowly grown over the years, and he can't quite find the way to show you how he feels. When words fail him, he turns to food to express his feelings.

As you go about your business, a whiff of smoke catches your attention. Rushing to the kitchen, you find your usually composed captain locked in a fierce battle between himself and a flaming pan. Suppressing a laugh, you watch Law scramble to extinguish the flames, an unusual display of panic. Once the fire is under control, you make your presence known.

"Having a bit of trouble there, Captain?" you quip, a smirk playing on your lips.

Startled by the sound of your voice, Law jumps and faces you, a poor explanation stumbling out of his mouth as he does so. "Uh, no, no trouble at all. I think the stove might be malfunctioning. We should have it checked out and probably replaced when we reach the next island…" His reddening cheeks betray his wishes to hide his embarrassment at being caught in this moment.

You see through the excuse, and your smile widens as you approach him. "Really? The stove's acting up? Let me take a look." You reach for the stove's knob, but he intervenes.

"Okay, fine, the stove's fine," he concedes with a sigh. "I turned my back for a moment, and it just burst into flames."

You examine the charred remains in the pan. "Yikes, whatever that was supposed to be is beyond saving now. What were you trying to make, anyway?" you ask with a tilt of your head. You lean over and the burnt smell makes your face scrunch up in disgust.

Law notices the face you make "cute…" he thinks to himself. Realizing he is just staring and needs to respond to your question, he mentions a dish you adore, and your eyes light up. "I love that! If you still have some ingredients left, maybe I can assist you?" Your pleading gaze makes it impossible for Law to decline, even if he'd rather retreat to his quarters and forget this moment ever happened.

He grumbles his agreement and quietly starts gathering the ingredients, this time with your assistance. As the initial embarrassment fades, he relaxes and engages in conversations with you throughout the cooking process. You both get to know each other better as you work together The moment is a bit intimate and quite comforting as you two share tidbits of yourselves to each other. As you finish cooking and plate the dish, you grab two forks. Law is confused when you hand him one, but you practically thrust it into his hand.

"What? Did you think you wouldn't get to enjoy this too? We both made it, so it's only fair that we share in the pleasure," you insist.

Muttering an "Oh, okay," he scoops some food with his fork as you do the same. Before he can put the food in his mouth, you have an idea. Leaning in close, you gently grasp his jaw with your free hand, urging his mouth open and feeding him a bite. He's taken aback by the surprisingly intimate gesture and his cheeks flush. He practically short circuits and tries to come up with a response, but when he can't he hesitates until he ultimately leans forward, using his fork to feed you, a small, triumphant smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he watches you become the flustered one. You two stare at each other, not one of you daring to break the silence of this moment. He is the first to speak up.

"We did a pretty good job, I'd say. What do you think?" he says, savoring the flavors.

You smile and nod at him. "Maybe you should nearly burn the kitchen down more often, just so we can cook together like this again," you suggest playfully. He chuckles and feeds you again, this time without any hesitation in his actions.

"You know what? Maybe I will, just for you…"

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader

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ky-yk · 1 year ago

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get up (kzh x f!reader)

a sequel to “cool with you (kzh x f!reader)”

genre: fluff || word count: 1k

author’s note: the ending sounds sad but i swear it isn't alright

stop, don’t touch me there! this is, my no-no square!

you jolted awake at the sound of the offending song. heartbeat racing at the thought of possibly missing your first class of the day, you were gearing up to get ready on autopilot with your eyelids still lidded until your brain finally caught up with you:

it’s a saturday.

with a groan and an eye roll, you immediately plopped back down. instead of meeting the mattress beneath you, though, your back instead it the very lithe, very toned arm of your girlfriend, nakamura kazuha.

you shot back up and winced at the contact, face contorting in cringe. yikes, i hope i didn’t wake her up, you thought. you slowly turned around, keeping your eyes closed until you faced the girl, slowly opening your eyes to see whether you’d woken the girl.

thankfully enough, she’s still dead to the world.

with a sigh of relief, you looked around, wondering what you should do now that you were wide awake. soon enough, your eyes wandered down to the sight of a sleeping kazuha.

she’d never looked more at peace: eyes fluttered closed, her long eyelashes sticking out. her face was relaxed, the light streaming in from your windows coloring her in a soft glow that accentuated her long nose bridge, her hair plump lips, and her soft cheeks. she looked so small engulfed in her hoodie.

she looks so beautiful.

“you know i can feel you staring, right?”

breaking out of your lovesick daze, you snapped out of your reverie to see your girlfriend stretching awake and yawning. you tried to laugh it off. “psh, me? staring? you wish,” you playfully scoffed — exaggerated eye roll and everything.

“me when i lie,” she yawns as she reaches up to wrap her arms around your waist, drawing you closer to her lying body. once you’re close enough, she nuzzles herself into your waist, leaving you chuckling at the sight.

“what time is it?” you barely make out what she’s saying, but when you do, you reach over her for your phone.

“9:20,” you read out the time.

“eh?!“ she exclaimed (you still had to exert a little more effort to try to hear her, though). “still so early, y/n-ie,” she whined, hugging you closer and pretty much dragging you to lie back in bed with her.

“that is not early, zuha-chan!” you said exasperatedly, putting your phone down dramatically as you looked at the koala around your waist. “i’d be in my first period class around this time.”

“and we love that for you,” she deadpanned. rolling your eyes, you reached down to take her arms from off your waist.

“what are you doing?” she whined.

“i’ll go make us breakfast, zuha-chan. you can keep resting here, i’ll just bring you your food,” you reasoned out. she just mumbled something you couldn’t bother to make out anymore. you think she’s finally relented once you don’t feel her fighting back, allowing you to quietly get up and go out into the kitchen.

after taking out the ingredients you needed, you now found yourself standing by the stove, waiting for the oil to heat up before you could pour the eggs in.

once the eggs were in, you started moving them around in the pan with your spatula, ensuring that all sides were cooked evenly. you stared at the pan, so intently focused that you started zoning out and working on autopilot.

that was until long and lithe arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you out of your reverie and back into the real world. you felt a chin drop on your shoulder and someone’s front pressing up against your back. your heart began calming down after realizing it was just kazuha and not some stranger who’d magically broken into your house.

relishing in her embrace, a small smile graced your lips as you focused on your cooking. the girl behind you hummed. “smells good, babe,” she commented before nosing at your neck and leaving to set the table. you felt the heat rise up from that spot on your neck all the way up to your ears, and you hoped that if she noticed, she’d just chock it up to the heat from the stove.

the house was quiet, save for the shuffling around of feet, the clinks and clangs of kitchen utensils, the sizzle of the pan, and your soft humming. it was easy.

you and kazuha maneuvered around the kitchen and dining room as if it was a choreographed dance. soon enough, you’d set the food on the dishes she set out and brought them to the dining table while she readied up a glass of water for you both by your plates. you returned to the stove to put your dirty dishes in the sink, and when you turned back around, kazuha was already sat at her place, mindlessly staring at the table while zoning out.

the moment you sat down, you gently knocked on the table to get her attention. she jumped a little bit and blinked once before noticing your easy yet amused smile. she returned your smile with an equally bright yet tired smile, her eyes closing into crescents. you motioned to her food and she nodded in response, leaving you to munch down on your own food.

silence enveloped you both as you peacefully ate your breakfast. once you and kazuha had finished breakfast, you volunteered to bring your dishes to the sink since the girl was back to zoning off. after depositing the dishes, you walked behind the girl and wrapped your arms over her shoulders and rested your weight on the girl.

"penny for your thoughts, zuha-chan?" you mumbled.

"'m just tired," she replied.

rising from your position, you walked around her and made your way over to her lap. she immediately wrapped her arms around your waist as you did the same around her neck. she went back to burying her face in your neck and just stayed there for a while.

you brought the girl closer by cradling her head closer to you while she dragged you closer into her. you sighed. "that beat, zuha-chan? you slept like you were dead last night," you chuckled lightheartedly.

"just wanna stay like this," kazuha mumbled. "too much out there. too loud."

"then we can stay like this."

oh how you wished you could stay like this.

#🐻 — ky writes #le sserafim #girl group imagines #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim x reader #nakamura kazuha #kazuha x reader #lesserafim kazuha

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cantthinkofanameforthis · 9 months ago

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It was tense. Two parties. But seemed that Natasha and Wanda’s were much more popular. Much to Carol’s dismay.

*Natasha and Wanda stand outside the break room and to the cameras*

Natasha: Are we taking this too far? I don’t think we’re taking this far enough.

*Wanda turns to Natasha who also turns to make eye contact*

Natasha: What?

Wanda: I got goosebumps

*Wanda and Natasha’s party was going great. Once Tony, Bruce, Thor and Y/N returned it finally took off.*

*Wanda and Natasha both felt bad for Carol once they saw the dead party in the conference room.*

Natasha: Well the committee to plan parties has served its purpose. We’re gonna disband in the name of Christmas

Wanda: In the name of Nutcracker Christmas

*Wanda holds up a star shaped rice crispy on a stick while Natasha nods.*

*So the two parties merged bringing peace in the office during the holidays.*

*Wanda and Natasha hung out during most the party until Y/N walked up to them. Natasha gives Y/N a peck on the cheek and a hug.*

*Wanda got up and told them she had to check something leaving the couple on their own.*

Natasha: No way

Y/N: What a horrible movie that was

Natasha: And now I get to remember it forever, Thank you.

Y/N: Thank you

*They both embraced as they held a small poster of said horrible movie*

*From reception Wanda watches them, hint of jealousy could be seen in her eyes*

Much later in the conference room Wanda hugs Vision for his gift to her. Y/N watches with sadness in her eyes.

As everyone piles out of the Office, Y/N stops by Wanda’s desk

Y/N: Sorry I forgot to tell you. I intercepted a transmission earlier and it seems that the CIA is gonna need Bucky for training.

Wanda: We should get him a bus ticket, to make his trip easier. It costs $75 dollars.

Y/N: yikes. maybe the CIA could send a helicopter

*They both laugh as Wanda types this out*

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #the office #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader

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hannahssimblr · 9 months ago

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It’s a dreary, drizzly evening that calls for streetlights earlier than usual, their light straining weakly through the thick mist off the bay, and as I glance down at Ivy with droplets of rain beading on the halo of frizz around her plaits I consider the fact that she was right, a jacket wouldn’t have been the worst idea.

The lights are on early at Michelle’s house too, the voile netting over the netting in the living room window not giving anything away inside, just the vague shapes of whatever is on the television.

As always, the door is off the latch, and inside Jen is leaning against the counter by the toaster spinning a butter knife in her fingers. She gives me a wary look when we see each other. “She’s in the living room,” and holds her hand out to Ivy, “Hey Ives, do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? C’mere, oh, who did your hair today? Was it your brother? Yikes, okay let me have a look at this…”

I gingerly push through to the living room, where Michelle is engaged in an intense discussion with both of her parents. She’s slumped on the couch with puffy eyes while they stand with their backs to the fire, glancing at me with alarm as I enter the room wielding a bar of chocolate, which, in hindsight is a bit of a pathetic celebratory or consolation prize.

“Hi.”

“Oh good, Jude,” Rahim beckons me over to the couch to sit with Michelle, and I take her hand, “can you tell her that this is not the end of the world?” He’s saying, voice tinged with impatience, “There are plenty of other opportunities.”

“Zero, huh?” I say gently, and she shakes her head, arm trembling as she passes the letters to me. One, two, three rejections. I read one of them briefly, from Paris.

“‘...unimaginative and containing cliches…’ wow, that feels a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I don’t think they needed to be all like that about it.”

She breaks down in tears, “I’m a terrible artist.”

“No, you aren’t,” I skim through the one from Berlin, “Look, they’ve said here that this year’s application was their strongest in history. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I just feel so stupid.”

“What? No, you’re the furthest thing from stupid.”

“Michelle, there are other options,” Rahim practically pleads, “Why don’t you go back to the application portal before it is too late and put down something more reasonable?”

Debra agrees, “This is what we’ve been saying, Michelle, maybe art is wrong for you. See? You shouldn’t have changed your mind in the first place. There’s a good reason you decided against it-”

“Yeah well I want to do it now, don’t I?” Michelle snarls, swatting tears away from her cheeks, “Jude and I are doing this together, it’s already decided.”

Her mother eyes me warily before deciding that I should probably hear this too, “Love, you know it’s not always a good idea to make big life decisions based on your boyfriend. Nothing lasts forever.”

“How could you say that?”

“What happened to veterinary science, hm? Wouldn’t that be a good career?”

“I wanted to be a vet when I was like, seven, what are you on about?”

“Or she could be a doctor, like me!” Rahim attempts, but this is only met with a fresh barrage of sobs. I rub my girlfriend’s back uselessly while the chocolate softens inside its wrapper against the heat of my leg.

Debra is looking at me empathetically as I comfort her daughter, as though she and I have some connection now, like a baton has passed through some small exclusive club for people who have held Michelle while she cries. “How did you get on with your applications?”

“Oh, um, yeah, I got in,” I feel guilty even saying it but Michelle doesn’t really react to the news, as though she already made an assumption, but I jump in to finish quickly before she can make another. “I won’t be accepting any of them, though, I mean, obviously. I was only ever going to move away if Michelle was coming too, and, you know, unless London works out then that won’t happen.”

Michelle kneads her eye with the heel of her hand, “Did you not get the email?”

“What email?”

“From the London school.”

“Uh, no, I just saw the letters.”

Her eyes widen, “So you didn’t see the NCAD email either?”

“Since when were there emails?”

“Oh my God,” she’s on her feet then, all of her misery forgotten in favour of urgency. “Go and look right now, what the hell?”

“Love,” Debra attempts soothingly, “it’s probably better if Jude checks his emails on his own, isn’t it? The last thing we want is for this to set you off-”

We’re already running for the stairs, her behind me prodding my back the whole way up in a way that feels like she’s forcing me to walk the plank to my untimely death in a tank of piranhas. We burst into her room and she runs to navigate to gmail while I sweat despite the temperature of her room, which is always kind of cold.

I log in and the page loads up to two new emails sitting brazenly in my inbox.

“There they are, click them!”

“Michelle I just want to say that-”

“Oh, come on,” she seizes the mouse and clicks for me, first the one from London, and her voice is flat, “They accepted you. No surprises.”

“It doesn’t matter though, does it? If they didn’t accept you too then I’m not going.”

“Mm.” She immediately clicks the next one, from NCAD, “It’s just points,” she mutters in explanation, “So it all depends on our leaving cert,” scrolling, she reaches the bottom of the email where my points sit, undeniable in a bold black font against stark white.

I feel her stiffen. “One thousand?”

“Uh, wow, is that good?”

There is a long pause. “Jude, that’s literally maximum points.”

I can’t bring myself to look at her right away, but I feel her eyes on the side of my face, searing holes through my skin.

“I thought your interview went badly.”

“Yeah me too!”

“Well then-” she breaks off to make some noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a sob, “then how did you get such ludicrously high points?”

“Like what I said, I suppose. They were arseholes to everyone on purpose,” I spin around to her, “What did you get?”

“Four fifty.”

So I grab hold of her hands and hold her very tightly and very still, I want to seem sure, “No matter what happens, we’ll be okay,” I promise, “Even if none of this works out for you, I’ll still be right here, do you hear me?”

She nods.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. God, I mean, why would I even do that? You’ll get NCAD off the back of your leaving cert points, I’m one hundred percent sure. And... even if you don't, I'll stay in Dublin.” As soon as I say it I start feeling nauseated, and dizzy, a bit heady like I’ve inhaled some miscellaneous gas from the science lab, but I fight through it, “fuck all of those stupid plans for going abroad, right? I’m here.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Okay, c’mere,” I pull her into me and hold her tightly, taking in the smell of her hair, the way her narrow shoulders, her birdlike frame softens in my arms and accept that this is the comfort I will rely on from now on. True, it’s not always easy with Michelle, but we really do love each other. Sometimes love is work, but love is rare and worth holding onto with both hands and your whole heart. All those plans I had, I think, they were misguided, a youthful mistake. Perhaps at some point in the future I can move to Amsterdam, or Paris, or Berlin, or London, and do something creative and exciting, but not now. That’s what I’ll do in ten years, when everything is different. I’ll make sure to tell Sam.

Who did I think I was, really, trying to do all of that at eighteen? Now is for this, for Michelle. For doing something right.

“I love you,” she says, and I wonder, with her cheek resting against my chest, if she can somehow hear the way my heart tightens as though grasped by a fist, or how my breath catches in my throat when she says it. I’m surprised by the rising feeling that I might start crying, but I force it down.

Crying over what, Jude? I sneer at myself.

Yeah, that’s what I thought. Something stupid, as usual.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #i haaaaaate this omg #come on Jude #just make a good choice please #ch: Jen #ch: Ivy #ch: Rahim #ch: Debra #ch: Michelle

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awesome-opossum-after-hours · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4 of "You Can Be Happy Later" on ao3

hey guys!!! so this chapter takes us on a bit of a flashback, so it would take place directly after Part 2 of the show.

it's a bit shorter than the others, but I wanted to give a quick look into Brett and find a proper way to set up his feelings. because let's face it, this man disliked Ron bc he was jealous. we all know it lolll

I was really proud of this one so I decided to post it on here as a standalone as well. if this is your first exposure to this fic, please check it out from the beginning and let me know what you think!

Six Months Ago…

When Reagan had returned to her lab, after Brett had believed he had lost his best friend for good, he had never felt more relieved. Throughout the entire debacle with Air Bud, she was still always on his mind. Brett was preparing himself for when the dopamine of their mission wore off, and he would have to go back to a cold and empty lab. His best friend- one whose walls he had spent almost a year breaking through- would now have no memory of him whatsoever. But she would be happy, blissfully distant from the Deep State and living a quiet life with her true love.

But Brett loved her.

He had only recently realized that this love was beyond platonic. Brett wasn’t sure when this friendship had morphed into these feelings, but it had finally dawned on him when he actually felt dislike towards Ron: something Brett Hand had usually reserved for dog haters, people who litter, and any of the bad “-ists” (we all know the ones.). And the only thing Staedler had done to cause this dislike was date Reagan. Brett knew this was wrong- stupid and selfish, but he couldn’t help it! Then, he saw just how proud Reagan was to call Staedler her boyfriend, and how much she really loved him.

Brett was happy seeing Reagan happy. So he pushed these feelings as deep down as the deep state. After her and Ron’s breakup, it wasn’t right for him to let his crush resurface too much. Instead, Brett went back to his main mission: Reagan Ridley’s happiness. He first tried using techniques he learned from therapy. Reagan needed a healthy release of her feelings, so Brett made it persistently clear that he was there to listen!

She was a tough nut to crack. As per usual, Reagan’s response to “talking about her feelings” was brushing off the situation. She was “doing perfectly fine”, and didn’t “really have anything to talk about, ya know?”. So, he took a step back from this strategy and the two had their first “Family Dinner” movie night again since the whole fiasco.

“La La Land…” Reagan scoped out the BluRay DVD that Brett had brought over. “What’s this one even about again?”

“Honestly, not totally sure!” Brett slid the DVD into the TV’s disc slot, then sat back on Reagan’s couch. She handed him a bowl of white cheddar popcorn (his favorite, she knew!). “I know it’s a musical though, with lots of dancing and bright, fun scenes! Should be great for a much-needed night of fun, Reags!”

**An hour and a half later…**

“You’ve gotta give it everything you’ve got. Everything. It’s your dream.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna follow my own path, you know? Stay here, get my own thing going.”

Yikes… Brett was kicking himself, for sure. Of all the choices… of COURSE he picked a movie with doomed lovers who could’ve never both gotten their happy ending! Dammit brightly colored musical numbers he saw clips of on social media!!

“... I’m always gonna love you…”

Ohhhh god. Brett fidgeted nervously with his sleeve. He glanced over at Reagan, who was staring silently and wide-eyed at the screen. Even in the dim light, he could see her shaky breaths as she began to blink away tears. Brett paused the movie, turning to face his best friend.

“Reags… you okay?”

Suddenly, Reagan dove to him, burying her face in Brett’s shirt as she finally let herself cry. Not just a small, delicate cry- full-on sobs broke from Reagan like a river rushing through open floodgates. Brett was quick to return the hug, soft and secure, while he rubbed comforting circles on her back. Reagan’s small frame shook with the sheer force of her emotions, but Brett held her like a lifeline.

“It’s gonna be okay, Reagan. I promise”.

Reagan sniffled. “What if it’s not?” She choked out through her tears. “What we had… * sniff *... what if nobody loves me like that again??” She hugged him tighter.

Brett’s heart ached. He wanted to tell her just how much he loved her. How he’s willing to give her the world. But saying that now wouldn’t be fair- she didn’t need that. What Reagan needed right now was a friend. “Reagan…” he whispered to her. “You’ll find that again, I know it. You’re incredible, you’re strong, you’re so smart- any guy would be lucky to have you. But for right now, it’s okay to hurt. I’ll always be your shoulder to cry on, Reags.”

She didn’t say anything, but continued to bury her head against his chest. He was more than okay with that. Brett held his best friend tight until her sobs turned to shaky breaths, which slowed into sleep. Eventually, he carefully maneuvered Reagan into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. She managed to stay in deep sleep, almost as if it was the best rest she had gotten in weeks (which he knew it probably was). Brett placed Reagan gently down on her bed and draped her covers over her sleeping body. He quickly slipped downstairs to turn off the TV and fill up a cup with water, then back upstairs to place the cup on Reagan’s nearby nightstand. He also managed to plug in her phone, setting it down on the opposite side of the small table as the cup.

As Brett was walking through the doorway out of Reagan’s bedroom, before shutting the lights off, he turned to get one last look at his best friend. Releasing a week’s worth of pent-up tears all at once had wiped her, and she was practically dead to the world.

Brett gazed at her with a soft, sad smile. “Love ya, Reagan. Get some sleep, alright?”

#inside job fic #inside job #reagan ridley #brett hand #breagan #inside job breagan #angst #fanfic #ao3

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hannahwatcheshorror · 4 months ago

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CHILD'S PLAY (1988)

💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead

A classic film about a scary thought, “What if my doll were alive?” Chucky is the original ANNABELLE (well, that isn’t entirely true) and masters the cute to creepy transition in seconds flat. No time is wasted showing you how the doll comes to life, it just takes a moment for him to belong to someone and for the killings to begin. Nicely paced and well acted with very nice effects especially for the main man himself. Should encourage you to be a little nicer to those “inanimate” objects around you.

⭐⭐⭐.5

(trigger warning sexual aggression/violence against a woman)

Charles Lee Ray, a serial killer, is about to die in a toy store when he says Abracadabra (by The Steve Miller Band) over a little ginger doll (since it has no soul) and puts his soul in it with voodoo (wack). A nice lady buys the “doll” for her son's birthday and gives it to her little brat (nah, he is a cutie) and doesn’t realize what hell will soon be breaking loose. The aunt is babysitting but she won't be there long because Andy has a new best friend in Chucky the doll and the doll wants to play. Death by toy hammer to the face then dramatically falling out a window is weak as hell though, I just gotta say, Aunt Maggie.

Karen comes home to find her babysitter dead and her son blaming it on the doll (yeah, right, kid) to which she says, “Yeah, right, kid, tell me the truth.” The detective is wary and thinks the kid killed the aunt which is so fucking funny, I just have to say, this kid is such a small little baby who is so confused and he certainly didn’t kill a bitch. ANYWAY. Things keep escalating when Chucky makes Andy skip school and visit his old accomplice's house to blow the place up (with the dude inside). Now Andy is sent to the nuthouse because he says Chucky is alive and no one believes him! Chucky goes on a side quest and finds out his only shot at being human again is to become Andy (yikes).

Distraught about her son in a psych ward, Karen goes home with the doll and commands it to talk to her. Fucker doesn’t listen so she threatens to burn him over the fire, that gets him talking. Now she knows her son isn’t a liar. Ms. Barclay makes our detective listen to her by putting herself in danger and damn it if that doesn’t make me fall in love with her. We love a woman who will recklessly go after a mad man (or doll) because of their kid. Chucky goes after the detective who barely makes it out alive but now at least he believes.

Andy is locked up in the psych ward still and sees a spritely little Chucky parkour his way up the steps and into the hospital on his way up to get Andy. The doctors think the kid is off his nut and you feel this sense of helplessness for him because we know he is telling the truth! Poor little Andy even has to watch a guy get electroshock therapy to death which I'm sure won’t scar him for life (it will). After narrowly avoiding capture at the hospital, Andy goes home to try and wait out his best fiend.

Like an unfriendly Santa, guess who comes down the chimney? None other than Chucky in the flesh, I mean, plastic. Chucky decks the kid in the head with a fucking baseball bat like it’s no big deal. UM. WACK. (Ha) He attempts to start the ritual but Mom and the detective come back in the nick of time. After a little more bat whacking on the detective, Chucky gets the Freddie Lounds special (a full fire cleansing) which STILL isn’t enough for this evil bastard. They have to shoot him in the heart and he barely goes down then. They are all safe (for now).

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eternalsimsstories · 2 days ago

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The Merfolk Legacy and Regal from Another Realm

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Previously on the Merfolk Legacy | Next

Previously on the Regal from Another Realm | Next

Chapter: Taking a Break

Madeline and Lyla just got off the bus at the Ancient Ruins next to the Olde Platz in Windenburg. The ruins stood tall against the brilliant blue sky, their white stone gleaming in the sunlight, surrounded by lush green grass that swayed gently in the breeze. Lyla had heard so much about it, but she’d never visited before.

“I’m glad we’re taking a break from university and that crazy house,” said Madeline.

“Me too,” answered Lyla. “Plus, taking a break from our brothers and Jakov.”

“That’s true. Just the two of us.”

“But I have to admit, I miss Jakov a little.”Lyla replied, winking.

Madeline smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh really? I thought you couldn’t stand him when he hogged the couch during movie nights.”

Lyla chuckled. “That’s true, but he does have a certain charm. And he makes the best popcorn.”

“Popcorn? You’re telling me you miss him for popcorn?” Madeline teased.

“Hey, it’s gourmet popcorn! You wouldn’t understand,” Lyla shot back playfully.

As they approached the ruins, Lyla was amazed at their size, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. The towering stone structures were adorned with intricate carvings, their surfaces weathered yet majestic, whispering secrets of a time long past. “These structures have so much history,” she breathed, running her fingers along the cool, rough stone.

Madeline soon felt bored. “I don’t know what’s so special about these ruins. They just look like… rocks.”

“My family wants me and my siblings to research and learn everything about the Earth, including its history,” Lyla explained, glancing at the ancient stones.

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Ugh, that sounds like a headache! But hey, speaking of headaches, did Jakov text you? He was acting all moody before we left.”

Lyla sighed, a small frown crossing her face. “He was just worried about school. He thinks he should be studying right now instead of... this.” She pulled out her phone and glanced at a message from Jakov: “Hope you’re having fun! Don’t forget to check in, okay?”

“Tell him to lighten up! You need to have fun too. Besides, he should see that it’s okay to take a break sometimes,” Madeline replied, her tone playful.

“Maybe I’ll text him later,” Lyla said, looking more thoughtful. “He just wants to make sure I’m okay. He can be sweet like that.” She typed a quick response: “I’m good! Exploring the ruins with Madeline. No need to worry!”

Madeline smirked. “Sweet? It's more like being overprotective! Just remember, you need your space too.”

Lyla laughed. “You’re right. But I can’t help it if I like having him around.” She glanced at her phone again, noticing Jakov’s follow-up message: “Just checking! You know I worry, right?”

Madeline spotted a woman in a beautiful dress nearby. “Wow, she looks like a goddess! But that dress doesn’t suit her hair, and those shoes… yikes.”

“Why do you care what she looks like?” asked Lyla. “She’s a perfect example of fashion! And you look beautiful yourself.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather be like you and lose all that weight,” Madeline replied, glancing at Lyla’s figure.

“Madeline, you have that perfect hourglass shape that all men adore. You got that from your mother,” said Lyla, nudging her playfully.

“True, but it’s exhausting! I feel like I’m on a never-ending fashion runway,” Madeline joked, striking a pose with an exaggerated model face.

Lyla laughed. “Well, if you’re on a runway, I’m clearly a UFO landing!”

Lyla noticed some old stones and became intrigued. “This place is amazing!” she exclaimed.

“Seriously? How can you get so excited over a bunch of rocks?” Madeline asked, unimpressed.

“These rocks were used for homes and buildings thousands of years ago. It’s a shame this place has crumbled,” Lyla explained passionately, her voice tinged with a longing for connection to the past.

“Whatever,” Madeline said. “By the way, why don’t you show me your alien form? I always see you in your human form.”

"It's complicated," said Lyla.

Madeline gave her a strange look. “You mean, you can't change into it?”

"I can," answered Lyla, "but I am not sure how you humans will react to seeing my true form."

"Well, I'm not scared," said Madeline.

Lyla didn't want Madeline to think she was a freak. “Alright, if you insist,” said Lyla, looking around to make sure there weren’t many people nearby. She quickly and magically changed her skin to reveal her bald blue skin, wearing only red underwear.

"See, this is what I look like," said Lyla, showing her arms, legs, and stomach.

Madeline was surprised and confused. "So, you're a bald alien that wears underwear?"

"Yeah, I’m so used to being in my human form that I always forget to dress properly," answered Lyla. "But let me change back before someone sees us."

With a swift motion, Lyla transformed back into her human form, her blonde hair and clothes intact. She felt relieved to be hidden from prying eyes. But beneath her laughter, there was a flicker of anxiety.

Madeline noticed her hesitation. “You know, it’s okay to be different. I mean, I feel it, too, being a mermaid. Sometimes, I worry about what people think when I transform.”

Lyla’s expression softened. “I get that. I often feel like I have to hide part of who I am. It’s like I’m living two lives. Jakov always tells me I should embrace who I am, but it’s not that simple.”

Madeline nodded, her voice turning serious. “Exactly! Sometimes, I wish I could just be myself without worrying about expectations or judgment. I mean, look at my brother, Holden. He’s a king-in-training and seems to have no problem getting girls. I wish I had his confidence.”

Madeline smiled softly. “And what about Barrett? He’s always been a bit of a mystery to me. I wonder if he’s feeling the pressure to find someone too.”

Lyla shrugged. “He might be, but he never shows it. I think he just needs a little nudge. Maybe your brother or one of the other guys would help him meet someone special. I just hope he doesn’t take after Jakov and worry too much.”

Just then, Madeline spotted a bucket of water balloons and couldn’t resist. She started throwing them at Lyla, who was not amused.

“Madeline! That is not funny!” Lyla protested, laughing despite herself.

“Can’t take the heat, or water?” Madeline teased.

“Okay, now it’s a water fight!” Lyla shot back, grabbing a balloon and retaliating.

“I hope you’re ready for my water balloon skills! They’re out of this world!” Madeline declared dramatically.

“Oh, please! You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!” Lyla shot back, ducking just in time.

They laughed like schoolgirls, splashing water and forgetting their worries. But the underlying tension about their identities lingered in the air.

“Is this another way that humans have fun?” Lyla asked, breathless.

“Yes!” Madeline shouted, then changed the subject. “I’m thirsty. Why don’t we head to one of the beaches in Sulani and relax for a while?”

“Okay,” Lyla agreed. “I can always do more research online later.” She checked her phone again, seeing another message from Jakov: “Are you sure you’re okay? I can come to meet you.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Should I text him that I’m about to be abducted by aliens?”

“Please don’t! I’d rather not have him come to my rescue while I’m swimming in the ocean ” Lyla laughed.

As they left the ruins, Madeline asked, “So, do you miss the water yet?”

“Of course!,” Lyla replied, her thoughts still on Jakov’s concern. “Maybe I should text him that I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should take a quick swim in the ocean before sundown,” Madeline suggested.

“Okay, since it’s just the two of us,” Lyla answered.

_____

They arrived at the beach, where the golden sand shimmered under the sun, inviting them to dive into the cool, azure waves. Children laughed and splashed nearby, building sandcastles that sparkled with seashell adornments. The salty breeze carried the scent of sunscreen and the sound of cheerful chatter, creating the perfect atmosphere for relaxation. They walked all the way across the beach into the ocean.

Madeline transformed into her mermaid form, her iridescent tail glimmering in the sunlight. With a splash, she dove into the water, reveling in its refreshing embrace. Meanwhile, Lyla spotted a green and white whale-shaped float with its tail sticking up. She used it to shield herself from the sun as she relaxed.

“Wow, the water feels nice!” Madeline called out, floating effortlessly, her hair streaming behind her like seaweed.

“Yes, it does,” Lyla replied, lounging back on the float, soaking in the warm rays. She smiled, enjoying her moment of tranquility.

After a while, Lyla decided it was time to get out. She gracefully floated back to the shore, her feet finding the warm sand as she stepped onto the beach. Spotting a nearby lounge chair, she settled into it, relishing the sun's warmth.

Madeline laughed, then swam back toward the shore, her tail transforming into legs as she stepped onto the warm sand. She brushed droplets from her skin and headed for the lounge chair beside Lyla, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. “I just wish there was a way for you to get a tan,” she mused, her voice bright with cheer.

“Oh, no! That wouldn’t work for me since I’m not from this planet,” Lyla quipped, though a hint of sadness crept into her voice.

“Maybe you could get a spray tan?” Madeline suggested, giggling. “I hear they make you look like you’ve just returned from a tropical vacation!”

“Or a cosmic disaster!” Lyla laughed. “Imagine me showing up at school with a tan that glows in the dark.”

As they relaxed in their lounge chairs, the sun dipped low in the sky, painting the horizon with hues of orange and pink. “It’s starting to get dark,” Lyla noted, glancing at the vibrant sunset. “We should head back.”

“I agree,” Madeline said, her voice tinged with reluctance. They stood up, brushing sand off their legs, and began to walk home, chatting animatedly about their day. But the lingering thoughts of their identities and the weight of their royal expectations hung in the air as they walked, the colors of the sunset fading behind them.

To Be Continued….

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#sims4 #gameplay #storytelling #sims4gameplay #sims 4 #sims4stories #sims4story #character development #fantasy #royalfamily #sims 4 mermaids #sims 4 aliens #Sims 4 Occult #Merfolk Legacy #Regal from Another Realm

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