#the books are not good. but there are moments and that's one of them

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

#—stellaronhvnters. #writing ᝰ.ᐟ #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader angst #aventurine x reader fluff #aventurine x gn reader #aventurine x you #aventurine angst #aventurine fluff #hsr aventurine #boothill x reader #boothill x reader angst #boothill x reader fluff #boothill x gn reader #boothill x you #boothill angst #boothill fluff

[nvuy]

doctor, doctor — veritas ratio

summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.

notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.

my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.

warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.

“Hi, Doctor.”

Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.

“Yes. Good evening to you.”

Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.

You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”

You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.

Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.

“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.

Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”

You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”

You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.

“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.

“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”

Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.

“I want to play chess.”

“I’m busy.”

You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You only stared at him expectantly.

“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.

Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”

You took another sip of your drink.

Then, you blinked. “Yep.”

Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.

You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.

Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”

You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”

The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.

*ೃ༄

“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”

As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.

Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”

You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.

No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.

“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.

“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”

“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.

When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.

Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”

“Winning.”

“You are not winning.”

“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”

Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”

Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.

He lost.

Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”

“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”

“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”

“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”

“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”

“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”

“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”

The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.

The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.

You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.

Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You looked offended when he pulled back.

You whined. “What was that?”

“Your reward,” he argued.

“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.

It was working.

You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”

“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”

“Fine.”

This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.

Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.

When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.

Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.

“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.

To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.

Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.

“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”

The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.

Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”

His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”

“You are horrible.”

Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.

He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”

The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.

His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.

It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.

Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.

Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.

“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”

Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.

He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.

He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”

“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.

“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.

The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.

He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.

Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.

Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.

His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.

His heart stopped.

“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”

Too late.

Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.

The damage had already been done, however.

Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozen, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.

Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”

Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her hair.

Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

You waved. “Hey, queen.”

Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.

You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.

“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”

He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.

“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”

“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”

“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”

Veritas rolled his eyes.

Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.

It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.

You found it sort of hot.

Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”

His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”

"Aww."

"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."

Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”

When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #✦ ( the macrocosmos. ) #✦ ( aka ‘is anybody gonna match my freak?!?! )

[engstlersslut]

Fact-Checking│ E. Engstler

pairing: emily engstler x reader genre: fluff, comedy warnings: suggestive towards the end but nothing too crazy word count: 940 summary: emily catches you doing a little bit of your daily fact-checking.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰〰•★•〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

Your amused giggles could be heard over the sound of the shower, grabbing Emily's attention and bringing a smile to her face. She had just returned home from practice and had gone straight to the shower after greeting you with a brief kiss.

Once she finished showering and completed her post-shower routine, Emily returned to the bedroom and climbed into bed next to you, ready to relax. Picking up her book from her bedside table, she got comfortable and began reading.

Emily was only about two pages in when your giggles picked back up. Casting a quick glance your way, she attempted to shake off the curiosity and turn her focus back to the words littering the pages of the book in her hands. However, her efforts were useless.

"What are you looking at?" She questioned after reading the same page over for the fifth time.

"Huh?" Was all you responded with, not tearing your gaze away from your phone.

"What are you looking at that's so funny?"

"Oh, uh, nothing." You shifted your position slightly to keep her from looking at the device in your hands.

"Babe, let me see." She leaned further into your space, only to be met with more resistance from you.

"Nuh-uh. Not happening." You extended the arm holding your phone over the side of the bed away from her.

With a challenging look in her eyes, Emily leaped into action, reaching over for the phone and initiating a wrestling match. You fought against her as best as you could, but with her long arms and tall stature, she confiscated your phone in no time.

"Em, baby, I'm telling you now," You warned her. "You don't want to look at that." She ignored you, settling back onto her side of the bed and examining the contents of your screen. A few moments of silence passed before she finally spoke again.

"What is this?" She questioned, confusion evident in her features.

"A story," You responded warily, watching for her reaction. "Of sorts."

"About me?" She looked taken aback as she continued to take in what she was reading.

"Uh-huh." You nodded.

"And why are you reading it?"

"Why not?" You shrugged. "You're fans have been sending me links to them on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok for weeks now. I ignored them, at first, but then I got curious. So, I started going through them."

"And?" She finally turned to look at you.

"And then I fell down a rabbit hole. Some of them are actually really good. They are so well-written and creative. It's interesting." You explained. "It's also kinda funny to see some of the things your fans come up with and how they perceive you. I like to consider my daily perusal as fact-checking, you know? To see how accurately they depict you in their writing."

"I'm sure." She tried to seem nonchalant and almost monotone about it, but you knew her and caught the glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Seriously! You should see some of the more R-rated stuff they put out there about you." You wiggled your eyebrows at her. "Very fascinating."

"No thanks." She chuckled, tossing your phone over to you. "The idea actually terrifies me."

"Whatever. You're really missing out." You said, scrolling through your phone. "Look! Here's one. I'll read it to you. Just let me skip to the good part."

"Please don't." She whined, rubbing a hand down her face.

"Her hands drifted lower as she peppered kisses along your neck." You began reading, a smug smirk on your face, aware of the blush spreading across her cheeks. "You released a breathy moan as her lips attached to the sweet spot below your ear. 'Emily', you called out to her. 'Touch me, please.' You-"

"Enough!" She groaned, yanking the phone from your hand and shoving it under her pillow. "Going to sleep now." She turned over and threw the blanket over her head.

Your loud laughter filled the room at your girlfriend's distress. You clutched your sides as they began to cramp from lack of oxygen. Once you finally calmed down, you leaned over and pulled the cover down, revealing her red face.

"I'm glad you find humor in torturing me." She scoffed.

"I'm only teasing."

"So funny." She deadpanned.

"Honestly though," You spoke, "It's kind of cool how dedicated your fans are. They really do love you, Em. Yeah, it might seem kind of weird because it's about you, but this is just their way of connecting with you in their own way."

"Yeah, you're right." She nodded, pulling you down to lay on the bed and cuddling into you. "But, please, don't put me through that again. I don't mind that they write that kind of stuff, or if you read it, but I can't bear to see or hear it myself."

"You sure?" You chuckled at her pleading. "Maybe we could draw some inspiration from some of these. Especially in the bedroom. I meant it when I said some of your fans can get really creative."

"Shut up and go to sleep." She poked your ribs in response to your teasing.

"I really think-"

"Goodnight." She interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

"Goodnight." You chuckled, turning around in her arms. "I love you, Em."

"I love you, too." She leaned in, connecting her lips to yours in a sweet kiss, to which you reciprocated. Sighing happily as you pulled away, you decided to give it a rest for the night, with a promise to yourself to continue your job of being a complete pain in her ass tomorrow after a good night's rest.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰〰•★•〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

a/n: not really sure if i like the way this turned out but whatever. here's some more emily content for you guys.

#emily engstler #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler x y/n #washington mystics #wnba #wnba basketball #isa.writes

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.5

Summary: Your girlfriend is an up-and-coming serial killer. Your girlfriend's little sister and her partner are also up-and-coming serial killers. With summer fast approaching, maybe you all need to get out of the city. Some fresh air never hurt anybody, right?

Word Count: 4k Warnings: swearing, mentions of Scream violence, smut (18+) Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Reader (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

Life with three chaotic good villains was… interesting.

You didn’t necessarily live with J and Tara; they had their own apartment at this point in time. It had been a decision made after you had officially asked Sam to move in with you. Honestly, it had seemed like a silent relief to both sisters that they didn’t have to tell the other to leave, instead creating a mutual, respectful decision between them.

That did not, however, stop them from coming over to yours and Sam’s at all hours, day or night.

Most of the time they came over for food. Which, to you, was rather ironic considering you were the only one out of the bunch who, on most occasions, couldn’t cook. You were under the sneaking suspicion they simply did it to be close to Sam again. It was understandable. Neither of them could bear to tell her that they missed her. That was something you had picked up on fairly quickly in your relationship.

The other times they came over, however… those were rather interesting. And Sam was not exempt.

“Not in the apartment,” you called out the moment you heard the door open.

“It wasn’t in the apartment,” Tara said with a huff. You knew it was her way of showing she cared.

“It was across the street,” Sam finished, followed quickly by the door clicking shut.

You sighed but quickly went back to your lesson plan. By all accounts, they were correct. It wasn’t in the apartment. And you would give them a little more; they weren’t on the premises either (another new rule you had enacted over the past few months). They were following rules.

Barely. But they were.

There was shuffling behind you - a sound you had unfortunately grown accustomed to - before someone sat down beside you. That was also something you were used to, and Sam’s head quickly fell to rest on your shoulder. Her breathing was even. You placed an awkward, sideways kiss on the top of her head.

“Did they match the criteria?” You asked. You underlined something on your lesson plan.

“Yes,” Sam said. “They matched.”

“She was creeping on some kid,” Tara chimed in from the kitchen. “And no, she wasn’t the mom.”

“Priors?” You asked.

“Stalking and domestic battery,” Sam answered.

“Which is on the list!” Tara called out.

Yes, you supposed they were. And they would know what was on the list; you had given all three of them laminated copies of what criteria could somehow justify their actions. Not that you condoned them, it still gave you the creeps, but if they were going to do it then they were going to be responsible. You weren’t going to be a jail bunny, or whatever they called those people.

Even with them following the rules that you continued to add to, you weren’t comfortable with the fact that they were killing people. Even the most awful people deserved a chance to live, did they not? Capital punishment had never been something you supported, and this was simply an individualistic version of it.

But Sam was pretty, and you loved her, and that alone could trump your personal beliefs.

“There’s no blood on my floor, correct?” You asked.

Sam tensed up against you and lifted her head. The noises in the kitchen ceased. You kept your nose buried in your books out of some sort of silent respect. When Sam stood up, you got your answer. You would give them some time to clean up; sometimes accidents happen.

God, you were starting to feel like your mother.

“There’s no blood on your floor,” Sam said when she finally sat beside you. After having cleaned the floor.

You smiled to yourself before straightening up and looking at her. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning in for a light kiss on her lips.

The lesson plan was the least of your worries for the evening. Sure, it was almost time for finals, and graduation was in two weeks, but your mind was preoccupied. How long had it been since you had spent any significant time with Sam alone? To the best of your knowledge, it had been at least since you had discovered their… secret.

You could vaguely hear Sam and Tara talking, but you were still staring aimlessly at your books. When had Tara and J done something together last? Not including killing, of course, you knew they did that all the time. But a weekend getaway, or an actual vacation. Had they ever gone on a vacation together? You and Sam surely hadn’t yet.

A-ha! That was it!

It was only a few days later that you talked with J and told them your plan. They practically jumped at the idea. After all, why wouldn’t they? It would give them alone time with Tara - away from New York City - and it would give you alone time with Sam. It only took one evening of planning before everything was set, and all you had to do was tell your respective girlfriends. Easy enough, right?

Oh, how naive you were.

“It’s just for one week,” you practically whined as you followed Sam through rush hour traffic. “Surely that couldn’t hurt.”

“I’m not just leaving Tara alone for a week,” she said without turning around. “Not since the attacks.”

“Darling, you cause the attacks now,” you said. “And so does Tara, and J, and I truly believe they’ll be alright without us.”

You reached out and pulled Sam closer when a car rushed by, splashing water where she had just been standing.

“I trust them,” she said. An exhale. “I mostly trust them.”

“Then where is your concern?” You asked. “Where is your hesitation?”

Sam didn’t say anything. She kept looking out at the street even as you pulled her a little closer, again, to the wall behind you. People continued to mill around and you didn’t want her to get run over, or worse, cussed out. You were aware of how volatile she could get when she was already stuck in her own mind. The last thing anyone needed was for her to lose her temper at some poor passerby who just wanted to keep walking unobstructed.

“I don’t trust other people,” she said, finally turning back to look at you. “They’ve both been attacked, what if it happens again?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I won’t be there to help.”

You slid your hand down her arm to lock your fingers together. “My love,” you said. You waited until she looked up at you. “Tara is cold-blooded and calculated.” She smiled. “J is from a long line of criminals.” A laugh. “I believe they will be just fine.”

Her smile eased from laughter to something softer. There was a light spark in her eyes, something you only saw when, surprise, she wasn’t worried about Tara. And even though she would never admit it, she worried about J as well. They argued like siblings incessantly, but they cared about each other in their own way. It was almost sweet.

“Okay,” she finally said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your lips. She tasted of smoke. “One week won’t hurt.”

—---

You were questioning every decision you had made to lead to where you currently were.

If you had known that Samantha Carpenter, who had packed up her life and left on her own at 18, was a horrible road trip partner? You would have gone to Paris with Tara and J. It would have been the same time, give or take, but at least the ride would have been more luxurious.

But no, Samantha Carpenter, a literal Slasher icon, wasn’t a fan of road trips.

Sam sighed, and your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“My dear,” you said, “we really haven’t got much longer.”

Though your eyes were focused on the road, you heard her shift. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, “they’re alright.” Your tone was indicative of just how often you had said that sentence in the past six hours.

“Do I have a problem?” She asked. “Am I overprotective?”

“Yes,” you said. A car passed going far too fast. “You’re overprotective.”

“I need to relax, don’t I?”

You unclenched your jaw and loosened your grip. She was trying. Letting go of the reins wasn’t really something she was adept at. Now, you could understand, your mother was the same way. Not… quite to the same degree as Sam… but it was comparative. You knew, realistically, she wished to relax and enjoy the week. She just needed a moment to decompress and accept that she was allowed to relax.

“Everything will be alright, love,” you said. “They will be fine, and you will be able to relax.” You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I promise.”

She smiled at you and reached over to place her hand on your upper thigh before looking back out her window. Her fingers scratched lightly against your inner thigh. It wasn’t scandalous or risque. At best, it was a comforting touch; she often did it on your arm.

That didn’t appear to matter to your body, which was very much working itself up as she continued her innocent gestures.

You could act on these feelings once you arrived. There would be no fear of anyone walking in on you and interrupting the moment. Wait, that would be wonderful. You could act on those feelings twice! In one night! Just the thought had you shifting in the driver’s seat and ignoring the slight look Sam gave you.

By the time you pulled up to the campgrounds, you were thoroughly wrecked. The very thought of having genuine alone time with Sam was all-encompassing, and you were starting to thoroughly question if you needed to go into town to grab a few things for your stay. This was turning into the best decision you had ever made in your life!

“I’ll stretch my legs while you talk, if you don’t mind,” Sam said once you were both out of the car.

“Of course,” you said as you gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The small cabin at the front of the park was cute; you didn’t much like the taxidermied deer heads on the wall, but you could look past it. It was homey, and you felt pretty safe considering you were practically in the middle of Nowhere Maine. There were lovely little couches, a beautiful oak end table, and the employee desk looked to be… mahogany? Perhaps?

“You ready to get your keys, camper?” The too-cheery employee asked. It was over the top and slightly grating, but you could appreciate the faux excitement.

He led you to the desk and got to work handing you the keys to the cabin you had rented. It wasn’t supposed to be anything extravagant, more like a place where you could both rest, relax, and enjoy the scenery. A lovely little firepit outside, a hammock, a supplied cast iron skillet. You were in your element.

You hoped Sam liked it too. Surely she would. Hopefully.

“Ready?” You asked as you walked back to the car.

Sam was leaning against the car with a half-finished cigarette resting between her lips. Smoking was a horrid habit; it stunk, it clung to clothes, and it was bad for your health. But you couldn’t deny she looked extremely sexy while she did it. The way her lips moved…

You needed to get her into the cabin. Quickly.

She smiled her beautiful smile. “Ready.” She took one more large inhale of the cigarette before putting it out on the bottom of her boot.

You were feeling very uncomfortable as you opened the door for her and practically raced to the other side. The cabin couldn’t be too far away, the park wasn’t exactly that big. And you were right. The trip only took another 10 minutes before you pulled up to the adorable little cabin.

And it was rather adorable.

It only took a few moments to get the bags from the back and get into the cabin. The inside was just as adorable as you had imagined, and judging by the near-instant relaxation of Sam’s shoulders, she agreed. Internally, you cheered. Hopefully, she could stay relaxed for the week. It was no less than she deserved, and she had more than earned it.

You practically demanded she take the time to sit, walk outside, relax a bit while you made dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy - you may not know how to cook real meals, but you knew how to camp - but it was nice. Something you could finish in only a few minutes that wouldn’t make you both feel miserable after a day of driving. And once it was all over, you could finally take the time to enjoy the feeling of being away from everything.

“How is it, darling?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around Sam’s waist from behind.

She hummed and leaned back into you. “It’s quiet.”

“Is that a good thing?” You asked again. You placed a lingering kiss behind her ear.

Sam turned around in your arms, quickly throwing her own arms around your neck. She looked at peace. You wondered if that was how she had looked before everything had fallen apart for her. There hadn’t been extensive talk of her past, but you knew things had essentially been ruined for her around her teenage years. Had she seemed carefree like this?

“It’s a very good thing,” she said softly.

With her fingers lightly scratching the back of your neck, that uncomfortable feeling continued to get worse. She had made you feel impatient for the past two hours at least. And her hands were on your skin, and she looked so beautiful, and you loved her so much. You could be forgiven for leaning forward to kiss her.

Sam wasted no time in pulling you closer. Her breath tickled against your cheek. With her body pressed entirely against yours, you couldn’t help but notice how perfectly you fit together. That was what love should be. Love was feeling like your bodies were molded, formed specifically to perfect each other.

“Turn your brain off,” Sam whispered against your lips.

“I’m thinking about how much I love you,” you specified.

She smiled. “Stop thinking and show me.”

Your hands slid down her hips to grab her behind her thighs. The pressure on your neck tightened as you lifted her up. She smiled against your lips, and you almost got distracted again. There was nothing quite like feeling Sam smile against you, no matter the circumstance.

You weren’t distracted for long.

There hadn’t been much time to get acquainted with the cabin, but you knew your way around well enough to carry Sam over to the couch. A large window overlooked the main room, and through it, you could see the stars and moon shining down. With the utmost care, you laid her down on the couch beneath you.

“We’re child-free this week,” you said.

She let out a huff of air. “I guess we are.”

“That means we can do whatever we want,” you continued.

Slowly, her smile grew. She was finally understanding what you were getting at. No one else around. That meant no needing to be quiet out of respect for your unwanted guests. Which meant you could do anything you wanted, at any time, for however long you wanted.

The arms around your neck tightened once again, pulling you down into another kiss. You didn’t dare break it as you moved around on the couch, trying to get a little more comfortable without possibly squishing Sam underneath you. At least from the new angle, one of your hands was free.

If there was one thing you didn’t like about Sam, it was that she usually wore tighter clothing. As stunning as she looked in it, it made it a little more difficult to slide your hand underneath her shirt. You didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for her; that was the opposite of what you wanted.

“Hang on,” Sam mumbled against your lips.

Her arms pulled away, but only to your chest. She pushed back against you until you sat up and she quickly followed. You sat mesmerised as she pulled the tight tank off. After all the time you had spent with her, you didn’t think there would ever be a time you weren’t thrilled every chance you got to see her.

“Take it off,” Sam said. The words were an order, but her tone was softer.

Right. Right, you needed to take your shirt off too, you couldn’t just sit there and stare at her the entire night. Well, you could, but you couldn’t only sit there and stare at her all night. Your movements weren’t as sift as hers, instead just pulling your shirt from behind until you could throw it to the floor.

You leaned forward and rested your hands on her hips, eager to remove those pesky pants of hers. They made her legs look wonderful, but they were in the way. But before you actually made a move, you froze and looked back up to meet her eyes.

“May I?” You asked.

There had been numerous occasions where Sam had practically scolded you for stopping and asking. You would know if I didn’t want to, she had said. But you had been raised with manners; only a verbal yes equaled consent. Even though you knew exactly what her answer would be, you wouldn’t dare risk misinterpreting her actions.

“Yes,” she said with a soft smile.

You smiled back, a big toothy grin, before gently laying her back on the couch and sliding her pants down her legs. Inch by inch, you saw her skin exposed. Flawless, even with its flaws. Splendid in its softness, a startling contrast to the roughness of your own fingertips. You could have sat there and worshipped her from her feet to her head, and it would have been an evening well spent.

Once her pants were off, you tossed them to the side and let your hands roam up her legs. Squeezing lightly on her calves - she would appreciate a massage later - before moving up to her thighs. Those thighs that held power behind them, that you loved to feel around your waist. Or your head.

You were so entranced by her that you didn’t even notice her move. The next thing you knew, hands were on your chest and you were falling back onto the other end of the couch. Those thighs you had been so captivated with were now on either side of your hips, and Sam, in all her beauty and glory, was leaning over you.

“You didn’t bring anything special,” she said as she leaned closer.

You squeezed her hips lightly. “No I didn’t.”

“I suppose you’ll have to wait until tomorrow then,” she continued.

Oh, she was going to be mean. It was in the way she slowly, torturously moved her hips. She was in just the right spot for you both to feel the slightest bit of relief, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. But there was a small uptick of the corner of her mouth, and her fingers were tracing patterns over your chest, and her breath was on your lips, and and and.

If she kept it up, your brain would cease all function.

“You’re teasing,” you said. You did your best not to whine.

“Yes I am,” she said, her hips moving just a little more. “You said it yourself, we’re child-free,” she continued. “Which means no holding back.” There was a glint in her eyes. “Which means I want you to be so frustrated that starting tomorrow, I won’t be able to walk properly.”

Oh. Oh, she was playing a longer game.

You could work with that.

That glint in her eye was dangerous; you had seen it before. She knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it. However, not once did she say you had to stop for the night. You kept one hand on her waist but let the other slid across her hip and down her thigh. Her breath hitched for a moment when you brushed against the inside of her thigh.

Part of you wanted to keep her as frustrated as you were. She had started all of this teasing in the car. You had been feeling pent up for hours already, and she thought she was just going to get off while you suffered? You didn’t show it often, but you could be just as cruel if you wished.

The other part of you wanted to hear her moan.

That was the part that won.

You were soft with your movements, tracing little patterns into her skin as you made your way around her thigh and- oh god she was wet. She had been just as pent up as you, it seemed. Any sensibilities were gone at the knowledge that she had been waiting for you, that she was almost to the point of needy.

Her hips moved to meet your fingers. The softest of moans fell from her lips when you ran your fingers over her clit. There it was, the first sound. The thing that could get you to lose all morals, all thoughts, you were filled with nothing but the desire to please her. To have her moan again and again.

Instinct took over; a primal desire. She was so wet your fingers slid into her with ease. Your mouth fell open as you felt her around you. It never lost its wonder. But you didn’t move your fingers again. If Sam was going to leave you to suffer for the rest of the night, you were at least going to make her work for it.

She let out a small whine when she realised it too.

“Come on, darling,” you said. “Be a good girl and ride my fingers.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed. But you noticed the smallest hint of a smile.

Her hands rested on your chest as she started to move her hips. Slowly, methodically, testing out just how much you would actually help her. Which, you would admit, was more than you had initially planned. You hadn’t intended to move at all; she would truly need to work for it.

But the beautiful look on her face, the quiet sounds coming from her lips, the way her body moved against yours? You couldn’t help it. Your hand on her hip helped her move even as she started to speed up. When she was in just the right spot, you would curl your fingers, drawing the most melodic moan out of her. That alone was enough to convince you to help her.

As her movements got faster, you sat up. Her arms quickly wrapped around your neck, holding you closer. You liked this position much better; you could feel every movement, every breath. Her body would tense up when you would curl your fingers, and when you positioned your thumb right over her clit? Oh, it was beautiful.

Sam wasn’t a loud person, but when you were so close, her moans were all you could hear. They were like music to your ears. She was close; you could feel it in her jerking movements and the little whimpers she couldn’t hold back. Your arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against you and kissed her.

She moaned into your mouth when she came. Hell, you were so pent up it was almost enough to make you cum. Her movements dictated when you stopped yours; you helped her ride it out until she fell slack into you. She shifted until her head rested on your shoulder.

“You did so good,” you whispered into her hair, leaving a lingering kiss immediately after. “My beautiful girl.”

You couldn’t see it, but you felt her lips press against your bare shoulder.

“What happened to making me work for it?” She asked in a breathy voice.

You let out a short huff of laughter. “What can I say,” you started. “I’d do anything for you.”

#samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter imagine #sam carpenter imagine

[leclerc-s]

track one - the scandal was contained ... at all costs, keep your "good" name

(alternatively: a partial look into the 2022 season)

series masterlist

BAHRAIN 2022

ines_sainz posted new stories

bahrain, still beautiful as ever 🫶🏼❤️ 🏎️💨 congratulations mr. leclerc shoutout to the photographer who sent me this.

AUSTRALIA 2022

hello melbourne 👋🏼 asked him to stand for a picture, why is he standing like a middle aged man? never beating the old man allegations i fear mr. pole position says hello. don't ask about the angle, even we're not sure why that happened. he does it again!!

MONACO 2022

*translation is included in the second set of texts

SILVERSTONE 2022

RAH 🦅!! LOGAN P1 AT SILVERSTONE!!! this feels like an appropriate moment to post this. considering both are f2 race winners now 💋💋

AUSTRIA 2022

austria, are you ready for it?? back on the top step where he belongs 🫶🏼 with sir lewis hamilton!!! oh, and max is there too i guess. and to think this was them 3 years ago.

AUGUST 2022

¡taglist!

@minmira95 @lesliiieeeee @vroomvroommuppett @prongsvault @justtprachisblog @scuderiadevils @cataf1 @chezmardybum @formulaal @lilsiz @norstappenvibes @ironspdy @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica @niniluvsainz @matchaverse @fakeikeastore @theseus-jpg @six-call @81folklore @emppusofi @luvsforme @nichmeddar @loloekie @luvpedro @donttouchthegnote @nothaqks @inferiusreggie @mochimommy2002 @rach3164 @clove08 @clove0 @lillysbigwilly @landonorizzz

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 @books-thingys-andstuff @nothanqks @yeanoskrrt @ale-522 @aandreea_2005 @Katness1 @mgmoore @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir @Greantii

¡leclerc-s speaks!

i thought, how fucking funny would it be if the guys who seemed to terrorize carlos the most (charles and oscar) dated his little sister in a fic and this came about. oscar is also no-so-subtly planning carlos’ downfall in this fic.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #guilty as sin series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #oscar piastri x female oc

[sodaabaa]

powdered sugar kisses 

anthony bridgerton x wife!reader anthony searches aubrey hall for his wife, only to find her where he least expected a viscountess to be.

tw: slightly nsfw, mostly fluff.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know where my wife might be?” Anthony asked a nearby maid. He’d searched nearly the entire house – quite a feat given the sheer size of his family’s estate – and he was beginning to worry when his wife was nowhere to be found. Most often when Anthony came home from whatever viscount duties required his attention that day, his wife could be found perched on a window sill with her nose in a book or tending to the garden. Today, she was not found reading nor gardening – and she wasn’t in their bedroom or any of the living areas either. The maid looked at Anthony, hesitant to answer his question. He raised an expectant brow, waiting for an answer.

“She’s in the kitchen, my lord,” she confessed.

The kitchen? What on earth could she be doing in the kitchen?

Anthony made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what she could possibly be doing. He was met with the sight of his beloved wife wearing a flour-coated apron, bent over a tray of cookies. Her hair was tied up to keep it out of her face but despite the hastily done updo, stray hairs framed her face. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she held a bag of icing, piping intricate designs onto the cookies – or at least attempting to. “Was the cook indisposed?” He finally said, breaking the silence.

His wife jumped, startled at his sudden appearance.

“Anthony! When did you arrive?” She asked, a smile forming on her face. He looked her up and down, denoting his surprise at finding her in such an unusual position. 

"Just a moment ago -- what are you doing?" He asked.

“Oh! I felt rather restless this afternoon without you, so I thought perhaps I try my hand at baking. I made biscuits!” She explained, dusting her hands on her apron before removing it. She picked up one of the sweets, excitedly bringing it over to show Anthony. He watched her dazedly as she walked over, mesmerized by her beauty, even in her current state of disarray. 

"Yes, I gathered as much, you are aware you are a viscountess, correct?"

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his question.

“I’m not quite good at designing them just yet – but they taste fantastic!” She said, taking a bite out of the sugary biscuit and then offering it to Anthony. He took a bite as she held it up for him. “They taste lovely, much like the chef,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Nothing could taste sweeter than the woman before him. Though, perhaps that was the light dusting of powdered sugar on her lips from the cookie. He brought his lips to her sugared ones, letting the sweet dust melt away between them. She giggled into the kiss and Anthony had to restrain himself from taking her right here and now. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Anthony!” She squealed.

He pulled away, “Why would one ever need such confections with a wife such as you?” He smiled at her fondly, he hated being away from her for long stretches of the day.

She blushed, narrowing her eyes at him 

“Feeling bashful, are we?” He peppered kisses along her cheek, making a path towards her ear. She tried to swat him away but he only held her closer, pressing her chest to his. His breath tickled her ear, eliciting another giggle to Anthony’s pleasure. 

“What if someone comes in, Anthony!” She said in a hushed voice, trying to keep her composure. 

“Let them,” he found her lips again. She moaned into the kiss, breaking all of Anthony’s last remaining bits of resolve. 

He hoisted her up on the kitchen counter, breaking their kiss to remove the rather inconvenient layers of clothing he wore. His wife looked up at him in shock though her chest rose and fell rapidly in anticipation. His hands found his wife’s waist once more, pulling her close and returning his lips to hers. Her hands came up to his chest, untying the laces at the front of his shirt, just as eager as he was to rid themselves of the pesky boundary. His lips trailed down her neck, hands reaching up to pull her neckline down. He made a path from her neck down to her chest and then her stomach, lifting her skirt as he made his way down. He kneeled before her, looking up at her as he found her inner thigh. She gasped, causing Anthony to smirk at her sensitivity. She was supple and soft and sweet as he placed rough kisses on her thighs, leaving a burning path behind as he inched closer to what he truly wanted to taste. 

“Anthony, please,” she begged. 

“Patience, dear wife,” he whispered. She groaned, her hands snaking up his neck, running through his hair. She tried to push him closer, but before she could, he grabbed each of her hands in his and held them against the counter. She whined and wiggled, upset at his restraint. He only laughed at her impatience, the sudden vibrations causing her to shudder. He would satisfy her eventually but Anthony had always been one to savor his desserts rather than indulge himself all at once.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton family

[moviecritc]

like the movies ⋆ max verstappen

bonus track of my bewitched department

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: even though you've been all your life acting, you never experienced a love like the movies, until max appeared in your life

word count: 1.7K

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: I'm going through a max verstappen phase, so if you have any requests for a blurb or something cute, send them <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

"Are you breaking up with me over the phone? While I'm on my way to your parents' house? Are you stupid or what?" With each sentence, Y/N's voice grew louder.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry. But…"

"But my ass! Don’t you have any common sense?"

She could hear her boyfriend sigh, and she sighed four times louder than him.

"You are too… cold-hearted for me," he finally said from the other end of the line.

Y/N stifled an exclamation. Cold-hearted? How could she be if she was an actress? She was the warmest person he had known.

"You're always focused on your job and yourself, I need someone…"

"Idiot!" Y/N interrupted him. "Just say you don’t have enough self-love to date an independent woman. You worthless piece of shit."

She hung up after her sentence, not wanting to hear her ex-boyfriend's response. She parked the car and ran her hands over her face. She looked at herself in the little mirror of her car, touching up her lipstick and reassuring herself that she was a good person worthy of love.

She got out of her car and went directly to the bookstore in front of her. She still had quite a few books in her apartment to read, but she didn’t mind. It was her third breakup in four months, and she was starting to wonder if she really was the problem, and the only thing that could distract her from that was spending money she didn't have.

She began to pile books on her arms, and by the fifth manuscript, she started to wobble.

"Do you need help?"

Y/N blinked and peeked her head out from the stack of books, meeting a blonde with a very un-London-like accent and skinny jeans who looked like anything but someone who worked in a bookstore. She didn't know that strangers were now offering help out there.

"No, thanks," She took a step and added a sixth book, enough for all of them to fall. "Shit!"

Y/N felt so embarrassed she even blushed. She knew everyone in the bookstore would be watching her, and that terrified her.

"May I help you now?"

Y/N looked up, having completely forgotten about the presence of the stranger, who was looking at her with a kind smile.

"If you insist…" She smiled a little while rolling her eyes, which made him smile too.

They picked up the books together, which were a bunch of rom-coms. For a moment she thought he would judge her choices, but he didn’t make any gesture.

"I'm Max, by the way"

Y/N blinked. She had no idea what was happening, it seemed totally unreal that a stranger would help her pick up her books and suddenly introduce himself.

"Do you like Sally Rooney?" he asked, holding the last book she'd picked.

Y/N realized that this guy wanted to keep a trivial conversation with her, like those you have in nightclub bathrooms with girls. But this time was a bookstore, not a library. And not a girl, but a Max.

"I’ve never read her, but I saw Normal People, the series, and I was left wanting more," she explained, with a shy smile. "Y/N, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," he showed her a gorgeous smile. "I read the book, I haven’t had time to watch the series yet."

"Oh, it's really good,"

The conversation flowed too easily. She wasn’t used to talking so normally with someone she had just met a few minutes ago and moreover without it being awkward, but that was how it was. Y/N told him about the books she planned to buy and the one she was reading now.

"Excuse me, we're going to close," an employee informed them. In London, shops always closed in the mid-afternoon, for lunch, and although Y/N had arrived around eleven-thirty, the clock was almost striking one. "Are you taking the books?"

"Sure, yes," said Y/N at once and turned to Max. "Hold on a sec."

Max waved his hand, telling her not to worry, that he would wait. She paid for the books and quickly returned to Max.

"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" Max asked directly. Y/N loved the confidence in his voice.

"No, I don’t,"

"Can I invite you to lunch?"

"I'd love that,"

Y/N went to leave the bag of books in her car and she and Max walked to a nearby restaurant, continuing their conversation. It still seemed extremely surreal to her, in what universe does she break up with her boyfriend and moments later meet the nicest guy she had ever known?

"What do you do?" Max asked, once they were seated in the restaurant.

"I'm an actress," she pursed her lips. She was still in the phase where it was hard for her to admit she worked in that field.

"I'm not much into movies," Max commented, scrunching his nose.

"Great because I do theater,"

"Really?" he leaned back in his chair, impressed. "I don’t frequent the theater either, to be honest."

They both laughed softly and Y/N sipped her drink. "And you?"

"I work with cars,"

Y/N furrowed her brow, waiting for him to specify a bit more. "In a repair shop or how?"

That caused a small laugh from Max, leaving Y/N even more confused.

"Yes, exactly. In a repair shop," he continued with a wide smile.

"Well, if you like cars, there's some Prix thing here this weekend. There are tourists everywhere, it's terrible," she complained, rolling her eyes a bit.

Max gave her a goofy smile. That was perfect. Simply perfect.

"Really?" he arched his eyebrows slightly. "I had no idea."

"They do it every year. A silly thing," Y/N shrugged, letting the topic pass.

They continued talking for a long time about how Y/N once almost knocked down the shelves in a bookstore.

"Just like in the movies!" Max said, laughing.

She nodded, also laughing. "I swear things like a character in a tragicomedy happen to me."

They continued laughing for a while, then Max squinted a bit, resting his head on the palms of his hands. "And don’t you think it’s very movie-like that someone picks up your books for you?"

Y/N looked around, with sudden terror. "Where are the cameras, Max?"

He threw his head back laughing with a soft scrunch in his nose. The sound of his laugh felt really warm for Y/N.

"I hope nowhere," Max was right. Too good to be true. Too good to happen to her. Her look darkened a bit, and Max noticed it quickly. "Something wrong?"

She looked up and shook her head a little. "It's just… Is this weird?"

"I don’t think so, unless you want to make it weird. I’m pretty good at that,"

Max got a small smile from her.

"It's just that I’m used to…” Y/N thought about that sentence. “To things like this not happening to me. I haven’t been doing too well in love this past year,"

"Oh, me neither," Max didn’t mention the part about being a famous person and everyone wanting to be with him out of pure interest and not because they really liked him. "It's complicated."

"Quite," she pursed her lips. "Anyway… I have a performance at a theater in Soho on Thursday, you could come by. If you want, of course."

Max bit his lip; he had his first free practice that day and likely several meetings and driver duties.

"Oh, I'd love to. What time?"

They exchanged phones after the meal, which dragged on quite a bit, so that Y/N could send Max the location of the theater. And to exchange several messages throughout the day. They didn't see each other again until the day of the performance, but in that time, they had written dozens of messages. Y/N would tell Max about the series or movie she had watched that afternoon and recommended that he watch it, even though it was more than likely that Max hadn't turned on a TV in months.

Thursday arrived, and Max managed to sneak away from a meeting, arriving just in time for the play.

Y/N was nervous, and her co-star wasn't helping.

"Y/N!" Her co-star approached practically running. "I just heard that a famous driver is watching the play."

"Really?" She didn't care too much. She had been without news from Max for hours.

Luckily, he appeared at the door with a kind smile and a bouquet of roses. "Hi,"

Y/N flashed a smile and went up to him, instinctively wanting to hug him. Max, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left a short kiss on her lips. She instantly blushed.

"Hello," Y/N greeted, with a silly smile. "Gorgeous flowers."

Max looked at her co-star, who was completely astonished.

"Lily, are you okay?" questioned Y/N, still hugging Max.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating a famous driver?"

Y/N turned to Max instantly.

"What do you mean, 'famous driver'?"

Max pursed his lips slightly. "Aren't you going to call her out on the 'dating' thing?"

Y/N paused for a moment, trying not to laugh at what Max had said.

"Y/N, this is Max Verstappen. The Formula 1 driver!"

She lifted her chin and looked at Max again. "Formula 1 driver?"

Max scratched his neck.

"I think so…"

Y/N paused again for a moment. "And you let me mock your career just like that?"

"It's because you're strangely nice, what can I do," Max shrugged, causing Y/N to laugh.

"Well, I'm not one to deny it," she smiled a bit, then kissed Max's lips a second time. She placed a finger on his chest. "Though we're not dating, huh. We need to have a second date before we throw it all in for each other,"

Max burst out laughing. "Like they do in the movies?"

"Absolutely."

taglist; @theseerbetweenus

#max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x yn #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv1 x y/n #noraverse 🫧 #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 fic #mv33 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x you #my bewitched department

[vbecker10]

Language (Part 1)

Part 2 (in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Captain Rogers thinks you curse far too much at work so he came up with a way for each word to cost you fifty cents no matter where you are in the Tower. You are desperate for it to stop and go to Loki to see if he has a spell that can help you outsmart J.A.R.V.I.S.

Warnings: swearing lol... obviously?

A/N: I'm so sorry @soubi001 lol and you know why. I've been kicking this idea around in my head for a while because I'm very aware that I swear way more often than a normal person lol hope you enjoy it 💚

You knock on Loki's door and wait anxiously for him to answer. A few seconds later, the door opens.

"Can I help you?" he asks you with his typical annoyed expression.

"I hope so," you respond. "Can I come in?" You take a step small forward.

"I don't see why that would be necessary," he crosses his arms and leans on the door frame, blocking your path into his room.

You sigh, "Fine, I guess I can show you my problem out here." He raises an eyebrow and waits for you to continue. "Damnit," you swear then look down.

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck as you are in violation of SHIELD's Inappropriate Language Policy, per Captain Rogers' orders," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces from a speaker overhead. A small holographic screen appears next to you, showing your name and SHIELD photo ID at the top, the fifty cent charge in the center and a running total at the bottom.

Loki chuckles and shakes his head, "So the Captain finally made good on his threat."

"Yea. He thinks this high tech swear jar is going to stop me from cursing all the time but all it's doing is annoying the shit out of me," you complain to Loki.

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcom-," J.A.R.V.I.S. announces again.

"Shut up," you tell the program, cutting the announcement short.

Loki smiles at your outburst then says, "What is it you expect me to do?"

"I have no idea honestly," you shrug. "Don't you have a spell for everything?"

"I have a spell for almost everything, yes," he says then he is quiet for a moment as if he is thinking. "I do think I may have a solution to your... issue." He waves his hand vaguely towards the speaker J.A.R.V.I.S spoke from.

"Really?" you ask excitedly. "That would be awesome." You thought it was going to be way harder than this to convince Loki to help you.

He leans towards you and looks you straight in the eyes. "Stop swearing," he says then he goes back in his room and closes his door in your face.

You stand in the hallway, looking at his door and mumble, "Fuck."

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from-"

"Shut the hell up!" you yell, cutting it off again.

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming paycheck-"

"I know! I get it," you tell J.A.R.V.I.S. You can hear Loki laughing loudly through his door and you glare at him even though he can't see you. You turn, ready to give up then you suddenly get an idea. You walk close to the door and say, "Just so I know, it would really piss off Steve if I figure out a way to get around this. Tony too, he helped set it up."

He opens the door a second later and you do your best to hide your smile. "It would aggravate them wouldn't it?" he says almost to himself and you nod but try not to look too excited. He sighs and takes a step back to open the door further, "Very well. I think I might have a spell that could work."

Loki closes the door and you stand awkwardly in the middle of his living area, unsure what to do. You've never been in his apartment before and as far as you know, no one else on the team has either. Loki isn't known for being a fan of having people in his personal space or of people in general.

You look around his living area. One wall is lined with tall, overflowing bookshelves and a leather couch is set against the other wall. A dark wood coffee table matches the end tables, one of which has a short stack of books and a steaming cup of tea. You walk over to the end table with the books and open the cover of the top book, assuming it's what Loki was reading before he opened the door.

"Sorry, I was just-" you suddenly feel nervous being alone with him, maybe this wasn't a good idea.

"Don't touch anything," Loki says from behind you and you close the book quickly, turning to see him standing closer then you expected.

"Sit," he motions towards the couch and you do as he tells you. You sit quietly on the middle of his couch with your hands on your lap, watching him search through the numerous books scattered about. While you wait, your mind wanders to a meeting yesterday morning with the team.

---------------------------------------

You take a seat at the rectangular table across from Thor and Bruce, scrolling through your tablet to find the notes for this meeting. Natasha and Clint walk in, followed by Loki then Steve and Tony. Without a word, Steve places a glass jar that says 'Y/N's Swear Jar' on in it between you and Clint.

You look up at him as he sits. "Seriously Steve? I haven't said a damn thing yet," you tell him then groan when he gives you a disappointed look. You reach into your bag to find your wallet and drop in your last two quarters. "Happy?" you ask him as you sit back in your chair.

"I would be happier if you stopped using inappropriate language so frequently," he answers.

"I think the odds of my brother voluntarily attending one of Stark's parties is higher than Y/N giving up swearing," Thor jokes. Loki roll his eyes as his brother nudges him playfully.

You look at thor, "Did you know that people who swear lie less often then people who don't?" Thor shakes his head and you turn to look at Steve, "They've done studies that suggest that people who curse are more honest because they use fewer social filters when they are expressing their opinions."

"Is that true?" Clint leans towards you.

"I have no idea, I read it online," you whisper back.

"That may be, but it is still not appropriate for a work environment," Steve lectures you.

"I send out super professional emails, isn't that good enough?" you ask.

"No," he answers sternly.

"That's bullshit," you cross your arms and look at him. He doesn't say a word, simply looking from you to the jar and back at you. "Ugh, fine." You grab your wallet and take out a bill, "Does anyone have change for a five?"

"Just put the five in there," Fury says when he walks in. "We all know you'll use it today."

"Hurtful," you tell him but you fold up the bill and put it in the jar then you smile at Steve.

"I don't like that look," Tony says and Steve agrees.

"It's like prepaying for ten words," you laugh, "I just have to use the damn things well."

"Nine," Clint says.

"Ah shit," you look at him and Natasha laughs.

"Eight," he smiles.

"Good thing someone is keeping track," Bruce says.

"Is it ok with everyone if we start this damn the meeting now?" Fury asks annoyed from his seat at the head of the table.

"How come he doesn't get a jar?" you ask, leaning across the table towards Steve and pointing at Fury.

Tony laughs, "Believe me, Steve tried."

---------------------------------------

Loki smirks as he looks up from one of his books, "This spell may help, it will render you utterly mute."

You stand up quickly, "Yea, no, fuck that."

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted-" J.A.R.V.I.S says.

"Oh, come the fuck on," you tell it and Loki laughs again.

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from your-" it repeats.

"Just forget it," you tell him. "You don't know how to help me anymore than anyone else did. Coming here was a waste."

You walk past him towards the door and he says, "Maybe you should ask for a raise."

"Thanks," you tell him in an annoyed tone and open his door.

He sighs loudly just as you step out into the hall. "Fine," he says and you turn to look at him. "I'll help."

"With another stupid suggestion?" you ask.

"No, I'm sure I have a spell here we could use," he tells you, gesturing towards his books.

"Why are you changing your mind?" you ask, unsure if you can trust him.

He shrugs, "Honestly I'm bored."

"Seriously?" you ask, crossing your arms.

"Were you hoping for a different reason?" he asks, crossing his arms to mirror your body language.

You unfold your arms, "I mean... yea. You could see least feel a little bad for me?"

"But I don't," he says with a light shrug.

"Oh... well I guess I'll take it," you tell him and close the door. He nods to acknowledge your decision but doesn't reply.

You sit on the couch while his focus returns to his books. You watch him pick up a hardcover book then put it back, taking the one next to it. He flips through the pages slowly and you ask, "Your not gonna turn me into frog or anything, right?"

He looks up at you confused.

"Thor said you've done that to him before," you explain.

He groans, "It was one time and we were children."

"I'm just checking. I don't know how any of this works," you tell him.

"Clearly," he rolls his eyes and goes back to his book. He looks up again and adds, "If I wanted to turn you into a frog I would have done so already."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask.

"Yes," he says matter of factly then he goes back to reading.

You try to get comfortable on Loki's couch but you can't seem to relax, you are afraid to touch anything including the pillows. After a few minutes of silence he sits next to you and you shift away from him a bit. He doesn't seem to notice your reaction and hands you the open book.

"Read this," he says.

"It's in Spanish," you tell him.

"Very observant," Loki nods.

"I can't read this. I took three years of Spanish in high school but it didn't really stick," you explain.

"Humans are so dull without the Allspeak," he mumbles.

"Do you always need to be annoying?" you ask him.

"No," he smiles at you.

"What was your point with the book?" you ask, trying to get back on track.

"I will explain after. Read this part," he points to a specific paragraph.

You give the short paragraph your best attempt. Based on the way Loki flinches at how you pronounce almost every word, you assume you did awful. J.A.R.V.I.S remains silent so you ask Loki what you said.

He smirks, "Something that should have cost you more than a few dollars."

"Really?" you ask and look back at the book. You grab your phone and use it to translate the text. Your eyes go wide at the excessive swearing and insults the character uses to describe another character. "Wow," you laugh, "You weren't kidding."

"Now that you know what it means, try it again," he suggests.

You read it again, your pronunciation still off but when you finish J.A.R.V.I.S charges you for eight words. Loki laughs and you look at him annoyed, "Great, thanks. That was annoyingly useless."

"I thought it was funny," he smiles. "And it wasn't useless. Now we know that it only works if you know what you are saying."

"You're an ass," you tell him.

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from-" the program repeats.

"You owe me $4.50," you cross your arms and lean back on the couch.

He waves his hand and a five dollar bill appears between his fingers. He hands it to you, "I'm sure you'll use the other word soon enough. I want to try one more thing."

"I don't think I trust you anymore," you say, putting the money in your pocket.

"I didn't think you trusted me in the first place," he says.

"I... yea, that's a good point," you tell him.

"Here," he conjures a small notepad and pen before handing them to you.

"Where do you keep this stuff?" you ask looking at the objects.

"A pocket dimension," he explains.

"Right, sure, super normal," you laugh. "What the hell am I doing with this?"

"Y/N, fifty cents has been deducted from your upcoming-"

You groan and put your hand over your face.

Loki smiles and says, "I honesty thought you would keep those fifty cents a few seconds longer."

"You know, no one likes you right," you tell him in response.

"And I am truly devastated by that," he says, putting his hand over his heart.

"Whatever," you roll your eyes. "What do you want me to do with this?" You hold up the pen and notepad.

"I'm looking for a loophole," he says. "Go ahead, write some of your favorites."

You sigh and write a word but nothing happens. You write another and still nothing.

"Interesting," he says then J.A.R.V.I.S activates. "What did you do?" You hold up the notepad and he smirks as he read it. "Well now that's rude," he says, shaking his head.

"It's accurate," you smile then cross out what you wrote.

"Do you eat pizza?" you ask.

Loki looks up from the book he is reading as he stands in front of the bookcase. "What?"

"Pizza," you repeat.

"Yes, why?" he furrows his brow.

"Its 8:30, I'm ordering food," you tell him. "I came here right after work so I missed dinner."

"No," he says and goes back to his book.

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, looking up from your favorite delivery app.

"I've heard humans are like stray animals, if you feed them, they return," he says.

He sighs but doesn't argue, putting another book in the pile of what you imagine are useless books.

You laugh, "First off, who told you that? And Secondly, if I'm ordering the food, technically that would make you the pet I'm feeding."

"What do you want on it?" you ask him. "Pepperoni, veggies, or are you one of those weird pineapple people?"

"Cheese is fine," he mumbles.

"One cheese pizza it is," you say, ordering from a place nearby. "It'll be here in half an hour," you tell him.

"Wonderful," he says without a smile. "I was so hoping you would be here all night."

"You can always tell me to leave," you say getting up from the couch.

He looks over at you and says, "I could but I won't."

You sit back down, "Okay, I really need to ask... why are you doing this?"

"I'm bored," he answers with a shrug.

"You said that before," you tell him.

"Because that is the answer," he insists but for some reason you don't believe him. You feel like there is more to it but you can't figure it out.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at lying, being the God of Lies and whatever," you say.

"I am the God of Lies and Mischief, not whatever," he corrects you. "And I am not lying. Why else would I want to help you?"

"Because you like me?" you smile and he scoffs. "You have to admit, I'm pretty awesome."

"I do not," he says but you see a hint of a smile on his lips. "Now, will you please be quiet and let me think."

"Can do," you give him a thumbs up.

You put the pizza box on the coffee table and he sits next to you. "You owe me for half," you say. Before you can tell him how much it is he flicks his wrist and a brown leather wallet appears in his hand. He opens it, takes out a twenty dollar bill and gives it to you. "Wait," you say before he makes it vanish again. "Is that Thor's wallet?"

"Hmm," he opens it. "It would appear so."

"He's been looking for that for like a week," you laugh.

"I'm aware of that," Loki responds.

"Of course you are," you shake your head.

"Do you want to money or not?" he reaches to take the bill back from you.

You pull it away from him and put it in your pocket. "I'm going broke from this fucking thing," you tell him as J.A.R.V.I.S activates again.

"Ah damnit, I forgot to ask for plates," you say, ignoring J.A.R.V.I.S. Loki holds out his hand and two plates appear. "I've got to admit, you are pretty useful," you tell him. He smiles but then you add, "You would be more useful if you could fix my stupid problem though."

"I already told you the easy way is to just stop swearing," he takes a slice.

"That's no fun though," you tell him. "Plus, I really don't want Steve to win."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

You shrug, "Sometimes I do it more when he's around cause I know how much it bothers him."

He laughs, "I can appreciate that type of attitude."

"I thought you might," you smile. "So any progress with the massive pile of books or am I fucked?"

He looks up mid-bite and J.A.R.V.I.S goes off again. "I have not given up yet," he tells you but his attention is focused on the screen that popped up. "Do that again," he says. You sigh, and he flicks his wrist, putting another five dollar bill on the table between you.

"Fuck," you say and the screen appears again with J.A.R.V.I.S 's announcement.

"I'm sorry, the total says $47," he sounds shocked and you cringe. "I thought you said they only turned it on at noon."

"Yea," you take a bite of your pizza.

"You have said 94 swear words since noon," he says.

"Apparently," you shrug but he continues to look at you so you put your food down on the table. "When Steve and Tony first told me about it I was kinda pissed," you admit. "I might have lost a few bucks before I left Tony's office."

He tries not to laugh, keeping his hand over his mouth while you talk.

"Then I went back to my office to try out a few things," you tell him.

"Like what?" he asks.

You take a list out of your pocket and hand it to him. "What counts and what doesn't," you say. "Some words only count in a specific context so there's that."

"That still doesn't account for all of this," he says.

You shake your head, "I wanted to see how far it reached outside of the Tower." You sigh, "It's about half a block in all directions."

He laughs, "I imagine you were quite a sight trying to figure that out."

You laugh too, "You would think so but this is New York. I don't think anyone noticed the weird woman cursing every few feet, followed around by a hologram yelling at her."

"This city truly is very odd," he agrees.

"And yet, you still tried to take it over a few years ago," you shrug and take a bite of pizza.

"Technically, I was trying to take over your whole planet," he reminds you.

"That's not better," you tell him and he shrugs.

"I found a few spells I would like to try when we finish eating," he changes the topic a moment later.

"Think one of them will work?" you ask hopefully.

"I certainly hope so," he says. "Of course, I could accidently turn you into a frog if something goes wrong."

"That's not funny," you tell him.

"I wasn't joking," he smirks.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-ofthe-pages @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #loki x reader #hiddlesarmy #loki odinson #hiddlesverse #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #god of mischief #loki au #loki avengers #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki oneshot #language #captain rogers #steve rogers #the avengers #marvel #marvel characters #loki (marvel)

[i-yap]

Literally loving ur writing so far Bestie 🥺💙would I be able to req how the batboy would react to a fwb/situationship vibe with reader? Like they have feelings but reader is scared of commitment

Thank youuu! Im gonna be really honest, I don't think a lot of the batboys would be okay with a situationship sort of deal.. and I don't write romantic damian( at least not yet) .

Batboys x reader- Situationship headcanons

Dick grayson-

I can see a teammate or someone he works close with as a detective turns into a night of passion and now both of them cant go back to normal situation .

He says he is okay with it, and prolly keeps up that act for 4-5 months?

I think you would end the situationship. Dick is a really sought-after guy and one night he Is just upset with you about something. So when another girl flirts with him rather than his usual " I'm sorry there's someone else I'm into" line he flirts back. You see red

you either walk away angry/upset or pull him away. He follows you to an alley or a secluded area of the party.

"why are you even upset, you are the one who doesn't want us to be official?" "well that's not because I don't want you, that's because I'm scared of intimacy"

He would be really understanding once you explain your issues and fear of commitment. You guys come up with a better set of guidelines for your arrangement and he sticks to it.

if you want an open relationship, he is down. if you want to be exclusive but not yet in a relationship relationship he would be okay.

But dick does want to get married someday and have kids. So this arrangement wont last for long. he will try his hardest to help you overcome that fear of commitment but if you cant then its gonna end someday. And he makes that clear to you from the start. all cards are on the table always and communication is key and he makes sure no one gets hurt( or at least tries avoiding it as much as he can)

Jason todd

wont do it

maybe a bestfriend turned situationship scenario

you are his sanctuary , his home a safe place to come back to. and after everything he has been through he struggles with so many insecurities and he deserves a domestic life.

the moment he sees you with another guy, even if it just flirting, he is out the door. He already believes no one loves him and now you don't even want to commit to him? is he not enough?

he gets that you have issues and no one understands issues better than him. But he is in so much pain already that its best for the both of you to not get together at all.

even the fact that you from the very start didn't want to commit makes him get all in his head and even if you get ready to commit later on , he wont be able to forget that fact and will keep thinking you'll leave him or he isn't the one

he also reads a lot of classic literature and romance in books is what he wants. the concept of a situationship doesn't make sense to him and he just needs some good old domestic loving.

Tim drake

best at it

you guys are young, he is so busy. he is totally cool with a teenage dirtbagy relationship

lets meet under the bridge , get high and makeout type of shit,

Partners in crime / bestfriends that hookup

he loves it, its perfect for him

there are no expectations no responsibilities, you guys are just what the other needs . no stupid anniversaries and big fancy dinners

tim gives very "eat the rich" vibes so this situationship is another way for him to be a little rebellious .

Very very teenage dirtbag- going to grocery shops at 2am and sitting on the dirty floor trying all 20 types of slushies

spray painting the really big asshole companies buildings, going to huge rallies without having any idea what you are rallying for.

stealing the batmobile and then crashing it

the adrenaline makes you hot and bothered and it leads to more. and once its over you go to a shady Chinese place and tip 200 on a 40 dollar meal.

he gets you, you get him and you don't need labels to show your love to each other. and who needs someone else when you have everything you could want within each other? and then someday when you're ready and if you are ready, you can always make it official. its all up to you two , fuck the labels

#Tim Drake x Reader #Tim Drake x You #Tim Drake x Y/N #Tim Drake Fluff #Tim Drake Angst #Tim Drake Comfort #Tim Drake Headcanons #Tim Drake Imagines #Red Robin x Reader #Red Robin x You #Red Robin x Y/N #Batfamily #Batfamily x Reader #Batfamily Fluff #Batfamily x You #Batfamily x Y/N #Batfamily Headcanons #Batfamily Imagines #Batboys #Batboys x Reader #Batboys Fluff #Batboys Headcanons #Batboys Imagines #Jason Todd + Red Hood #Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x You #Jason Todd x Y/N #Jason Todd Fluff #Jason Todd Angst #Jason Todd Comfort

[krirebr]

More Than This 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, all of the Thrombeys being really awful actually, explicit language, references to bad sex, flagrant disregard for HIPAA (actually, just assume that HIPAA doesn't exist in this universe), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh god. I promise that there will be a point when this isn't so sad all the time and that point is soon. But it also isn't today. I'm so sorry. 😬

Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91 who listened to me whine and read countless fuzzy screenshots, and gave great advice and was just all around awesome. And to @stargazingfangirl18 who reached out with encouragement when the words just weren't coming.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom had the complete collection of Harlan’s books. You couldn’t say exactly why that surprised you, but it did. He even had the two poorly-received romance novels Harlan had written under a pseudonym. You hadn’t known the two of them were so close, but then again, you still didn’t really know anything about Ransom.

So that’s what you’d been doing with your days, making your way through Harlan’s complete works. You were currently reading one about an au pair that had been found dead in her charge’s locked nursery when your phone rang. 

Your brow furrowed. The list of people who ever contacted you had gotten much shorter since you’d moved to Boston. Steve, Ransom, Linda unfortunately. That was pretty much it. You looked down at your phone to see your mother’s name. Oh.

You’d expected her to reach out in some way since your wedding and had tried very hard not to feel hurt when she hadn’t. Everyone’s lives had moved on. You were the only one stuck. But you still hadn’t had it in you to be the one who called her. You took a deep breath and answered your phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! How are you?”

You kept in your sigh. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said, but she sounded sad. She always sounded so fucking sad. It struck you then, that that’s probably how you’d sound too, in ten or twenty years. Maybe less. Probably a lot less. “It’s so nice to hear your voice honey.”

“Yeah,” you said, and, pathetically, you could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes. You weren’t angry with her. You couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault she was so broken. It was inevitable. For all of you. And your frustration with her didn’t change how much you missed her. Missed home. Missed the way things used to be. “It’s good to hear you too.”

“I know it’s been a while,” she said softly, “but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled. How are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” you said quietly. You paused. You didn’t want to say anything bad or worry anyone, but also it was your mom. “I don’t know. It’s different here. I don’t have anything to do.” 

She just chuckled. “Cherish that. It’ll change soon and then you’ll miss this time.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she continued. “And how’s Ransom?”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t want to talk about him. Things had been… better since your panic attack. He came home at a decent hour regularly. You fucked most nights now. But he was still just this looming presence. You didn’t know what to do with him. “He’s fine,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently the wrong answer, judging by the little hum she made. “I know it’s hard at the beginning. When I first married your father–” she cut herself off with a deep breath. “Remember, honey, keeping him happy is your one job now. It’ll get easier the longer you do it.”

A few tears finally broke free and fell down your cheeks. “I don’t– I don’t know him. I don’t know what makes him happy.”

“Then finding out will be a good use of your free time, won’t it?” You glanced at the book beside you, feeling shamed in spite of yourself. “I know it feels so hard, but men are shockingly easy. They just want to be taken care of. That’s all you have to do. Make him dinner. Keep his home warm. Give him heirs. Don’t argue. That’s all. You’re going to be such a good wife to him, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You shrunk down into the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, making yourself as small as possible. You hated this. Hated that she didn’t want more for you. That she’d never tried to give you more. But you were tired, too, of being upset with her for not doing the impossible. What else was she supposed to have done? What else could she give you when she didn’t have anything herself? “Ok,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“Joseph says hello, of course,” she said, and you wanted to laugh. He’d done no such thing. “He’s so proud that you’ve made such a good match. He’ll be happy to hear it’s going well.”

“Mmm,” was all you were able to say. You hated this. You couldn’t do it anymore. “It’s so good to hear from you, mom. But uh, I have to– I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, alright. I miss you so much, sweetheart. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”

You could barely hold the tears back now. “I love you too,” you said, your voice thick. “Bye.” The moment you hung up the phone, the damn broke. You couldn’t stop it. You cried for your mom. You cried for yourself. You cried for the way everything had changed and there was no going back. You cried because this was a day when it felt like no one on earth was on your side. A shaking Lola forced her way into your lap and you held her until you were able to calm down.

Once you’d stopped crying, you looked around. You couldn’t sit still, your mother’s words ringing in your ears. Your eyes locked on the kitchen. That was something you could do. You glanced at the time. If Ransom came home at his new regular time, it would be tight, but you could do it if you made something simple. But not too simple. Something that showed effort. That you were trying. 

You got up and looked in the fridge. All those tidy little glass containers full of meals his housekeeper, Carol, made. You’d never felt like they were taunting you before, but now. Now you wanted to smash them. You could do this. You could make him like you. Show him what you were worth. You could make yourself a life better than your mother’s, maybe. Get him on your side.

There weren’t a ton of raw ingredients, but after combing through the entire contents of the fridge and pantry, you found what you’d need for a decent spaghetti. Carol was probably planning it for later in the week. Well, now she wouldn’t have to. You’d do it yourself.

You put some music on and got to work. Losing yourself in the prep. But you’d lost yourself too much maybe, because you were still chopping when Ransom walked in the door. 

Lola, of course, rushed to greet him. It still rankled. She didn’t realize that one wrong move would have him kicking her out. His words from that first dinner had never left your mind. But a few days ago, he’d started reaching down to pet her as she danced around him. You didn’t know what either of them were playing at.

He looked at you, now trying to hurry through the rest of your prep, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making dinner,” you said, gesturing to all your work obviously. You looked at the time. You weren’t slow. He was early. Why the fuck was he early? He was ruining all your plans.

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, then shoes. “Carol’s put plenty of meals in the fridge.”

“Because I wanted to!” You said, your knife coming down on the onion under your hand too hard.

The knife hitting the cutting board caught his attention. He looked at what you were doing. “I don’t like onions.”

You threw down the knife more carelessly than you should have. It slid across the cutting board before coming to a stop at the edge of the counter. “Then why were they in the pantry?!”

“How should I know?!” he shouted back, matching your tone. But then he looked at you and stopped. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

You froze. Shit. You hadn’t even thought to check what you looked like. You swiped at your face and turned away. “It’s the onions. Obviously.”

“Your face– that looks like more than onions.” He now stood at the edge of the kitchen, only the island between you.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, then forced yourself to take a breath. “My mom called,” you conceded. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” was all he said for a moment and then, “You and your parents are close then?”

You couldn’t explain why the question irritated you so much. Maybe it was the assumption of homesickness. Or referring to Joseph as your parent. Or just him being here earlier than he was supposed to be, asking you anything. You couldn’t keep the shortness out of your voice when you responded, “My mom. Sometimes.” 

You looked around at your progress, the mess you’d made, the onions he didn’t want. So much for keeping him happy. What a stupid idea. You felt done. Over everything. You began cleaning up all the food, scooping it into the garbage.

“What are you doing?”

“I changed my mind! You don’t want any of this anyway. Have one of Carol’s fucking dinners.”

“The fuck is going on with you?!” he shouted as he watched you clean up the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” you repeated, throwing the cutting board into the sink. “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” You stomped over to the staircase.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he called after you.

“No! I’m fine!” You shouted as you took the first few stairs.

“Yeah, you sure seem fucking fine,” he grumbled as he headed to the fridge. 

You stopped and glared at him. “Wake me if I’m asleep when you come up. I’m ovulating, so. Tonight’s important.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, flatly. “I got your text.” That was news to you. He'd never responded to it. As you turned to continue up the stairs, you heard him add under his breath, “Although I’m not sure why you feel like you need to be awake for it.”

You stopped and turned around, coming back down a step. “What was that?!”

He turned to you, one of Carol’s glass containers in his hand, and sighed. “Nothing. I’ve had a long day.” You just stared at each other and then he added, “Aren’t you tired of it being such a chore?”

Something crumpled in you at that, but you didn’t want to stop and look at what it was. “Well,” you said. “The sooner I’m pregnant, the sooner it won’t be.” Then you turned and stomped the rest of the way upstairs. 

When he woke you later that night, he was already ready to go. You didn’t even take off your pajamas, just slid your shorts down to your calves. He was right. It was a chore.

It was a few days later when he texted you in the middle of the day. You were hiding in the bedroom while Carol cleaned downstairs. She was still mad that you’d wasted the spaghetti ingredients. You were reading in bed with Lola when your phone buzzed beside you.

Big family thing at Harlan’s on Saturday. We’ll be expected.

For some reason, it was the ‘we’ that caught you. It was the first time you’d realized you were a package deal now. If Ransom was invited somewhere, you would accompany him. And vice versa if you were ever invited anywhere. You couldn’t imagine it, with how small your world had gotten. 

The rest of his message caught up with you. His family. Linda had reached out multiple times since her awful visit. Every time you spoke to her, you got so small. You worried that prolonged exposure to her might cause you to completely disappear.

Aside from his parents, you’d barely interacted with the rest of his family at the wedding. It would be fine. You would be fine. You’d have to be. They were your family now too. You’d be seeing so much of them. For the rest of your life. You ignored how much your chest tightened at that thought.

Saturday came too soon.

Ransom paced around the bedroom while you both got ready. You’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t dressed. He just kept walking in and out of his closet. And looking at you. You didn’t know if you were doing something wrong. He didn’t say anything, he just couldn’t keep still. The one time you’d asked if he was alright, he’d barked back at you that he was fine, so you hadn’t asked again. 

Watching him pace around was making you even more anxious than you already were. So you focused all you could on getting yourself ready. You’d asked Ransom earlier if his family dressed for dinner and he’d just grunted in response. But it felt like a no, so you wore one of your favorite day dresses. It was your favorite color. You hoped it would give you confidence. You did your hair. You put diamond studs in your ears, with a matching tennis bracelet on your wrist. Reasonable heels on your feet. A spritz of perfume on your pulse points. It was the best you could do without more information.

You stood in the middle of the bedroom once you were done. Ransom was still undressed, still moving. “Uh,” you ventured, hesitantly, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Will we have enough time to get there?”

“Who gives a shit?” he growled, thundering back into his closet. A few moments later he came back out, wearing dress slacks and a cream cable-knit sweater. There were holes in it. You could see them clearly from the other side of the room. 

“Ransom,” you said softly, oddly feeling like you were speaking to a spooked animal, “don’t you think that sweater’s a little worn?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasped. “Let’s go.” Then he was out of the room and halfway down the stairs, with you scrambling to keep up behind him. 

The drive to Harlan’s country estate was mostly silent. You’d tried to turn on the radio at one point, but Ransom just turned it right back off. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his hands were bright red. You wondered if he was hurting himself. You didn’t know why he was so stressed. You were the one about to walk into the lion’s den, the one who had no idea what was waiting for you. It was his family. He’d be fine. You had no idea if you would be. You rested your hands in your lap, clutching them, and settled into the silence.

You knew that Harlan lived quite a ways out of town, but you still got to his home much too quickly. The large mansion loomed over you as Ransom parked his car amongst the others in the drive. He turned off the ignition and then just sat there, staring ahead. Just as you were about to call his name, he slapped the steering wheel harshly with one hand then growled “Let’s go!” to you and got out of the car. Once again, you scrambled after him, but this time, he slowed, slightly, to let you catch up. Once you had, he put a firm hand on the small of your back and ushered you up the path and into the house. You didn’t have time to react to that or try to figure out what on earth he was doing before you were greeted by a woman Ransom snidely called Franny. She responded with a very curt “Hugh” of her own then introduced herself to you as the housekeeper. She took your coats, and then Ransom’s hand was back on you, guiding you into a sitting room.

The entire family was already there, most with drinks in hand, and they all turned to watch you enter. You felt pinned by their gazes. “Well!” Ransom’s uncle Walt called out. “Look who finally decided to show. And just in time for the food, of course!” 

Ransom stiffened slightly beside you then smirked. “Well, thank god we’re in time for your fifth drink, Walt. Who’d want to miss that?”

Walt scowled as he got up from his seat, then lumbered across the room, knocking his shoulder into Ransom’s as he passed and jostling you in the process. You started to sway a little, and Ransom’s hand immediately came to your hip to try to steady you. Your gaze flitted down to it, but just as quickly it was gone.

Everyone else began to get up and make their way out of the room. Meg, at least, gave you a small smile and wave, but otherwise, you were mostly ignored. That was, at least, until there were only three people left, Ransom’s parents and Harlan. 

Harlan immediately hugged you. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. You look so lovely.” He took a step back to look at you both. “I trust you’re taking good care of each other. This is one of the most important times in your marriage. I hope you’re cherishing it.” 

“Sure Grandad,” Ransom snarked, “we’re loving being married to a complete stranger.”

“Ah, now, you’ll only remain strangers if you let that happen.”

You saw Ransom about to open his mouth to say something else, so you jumped in with a quiet, “Thank you, Harlan, we really appreciate that.”

Harlan smiled at you, big and genuine, and then clapped Ransom on the shoulder. “See, my boy,” he said. “I knew she was exactly what you needed!” 

Ransom’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond either. Harlan’s kindness had a way of making you feel invisible. 

Linda stepped up to you all then. “Darling,” she said, her tone dripping friendliness in a way that made you brace for impact. “I see not even your positive influence can make my son be on time. How disappointing.” She added a little chuckle onto the end, but you took it as the reprimand it was meant to be. You pasted on your most benign smile, but as always, she made you feel about a foot tall. You had no idea how anyone thought you were supposed to make this man do anything. Like he cared about what you thought or wanted. Like you had any power at all. 

“Is that why you married me off, mother?” Ransom asked, matching her friendly tone, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were hard. “So there’d be someone to handle me?”

“Well,” she said, a placid smile on her face to match your own, “someone has to. Lord knows you haven’t listened to me in years.”

“And yet,” Ransom said, his tone dropping all friendliness, “you still got me here, didn’t you?” 

The look on his face startled you. You’d never seen him this angry. Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. At your touch, his eyes snapped to yours. You weren’t sure exactly what he found there, you felt lost enough that you couldn’t imagine your expression was much help, but after staring at you for what felt like an age, he gave you the smallest nod and relaxed his posture. 

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” Harlan called from the doorway.

Linda straightened, finally ending the standoff with her son. “Yes, of course,” she said. Then she looked at you, really looked, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking in all of you and everything you were wearing. She quirked her eyebrow at you and let out a distinctly judgemental little hum. Then that friendly smile was back and she turned away from you. “Oh, Dad, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said as they both left the room.

You stared after her. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong. You’d looked at everyone when you’d arrived and confirmed that you weren’t under or overdressed. She herself was wearing a simple but smart pantsuit. Your clothes were nice, clean, and pressed. You were put together. What could her problem possibly be? You tried to breathe but you could still feel her looking at you and your chest was so tight.

You were brought back to the present by Richard wrapping you in a hug. His lips brushed your cheek as he said, “So nice to see you again, honey.” Then one of his hands on your back traveled lower until it grazed the top of your ass. You couldn’t help the way you jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Ransom shouted next to you. “I’m standing right here!”

Richard pulled away and you took a deep breath at being free of him. What the hell had just happened?

“What?” Richard rounded on his son. “I can’t greet my daughter-in-law? You’re so sensitive, Ransom. A little attention is flattering, isn’t it, honey?” 

They were both staring at you. You knew you needed to say something but all you could do in your shock was gape at them. 

Ransom wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you close to him. “You’re a fucking creep,” he growled.

Richard just scowled and made his way to the hall. “Disrepectful little shit,” he muttered as he left the room.

It wasn’t until his father was completely gone that Ransom dropped his arm from around you. He looked you right in the eye, his face so serious, as he asked, “Are you ok?” And there was something in his tone, fear maybe, that startled you just as much as Richard’s hand.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, your voice shaking only the slightest bit. When he still didn’t release you from his gaze, you brushed your fingers over his arm. “I’m alright.”

Finally, he nodded but didn’t really relax. “He’s–” he began, but cut himself off. “Just, watch out for him.”

“Ok,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reassuring. Ransom still just stood there. “Are– are you alright?” 

That seemed to bring him out of wherever he’d been. “What?” he asked, somewhat sharply. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, turning to the doorway. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Everyone else was already seated at the large dining room table when you came in. Ransom guided you over to the two empty chairs in the middle of one side and pulled yours out for you before seating himself. The catering staff moved around the table setting down plates and pouring wine for everyone. But when the server got to you, they moved past you without pouring anything. In case you were pregnant. Of course. That was fine. You just hoped no one else noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Ransom said from beside you and your stomach dropped. “Is there a reason my wife isn’t being served wine tonight?” 

“Ransom,” you whispered, still hoping everyone would just ignore it, but it was too late.

From the other side of the table, Walt piped up liked he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. “Maybe the staff got confused and didn’t realize she’s old enough to drink.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned, proud of himself, as it took every muscle in your body not to shrink down in your seat. 

“Great catch, Walt! You’re right. She is still much younger than me. Like I said before, and I’m sure I’ll have to say again, neither of us chose this. I would’ve thought that’d be a concept you’re familiar with, seeing as how you practically begged Harlan not to make you marry Donna.”

“Ransom!” you admonished quietly. Your eyes cut to the willowy blonde sitting next to Walt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You had no doubt that he deserved this, but you had no idea if she did. 

Ransom’s eyes cut to you. “You’re right,” he said, before looking back at his aunt and uncle. “I should be nicer to Donna. I’m sure being married to Walt is punishment enough.”

“You little shit!” Walt responded. “I’ll have you know my wife is very happy. Which I’m sure is more than you can say for yours! What’s it been, a month? Two? And she already looks completely miserable.” 

You felt all eyes turn to you again and you weren’t sure you’d ever felt more self-conscious in your life. Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t say anything, so you picked up your fork and took a bite of the fish you’d just been served. It didn’t taste like anything.

From your left, Joanie spoke up. “Hey, those first few months of marriage are hard. But so rewarding. I know when Neal and I were first married–”

“Yes, Joanie,” Linda cut in, dryly. “My brother was a saint and we all miss him very much.” She turned back to her son. “There’s no need to get upset, Ransom. We just didn’t want to accidentally serve a pregnant woman alcohol. Better safe than sorry.” She picked up her own fork to begin eating. “Speaking of, if the two of you have an announcement to make, now’d be the perfect time.”

You couldn’t stop your grimace. Ransom stiffened next to you, then answered, “No. No announcement.”

“It’ll come,” Harlan finally joined in from his place at the head of the table. “There’s still plenty of time.”

From the other end of the table, a teenage boy you’d never even met before said, “Maybe not. Maybe she’s barren.” And you felt all the wind go out of you.

“Oh fuck off, you little incel shit!” Ransom shouted.

“She isn’t barren, Jacob,” Linda said, calmly. “We have all her medical records to confirm she’s perfectly fertile.”

You could’ve sworn you blacked out at the moment. You’d known, on some level, that if there was a clause in the contract, it’d come with some sort of confirmation that, at least on your side, it was even possible. But to know that they had your medical records and now were discussing them like you weren’t even here, like you just didn’t matter… You hoped the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You felt a gentle hand land on your knee but it didn’t really register. Nothing did. You didn’t know where the conversation went from there. You couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears. It was all you could do to keep breathing. But you knew they all kept sniping at each other. And you felt the anger radiating off of Ransom the entire time. 

The clinking of plates and scraping of chairs finally got you out of your stupor as the family got out of their chairs and staff started clearing the dishes. You looked over at Ransom, for help or support maybe, you didn’t really know. But he also looked like he’d gone somewhere else. He could barely meet your gaze.

You were still numb as people made their way back to the original sitting room. You just needed to make it through the rest of the evening. You could do that. Just as you had gotten to the other room, Harlan stopped Ransom with a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like a word in private with you, my boy.”

Ransom looked at you for a moment, then sighed and said softly, “I’ll be right back,” before following his grandfather deeper into the house.

And then you were alone. You were at a loss as to what to do with yourself, so you went back into the sitting room and settled on a vacant couch. Not everyone had migrated there.  There were only a few people in the room now. Jacob sat in the corner, hunched over his phone, but every once in a while he would look up, catch your eye, and smirk at you. It had you sliding further back in your seat. His mother was no help. Donna was slumped over in an armchair, still cradling half a glass of wine. Meg had already shrugged on her coat, giving a hurried wave as she moved through the room. And Richard–

Richard sat down next to you. You slid down the couch as subtly as you could. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Alarm bells went off through your whole body. You saw Ransom’s face again, from earlier. How angry, yes, but more than that ashamed and unsurprised. How he’d looked at you. How he’d asked if you were ok. How it’d felt urgent. “It was a busy day,” you gritted out, trying to think of any way to get yourself out of this room.

“Ransom is a very lucky man,” he said, inching closer, his arm draped over the back of the couch, “to have such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “That’s very sweet.” You looked around helplessly. As he opened his mouth to say something else, you stood up. “I’m going to go get myself some water. Do you need anything?” you asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No? Ok, I’ll be right back.” And then you fled.

You hurried down the hall toward the kitchen but slowed when you heard voices. You picked out Joanie first, then Linda. You slowed to a stop right outside the kitchen door, trying to weigh just how much you wanted that water. Was it worth facing them? Were they any better than Richard?

“Okay,” Joanie said, “but what do you really think about her?” Your stomach dropped. You tried to reassure yourself that they could be talking about anything, anyone. You pressed closer to the door as quietly as you could.

“I think,” Linda said, then paused while you heard the clink of glassware, “that she will serve her purpose just fine.”

Joanie laughed. “I just have a hard time picturing Ransom with such a mouse.” You closed your eyes. You should go right now. Nothing they had to say would be of any help to you. But, despite your best interests, you were rooted to the spot.

“She definitely wasn’t chosen for her personality, but Ransom understands how good this will be for the whole family. How important it is”

“Oh, of course,” Joanie simpered, and you just hated both of these women so much at that moment, maybe more than you’d ever hated anyone. “I just feel so bad for him. He must be so bored.”

“Listen, I told him that he just needs to get her pregnant, and then he can do whatever he needs to do. Once he has an heir. As long as he’s discreet, of course.”  

Joanie cackled. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re so bad!”

“He might already be behind on that one, anyway,” Linda said, and you could practically hear her smirk. But you didn’t know what she could possibly be talking about. She didn’t know you and there was no one– unless. Oh god.

“Well.” Linda continued. “You know, she and her step-brother are very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Joanie asked, fucking eagerly.

“Mhmm,” Linda hummed. “Did you not see them at the wedding? They were practically hanging all over each other. He had to be kicked out of her dressing room.”

“No! Does Ransom know?”

“Well, I haven’t told him yet. You know how he gets. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You know what they call that on the internet, don’t you?”

Linda sighed. “You know that I don’t, Joanie.”

“Stepcest!” Joanie said gleefully.

And that was it. That was all you could do. This fucking family. How– Why? You’d never done anything. You hadn’t even chosen to be here! And they still took so much joy in cutting you down. And if Linda managed to get to Ransom and tell him… Who knows what he’d do?

You moved as quietly as you could back down the hall, swiping at the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, hoping not to call any attention to yourself, when shouts suddenly erupted from the other side of the house. As soon as you recognized one of the raised voices as Ransom’s, you began to hurry in that direction. 

You hadn’t made it very far before he came barreling out in your direction. “Get your coat,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue, more than ready to get out of there yourself. You followed him to the closet, and then once you both had your coats, out the door. The crisp night air was bracing after feeling suffocated in that house for hours. Neither of you said anything as you got into Ransom’s car.

It wasn’t until you were fully off Harlan’s property that you felt brave enough to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Sure,” he said.

“What– What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Just his same old bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I–” you had no idea what to say. “Is it always like that?” You felt foolish as soon as you asked. Of course, it was. You could tell.

“Oh, no,” he said, and his tone was so cold, so detached, that you couldn’t help but stare. This felt like a brand new Ransom. “Sometimes it’s really bad.��

You didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea what to do with this sudden urge to comfort him, this man who had so much power over you, this man you couldn’t even say you liked most days. Especially after what you’d just been through. So you kept your hands in your lap and stared out the window.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprised you by being the one to break it. “So. I bet your family looks like the fucking Waltons compared to that.”

You thought of dinner with your own family. Joseph crowing loudly about his successes. Your mother cowering the moment any small thing went wrong. Steve getting into screaming matches with his father. You feeling invisible, on a good day. “No,” you said, hollowly. “Not really.” He turned his head sharply to look at you and you held his gaze for just a moment before he had to look back at the road. There was one large difference though. You’d always had Steve. As far as you could tell, Ransom didn’t have anyone.

That thought led you back to what you’d heard right before you’d left and your anxiety returned. “Steve and I–” you blurted out. “He’s my brother.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I am aware of that.”

You shook your head. “No, I just– I know we aren’t related biologically, but– Nothing’s ever happened between us. Not ever. He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck?!” he called out as he made a left turn more sharply than necessary. “Why would you–” he cut himself off. “Did someone say something to you?”

You ignored his question. “I just–” you said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the drive.

When you got back to his house, Ransom went straight upstairs while you let Lola out one last time before bed. When you joined him in the bedroom once that was done, he was already in bed. “Listen,” he said softly, “I know you’re probably even more anxious about this whole thing after– I just, I’m really fucking tired. Is it ok if we don’t– If we just go to bed?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. You were just as tired and didn’t think you could deal with all that after everything else that had happened that day. You quickly went through your nighttime routine in the bathroom. When you came back out once you’d finished, you found Ransom still awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Lola was curled up at his side and he absently scratched her belly. You climbed into bed and turned the lamp off, turning onto your side. You felt him move behind you, scooting closer, not enough that you were touching at all, but you could feel his body heat. It was oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come fast, ready for this day to be over.

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @citronbun @rebeccapineapple @alexakeyloveloki @dancer3205 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @thecrandle @lokislady82 @thedazzlingburglar @23skidoosteven @she-wolf09231982 @arbesa-mind @samfreakingwinchester @blackhawkfanatic @emerald-writes @identity2212 @have-another-doughnut @patzammit @blackhawkfanatic @mooievis @dontbescaredtosingalong @curiousandjoyous @identity2212 @helensdrafts @cricket66 @vyctorya @disgruntled-cat @heyyitsreign @reader2003 @zaqnette

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out #fanfiction #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #reader insert #arranged marriage au #heavy angst #more than this #kris wrote something

[srbachchan]

DAY 5943

Jalsa, Mumbai May 26, 2024 Sun 11:18 PM

🪔 ,

May 27 .. birthday greetings to Ef Bhanu Kumar Bilala .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

एक और संडे निकल गया , आशाएँ जो मन को डराती थीं दूर हो गयीं , प्यार आदर समर्पण मेरा सदा आप सब के प्रति । इससे बड़ी उपलब्धि मेरे लिये नहीं ।

🙏

... and here on this lit desk of mine , with thoughts that contemplate what needs to be expressed here and in what dimension and contextual content .. I sit .. at times a gaze on the clock, at times on the reflection on the day passed .. and at times just listening to a creative .. and the immediate visualisation of a cinematic representation, if at all it were to see the light of day ..

Happens so often .. an immediate putting of yourself in a situation which you have devised and associated with the sounds of the tone trunk and tenor of the music ..

There is dislike towards the idea of putting the self in the creativity of an event, a product, a campaign .. as has been expressed often enough here and several other states - the barricaded wall towards the I ME MINE syndrome ..

Many that make such consider it a moment of great sale value ..

Could be for them .. do it if you want to ..

But doing it with me , for me , from me ,does not .. repeat, DOES NOT have compliance ..

Never catered to it and never subscribed to it either .. you or any other brings joy to you .. do it without my participation .. that is a independent right .. you have an opinion, a criticism, laudatory or otherwise , a documented record not contributed by me - fine ..

But my participation in the exercise is uncomfortable for me ..

"Abhorrence towards self-aggrandizement stems from the distaste for excessive self-promotion and narcissism. Society values humility and teamwork, viewing self-aggrandizing behavior as a sign of insecurity and a lack of genuine accomplishment. This disdain is rooted in the belief that true success and worth are recognized through actions and contributions rather than boastful proclamations. Individuals who excessively promote themselves often alienate others, undermining trust and collaboration. The collective preference for modesty and authenticity over self-serving arrogance fosters a more cohesive and respectful community, where achievements are celebrated for their intrinsic value rather than the loudness of their declaration."

... and I glance through the pages of one that has corresponded with Babuji and has , with the collection of his letters, brought out a book ..

one such letter, Babuji's content text says :

.. he that writes a complicated mind set, does not give a suitable proof of the purity of the writing .. 'why' did Tulsidas write the Ramayan, 'how' did he write it , could be the subject of dissertation among some of the learned intellectual beings .. most of the people just know that Tulsidas wrote the Ramayan .. when there is no deeper thought on 'what' .. then to beat the drum on the 'why' and the 'how' does not clarify or contribute to any meaning ..

It is a response to a letter by someone that has been brought to his notice, and asked him why he does not refute these insincere and absolutely wrong impressions that people have expressed towards his works - in particular 'Madhushala', - which the letter writer complains, is a propagation and a promotion for alcoholism !

मेरे पास सीमित-शक्ति है । मूर्खताओं को उत्तर दूँ या किसी रचनात्मक कार्य में लगाऊँ

I have limited time and strengths .. do I spend my time replying and responding to foolish idiots, or putting my efforts in use towards more creative cognitive work ..

And here endeth the lesson for the day ..

The IPL Final is over and KKR have WON a most convincing victory .. SRH were simply outplayed .. disappointing in many ways becuse SRH is a good team and one has seen their very grand performances over the days when they played other matches ..

But what was most touching to observe was the pretty young lady , .. the owner of SRH, in the Stadium, get emotional after the loss and break into tears, turning her face away from the cameras, so as not to display her emotion .. I felt bad for her !!

Never mind .. tomorrow is another day .. my dear !!

Indeed .. to quote that famous line from the film 'Gone with the Wind' when the character of Rhett Butler, played by the great Clark Gable turns away from his lady love Scarlett O' Hara, played by the inimitable Vivien Leigh, in the climax and leaves saying :

" Frankly .. I couldn't give a damn ..!!

and she responds as he walks away :

'.. i'll get him back .. after all tomorrow is another day .. '

YES yes , yes ..

to all that fail .. do not give up .. for ..

'tomorrow is another day ...

My love .. ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

[caffedrine]

Matias Asbrink – The Beast’s Love is Unstoppable – Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

As the sky begins to turn from a deep blue to a jet black, the bustle of the city slows down. This is the time that Emma aims for when she goes out with Matias.

Just outside the shop, Matias asks if Emma found what she was looking for, and Emma assures him she has, and apologizes for making him wait. Matias assures Emma it was no trouble at all, he was able to spend the time training his imagination.

For example, when Emma is in a bookstore, what if the book she wants is just out of reach? Matias could then swoop in like a gallant hero and reach the book with his superior height, with Emma adorably gazing up at him in gratitude. Or he could lift her up, holding her close enough to feel the heat of her body through their clothes . . .

Well, Matias has been waiting for the opportunity to present itself so he could enact any of those scenarios. Emma nods in understanding and asks Matias which one he prefers.

Matias pauses, deeply considering his answer. Eventually, he decides both are pretty good and worth trying at least once. Does he have her permission?

Emma agrees, as long as he doesn’t attract too much attention. Matias thanks her and asks her to remember this promise. When Emma nods, Matias smiles, some of his sex appeal leaking out. Even though it was just the smallest sliver of sexiness, the destructive power of his smile was devastating.

They continue to walk through the town, hand in hand, past stores that have closed signs on their doorways. There are only a few other people in the twilight streets. Realizing that she has successfully been able to monopolize Matias and not have to deal with suggestive heated glances, Emma finally begins to relax.

(Alternative image of Emma, during Matias' route)

And now she’s feeling cold.

In Achroite, it is always snowing regardless of the season, and when the wind blows at night, the cold seems to bite through her clothes. Matias notices her shiver and asks if she’s cold. Emma admits that she is, and asks after Matias, who assures her that he is quite strong against the cold. Emma admires his physique – even through his clothes she can see his muscles. He probably isn’t lying.

Suddenly Matias stops walking, and he looks away from her, obviously thinking about something. But in the next moment, Matias is drawing her against him, holding her in his arms. She shudders as she feels his hot breath against her ear.

Matias asks if he holds her like this, does Emma feel a little bit warmer? Emma does.

Oh, between Matias’ sex appeal and the warmth of his body, Emma’s heart is racing as if she was at a festival.

Oh, but they’re out in the open! They should leave before someone spies them. But, she’s really enjoying being held like this.

Matias murmurs that Emma is so soft.

Emma looks at Matias’ face at those words and looking distraught, Matias releases her. Emma is left unhugged and lonely.

Matias immediately apologizes, he didn’t mean his words in a weird way or anything.

(No, he did)

Emma assures him she has no doubt of his pure feelings, and Matias is relieved to hear she thinks so. If Emma is still cold, she can use his body as long as she wants until she is satisfied.

Emma has to stop herself from giving in to the temptation, especially with Matias’ arms already spread out and waiting for her. Instead, Emma thanks him and assures him that she’s warm enough now to continue.

Matias accepts Emma’s answer and asks if they can continue their date. Next, he wants to show her his favorite coffee shop as well. Emma likes this idea as she is beginning to get a taste for coffee and wonders what flavor she will have this time. Hand in hand, they continued down the street.

. . . .

Okay, now Emma can’t pretend she hasn’t noticed anything. Emma stops and asks Matias to come with her as she pulls him down a back alley. Turning back to him, she asks if he’s hiding anything from her.

Oh . . .

She noticed.

Matias apologizes, he didn’t mean to show it on his face, but he supposes that he was just too relaxed.

Emma thinks that nothing has shown on his face. What she noticed was the sex appeal that flowed from him increasing every step they took.  Even now, when he shyly covers his mouth and clears his throat, Emma is almost knocked over by how sexy he is. How can she live this kind of life?

Matias begins; he doesn��t want to make a false statement, but at the same time he doesn’t want to embarrass her. Emma assures him that she’ll be fine, so please just say it.

Okay. To begin with, Emma is right, Matias was hiding something from her. His gloved hand gently tilts up Emma’s chin, forcing her to look into snow-colored eyes sweet enough to warm up her entire body.

After holding her to use his body heat to warm Emma up, Matias is distracted by how soft and warm she is. She even smells so good! And now all he wants to do is touch her more. Is that okay?

(She caught him with R-rated fantasies)

Well, Emma has no reason to refuse him.

Emma practically leaps into Matias’ arms, kissing him. She meant for it to be a light kiss, but suddenly Matias’ hand is behind her head, and they kiss again. Apologizing, Matias asks for just a few more kisses. As they continue, Emma thinks that Matias’ ‘few more’ won't stop for a while. The feel of their tongues intertwining makes her stomach tingle.

Eventually, their lips part, and the white mist of their combined breath escapes, as if conveying the heat between them.

Matias murmurs that even though they agreed to limit PDA outside, he might have overdone it. Emma grumbles that she won't forgive him, and Matias asks if this is truly that serious of a crime.

It is.

As punishment, Emma wants Matias to stay like this with her for a little longer, at least until her heart calms down. To herself, Emma thinks that she never wants this moment to end.

Matias’ eyebrows wrinkle slightly, and he pulls her against his chest, hugging her close. If she listens, Emma thinks she can hear his heart beating quickly even through all of his layers.

Yep, this is the best time to go out. Matias can be bolder outside without worrying about what other people think.

Emma wraps her arms around Matias, surrendering to the love that is welling up inside her.

Nights in the country of snow are supposed to be cold, but the heat inside her is almost enough to burn Emma to cinders.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #matias asbrink

[ih21506]

| Hidden Feelings Pt. 3 |

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader Bobby Singer X Daughter!Reader Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Genre: General

Warning(s): Age gap (Dean: 26 Reader: 21), Use of Y/n

Summary: You’re Bobby Singer’s daughter, and after John died Sam and Dean come to stay with you.

——————————————————

The next morning you had woken up earlier than usual to finish your collage work. When you finally finished it, you set it to print then you went up to your room to get dressed for the day.

The weather had started to get warmer recently so today you decided to wear a white, high waisted skirt skirt that stopped around your mid thigh. You then threw on a brown tank top and tucked the bottom of it into the waist band of the skirt.

Arriving back downstairs, you saw all three men were now awake. Your father sat behind his desk doing god knows what, Sam was sat reading a book, and Dean was drinking his coffee.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Sam said when he looked up from his book, Dean then looked over at you but you couldn’t help noticing how he quickly looked away.

“Morning,” You said back and walked over to the printer, seeing your work wasn’t there, “Has anyone seen my collage work? When I was upstairs it was printing,”

You father held up the papers, and you walked over to grab them, but just as you were about to grab them he moved them away.

“Are you goin’ into collage today?” He asked you, and your brows scrunched together in confusion. Your father knew you was going into collage today, so why is he asking?

“Yes?” You said back.

“Go put a jacket on,”

“Dad it’s too-”

“Jacket or Shotgun, your choice,”

You let out a frustrated sigh and Sam laughed.

“If this was Sam or Dean-” You tried to argue but was quickly shut down by Bobby’s repeating himself.

“Jacket or shotgun.”

Now anybody in their right mind wouldn’t take the shotgun seriously, and the first time you didn’t either, until your father acted on it. That day all he did was follow you around campus threatening any boy who dared to look at you with his shotgun, that was either in his truck or on him, it depended on where you was.

Even at twenty-one years old, you wasn’t aloud any boy near the house until you’re sure he’ll get the Bobby Singer approval, and so far, there have been none.

You went back up to your room and grabbed one of your thin zip up hoodies, that won’t make you too warm.

“Happy?” You asked while walking back into the room.

“It’ll do,” Your father said with a nod, you then took your collage work and rushed out of the house.

—

After a morning full of classes you went to a small cafe, that’s near campus, for lunch before you went home.

“That boy is going to over work himself,” Your father said as you walked into the kitchen / office.

“Who’s going ti overwork himself?” You asked as you slipped your hoodie off and placed it over one of the dining table chairs, before going to sit down next to Sam on the sofa.

“Dean,” Sam said before he continued saying to Bobby, “I’ve tried talking to him, but he isn’t having any of it,”

“We all know Dean doesn’t like talking about his feelings,” You said the obvious, reminding the two of how he was raised by John, then you quickly added, “He just needs time,”.

—

Like every other night, after you finished making dinner and serving it for your father and Sam, you walked out to the impala.

“Are you joining us tonight?” You asked.

“No,” Is all Dean said, and you was slightly taken aback by the sudden shortness coming from Dean.

“Are you… okay?” Dean glanced at you for a moment before a groan slipped past his lips and he looked away.

“Just go back inside,” Dean told you, his eyes staying glued on his car.

You looked back for a moment, thinking about it, but you decided against it, “No, not until you tell me what’s going on with you,”

“Y/n,”

“Dean,”

You walked closer and leaned forward against the car, waiting for Dean to say anything.

He looked over at you a second time, but this time he didn’t look away and his expression showed he looked… Annoyed? Frustrated?

Dean walked over to you and grabbed your arm, not tight but enough to pull you up so you was standing up straight.

“Go. Inside,” With that, you nodded your head and Dean let go of you so you could walk away back into the house.

——————————————————

A/N: I’m going to start a tag list for this series, so if you would like to be added to it, just say in the comments x

#dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #fluff #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #bobby singer

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 10)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Joke, Mentions of Drugs and Being High

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Rafe has to make his grand gesture to get his buttercup.

Masterlist

Stella sits on Rafe’s lap in the booth, colouring in the book he brought for her. “Daddy, how come you and Mommy haven’t gone on a date yet?” she interrogates. She stopped her artistic flow to look up at her dad. He pauses for a moment not sure what to say to her. “Your mommy doesn’t think we should be together, little witch. Believe me, if your mommy wanted to be with me, I would be with her in a heartbeat.” Her head refutes his statement, “That’s not true. Mommy said she was going to ask you out last week. She likes you, Daddy.” This brings a picture into focus for him. When Raquelle came over last week, he remembers seeing a blur of teal come out of the elevator for a second and then go directly back inside. The colour is one he is familiar with as it is a part of Luna’s Diner’s colour scheme. He thought it belonged to her diner’s bomber jacket, but he wasn’t too sure. Now, this brings it all together for him. It was her and she saw him with Raquelle. 

“Stella, I think Mommy saw Ms. Raquelle returning my watch to me and thought I might have been taking her out on a date,” he concludes to his daughter. A frown falls on her lips, “Oh, no. We have to show Mommy that you love her.” “We absolutely do. How can we do that though?” he agrees.

——

With Rafe not allowed to watch Stella by himself, he had to enlist the help of his sisters. Sarah took Y/N out for a spa day and Wheezie promised to babysit Stella so that Rafe and his daughter could get everything ready at the house. “Rafe, I think that’s too much sugar,” Wheezie notes as she watches him pour the sugar into the measuring cup over the bowl. The sugar creates a pile in the measuring cup, overflowing into the mixture below. Rafe looks a little defeated and groans at his mistake. The young girl places a hand on her father’s back, “It’s okay, Daddy. Mommy likes sweets.” Rafe’s concern softens at his daughter’s words and they continue to bake. He sprinkles some confectionery sugar onto the table, throwing a little at his baby girl, who lets out a sweet scream. 

She scoops a handful in her hand and throws it at her. He plays at being angry at her, watching her run away from him. Her giggles fill the air with joy and her father chases after her. He picks her up around the waist, flipping her over so she is upside down. “You think that was funny? Huh, little witch,” he joyfully scolds. Her body waves in his arms like an air dancer. Wheezie watches the moment with a fond smile, “Rafe, you guys have to get back to baking if you want to finish before Y/N comes back.” 

He listens to his sister, righting his daughter upright. He gives her cheek a kiss and places her on the counter beside the bowl they are using. He lets her take the pastry dough out of the bowl, helping her when she struggles with the parts sticking to the bottom. Wheezie brings over a stool for Stella to stand on so that her niece can help roll out the dough. The force of her tiny body isn’t enough to roll the dough into the shape it needs to be, but Rafe is there to help apply the pressure needed. Stella scoops some of the filling onto her spoon and attempts to eat it. His hand stops her movement, “Little witch, you can’t eat that. It has raw egg in it. You can get sick.” He puts the filling onto a cut of dough. Her tiny pout makes him feel bad, so he gets her some candy from the cupboard. Her frown turns into a smile, chewing on the chocolate Kiss. They work together to make the buttercups and put them in the tiny muffin moulds. “Good job, let's get these in the oven,” he announces, opening the hot kitchen appliance and putting the tray on the rack. 

The timer dings after thirty minutes and Rafe goes to take the lemon buttercups out of the oven while Wheezie and Stella continue to watch their movie. They wait for the pastries to cool before arranging them into the letters they need. The words start to form a sentence and now, all he needs is to wait for Y/N to come home. 

——

She finds the lights in her house dim and this causes a crease to form between her eyebrows. The house is unusually quiet for a house normally filled with her daughter’s words. “Stella. Rafe. Where are you guys?” she calls out to the seemingly uninhabited room. Her purse finds a place on the entryway side table and she enters the kitchen. Her hands search around for the light switch, eventually aiding her ability to see. Something on the kitchen counter catches her eye. She notices they are arranged in a special way and she approaches the surface to read what it says. I love you -R. A smile crosses her face and tears start to form in her eyes. Her hand covers her mouth, trying to hide her expression. She looks around in search of the man, who wrote her message. She finds him behind her, looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Stella clued me in on a little misunderstanding that may have happened, so I thought I’d show you how I truly feel,” he explains to her. He takes a step forward, grasping her hand into his. She follows his motion and looks up at him. 

“And what misunderstanding happened?” she asks. He moves a piece of hair behind her ear, “You saw Raquelle at my house and probably thought something was happening between us, but I promise, nothing is. She was just bringing me my watch back. She tried flirting with me, but stopped immediately when I told her how serious I am about you.” A smile starts to form on her face, warmth filling her stomach at the mention of how he feels about her. “And how serious are you about me?” 

“So so serious. I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and that’s true. I love you, Buttercup. So will you go on a date with me?” 

“I love you too, Button. Let’s go on a date.”

Their lips find their place on top of each other, working together to deepen their passion. She pulls away, gasping for air and places her forehead on his. “Where’s Stella and Wheezie?” she questions, eyes trying to find the mop of muddy blonde hair that matches her father’s. Rafe points to the door, “Wheezie took Stella back to her place. She wanted to give us some privacy. She knew our daughter’s tiny ears would be nosey.” “Ugh, our daughter is so nosey. Last week, she saw our neighbour got a package and wanted to open it to see what they got,” Y/N agrees with a small laugh. He could listen to her laughter all day, but hearing her call Stella their daughter for the rest of their lives will never be enough for him. Even if it would continue into the afterlife, he doesn’t think it is going to be enough. 

“She definitely gets it from her mama. You were nosey about my life all those years ago and look where we are now.”

“Excuse me. Last time I checked, you were the one who came to me. So if she got her noseiness from either of us, it’s you.” 

‘Okay, you might be right. How about we blame Benedict and call it a day?”

“I can work with that. He is worse than both of us combined.”

“Deal, so about that date.”

——

Nerves. Why is he feeling so nervous? He’s been on plenty of dates, he is so comfortable around Y/N and they’ve already had sex so it’s not like he won’t know how to pleasure her if they do end up going down that route. But for some reason, the only thing that can cause his palm to rival Niagra is going on a date with the woman he fell madly in love with. Per Stella’s advice, he is taking Y/N to paint their own pottery place. He waits for Y/N to come over, glancing at the clock every so often. He offered to pick her up, but since their daughter is being babysat at Y/N’s house, Y/N said they would feel less pressure if she met him at his house. The knock on the door has him stumbling over his own feet. He straightens out the plain black t-shirt he is wearing and tugs the cap of his dad hat down. 

With a whoosh, the door opens to reveal Y/N all ready for their date. She is wearing a pink short-sleeve ribbed shirt with a sweetheart neckline. Her black skirt shows off her perfect legs and he is mesmerized by the way it flows with her slightest movement. She is wearing a golden pendant necklace with Stella’s name engraved on it. Her hair falls in soft curls and her side bangs are pinned back. Her tan ballerina flats tie her outfit together. Rafe suddenly feels underdressed in his black shirt and tan khakis. His keys are clipped to his belt loop and he was going to tie the outfit together with his usual golden chain. He also makes a note to bring his dark blue Carhartt jacket in case Y/N gets cold. 

“You look beautiful. I think I got my outfit wrong, so I’m just gonna go changed real quick. Give me like two seconds,” he is about to go to his room when her hand catches his wrist. She shakes her head, “Don’t. I like it. It gives you such dad vibes. It suits you.” He smiles at her compliment, feeling that he is finally ready to make dad jokes and yawn as loud as a plane’s engine. “Then I’ll just stay right here,” he confirms. They stand, staring at each other for a second. He realizes they haven’t kissed yet, so he brings his lips closer to hers, giving her time to pull away. She stays there, letting him come to her before deepening the kiss. Her arms try to wrap around him, but the thing in her hand comes between their faces. They both separate to see a canvas-like fabric in front of their eyes. “Right, sorry. Stella wanted me to give you this. She wants you to wear it so you don’t stain your clothes,” she informs, handing him the kid-sized apron. He opens it to see Stella’s name scrawled at the top and the print of her tiny hands underneath. He knows it will be comedically small on him, but he is going to wear it anyway

He rolls it up and puts it in his back pocket, “I shall wear it with pride. Are you ready to go?” “I am, let’s hit the road,” she exclaims, taking his hand into hers. He really hopes she doesn’t feel the sweat lining his palm. He opens the door to the passenger side and helps her into his truck. 

——

“Seeing the Rafe Cameron so focused on his painting is funny to me,” she whispers, her face close to his. Her hot breath fans his face and he hopes the blush creeping on his cheeks can’t be seen. He takes a second to put his brush down, “Why? Is it because my big hands make the brushes look small?” “You wish. I wouldn’t inflate your ego that much. No, it’s because I’m pretty sure you are colour-blind and right now, you are so focused on the details of your ceramic,” she teases. He brings his face close to her ear, “If you don’t want to inflate my ego, then you might want to stop screaming so much whenever I make you cum. But I need this to be perfect, I am painting it for my little witch.” “Ugh, next time I’m just going to not make any noise if you are going to be like that. And she is going to love it, just so you know.” 

They get back to work on their own projects. Y/N can’t decide which colour to pick, so she holds up the ceramic, “What colour should I make the writing? I can make it blue to compliment the setting sun or maybe black to just stand out completely.” “I think you should do black. It will stand out more,” Rafe advises, unfurrowing his concentrated brows. She notices the smudge of paint along his jaw and giggles. Her hand reaches out to brush it off. His hand grabs hers before she can pull away, turning his lips toward her hand and kisses her on the palm. They both smile at each other and focus back on what they are doing. 

——

They didn’t talk much throughout the date, but that was okay. It was mostly filled with comfortable silence. They had so many opportunities to get to know each other before their first date, so it didn’t need to be the general course of conversation while they were working. Instead, they spoke softly about their week. About advice on how to improve their ceramic piece. About the most random things that come to mind. They considered going out for dinner once they left the ceramic place; however, the constant texts from Josh about Stella questioning how the date was going made them decide to order something at home with her. Even though her other uncle and her aunts offered to watch her, the youngest of the bunch was chosen because he was the one less likely to be a hyperactive puppy when they got back. The small family of three waves goodbye to Y/N’s youngest brother, closing the door once he is out of sight. 

“How was the date?” Stella inquires with an intrigued look on her face. Y/N smiles at Rafe, “It was amazing, Baby. Daddy and I had so much fun.” “Yay! Can I come on the next date?” Stella squeals while kicking her tiny legs. Rafe looks down at her in his arms, “I’m sorry, little witch, but I want your Mommy to myself for at least two more dates. Could you forgive me?” Her parents couldn’t think she could get more excited. “Yes, yes, yes! It means you really love each other. I can wait.” The adults both laugh, putting aside her cuteness to ask her what she wants for dinner. They ate dinner as a family, recounting almost every detail of the date to their daughter. After, they settled on the couch and snuggled together to watch a few episodes of Bluey per Stella’s request. As the night starts to creep on the clock, Rafe gets up to head back to his apartment. Stella is sleeping on Y/N’s chest, but Y/N still takes a second to stop him from going. “Do you want to sleep over?” she mumbles, combing her fingers through their daughter’s hair. His lips turn to a vertical point and leans down to kiss his girl on the lips, “I would love to. Let’s get this little witch to bed.” He takes his time with taking Stella into his arms, bringing her to her bedroom so they can get her changed into pyjamas. 

The family gets themselves ready for bed and intertwines their limbs together in a cuddle on Y/N’s bed. Stella lies in the middle of her two parents, enjoying the warmth they provide her. Her ears are finally no longer prying into her parents’ conversation, so they can talk about what they truly thought about the date. “You really did enjoy the date, right? You weren’t just saying that because Stella really wanted it to,” he verifies with worry dripping from his voice. She gives him a sleepy smile, “Yes, Rafe. I did love painting ceramics with you. I promise. Did you have a good time?” “Yeah. I never thought I could find such happiness in something so serene, but I did with you. I’m so thankful you showed me a calmer side to life because partying was really getting to my old creaky bones,” he jokes. They let out soft laughs. The laughter dies down and he can’t help but stare at this domestic moment. 

The light coming from the lamp, which they will leave on for the rest of the night for Stella, backlights Y/N’s hair with a warm glow. He can see the slight droop in her eyes and knows she is struggling to stay awake for him. “You aren’t that old. Just have one year on me. If you are old, then I am too and that is not allowed,” she reaffirms, her hand finding the skin of his arm to trace patterns. He leans over to give Y/N a kiss, “You aren’t old, Buttercup. We can stay young forever, together.” “Forever and Always?” she mimics the words her daughter often mutters to her father. His heart heats up at her words, “Forever and Always.”

——

The sun invades the room, yelling at Rafe to wake up. His arms reach out in the bed to pull his bed companions into his chest, but his hand meets the sheets. His eyes yawn open to reveal an empty bed and he can now hear the giggles of his girls coming from the kitchen. He notes the slight chill that fills the August air, going to the dresser to pull out some sweatpants to pull on. Stella and Y/N freeze when Rafe makes an appearance in the kitchen like they were caught in a crime. His eyes find a black blur at their feet and he now knows the reason for their giggles. “Salem, come here. You know Mommy and your sister aren’t supposed to be the ones feeding you. They always give you too much food,” Rafe scolds the kitten, picking him up to distance him from the food. The pet gives a small mewl, rubbing himself against Rafe’s warm and bare chest. Rafe gives the feline scratches on the head. Stella pouts up at her dad, trying to take Salem into her reach, “But Daddy, you were taking forever to wake up. Salem was going to starve to death.” “Sure, that’s the excuse you guys keep giving, but when Salem can’t walk by himself, don’t blame me,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. 

Y/N walks over to him, handing him his coffee in the mug she made for him on their first date. It has a painted silhouette of Stella on Rafe’s shoulders at the beach. They are both watching the sunset and on the other side, it reads #1 Dad. It’s his favourite mug. It has been for the past year now. “We have to be ready by twelve to help Sarah and John B set up for their gender reveal. It means we have to take a shower right after breakfast,” Y/N warns, staring Rafe dead in the eyes. He gives an offended look, “Hey! Why are you looking at me?” “Because out of Stella and me, you take the longest to shower so I don’t want you making us late. Your sister needs help and I want to relieve as much stress as I can for her,” she critiques, heading back to the food on the stove. He gives a salute, “Message heard. I shall be ready by twelve, Buttercup.” 

She gives a satisfied hum in approval and tells Stella to set the table with her father’s help. Breakfast goes rather quickly, with the five-year-old giving her parents an animated retelling of her dream. Once breakfast is cleaned up, the family breaks away to begin getting ready for the day. Rafe is returning from the laundry room with his button-up shirt in his hand and is passing by Stella’s room when she stops him. “Daddy, can you help me put on my necklace, please?” “Of course, I will, little witch,” he agrees, entering her room and going to the small ceramic jewellery box he painted for her. He helps her put it on before getting into the shower. At eleven-fifty, Stella, Y/N and Rafe are by the front door, getting their shoes on and bidding goodbye to the last member of the family who can’t come with them. Rafe helps Stella get into the car, helping her get buckled into her car seat. He gets into the driver's seat and reverses out of the driveway. His hand finds Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers and bringing them to the centre console. 

Through the back mirror, he watches their house fade into the distance. The house he has been living in with his two girls for eight months and with the young black cat for the past month. Moving in with Y/N and Stella has been an absolute dream. He never thought he would be a year sober with a five-year-old daughter, a two-month-old cat, and the most brilliant girlfriend ever, who is on her way to being the brightest star in Hollywood if he had anything to do with it. His life plan a year and a half ago was just to party and make his father proud, but now, he has a much better life than he ever had planned for himself. He’s been a year sober. Stella and Y/N helped him realize his father’s approval means nothing to him if it didn’t make him happy either and has finally let himself be free of that pressure. The past few months have been filled with laughter, fun and love, which has given his life true meaning. Now, as he heads to a party to determine if he is going to get a niece or nephew in the next few months, Rafe can’t help but be excited for the Forever and Always he will get with Y/N and Stella.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator @justdamnpeachy @theoraekenslover

#a new kind of nomal #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe #rafe fic #obx x reader #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction

[aerinaga]

ocean eyes pt. 1

paige bueckers x reader series

synopsis: your family tagging you along as chauffeurs with the divisions of the uconn basketball team won’t be that bad right? having to be stuck in disturbing (yet so tempting) tension with a blondie from the wbb team won’t make this 3-day trip go downhill…maybe?

warnings: none

your younger brother, nathan, is part of the uconn basketball team. he’s a sophomore at uconn, and he’s been doing great there. he tags you along during their games, even on their little parties, even with the uconn wbb team.

the women’s division in basketball is way more popular than what you thought. in fact, it’s way more popular than the mens team. you always laugh at the thought that the women’s team get way more girls than they do.

as the year is ending and summer is starting, all coaches in the basketball field have decided to go on a trip. this is gonna be the biggest trip ever, knowing that both men and womens division will be there.

your parents volunteered to chauffeur an extra vehicle. but being the independent you, you decided to take your own car too. you offered to be a chauffeur as well. you got caught up on your nerves since you would be meeting new people, but who knows? you might end up making good friends with the girls.

PRESENT TIME

it was 6am, everyone was gathered at uconn. cars were ready, luggages were everywhere, girls, and guys everywhere. your mind was still foggy, not being used to this early morning.

the coaches and parents were assigning the seating arrangements for the car rides. as you look at the list, paige bueckers is assigned to your car. her. you saw her often, at your brothers games. the both of you never really talked, only hi’s and heys at each other when your family greeted her.

there was always this tension between the both of you. the tension in where your lips might just crash at each other. besides the point, she is beautiful. you do have a thing for girls here and there, but she makes you so gay.

you can feel her piercing gaze at you. you can’t help but look back, her ocean eyes too beautiful to resist. you open your trunk for her to put your luggage in. kk, azzi, and ice were also joining in your car. you knew them well enough, excited for whats coming in the next days.

paige immediately took shotgun, connecting her phone to the aux because she claims that “she has the best music taste.” well what if she tasted good too?

it’s been 2 hours on the road, all 3 girls at the back were fast asleep. paige was awake, looking at the road ahead of her as the sun rises.

“do you wanna switch? i can drive too, we can pull up to the side.” paige talks to you quietly, not wanting to wake up the people at the back.

“no it’s okay, just keep the aux going. you do have good music taste like what people say.” you chuckle lightly, giving her a small smile as you look at her swiftly.

“i mean, it’s me. i have all kinds of music.” she shrugs her shoulders (🤷‍♀️).

you hum at her as an approval, focusing your attention on the road.

a few moments later, you hear her mumble something.

“what did you say? is there something wrong, p?” you don’t know how you got that nickname, instincts you guess.

“hmm nothing, you look pretty even if i can tell you’re tired. not used to waking up early huh?”

you blush at her comment, trying to keep in your smile.

after 4 hours on the road, the teams arrived at the resort. it was a beach resort, the sand was white, water was clear, the breeze just felt like summer. the coaches booked two villas, one for the men and the other for the women.

you don’t know how you ended up in a room with paige. well…at least the bed is a queen sized bed…? fuck.

you were in the room when paige suddenly walks in. you turn to look back at her, and you see her smirking.

“what? i didn’t choose this arrangement” you huff, feeling teased by paige. paige laughs, putting her luggage down to go closer to you.

she walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist.

“maybe you just can’t resist me, baby.” she whispers.

“or maybe, YOU can’t resist me, p.” you move your face closer to hers.

the space between the both of you is so little, lips so close to touching each other.

before you could do anything, kk barges in the room.

a/n: HALUUU 😙 send me in messages and tell me how you like it! send requests too.

#Spotify #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb

[otomehoneyybearr]

The Day I Made a Friend

Book of Memories Chapter 1

Keith & Kagari

Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | My First Dorayaki

In the radiant sunlight pouring down, Keith encounters a man in a town adorned with flowers

Keith: “Kagari?”

Kagari: “You’re in town too?”

Keith: “Yeah, I came to buy dorayaki since you’re coming to the castle.”

Keith: "The scheduled meeting won’t start for a while, yet you're already here in Jade."

Kagari: "Yep."

Keith: "...Another troublesome matter?"

Kagari: "Our plans tend to overlap pretty often."

Keith: "...Come to think of it, it WAS you who requested to have the meeting and practice today."

Keith: “Could it be that you originally needed to come to Jade for a troublesome matter,

Keith: “But arranged a meeting with me as camouflage to avoid another scolding...?”

Kagari: “As expected of a bookworm like you. Your imagination is impressive, Keith.”

Kagari: “But more importantly, I see the dorayaki shop.”

Keith: "Huh? Oh, you're right. Thank goodness they haven’t sold out yet."

The two men stop in front of a stall with a sign that says "DORAYAKI."

The sales seem to be going well, with only two left.

Keith: “Looks like there’s only butter and matcha. Which one do you want, Kagari?”

Kagari: “Either one is fine. Which do you prefer?”

Keith: “...They both look delicious.”

Kagari: “So, you’re indecisive.”

Keith: “You sound just like Liam.”

Kagari: “Liam? Oh, your surly butler.”

Keith: “Surly? He's sincere and meticulous in his work. He's an exceptional butler who's too good for someone like me.”

Kagari: “As usual, you're spot on when it comes to assessing others.”

Kagari: “So, have you decided?”

Keith: ….

Keith didn't respond, and as if on cue, the two of them silently extended one hand forward.

Then they lightly shook their hands in place. At the same time, Keith opened his hand while Kagari made a fist.

Keith & Kagari:

"Oh, I won again."

"I lost."

Did they really just play rock, paper, scissors?

Keith: ".........."

Kagari: "So which one? If you don't decide quickly, someone else will buy it."

After glancing at Kagari, Keith pointed to one of the dorayaki.

Keith: "I guess I’ll have butter."

Kagari: "Then I'll take the matcha."

Kagari: "Shopkeeper, two dorayaki, please."

Keith: "Oh, Kagari, let me pay for them."

Kagari: "It's fine, consider it an apology."

Keith: "......So the real reason you came to Jade was because of some trouble, after all."

Kagari: "Relax, I didn't kill anyone. I just taught them a lesson."

Keith: "When you say 'teach a lesson,' it usually means more than a light injury... Is the other person alright?"

Kagari: "Focus on the dorayaki. They're still slightly warm."

Keith: "Wow, Kagari, you're eating it already.”

Keith: "I was planning to save this for after our meeting, but since it's still warm, I guess I'll eat it now. Thanks.

Keith accepted the dorayaki with its faint buttery aroma and took a bite.

Keith: "Mmm, it's so nice and fluffy when it’s warm. Maybe I'll come by for a freshly made one next time."

Kagari: "Thanks for the meal."

Keith: "You already finished!? Did you chew it properly?"

Kagari: "Do you think I'm a child or something? I chewed it and savored it."

Kagari: "The matcha was delicious too. A dorayaki shop with no misses is rare in other countries."

Keith: "Your love for dorayaki hasn't changed since we met."

Kagari: "Back then, I didn't particularly like or dislike it. Actually, I..."

Keith: "?"

Kagari: "--Just thought you'd cry if I refused."

Kagari: "You were such a crybaby."

Keith: "I wouldn't have cried just because you refused."

Kagari: "But it's true that you were a crybaby. You often teared up in front of me."

Keith: "T-That was half crying... Though it is true that I showed you countless embarrassing moments."

Keith: "Looking back on it, my life is full of embarrassing moments... It's painful to even think about."

Kagari: "Think of it as proof that you struggled, and your heart will feel a bit lighter."

Kagari: "Though, I admit, the training back then might have been overkill."

Keith: "You nearly killed me multiple times, Kagari."

●●●●●●●● Flashback●●●●●●●●

Jade and Kōgyoku—

Although the countries situations were completely different, they’d maintained friendly relations up to the present.

"Couldn't that demon train this failure?"

It was such words from the King of Jade that led to the meeting of young Keith and Kagari.

Kagari: "Stabbing, beating, strangling, poisoning—Keith, which one do you prefer? Or are you good at any of them?"

Keith: "....Um,"

Keith: "I don't particularly like nor excel at any of them."

Kagari: “….”

Kagari: “….I see…”

Keith: “….Yeah…”

Keith & Kagari: “…”

Keith & Kagari: “……..…”

Keith's face showed visible confusion, while Kagari remained expressionless like a Noh mask.

As another moment of silence stretched on for the umpteenth time, surprisingly, it was Keith who spoke up.

Keith: "Um... I'm Keith Howell, the First Prince of Jade."

Kagari: "……………Second Prince of Ruby. Kagari Amagase."

Keith: "Thank you for agreeing to train me, Sir.

Kagari: "........Sir?"

Keith: "I am weak and useless, weaker than even weeds, but—"

Keith: "As an older brother and a member of the royal family, I want to become stronger."

Keith: "So, um, please take care of me!"

Keith bowed his head so forcefully it seemed like a gust of wind might arise, causing Kagari to take a slight step back.

His expression remained unchanged. However, the hands clasped behind his back repeatedly clenched and released, as if deep in thought...

Kagari: "…………"

Keith: "Um...?"

Kagari deftly picked up a practice sword with his foot and pointed its tip at Keith.

Kagari: "First, a warm-up. Ready your sword."

Next

▼・ᴥ・▼

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri translations #ikepri kagari #kagari amagase #ikepri keith #Keith Howell