#i should have gone to france like i wanted </3

[n0heart]

.

[pathologicalreid]

You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!

Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)

Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)

puzzling | S.R.

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3

you

It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.

On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.

Across: “Early stage of life”

Across: “American actress Frances _”

Down: “Must be finished by”

Down: “Veteran’s Day month”

You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.

Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.

“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.

He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”

Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.

Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”

Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.

“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.

There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.

Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”

You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.

“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.

Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.

Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.

You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.

“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.

God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.

He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.

him

The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”

Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.

The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”

“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”

Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.

The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.

It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.

Wait.

Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.

His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.

“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.

You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?

There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”

The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.

“Spencer Reid,” you countered.

He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.

It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.

You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.

“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.

Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”

He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”

A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”

A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.

[lydiimae]

Home.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

18+ MDI

Based on a request you can find here <3

Warnings: angst, mentions of family member death, mentions of alcohol, arranged marriage, awful reader relationship with mother, vaginal sex, nipple play, vaginal fingering, praise, making love

A.N: Hello my loves, and hello to my lovely anon. I'm so sorry for being MIA, I had midterms and good god they almost killed me ‘︿’. Anon- I hope that this is what you wanted, I am not the most experienced in writing angst but I found this quite fun (perhaps my love of making a dramatic story lol). Thank you all for the love, as always. Mwah ≧◡≦

He did not expect you to change so much in your time away. Sure he expected you to mature in the four years you were gone, you were coming back at the new age of twenty-one. He just did not expect all of the light, the light he loved, to be gone. His Y/N had changed. She had gone from warm to cold, from happy to sad, in such a short time.

Your father and his father were close friends. Both of them being Viscounts meant that they spent a lot of time together. You, being the eldest of your family but also too young and rowdy to really click with Anthony, got on just as well with Benedict. There was always an unspoken love between the two of you that neither of you were brave enough to admit.

The only one with who you got on better than Benedict, was your father. It was apparent for anyone to see that the two of you had a unique bond. A bond that you most certainly didn't hold for your mother. She was cold and extremely cruel, your father had only married her for convenience. So, when your father died, Benedict expected you to be devastated. Who wouldn't be? He had been sick for many years before his death, a case of scarlet fever that just never went away. It was expected, but that did not mean it was less painful.

The night he passed, you showed up at his family's doorstep in tears begging for the footman to bring him down. So, after being woken up by said footman, he tugged on a robe and rushed down the stairs. He saw you and immediately knew. He rushed to you and scooped you up in his arms before taking you up into his bedroom and soothing you into sleep. Proper decorum be dammed, he stayed with you the entire night and then had a carriage bring you back home at dawn.

A week later, you, your mother, and your younger sister showed up at the Bridgerton's door dressed in all black. Violet led you all into the drawing room and gathered the rest of the Bridgertons as well, after hearing your mother mention that she would like her dear friends to be present for a big announcement, always the attention hog. Benedict was dragged in by Eloise, expecting another lecture about the upcoming social season, but his face quickly fell when he saw you.

You already looked so defeated, so tired. You looked up and forced a sad smile, moving over on the sofa so he could sit next to you. He walked towards you quickly, and sat down next in the space you made, discretely offering his hand. Your face softened, and he could tell you were holding back tears, but nevertheless, you gripped his hand tight in your own before focusing your attention on your mother.

"We are going to France, where my family lives. I feel the girls should get to know the rest of their heritage now that their father has passed on." She says bluntly, the cold look on her face never changing. His eyes widen and instantly snap over to you, internally pleading with whatever power he can think of that this is not true. That you will not be swept away before he even has the chance to try and win you over.

You are chewing on your bottom lip, the anxious habit you have had ever since you were young. You look over at him slowly, your eyes filled with unshed tears that he knows you will not let fall. That is when he knows that it is true. His Y/N is leaving. For God knows how long. To be stolen by God knows who.

You sigh as you get out of the carriage that has trapped you for the past eight hours, stretching out your limbs before taking in the scenery. That damn two-day carriage ride from the port had been nothing but exhausting. The estate you grew up in is standing tall right in front of you, and yet it is almost unrecognizable now.

It looked the same, sure, but something about it seemed a lot less colorful without your father. The impending doom of your arranged marriage hanging over your head probably didn't help that fact either. Your mother had been clear in what she wanted when you got to France, a rich man. Not for herself, but for you. Someone who could expand upon the rather large dowery your father had left you. Someone who could make her rich, your happiness be damned.

And so that is just what you found. The hunt for a suitable husband had begun a year after you arrived in Paris, your eighteenth birthday coming and going without a peep from anyone but your sister, Lucy, and a long letter from Benedict. Your grandmother was just as cruel as your mother, if not more so. She quickly introduced you to a man named Noele Beaumont, a man in high-up places in French nobility. An extremely wealthy man.

In the three and a half years you had known him, the two of you had done nothing but fight. Well, the fighting consisted entirely of him shouting at you until you were either in tears or hidden away in the closet somewhere, your chest rising and falling much too fast. It seemed that cruelty was, in some sick and twisted way, attracted to you.

Your mother, after much convincing, had allowed you and Noele to take your home in London upon marriage. That, and, she had allowed for the marriage to be held in England. You were home, finally home, and now you were realizing that it does not matter if you are home or not. The world had lost its color.

"Y/N, whatever is the matter?" Lucy piques up from beside you, taking your hand. "I miss him, Luc. That is all. I miss him and I wish that he were the one here instead of mother." You whisper, wiping an escaped tear from your eye with the back of your hand before turning to your sister. "But at least I have you, and at least we are home." She smiles sadly in response, gently leading you inside.

Your mother greeted you both with a flat expression, having insisted on traveling home a week before to make sure nothing had gone awry in the years that you had been gone. Noele and his family will join you in a month, during the week of the marriage. It seems that neither of you wish to spend more time with each other than necessary. "You have a letter already, Y/N. From one of the Bridgerton's. Do make haste of reading it, we have no time for silliness." She mutters, handing it to you before walking off with your sister.

You sigh and walk into the drawing room after handing your cloak to a maid with a smile. You look around the familiar room and breathe deeply, hoping for the comforting smell of the tea your father used to brew, but are quickly disappointed when all you smell is your mother's obnoxious perfume. You sit down on the chair by the bookshelf and open the letter.

You recognize the handwriting immediately, Benedict. He wishes to see you as soon as he can, but more importantly, he has asked you to be a model in the latest portrait he is painting for his classes at the academy. You smile softly to yourself, taking in the woodsy scent that comes off the letter, the world getting a bit brighter if only for a moment. You sigh and walk up to your bedroom, smiling at the comfort that washes over you, before sitting down and drafting a letter of your own, telling him that you will make time for him come noon tomorrow.

You run your fingers over the parchment when you have finished signing your name. So many words left unsaid. You smile sadly and fold up the letter, sealing it with the wax crest of your family before passing it to a maid with instructions to take it to the Bridgerton household before the evening comes.

Oh, how you despise your mother. After about two hours of arguing yesterday, she had finally given up and allowed you to go and see Benedict. You were used to the names she called you, 'whore' and 'harlot' being the two she most often used, but she had far stepped over the line yesterday.

She had run out of insults to call you and moved on to Benedict. Insulting his artwork, his standing in his family, his habits, anything she could grasp at she used.

"You are to be married to a nobleman in a month, Y/N! You will be tainted by that boy, he is nothing but a disgrace! His head has always been in the clouds, you know that!" She shouted from where she stood in your bedroom. You grit your teeth. "Take that back this instant, you moron! That family has done everything for us! He has done everything for me, he cares more about me than you could ever dream of!" You shouted right back.

She had gone on for at least a half-hour more, finally giving up when Lucy walked in and pleaded with the both of you to stop. "You are nothing but a whore looking for attention, Y/N. You will ruin yourself with him. You will, and I will not help you out of the hole you dig yourself into." Your mother huffed, before turning and walking out of your bedroom.

Your sister had stayed with you last night. You had fallen asleep in her embrace, nothing but a mess of sobs. You wished for nothing more than to go to him right now and run away to the countryside, and leave all of it behind. But you had a duty, you had to look out for Lucy's happiness so she would not be doomed to the life that you are now forced to live.

You had woken up in the early morning, your lady's maid helping you into a dark blue dress before leaving you to your own devices. You spent the hours up until eleven reading and avoiding your mother like the plague. You walked downstairs once it was time to leave for the Bridgerton estate.

A short carriage ride later and there you are, in the same position that you were four and a half years ago, knocking on his door with tears in your eyes. You had become emotional about five minutes out, overcome with the joy of finally seeing him. Finally being able to speak to him, rather than imagining what his voice sounded like when you read his letters. You had missed the feeling of home when you were around him, you had missed how the world looked when he was in it. You had missed him.

He had been unable to sleep once he had written your letter, and unable to do anything but read in the drawing room in the hours before your arrival. He was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the familiar sound of a knock on the front door to come so he could rush to it before any of the servants. He wanted your welcome home to be comforting, as he had known how much you had been through in France.

When he had gotten the letter explaining the marriage you had been dragged into he locked himself in his studio for weeks on end, being unreachable to anyone, even Eloise. He had spent the first two laying on the chaise, looking up at the ceiling with an unstoppable rush of tears slipping down his cheeks which only stopped when he fell into a restless sleep.

The tears turned to anger, which he let out through pages upon pages of poetry. Confessing his love, damming his foolishness or lack of words, berating himself into oblivion for why could he be so stupid as to not tell you to wait for him? To hold onto hope that he would save you?

Then the weeks of anger turned to inspiration, hours spent drowning his sadness with art. Countless paintings of you, of your favorite flowers, of the hill the both of you held so many memories upon, anything that could get him out of the depression he had been sucked into. It was the point that he was at now, a melancholic feeling lingering over his head that he refuses to let himself feel.

The knock comes right when the clock strikes twelve and he practically throws his book to the side, rushing to the door and throwing it open. You are finally home.

The tears start before you can stop them and he quickly tugs you inside, closing the door before wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, and finally, after months of not allowing yourself to cry, you sob. You sob hard, a million pent-up emotions releasing like the snap of a string in your chest.

You look up at him through your teary eyes and smile. "I have missed you dearly, Benedict." You whisper a hidden meaning you hope he can uncover buried beneath your words. He flashes that silly crooked smile you have come to adore before ruffling your hair. "I have missed you too, Y/N. You will never know how much I missed you." He says, wiping your tears before taking a step back.

"You have grown up. You look so... mature." He comments, almost as if he is trying to figure out something about you. Something that even you cannot decipher. You smile in return. "You have as well. I believe I have the right to call you an old man now." You hum, beginning down the hall to where you know the room he has painted in his entire life is.

He chuckles from behind you, before following. "I am but eight and twenty." He whines playfully and you laugh. "That is two years away from thirty, and if Anthony is old then so are you." You opine, looking back over your shoulder at him before stopping in front of his studio's door. He grins and nudges your shoulder before opening the door for you.

You marvel at the surrounding room when you walk in. You knew that he was a good artist, it came naturally to him, but he had improved in your time away. You walk into the center of the room, walking in a slow circle to take in all of his works which line the walls and stack up upon the floor. Most are of women in various states of dress, ever the lady's man Benedict Bridgerton.

You are glad that some things do not change, but it also makes a strange feeling of longing bubble up in your chest. You wish to be naked like the women in the paintings, talking and flirting with him for hours on end. Making love to him when the heat of the room becomes too much. You wish to wake up to him beside you in the morning, for every morning for the rest of time.

You shake the feeling off and look over at him, noticing that he has already taken his place behind the easel. It looks as if he has already started his sketch. "It is gorgeous in here, Ben. You are the most talented artist in all of England." You say, a look of pure adoration in your eyes that he immediately picks up on.

You wish to die with nothing but the image of that sweet pink color that overtakes his cheeks to remember. He quickly turns his attention to his canvas and nods slightly, clearing his throat. "And you are the best flatterer in all of England. Thank you Y/N." He says quietly. When you begin to turn to face him fully he holds up his hand. "I quite liked the position you were in when you were looking over your shoulder. If it is not too uncomfortable, might you hold it? You had the most beautiful look in your eye." He says kindly, looking up to meet your eyes.

It's your turn to blush at both his kindness and his way of complimenting you. He had always said these types of things in passing, not realizing how much they affected you. You nod and take your original place in the room making him smile. "Perfect, as always." He whispers to himself before returning to the sketch.

After about an hour and a half, your legs grow tired. "Benedict, might we take a break? My legs are getting achy." You say, and he meets your eyes. "Of course, I shall have the maids bring us some tea and you can tell me more about your time in France." He says, gesturing with his arm for you to sit on the chaise that sits by the window.

You do so gladly, taking in the image of him wiping his hands of charcoal. You blush at the thought of the feeling of those hands around your waist, or cupping your cheeks. God, this is torture. You wait for him to come back, which only takes a moment.

He sits down next to you and offers his hand. You look down at it and smile softly, taking it in your own just like you used to. What happens next, you could have never predicted in a million years. He lifts your gloved hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to speak, but you are quickly cut off by him slowly kissing up your arm.

"Benedict stop." You whisper in a tone that is a far cry away from the authority you wished for that statement to have. He doesn't, he presses kisses to your elbow, continuing to work up your arm. "Benedict, I am serious we mustn't." You say, a bit firmer as tears gather in your eyes, but he still does not relent. "Benedict!" You shout, ripping your arm away and standing up.

"Oh please." He scoffs. "Do not tell me you did not wish for me to do just that." He says, standing up with you and stepping close. "Have you gone utterly mad?! I am to be married by the end of the month!" You shout in return. You wish for nothing more than for him to continue but he cannot. You have a man to marry, a sister to set free. Nothing can come between that.

"You do not love him! You have told me those words exactly!" He shouts back and you shake your head, beginning to walk out of the room. You get all of two feet away before he grabs your arm, pulling you to his chest. He leans down, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I have loved you since we were children, Y/N." Your heart shatters when he whispers the word love in your ear.

"You cannot do this now." You say, trying to tug out of his grasp but he keeps his hold tight. "I have to say it now, I have been a fool. I have kept my mouth shut for far too long, but I can save you. I can take you far away from this place, I-" He starts, but you are quick to cut in.

"How could you possibly save me, Benedict?!" You shout, finally getting away. You turn around and look at him dead in the eye, your eyes beginning to water. "By running away?! We cannot! My sister will be left to deal with that woman all by herself and then my fate will be hers! I cannot let that happen!" You shout, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I left and came back married and suddenly you gain the confidence to say this now?! It is far too late!" You sob. His face softens and he brings you into a tight embrace, one hand at the back of your head while the other runs up and down your back. "You are too late. Why did you wait?" You sob into his chest and he says nothing, allowing you to cry.

He places his chin on the top of your head as he rubs your back, rocking you from side to side. "You must think of yourself, Y/N. Your happiness. Your father left you his money for a reason, you know that." He whispers after a few minutes of listening to your sobs. You look up at him and he cups your cheek with the hand that was on your head. "Your mother, however terrifying she may be, does not hold the power over you she once did. Your father made sure of that." He continues.

"You own the estate, you have the money, and you can make your own decisions. You just need to tell her, you must be brave." He whispers as your crying calms. "But what if she... what if she does something to Lucy-" "She will not. She will not have the power to." He interrupts.

Lucy is capable, you know that much is true. You also know that he is right, you have the money and the house, and therefore you have the power. A final gift from your father that you were too scared to realize. You look up at him and before you can think twice about it, you press your lips to his.

He smiles into the kiss and pulls back after a moment, pressing his forehead to yours. "You are a fool, Benedict Bridgerton." You whisper, taking a deep breath. He chuckles. "Perhaps, but I am also a fool who wishes for nothing more than to marry you." He says and you smile. "I shall do what you suggest, what my father meant for me to do." You whisper and he nods. "And I will be right there with you." He murmurs before kissing you again.

After an hour of warm tea and affectionate words, he takes you back to your estate. You go back and forth with your mother for an hour, trying to be kind, but it is when she starts the insults that you snap. You threaten to sell the house in France and never speak to her ever again, let alone give her any money, and she quickly shuts up.

You write Noele and the engagement is called off within the week. For once you thank the man's hatred of you, for it made him all too eager to get away. The engagement between you and Benedict is announced the next week, and the wedding is planned for two months in advance. The ton gossips about the timeline, of course, but the two of you pay no mind. You have both waited far too long to get married, why wait even longer?

You lie restless in bed the week before your marriage, your thoughts filled with nothing but him. The kiss you shared when he confessed running through your mind, sending tingles between your legs. The hot feeling that overcomes your body makes you want to do the things you saw men and women do in the paintings that lined the walls of your favorite salon in Paris.

Sex. You knew what it was, anyone who spent more than five seconds in Paris knew what it was. You had fantasized about it before, only ever with Benedict. You wanted his hard cock buried deep inside of you for hours on end, you wanted his head between your thighs, your lips around his length. You wanted all of it, yet he had insisted on waiting until your wedding night.

You sigh, tugging on the silk sheets and rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the dull ache that settled in your core, whining in frustration when the feeling did not go away. You hear the tapping on your window, almost as if it was hailing in the middle of May.

You stand and walk to the large window that leads out to a view of the garden. A pebble hits the glass and you jump, placing a hand over your now racing heart, and look down at the garden. You grin when you find your fiance looking up at you with the crooked grin that has such a hold on your heart. You open the window and lean out.

"What on earth are you doing down there?" You laugh, leaning your elbows on the window and placing your chin on your hand. "You are meant to say something about Romeo." He calls back, his grin only widening as you giggle more. "I shall not. You must answer my question." You smile.

"You are no fun." He groans, dropping the pebbles on the ground. "I wished to see you. I have been nothing but restless tonight and I thought I would spend that restlessness with you. Might I come up?" He calls, already beginning to climb the lattice that lines the estate walls. You nod, even though he did not wait. "I am quite restless as well." You sigh, watching him climb. "You do not need to sneak, mother is already back in France and Lucy cares not of what we do." You hum as he climbs through the window.

He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. "It is more romantic to sneak through the window." He murmurs in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist. "It was very romantic, I promise you." You whisper as he lays you back on the bed, stripping down to his trousers before sliding into bed with you and pulling the covers up over the both of you.

He nuzzles your neck and places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. It's quite an innocent gesture, but it sends that tingle you were experiencing earlier to your core. Arousal begins to dampen your panties and you press yourself against him, silently asking for more.

He smirks against your skin when you rub up against him. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your neck before leaning back to look at you. "It seems you were restless for the same reason as I was, love." He teases, which makes you blush. He chuckles and cups your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. "Might I request something of you?" He whispers.

"Of course." You return, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. "I wish to make love to you, now. I cannot wait one more second, and I most certainly cannot wait until our wedding night" He whispers in your ear, kissing the skin below it.

He makes a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, making you moan softly in response. "Please." Is all you can manage as he bites down on the skin of your shoulder, making sure to leave a mark. He grins and pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You return it eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, a moan slips past his lips and his hands tighten around your hips.

He moves his hands down your legs, slipping them under your nightgown and cupping your breasts. You whine and break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his as you pant. He watches the look in your eye as his thumbs swipe over your hardened nipples, making your mouth fall open. He groans at the guttural moan that escapes you before taking his hands away and throwing back the covers.

"Benedict please." You breathe, grasping at his arms. He grins but shakes his head. "Patience my love. It will feel so much better if I tease you." He opines, unbuttoning his britches. You gasp when they come off, leaving him in nothing. His cock stands proud against his stomach, it is big and thick, much bigger than you imagined. You grow antsy with the fear that it will not fit inside.

He senses your apprehension and bends down, peppering your face with kisses. "Worry not, dearest, you need only to tell me to stop or to wait and I shall." He whispers, patting your hips as a signal to sit up, which you do. "I will get you plenty warmed up for me, I promise." He breathes against your skin, making you shiver.

He lifts your nightgown up and over your head, throwing it to where the rest of his clothes lay against the floor. He groans at the sight of you in nothing but your panties, his cock twitching with delight. He unties the ribbons that hold your underwear up on your hips, throwing them across the room before capturing your peaked nipple in his mouth.

Your head shoots back and you cry out, laying back on the bed. He follows, situating himself on top of you without releasing your nipple. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud as his other hand cups your other breast, his thumb and pointer finger tweaking your nipple.

Arousal drips down your thighs as you cant your hips up, desperate for more. He growls when the soft skin of your stomach meets his already weeping cock. He pulls back from your nipple, moving the hand that is not occupied with your breast down to your hips. He presses down on your hip bone and you whine when you realize you have lost your ability to brush against him.

"You are doing so well, darling. You mustn't move, it is making me want to bury my cock inside you right now and fuck you until you see stars." You moan at the thought, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him into another kiss. He grins against your mouth, letting you kiss him for a moment before pulling away and moving his hand off of your breast.

He moves that hand down to your hips, pressing down with just as much force as the other did. The one that was on your hips moves to your breast just as he takes your nipple into your mouth, giving your breasts the same treatment as before.

You are a moaning mess beneath him, your thighs and cunt soaked with your arousal as sweat drips down your neck. "Please, Ben... Need more. I... more." You whine, tugging on his hair. He lifts his head and smiles, making your heart flutter. He can go from a growling, groaning man to a loving partner in just seconds. It's intoxicating.

"Tell me where you need it, sweet girl." He whispers, kissing down your stomach and stopping just above your pubic hair, inhaling almost lewdly with a groan. You whine and your cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.

"Between my legs..." You whisper, pressing your face into the pillow as the embarrassment of wanting him so much washes over you. He pats your thigh gently, making you look down at him. "Louder. Do not be ashamed. I want it just as much as you do." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your abdomen.

You smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest. You sigh and let out a breathy moan as he sucks on the skin just above where you wish he would. "I want you between my legs, Benedict. Please. I.. have thought of nothing else for nights." You beg, loudly now as his kisses turn sloppy.

He groans at the thought of you laying in bed, unable to sleep because of the thought of him fucking you, of him pleasing you with his fingers or your tongue, with your hand between your legs. Rubbing at your swollen clit until you come calling his name. He wishes for nothing else than to watch.

He runs his fingers through your soaked folds, the both of you moaning in unison. He rubs his nose through your patch of hair before pressing his tongue against your engorged clit, sucking and swirling as he pushes one of his long fingers into your body, making you cry out.

You silently thank God that Lucy insisted on sleeping in the room downstairs, as now you do not have to silence the steady stream of moans that slip from your lips as he sucks and fingers you into a headspace you have never been to.

You clench around his fingers as he slips another one into your tight hold, his tongue still swirling around your clit. Your hand shoots down to grab at his hair when he starts thrusting and curling his fingers into your body, the other grasping the silk sheets that rest across your bed.

You scream his name when his fingers find a spongey spot inside you that sends a bolt of pleasure right to your already abused clit, and you see stars. You gush down your thighs and his chin, and he pulls out his fingers. He peeks up from below, wiping his face with the back of his hand before sucking your juices from his fingers.

The sight sends you back into a state of arousal so strong that all you can think about is his big cock ripping you open as he fills you to the hilt. He grins when he sees the look in your eye, coming back up so he can give you another open-mouthed kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moans deeply, an almost feral noise coming from somewhere deep inside him.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours once more, kissing your nose. "Can I?" He gusts, his breath hot against your skin. "Please." You whisper back, taking one of his hands in yours, the other resting upon his shoulder.

That is all the incentive he needs, he slowly pushes into your body, groaning loudly at how tight you are. You cry out, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. He bottoms out and moves his forehead to rest on your shoulder, waiting for you to adjust. God he's so close already, the thought of being the first and only one to take you enough to make him come, but he holds back.

After a moment he looks up at you and you nod, needing him to fuck you hard. That is just what he does. He sets a brutal pace, his thighs meeting yours as your ankles rest on his hips. You cry out and squeeze his hand as his tip nudges the same spot his fingers do, making you clench.

"Fuck." He grunts, picking up the pace as he chases his release. He pounds into you now, making you nothing but a moaning piece of putty ready to be molded by his hands. "Benedict- Again.. I'm going to..." You whine and he nods, pressing his lips to yours as his thumb finds your clit.

Your back arches as you reach your peak once more, dragging your nails down his back and leaving angry red marks on his skin. That is what sends him over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside of you before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he pulls out and rolls onto his back, catching his breath before standing up and walking to the bathroom, leaving you on the bed to do the same. You rest your arms over your eyes as your breathing calms. He comes back with a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made before snuggling up to you in bed.

You flip onto your side and snuggle up to him, his arms encircling your body immediately. He presses a kiss to your forehead and traces the ridges of your spine with his fingers. "I love you." You whisper, already half asleep.

He smiles at the sight of you drowsy and flushed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair. "And I love you, my heart." He whispers back, closing his eyes and quickly following you into slumber.

Oh, what a joy it is to finally feel at home.

[sofs16]

our trust

part 1: a paddock day , part 2: our leclerc win, part 3: our love in photos, part 4: our home, part 5: ripples in our love

#TAGLIST : @autumn-bitch7 @raevyng @luvvtrent @boherahpsody @treehouse-mouse @chasing-liberosis @celestialams @cherry-piee @stevesthetics @ilovechickenwings

the night of the fight, charles was slapped with the harsh reality you had left as he entered your shared home.

usually, you would provide him with delicious food you cooked by the time he was home. now, he had to walk next block to pick up some food. though he could just order, he opted not to wallow on the couch and take the 5 minute walk.

the first thing that stood out to him as he entered was your shoes. white stilettos you’d wear on your date nights, beige sandals you wore practically everywhere, and the adidas shoes he had gotten your for your anniversary with a strawberry keychain, your favorite.

he stared back at the empty coat hanger where yours was, usually. then he made his way to the living room, no blanket of yours was there or those little stuffed toys he had grown to love and appreciate over the last few months.

making his way to the dining or kitchen area, it was only set for one. he sat down staring at your seat. the same seat where he had pleaded you to stay.

after eating, he made it back to your shared room. the things he noticed at first glance was baffling. no salt lamp you loved so dearly, no fluffy blanket you loved, no slippers beside the bed, your skincare products all gone, your jewelry box missing from your bedside table, and many more.

he saw your closet halved of what it was. he sighed and took his pajamas before entering the bathroom and feeling the hole in his chest grow deeper. he had done this to himself.

he settled in your side of the bed, hoping to feel the last ounce of you. scrolling on his phone, he conversed with the grid on his mistakes and what he should do. pierre had told him to march over to france and beg yn to take him back, alonso was strongly opposed to that, suggesting to charles he should give her space but also make himself known. so that’s what he did.

he texted you every time he could and also stalked every yn fanpage known to man. when he got the message you wanted to meet at baku, he held himself from screaming in excitement as he was having dinner with the grid.

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

september 10, 2024

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

would you mind if i went to baku this week and we talked?

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Of course, amour! Would you want me to pick you up at the airport?:)

september 11, 2024

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

if you’re not too busy

slr i just finished booking the flight

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

I am never too busy for you.

y/n/n my love 😘❤️

Thennn tomorrow 9pm, pick me up?

sharlie brown 🫀🏎️

Can not wait to see you, I love you! 😘

Charles rushed out of the ferrari garage to fetch you. On the way, he was starting to worry if ‘and we talked’ would mean you were ending it with him.

He saw you sitting on your luggage outside the airport. He smiled at the sight of you and immediately went out of the car.

It wasn’t easy to not spot Charles as he pulled up in his Ferrari all red attire and his fancy car. You stood up, he hugged you tightly, and you smiled at the familiar feeling. “I missed you so much, amour. Are you okay? How was the flight?”

“I-“ You were cut off as many fans approached you both. Charles was quick to bring you in the car and your luggages and carry ons. A fan asked him to sign a Lightning McQueen shirt and you couldn’t help but laugh, making Charles smile.

The drive wasn’t awkward at all. Charles put on your favorite songs and asked little questions about your time away from him.

You mentioned how you discovered a new restaurant he would love in Nice and should go together.

Charles’ heart sped up at the idea you thought of him in places like restaurants and you wanted to go places with him. It gave him hope your conversation would end positively.

you sat criss crossed on the bed after changing and looked at Charles. “i- I really missed you, Charles” you confessed as he smiled “I missed you more than words can explain it, belle” he replied

no matter how many times you had rehearsed this on the plane, your feelings were confused. you sighed and laid your head on charles’ lap as he stroked your hair.

“i still wanna be with you charles, of course i do. i just… i dont know how to trust you. i need your word charles. you won’t do this to me ever again because it fucking hurts, charles leclerc. It hurts. drunk or not, i need you to control yourself, though i don’t know how you’ll control your drunk self. i cant do this again.”

“again? … i know, amour. i have been making myself better for you while you were away. i am lessening my drinking because i can not live without you. i have not even drank since you left and you are my everything, my priority, even on top of ferrari” he kissed your forehead as you smiled.

“‘kay… i missed you” you said quietly, nuzzling into his sweater. “me too, love” “get rest, you’ll do great tomorrow” “with you by my side, i hope so” he chuckled.

charles knew you wouldn’t just forget about it, so he was determined to prove to you he meant everything he said.

yn.charlesupdate

liked by 13,484 others

yn.charlesupdate PARENTS BACK TOGETHER AT BAKU AIRPORT !!!❤️❤️❤️ view all 1,484 comments

ynslife happy if they worked it out but i really hope yn doesn’t get hurt again:/

gridzfire LFG PADDOCK YN BACK AT IT AGAIN

september 12, 2024

clercspaddock

liked by yn, and 7,585 others

clercspaddock YN AT THE PADDOCK WE WON

view all 262 comments

yn what can i say, i missed u hoes 🤷🏻‍♀️

⤷ clercspaddock More than charles?

⤷ yn you’re as delusional as i used to be if u believe that babes…. but i love u guys 🫀

⤷ clercspaddock hey, i had to shoot my shot

⤷ uryn how did u just casually have a convo w yn

⤷ clercspaddock I DONT KNOW

september 13, 2024

yn’s instagram story:

“ back here ❤️”

viewed by 2,484,484 others

ynnns16

liked by yn, and 2,383 others

ynnns16 yeah maybe he cheated but u cant deny he’s in love with her. it was probably a mistake because look at how he looks when he’s talking abt her:,)

view all 47 comments

september 14, 2023

yn

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 2,597,797 others

yn YOUR SILLIEST WAG IS BACK WITH A MAN WITH POLE 🥹

view all 278,484 comments

2024leclercs yn beating the ferrari admin at the pole post 😭

charles_leclerc Je t’aime❤️ je ne peux pas vivre sans toi i love you❤️ i can’t live without you

⤷ yn 😘

⤷ landonorris has charles infected you with that emoji

⤷ yn it started as a joke but im afraid so.

⤷ charles_leclerc What is wrong with it?

fernandoalo_oficial Good to see you again 😊

⤷ yn I LOVE YOU

ynspillow did she just forgive and forget… babes..

⤷ yn againnn, we want to keep this private. but i don’t forget easily

⤷ verstappens3 as u should queen

mclaren You’d look good in orange 🍊

⤷ yn you mean papaya?

⤷ mclaren Whatever works for you! Send the address🧡

⤷ scuderiaferrari Don’t steal our girl🙁

⤷ mclaren Just sent the package of papaya shirts 😘

redbullracing Want to design new shirts for us? ❤️

⤷ yn YES

⤷ scuderiaferrari Excuse us.

⤷ yn you never asked me

⤷ scuderiaferrari Running to Charles about this.

ynsnorris LOL ADMINS FIGHTING OVER YN AND REDBULL JUST ASKS FOR A DESIGN 😭 september 14, 2024

yn’s instagram story:

yn.jpg

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 872,584 others

yn.jpg finally get to share my lil gig soon

view all 16,166 comments

charles_leclerc My talented girl ❤️

[ liked by yn.jpg ]

f1 Lets go!!! chickf1lla RED BULL TOO? WHAT

scuderiaferrari ❤️

⤷ ynclaren u guys badly need all the help u can get after that shit show while yn was gone…

⤷ yn.jpg LOLLLL

[COMMENT DELETED!]

yn that wasnt me

september 16, 2024

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 5,584,393 others

yn we’ve been doing this for quite some time so i’m glad i get to share it with everyone now🪷 i had an amazing time doing one of the things i love in one of my favorite places! i worked with f1 and vogue magazine for this one! the “adrenaline on track” issue is out next month🏎️❤️‍🔥🫧

view all 837,594 comments

maxverstappen1 Amazing

⤷ yn thanks max 🐙

landonorris IS THAT ME

⤷ yn dont let it inflate your ego

lewishamilton fire shots 🔥

⤷ yn thankies lewyyyyy

charles_leclerc These are as beautiful as you ❤️

⤷ yn are u calling my shots ugly

⤷ charlando LMAOAOAOA YN STOP

⤷ charles_leclerc What, No! I am saying you are so beautiful and out of this planet, just like these amazing photos!

charsyln yn making charles work for it as she should

voguesf1 fr though. im so happy charles and yn dated/ are dating because yn’s passions and talents are being showed to the world. everyone has talents but im just grateful we get to see her art and see her make a name for herself, not just charles’ gf

⤷ yn youre so kind:( thank you<333

⤷ voguesf1 YOURE SO KIND?? SEE THIS WOMAN IS THE RIGHT WOMAN FOR HIM AND THE WORLD TO KNOW

[liked by charles_leclerc, and 1,585 others]

⤷ stylishts lets just hope he doesn’t fuck this relationship up

[liked by yn]

september 18, 2024

love4wags

liked by 16,383 others

love4wags Yn’s old twitter account has been found and leaked. Most tweets are about F1 and her current boyfriend, Charles. The twitter account has now been deleter.

view all 4,697 comments

user this is disgusting. why are you posting something so personal here?

⤷ user1 well clearly she posted it on social media. she should’ve made her account private

⤷user3 she probably left it public so she’d get attention😂

checosbrazil “I hope the person I marry one day is not like this” ….. Um

tshoehbookss I never knew she had sm trauma…

yn hii pls take this down:)

⤷ ynsloml oh mom:(

september 19, 2024

[ THIS POST HAS BEEN ARCHIVED! ]

ynstree

liked by 5,282 others

ynsloml WHY AM I CRYING OVER A TWEET. view all 1,272 comments

f1stime Well, now we know how old she is… 5 months older than Charles!

fruitsofme notice how she always says “it’s okay” in her tweets…

september 19, 2024

yn

liked by charles_leclerc and, 1,595,393 others

yn yes, i am the type to respond to anything against me while staying unbothered, get used to it.

plssss stop sharing my old tweets! they are embarrassing and old and not up to date with who i am now or how i am. i am the happiest with charles and im in an alright relationship with my parents. i am okay and always have been so! stop! spreading! lies!i worked hard for myself to live the life i live now and im thankful for the opportunities charles has given me.

(i did not at all do this for attention as i forgot about it and thought it was private <i didnt know how to private accounts at the time>)

[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED]

september 19, 2024

ynsodddd

liked by yn, and 6,383 others

ynsodddd why has yn gotten the most shit out of all the wags. what did she ever do to yall😭😭😭 and to the ‘fans’ sharing her old tweets… BFFR!!!! this girl has gone thru sm LEAVE HER ALONE 😭

view all 1,684 comments

user1 fr why is everything just happening to her rn😭 traumatic parents, got cheated on, working with vogue, photographer, can speak like 6/7 languages????

⤷user2 what in the wattpad

⤷author what in the tumblr (;)

september 19, 2024

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, and 7,383,595 others

charles_leclerc Best way to start racing weekend❤️

[COMMENTS ARE DISABLED!]

september 19, 2024

#SOF i ran out of pics for the boarder thing but i may have gotten a little overboard with the drama.

please please share your opinions and lmk if i ruined it 😊

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 3

table of contents glow (so other things can)

“It’s the south of France,” says Julia. “No one’s allowed to be sad in the south of France.”

“She’s not sad,” Nicola corrects. “She doesn’t feel anything, and that can’t be good.”

You shrug and watch the lemon trees sway in the breeze.

You can’t be expected to feel something, not when you’re empty inside. You’d have to have something left of you.

But Jamie… Jamie liked to take. It wasn’t a problem because you liked to give, but at some point something changed and he took your entire heart before you noticed it was gone. 

And you’d been so careful too. 

It’s not a problem. It’s summer, you’re on vacation in the South of France, and life couldn’t be better. You’re in a sprawling villa with three of your friends, a gorgeous beach nearby, and some of the best food of your life. 

You’re glowing.

And you’re going to some couture event that’s really just a party because Nicola’s technically here on work, so the three of you get to wear beautiful Versace dresses and mingle with Europe’s most beautiful and celebrated, all in a gorgeous chateau. 

Your brain replays, you should go back to school, so you shake your head to clear it of that choppy, beautiful voice and pretend the sky isn’t the exact color of your eyes. 

You take the tube of lipstick from Julia’s hand and decide it’s going to be smeared by the end of the night.

—

There’s nothing quite like losing your head in another country. It doesn’t count, in a way. The boy in front of you is nothing like Jamie and you don’t mind so much, except he doesn’t look into your eyes the same way, and he doesn’t quite know what to say in between kisses.

Not that he needs to say anything, god knows you and Jamie had your uninterrupted moments, but Jamie always knew exactly what you were thinking and exactly what to say. The buzzing in your head stops whenever he enters a room.

The buzzing has only gotten louder as the night progresses.

He pauses long enough to ask, “Can I get you a drink?” so you nod and smile and then knock your head against the nearest tree as soon as he’s gone. 

It’s not working. 

The whole point of this was to forget Jamie. To remove the last little shreds clinging to your memory.

He shouldn’t matter, he doesn’t, and yet…

You groan, and scrunch your eyes shut. It wasn’t supposed to matter, you knew better. But some floppy-haired pretty-boy prick-ass footballer had said the exact right combination of words to get you to fall so hard and so fast.

“You going back to school?” he asks one evening. You’re both bundled up and walking through Richmond, on the hunt for some coffee.

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’d like to go for a doctorate, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. Be fun, though”

Jamie throws back his head and laughs, pearly-white teeth glowing in the streetlight. “You’re the only fucking person I know who thinks a fucking doctorate is fun.”

He knocks into you, just a nudge, but it sets your arm ablaze. Every touch from him feels like fire.

You’re quiet, unsure what to say next. Jamie, though, Jamie knows what to say. Jamie always knows what to say. He knows where to go, what to do; you never have to think too much when you’re with him. He knows when to ask, and when to choose.

“You should do it,” he continues. “You should go back to school. Be fucking mint, like. I’d get to tell the lads I’m with a real fuckin’ doctor.”

And that was it. That was all it took for the tingling in your arm to shoot all the way to your chest. And sure, you didn’t have time at the moment, but you’d applied as soon as Jamie played his first match back on City turf.

He always knew the way to your heart. 

Fuck him for that.

There was a part of you that always thought he wanted more but was too scared to ask.

But you were wrong, so wrong, so fuck Jamie Tartt.

You hear footsteps on the gravel, so you open your eyes, expecting your drink, but are instead met with a stupid Gucci button up, rolled to perfectly showcase a stupid tattoo on a stupid forearm.

“Oh,” is all you can manage. “Sorry. I- I didn’t know you were here. Where’s…?”

“Inside,” comes Jamie’s short response.

“Oh,” you say again.

There’s a part of you that wants to leave, and leave fast, but another, more idiotic part of you wants to stay.

Just for a moment, just long enough for him to apologize, explain, something, although you know he won’t. So you should leave rather than be disappointed.

But you pause for half a second, still blinking up at him (when did he get so close?) and just as you resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to walk away, he speaks and breaks your heart all over again.

table of contents

[simpforfandoms]

If possible, would you be willing to write Remy LeBeau x reader on their first date. Please and thank you

💜

I tried really hard to write a first date but I just can’t so this is as close as it gets

You don’t know how you got here, one second you’re chaperoning a prom and the next Remy is asking if you want to get out of there. And maybe it was the spiked punch (did they really think you wouldn’t notice?) or the fact that you had the slightest bit of a crush (god you sound like a highschooler) on the red eyed mutant that made you say yes. So that’s how you end you’re taking a stroll with Remy throughout the courtyard looking for any teenage mutants doing scandalous things and talking about pointless things

“In France is french kissing just kissing? Or french fires just fries?” You ask

Remy gives you a look, “I’m not French”

“But you know French?”

“Yes but I’m Cajun not French”

“Okay but you can still answer the question.”

“probably just called fries.”

“I thought so.” You shrug, you pause before adding, “not that you have to answer but, what happened between you and Rogue.”

You have been curious. You had heard rumors that they had gotten a divorce so in your eyes his response could be “I don’t know what your talking about” or just confirm that they had divorced. Nevertheless you convince yourself that they’re still together, as not to get you’re hopes up.

He shrugs, “we wanted different things”

You stay silent even though you know you should probably comfort him. Thoughts running through your head a hundred miles per hour. Wait so if him and rogue weren’t together does that mean that this wasn’t just a friendly stroll, could it be like a date? No. Remy could never see you romantically. You hardly know the guy besides secret glances and friendly conversations. Plus Anna Marie is so cool. After being with her he would never go for you. He’s an x-men, you’re just a teacher that teaches at the academy. Nothing special. Not like you save lives or anything. Unless you count evacuating the school as it blows up for the hundredth time.

He eventually notices your long standing silence and asks you a question, one that you didn’t hear but mumbled a ‘yes’ in response.

“do you wanna go somewhere to eat?” He asks

That brings you out of your daze, and you shoot him. A questionable look, “what? We still have to chaperone”

He rolls his eyes, “I never signed up to chaperone”

“What? Then what are you doing here?”

He lets out an oh so attractive chuckle, “isn’t it obvious darlin? I wanted to be with you.”

What. Why would Remy Lebeu of all people want to be with you. As previously discussed, he was an x men and you were, well you.

“So you went to a boring school dance just to be with me?” You almost laugh at the absurdity.

“it’s almost summer, you’ll leave soon and I won’t see you”

“And that’s a problem how”

“God do you play dumb.” He chuckles, “cause I’ll miss you.”

You? He’ll miss you?!?! You?!?!

As if he can sense your questions he answers, “I’ll miss over hearing your lectures every morning, and you always saying goodnight to everyone in the building including me, and how you remember my coffee order after I told you one time-“

“That’s because it’s just black.”

“My point is, I’ll miss you”

“I’ll be back in 3 months” you say

“To long to go without seeing you”

You laugh, “fine I can go for a burger”

…

“This is the best burger I’ve had in my whole life,” you state before taking another bite

“I’ve had better”

“Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes

You look at the time, “oh shit we have to get back before Charles realizes we’re gone.”

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry darlin.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

.

After some delicious burgers Remy walks you back to your dorm or living quarters.

“Sooo…” you pause, “I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“goodnight Remy” You go to turn around but he grabs your arm before you can. And gives you a goodnight kiss. Was it everything you imagined? Maybe.

…

[capricornlevi]

bokuto x reader // sfw, gratuitous fluff, established relationship // wc 1.6k

planning birthdays is just one of bo's many talents <3

an: this is a little birthday present for my favourite bo stan in the entire world @brainrot329 ! she is a ray of sunshine and one of the best people i know and it is an honour to write a bo fic dedicated to this wonderful human !!!

you had never figured bokuto for much of a chef. you've been together for four years, lived together for two, and so you feel you know him pretty well by now -- the man has multitudes of talents, but preparing food is not one of them.

he has no trouble with eating, obviously, since pretty much every team barbeque ends with him being physically dragged away by a teammate or long-suffering coach, begging for someone else to be allowed their pick of the steaks.

but his appreciation for food does not extend to cooking or baking, shopping for ingredients or meal planning. his lack of culinary proficiency is not from any form of uselessness or incompetence -- he's good at pretty much anything he turns his hand to, plus the msby nutrition team supplies most of his meals anyway -- he just doesn't have much of an interest. which is more than fair; nobody can be expected to be good at everything.

but this is also why you find it to be very shocking that today, your birthday, he has offered to prepare you a four-course meal to mark the special occasion.

he had informed you of his plan this morning over pancakes at your favourite diner while you were mid-sip of coffee. as you smiled and expressed gratitude, you had to put in a copious amount of effort to prevent your jaw from dropping open and accidentally spitting coffee everywhere.

again, it's not that he's incapable of achieving this task. he’d likely be very capable should he puts his mind to it, but it's just ... this is his first time cooking. you don't attempt the tour de france before learning how to ride a bike, and you can't imagine that a four-course meal (with accompanying wines, he informs you) is the easiest introduction to the culinary arts.

but he seems certain, and the last thing you want to do is discourage this newfound enthusiasm.

the rest of the day was spent out with friends and family as bo headed home to get everything ready. he didn't give many hints as to what the rest of the evening would entail, but he did say that he knew you'd love it.

(and you will; regardless of the final product, you can see how much effort he's put in. you just hope you won't arrive home to the scent of singed hair and an eyebrow-less bokuto standing forlorn in the kitchen.)

when your college friends took you out for cocktails in the early hours of the evening, you stuck to just two margaritas so as not to take away from the rest of the night. they dropped you back home with gifts in hand and plans to meet up again next week to get your nails done – a strange suggestion since you haven’t gone to the salon as a group in years, but you wave it off. 

now, standing at your doorstep, you take a deep breath before twisting the handle and letting yourself in.

the place smells ... nice. really nice. it's a medley of scents from multiple dishes but they all come together to paint a very positive picture; hints of citrus, the buttery aroma of your favourite pasta sauce, something sweet you vaguely recognise as being your grandmother's french vanilla cake recipe.

suddenly overcome with a sense of awe and burning anticipation, you make a beeline for the kitchen.

you find everything in it to be clean, perfectly presented, except for bokuto himself. he stands by the countertop, spatula in hand, covered with a light dusting of flour and with a scorch mark on his light-blue shirt.

"never promised it'd go completely without a hitch, did i?" he grins, expression as close to bashful as you've seen it. setting down the utensils and dusting himself off with a kitchen towel, he closes the distance to take your hand, guiding you to your seat at the table. with a professional flourish he pours you a glass of sparkling wine, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head once you've sat down.

"you enjoy that while i go change," he mumbles against your hair, "and i’ll also make sure I'm not still smouldering."

you laugh as he walks away, heart swelling in your chest as you survey the space around you.

he's bought a bouquet of your favourite flowers from that little old florist who lives three doors down from your apartment, the one whose displays you always admire when you head out to work in the mornings. he has your favourite album playing on vinyl, the low reverberations of the music filling the candle-lit kitchen.

distantly, you wonder if bo's fire incident came from the cooking or the decoration.

but before you have much time to consider, he's arrived back in the kitchen with a fresh shirt and almost-tamed hair, paired with that signature bo smile that lights up all of his features.

"ready for course number one?" he exclaims, clapping his hands together as he heads over to the counter space. once you voice your assent he produces two dishes as if from nowhere, heading over to the table and setting yours down in front of you.

you find yourself looking down at a perfectly presented salad, crisp leaves and a citrus dressing that reminds you exactly of the one you had --

"on our first date!" you burst out before even taking a bite. "this is the salad from that bistro by college!"

the bistro where he had taken you after finally mustering up the courage to ask, waiting until after you both had graduated to make his move. you're still not sure why he was so anxious since your class had no qualms about intra-departmental fraternisation, but you're just glad he went for it eventually.

he nods, clearly relieved you picked up on the connection.

the salad is wonderful, a light and refreshing starter for the evening, and you inform him as much.

your response clearly encourages him. he gets up again to start heating the next dish, pouring you a glass of wine beforehand for you to nurse while he gets things ready.

this time, he presents you with a bowl of soup. the same type of soup ...

"that you made for me that time i got the flu!" he informs you this time, voice achingly fond as he watches for your reaction. "and no word of a lie -- it cured me."

his earnestness draws another laugh from you, the soothing smell of herbs and vegetables bringing you back to that afternoon.

you had never seen bo so sick before and you haven't seen it since. with the combination of his healthy approach to life and sheer stubbornness to remain top of his game, he ends up avoiding most illnesses, and so when he called his coach to inform him he wouldn't be making 8am practice, you knew things were serious.

he ran a temperature, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink that you would have appreciated more were he not suffering, and had started shivering by noon.

"you need to keep your strength up," you had whispered softly to him, setting a glass of water down at his bedside and perching yourself on the edge, watching as he slowly started eating the soup. it was difficult with a sore throat but he managed to polish the whole thing off.

that soup was the only thing he could stomach for forty-eight hours, eating it for every meal until his shivering subsided and his muscles stopped aching.

it's one of the few dishes he knew how to prepare before tonight, since he insists on making it with you whenever either one of you starts to show any signs of impending sniffles.

once the soup has been finished and cleared away, the third course is presented with another glass of wine and near-giddy smile from bo. just as you had guessed from the hallway, he serves up your favourite pasta dish, the recipe having been scribbled down on a napkin after the chef from the aforementioned first-date bistro was kind enough to let you have it. 

bo managed to replicate it perfectly, albeit not without slightly singeing the accompanying garlic bread (explaining the scorch mark on his shirt).

as you take your first bite, you realise that he was right earlier when he promised that you'd love this.

it wasn't that the food was michelin quality (though it was undoubtedly delicious, especially for a first-timer) -- it was the thought that went into every dish, every ingredient, every element. the effort that went into telling a story with each course.

you've never felt as loved as you do in this moment.

that is, until he brings out dessert in the form of your grandmother's french vanilla cake. it’s been frosted to the best of bokuto's ability, with 'happy birthday my love!' edged in pink font and surrounded by flickering candles.

there's also a design under the words. a little shape, something you can't see without squinting.

he carries it over to you proudly, though with a slight tremble in his hands you can't quite understand ...

after blowing out the candles, you lean in to examine the cake closer.

it takes a few seconds for it to land, to determine what bo attempted to draw in icing format, but once it hits you ...

"is that a ring?"

your heart pounds in your chest, each word leaving your lips in a flurry as you try to gauge whether or not your exhilaration is merited.

and in lieu of an answer, bo sets the cake on the table before getting down on one knee, producing a velvet-bound ring box from the pocket of his new shirt.

[lucawrites11]

Evie hc about when lucy forgot her in the airport <3

2019 world cup, evie's five, it's her third major tournament and she's a pro by now and her favourite toy on travel days is her nintendo switch and her favourite games are mario kart/mario party, splatoon, minecraft and, of course, fifa. she has other games on there when she's bored but she knows what she likes

the whole team is also obsessed with this switch, evie isn't just the most popular person because she's cute, she has travel sized competition in her pocket and they all want a turn so lucy mostly let's it happen. they were in france travelling between group stage games. they had japan next, their toughest opponent so her and steph were having a little chat about mentality and walked away from the team. evie was left with millie, rach, leah and georgia (her first mistake) who were supposedly adults but were, soon after lucy left, bickering over who was winning like children

evie saw jill got into a shop where you can buy sweets and saw her opportunity to target a weak point in the team and get some sweets so snuck off and followed her in. there was a lot of pleading and they eventually decided if they'd break the rules it would be for good sweets so jill had evie read the french map of the airport to find the best sweet shop and off they went

meanwhile, lucy and steph are having to be adults and lucy spots the abandoned nintendo and is like 'where the fuck is my kid?' and EVERYONE freaks out. EVERYONE. the whole team is split out across the airport calling out for evie, the coaches have gone to find staff to make an announcement. lucy is the most stressed anyone's ever seen her. keira's trying to comfort her and that's not going well

jill and evie, meanwhile, are engaged in a very intense debate about whether chocolate or sweets are better, so wrapped up in their debate they aren't listening to the announcements for evie

it takes ten minutes for them to FINALLY pick three bags of haribo you can't get in england: fizzy orangina, fizzy crocodiles and normal crocodiles

meanwhile england coaches are kicking up such a fuss that the airport is contemplating a lockdown. the staff are trying to access the security cameras and get the right time and location

jill and evie are going through their own stress. they are regretting buying three bags and trying to hide them, they both forgot their bags and they have to go for the pocket method. they eat a few from each bag to make the bags smaller in their pockets. time evie's been 'missing': seventeen minutes

jill and evie are now giggling, trying to walk back and inconspicuously as possible. it's a long walk so jill swings evie onto her shoulders and everyone looking for her is now looking at the wrong height and because jill starts running to make evie laugh, no one notices. they walk past four players frantically searching for evie

georgia has hit a new stage of guilt, leah is ready to murder anyone who has taken her, rach and millie are panicking and guilt searching, lucy's close to tears and keira's like 'i don't know what to do'. lucy staniforth and demi stokes have the most control and composure but they've walked off to search

evie and jill walk back into this chaos and jill swings evie down to her feet. evie sneaks in (new plan) and stuffs the sweets in her bag. no one spots her. jill walks over and is like 'what's going on?'

and georgia is like 'evie's missing'

jill stands awkwardly and points at evie now no longer by her bag 'she was with me?'

jill learned that she shouldn't have left her phone in her bag and should listen to announcements, multiple airport workers were apologised to and evie was hugged to within an inch of her life

no one ever knew about the sweets and it's their secret (they ate them all over the next few nights when evie needed a break from the stress and concern for her wellbeing)

[redsaurrce]

DRINK ME UP - 2

Part 1 ! Part-3

Synopsis : After you discovered your boyfriend cheating on you, you have no option but to leave him, isn't it?

Pairing : YANDEREJeon Jungkook x dancer fem!reader

Genre : cheaterjk!au

Word count : 1.38 K

Warnings : Betrayal and cheating, swearing, heartbreak (ugh man)

You stormed away with tears in your eyes, the one thing you despised the most with every fiber on your body became your reality. You got fucking cheated on.

You exasperated with pain in your chest as you clenched it tight and vowed to yourself to never give Jungkook a second chance.

-.

Jungkook felt numb as he saw you go away from him with the intention of never coming back, his lips quivered as he tried to process what the hell just happened when at the very moment he felt someone lean on his side, "Baby she's gone now, let's go for a round two, shall we?" Her honey like sweet voice only felt boiling poison dripping down on Jungkook's ears.

He yanked his arm away from her with wide eyes, "What the hell is your fucking problem?" What Jungkook felt was beyond rage and confusion.

She smiled, "Mine? C'mon! All I did was come near you, it was you who took me in your arms afterall." She said with a smirk.

His eye twitched, "You clearly took the advantage of a drunk person, your level of delusion baffles me."

She pouted, "Oh really? Then why didn't you follow Y/N instead of staying beside me now?" She raised her eyebrows. He scoffed, "That is because I don't want your filthy scent anywhere near my Y/N. I will go to her again when I get rid of this filth and become the perfect man for her again. Now get the fuck lost out of here."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Wow, after all that, you are going to throw a girl away in the middle of the night? Sounds like a perfect womanizer move to me."

Jungkook threw a threatening look towards her direction, "Woma- hah! You will pay for this." He said as he went inside and came back with all of her belongings and threw it on her face. "I will make sure that you regret your actions." He said angrily as he shoved her out of the door.

-.

In the next few days everyone got to know about Jungkook's and your former dance partner's wife's affair, news like these spread like a wildfire afterall. People either sympathized with you or just made you embarassed of not keeping your man in check.

"Maybe he got bored of her pretty quickly, not even surprised though."

"Tch, if I were to choose between her and Kira then my choice would be Kira for sure."

"They never looked good together anyway. Kira and Jungkook look like the perfect match to me."

Your eyes stung when you heard the last sentence, right! Cheaters should stay together so others would not face heartbreak, they sure make the perfect match. You gulped as you thought.

Jimin, who was Kira's husband and your dance partner, had already resigned from the team as he decided to take the offer from France which he had been turning down from the last six months amidst all of this chaos.

Fair enough, you saw how betrayed and heartbroken Jimin looked the next day he got to know about Jungkook and Kira. He had asked you to share a drink with him while he vented to you how much he loved her with all his heart but his lover proceeded to betray him without a second thought. As much as he wanted his wife back, he could not because the trust is already broken and he won't be able to see her as she was before.

Kira had apparently already declared to him that she's never coming back because she loves Jungkook and that is how their marriage came to an end in the blink of an eye.

For you, Jungkook hadn't called a single time, nor did he even text for an apology. "What? That night it seemed as if he had some explanation? Why is he quite now?" You scoffed to yourself, perhaps it was real that both of them had feelings for one another.

You thought as you gulped yet another glass of soju to your oblivion that Jungkook had actually been watching you from afar in secret all along.

-.

"Jimin, good for you that you are going to France. I'm thinking to leave the team as well, I don't want to stay amongst these people." You said in heavy voice as you were growing tired of all the nasty comments people kept on making about you. "For the first time in my life I felt so worthless and insecure about myself, I don't think I can live long if I continue living in such an environment." You said as you wiped your tears using your sweater paws.

You suddenly paused as you looked at your sleeve wet due to your tears, you dry chuckled to yourself as you remembered that this was actually Jungkook's habit of wiping your tears using his sweater paws and you had subconsciously took up his habit.

You looked at the ceiling in pain, those days were in fact the best days of your life, everyday with Jungkook was a gift to you, he used to call you beautiful every now and then, made you feel confident about yourself with every passing day. That's why this betrayal feels unbearable for you. Now because of his actions, you feel so low about yourself.

Jimin cleared his throat across the line, "Y/N you there?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I was just reminded of the old days." You sniffed a little.

He hummed, "I see. Where are you planning to go?" He asked you.

"Shanghai. Li Xun, my ex-dance coach when moved to China had told me that he will whole-heartedly welcome me if I ever decided to join his team. I'm thinking to contact him." You said as you sighed to yourself.

He smiled, "Sounds great. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Contact me when you move to China." You smiled as well, "I will. Take care."

"You too."

-.

You had turned in your resignation the same day your ex-coach had confirmed your resume. And the moment your resignation processed, you booked the earliest flight to Shanghai which was today.

When you entered the airport, someone grabbed your wrist from behind. You turned around, just to look at the man who was responsible for you to leave the country.

"Please don't go Y/N." he breathed with yearning in his voice. You yanked your wrist out of his hold as you looked at him with mocked expression, "Jungkook I told you already to never see me again."

"Y/N-" "K&J's daughter in law caught in a recent scandal is causing uproar in the business world. She had taken advantage of a drunk man and now the alleged relationships of her past are resurfacing. K&J's Mr. Park has been reported to be seen in France, sources say that they have ended their marriage, thus K&J is likely to cut ties with Mujin group." Jungkook's sentence was cut by the news reporter on the display screen in the airport.

You knew K&J was Jimin's father's company with Mujin being Kira's grandfather's.

Jungkook returned his gaze from the screen towards you, "You saw that yourself Y/N, it was a misunderstanding."

"But nothing changes the fact that you had slept with her Jungkook!" You almost wanted to scream at him in frustration.

He shook his head, "But I was fucking drunk. How was I supposed to stay calm after I saw that Park Jimin dancing so closely to you?"

You scoffed, "So you proceeded to be intimate with his wife as a revenge."

"No wtf?! I'm trying to say that I was so drunk that I thought it was you the whole time we were making out." He said in desperation.

You scoffed again, "Oh so you failed to recognize me? Great! Do you know it seems like you were never in love, you were just obsessed with me to the point that you drunk so badly to ruin our relationship the day which was supposed to be happy for us." You gulped, "Just another reason why I should hate you even more."

"H-Hate?" Jungkook finally seemed to get the picture, "That's right. Therefore, never bother me again." And you walked away yet again, the same way you walked away that night from him.

He looked at your silhoutte through his blurred vision, "Y/N I will come to you again, and when I do so.. do not push me away." He whispered with his broken voice as he looked at the contacts of his phone and clicked on the caller named- Plastic Surgeon Lee Suho.

The fact that you guys stayed around for part 2 is so heart warming :"( <33

Tysm for making it till the end, your feedback is HIGHLY appreciated 💗 MWAHH!!

[luc3]

Black Elderberry. [French Folks Traditions]

In the 19th century, the peasants of France still attributed magical properties to the Elderberry, and its wood was sometimes used to make sorcerer's staffs and divinatory wands.

In the legend, Judas, after having betrayed Christ, would have gone to hang himself from an Elderberry branch. Thus, it is said in Vienne, that the person who breaks an elderberry branch in the garden of his neighbors will betray this one in the year, even without wanting it and without knowing it.

It should also be noted that in certain regions, Elderberry served as a panacea : everything was good in Elderberry for healing, in the past. But that following the curse linked to Judas, its powers had been supposedly removed.

Protective Magic :

Côtes d'Armor : Elderberries are planted near houses to ward off evil spells and snakes. It is also used to protect livestock (diseases and evil spells) by placing a branch in the cows' litter.

Yonne : Pick up a branch of Elderberry on the passage of the Corpus-Christi procession and then place it in an apple tree, it'll protect it against caterpillars. (?!)

Lower Brittany, Côtes d'Armor : You should never hit a cow with an Elderberry branch, it will make it sick, or cause its milk to dry up. Same thing for pigs. Moreover, if you burn Elderberry wood, you risk preventing the hens from laying eggs.

Magical Medicine:

Côte d'Armor : It is said that the Dlderberry is a "doctor", because the fairies took refuge in the flowers to flee the world when it became too mean. (a special one for my dear @lailoken )

Vienne, Vaucluse : the patient who touches an Elderberry will get better in the next few days, and to cure fevers you have to slip his name and date of birth into a previously hollowed-out elderberry tree.

The feast of Saint John is (of course) favorable to the Elderberry, whose virtues it multiplies.

In the Gospel of the Cattails it is said that warts are cured by rubbing it with an Elder leaf on the eve of Saint John, a leaf which is then buried. As the leaf rots, the wart dries out.

In Upper Brittany, Elderflowers collected on Saint John's Day are used to make an herbal tea to treat sick eyes.

Witchcraft :

Jura : We know the story of a sorcerer who introduced a little excrement from the person or animal he wanted to bewitch into a hollowed-out elderberry stick. He then fixed this stick in running water while reciting a prayer. The victim had stomach aches as long as the water agitated the stick.

In addition, Collin de Plancy in his Dictionnaire Infernal reports that : "when one has received some curse from a sorcerer whom one does not know, one hangs one's habit from one ankle and strikes on it with an elderberry stick; all the blows will fall on the back of the guilty sorcerer, who will be forced to come, in all haste, to remove the spell."

I learned SO MUCH HERE (snakes / little neighbors / sick eyes) while I came confident and persuaded to find other things in these quotes... Thus I'll continue to thank and pay tribute by posting the work of J. Fournier on the subject. (Once translated.)

Pic 1 @incroyables-plantes ; pic 2-3 @lherbier-d-elsa

Quotes arranged by me from the Dictionnaire de la France Mystérieuse by MC Delmas.

Also @graveyarddirt, I know you have some and you'll like it Sis' &lt;3

[thetisming]

zombie saga tumblr dash simulator

🏳️‍⚧️ its-super-dope Follow

hey guys how the fuck am i supposed to live now that Juliet is gone

🌅 peshtigo4ever Follow

maybe she would want you to?

🏳️‍⚧️ its-super-dope

okay she wanted me to last time as well did that stop me from killing myself??

🌅 peshtigo4ever

what do you mean last time

3 notes

💙 francois-dubois Follow

I think there should be support groups for people who get ripped to shreds and then see their partner again in the afterlife before being put back together like a puzzle and having them be cruelly taken away again.

📖 writinganddreaming Follow

where's that comic of the virgin Mary starting a support group for her very specific situation where nobody shows up

70 notes

🌹 beautiful-rose Follow

ughhh look at my boyfriend <333 hes so cute i love himmmmm

💙 francois-dubois Follow

Aww, May! You're so sweet 💙 I love you too my dearest

🌅 peshtigo4ever Follow

wow, this was like... before everything. before we even met. it's weird to see stuff like this from so long ago...

43 notes

💙 francois-dubois Follow

Maybe I should stop looking through their blog.

0 notes

🐶 little-guy-fifi Follow

SWEENEY TODD IS THE BEST!!!! SWEENEY TODD MY BELOVED!!!!!!!

💙 francois-dubois Follow

Hey, maybe we should watch it all together tonight?

💙 francois-dubois

I'm killing you I'm killing you I'm killing you-

6 notes

📖 writinganddreaming Follow

#steven sonheim #musical husbands #charley kringas #franklin shepard #good thing going

7 notes

⚜️ slur-de-lis Follow

Hello, everyone. It is me, yes, Lance, better known on here as slur de lis or the Penis King Of France. I would like to inform you that I will no longer be posting as I am about to become a zombie. My beloved wife seems to be pretty upset that I am using my last moments to post this, so goodbye.

Live laugh love Penis King. Forever.

Signed, The Penis King Of France

💙 francois-dubois Follow

I don't know how to feel about the fact that this was his last post

#or the fact that he posted at all #this is pretty tame compared to everything else which feels even worse #what the fuck was wrong with my dad

8,904 notes

yeah

[mariana-oconnor]

The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax pt 3

Last time we came to the conclusion that she's either dead or she's not dead. Much like Schrödinger's cat. Shlessinger's Lady Frances is in a state of superposition and is both dead and alive at the same time. However, the purchase of a coffin for what appears to be an entirely legal burial does suggest that she may not be in quite as much of a superposition as we might like.

It was opened immediately, and the figure of a tall woman was outlined against the dim-lit hall.

Does she have the eyes of a ferret? And if so what happened to the poor ferret?

“I'd be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be,” Peters answered coolly. “I've a bill against her for a nearly a hundred pounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendants that the dealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden—it is a fact that I was using another name at the time—and she stuck on to us until we came to London. I paid her bill and her ticket. Once in London, she gave us the slip, and, as I say, left these out-of-date jewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I'm your debtor.”

Look, the guy is a murderous dickhead who makes overly complicated plans to commit crimes that are essentially just theft, but you've got to admit he's a competent murderous dickhead. He's cool under pressure. He has a full prepared and plausible explanation for his ownership of the stolen goods. If the woman isn't found then there's literally no evidence to disprove his statements.

I do like it when a villain is competent, y'know.

“Where is your warrant?” Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. “This will have to serve till a better one comes.”

There was a whisk of feminine skirts down the passage, and the hall door was opened and shut.

May I take this moment to say how ahead of his time Watson is as he specifies that the skirts are feminine. Very progressive of him. How the sound of feminine skirts differs from masculine or non-binary skirts I am unsure, he clearly has impressive hearing.

"We ordered her funeral to be carried out by Stimson and Co., of the Kennington Road, who will bury her at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Can you pick any hole in that, Mr. Holmes?"

Oh come on, Mr Peters. You're better than this. Don't start gloating now. You've got to keep up the pretence as totally as you can. Asking provicative questions like that might be tempting, but you should be acting as though you're horrified by this man disturbing the peace of the dead woman. You should be confused that he could have any possible reason to be acting like this. Even Holmes himself should have a doubt in his mind that you've done anything wrong.

👏Commit👏to👏the👏bit!👏

“We know where to lay our hands on this gentleman if he is wanted,” said the sergeant majestically, “but you'll have to go, Mr. Holmes.”

Majestically is such a strange adverb to use here. I'm not even sure how you would say that majestically. I guess Watson is just talking up the police because they helped them out.

So ended the day, save that near midnight our friend, the sergeant, called to say that he had seen flickering lights here and there in the windows of the great dark house, but that no one had left it and none had entered.

Demons. Clearly it's demons.

Look, obviously the pair of them have gone to great lengths to procure a body that died of natural causes in an irrefutable way. Clearly they're intending to swap the bodies because once the body has been checked once, no one's going to check it again. And Lady Frances will be buried under the identity of... Rose Spender and the woman they are claiming is Rose Spender is going to be weighted down and thrown in the Thames... or something like that. Or maybe they'll just put two bodies in the coffin. idk.

“What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?” he asked eagerly. “Well, it is 7.20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of any brains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It's life or death—a hundred chances on death to one on life. I'll never forgive myself, never, if we are too late!”

Given that you wasted time by giving this case to Watson in the first place and could have cleared everything up far more quickly if you had remembered that Watson is not good at investigating things, then yes. You shouldn't forgive yourself if she's dead.

With a united effort we tore off the coffin-lid. As we did so there came from the inside a stupefying and overpowering smell of chloroform. A body lay within, its head all wreathed in cotton-wool, which had been soaked in the narcotic.

Soaked in chloroform in a coffin?

Chloroform does not fuck around. Sure, you can't just knock someone out immediately by putting it over their mouth. But she's been in there for a while, I assume, and she's getting a concentrated dose that's wrapped around her entire face? No ventilation. Yeah, she's dead. Or she's at least got liver failure.

What with actual suffocation, and what with the poisonous fumes of the chloroform, the Lady Frances seemed to have passed the last point of recall. And then, at last, with artificial respiration, with injected ether, and with every device that science could suggest, some flutter of life, some quiver of the eyelids, some dimming of a mirror, spoke of the slowly returning life.

Zombie Lady Frances! The miracle of modern science strikes again.

Get the woman some brandy!

"It is new to me in the annals of crime. If our ex-missionary friends escape the clutches of Lestrade, I shall expect to hear of some brilliant incidents in their future career.”

Super weird note to end on. But I guess hurrah she lived... for however long before the combined liver and kidney failure killed her. But she wasn't dead when they left her, and that's the important thing!

And our villains may or may not escape. Shlessinger's villains to join Shlessinger's Lady Frances, I guess. ACD can't have been making a Schrödinger reference because Schrödinger's cat wouldn't be thought up until decades after this story was published, but it's all very Schrödinger.

[my-mt-heart]

Caryl Callbacks

There weren’t nearly enough of them in the show’s final season, but maybe there’s room in whatever’s still in store for Caryl’s story. If so, these are the ones at the top of my list.... 

1. Cherokee Rose 

Don’t get me wrong, the flower Daryl left on Carol’s tray in 10x04 counts for a lot, mirroring the first time he offered her hope in the wake of losing a child. But for fans, the Cherokee rose symbolizes more than that. It stands for Caryl’s entire relationship, which was meant to be the heart of the show going into the last  season, so it isn’t unreasonable to expect it to crop up again somewhere before the end. 

2. The Prison Bus 

The shoulder massage. Screw around? I’ll go down first. So much good material to refer back to should Daryl and Carol start to explore physical intimacy with each other again. I can’t be the only one who misses Carol’s raunchy side... 

3. Sophia 

There were plenty of opportunities for Daryl and Carol to talk about her in an impactful way, so it’s really a shame S11 chose the one anecdote in 11x18 that barely scratched the surface. The character might be long gone, but she was the catalyst for the most iconic relationship on the show. Daryl and Carol suffered her loss together, like co-parents, and miraculously found hope in each other. 

4. A friend thinks you’re perfect when everyone else thinks you’re broken 

Jerry planted that in my head, and I haven’t been able to get it out ever since. Imagine hearing Daryl tell Carol she’s perfect, effectively putting her insecurities to rest. I don’t even care that it’s on the nose. 

5. Bracelets and Acorns

I’ve already talked about this at length, so I’ll keep it brief. Where is Carol’s friendship bracelet? Where is Daryl’s double capper? Seems like they’d make pretty strong visual cues now that Daryl and Carol have to spend more time apart -_-

6. The Grove 

This is arguably the darkest memory Carol’s been forced to carry with her throughout her journey, doing enough damage to her self image to prevent hers and Daryl’s relationship from taking its natural course into romance. A confession seems like the most logical way to get back on track. Daryl could serve as her long, hard look in the mirror, letting her know--with words-- he sees her for who she really is, not who she thinks she is. 

7. Man of Honor

Back in S2, Daryl asked Carol what she wanted and she made it explicitly clear. A man of honor. How is it that the series is now over, and she still hasn’t gotten what she wants?  

8. I know where I’m supposed to be

The subtext seemed pretty clear. Not a doubt to be had. But then S11 happened, and now we’re stuck with the sexy clown spinoff no one asked for. To pour salt on the wound, Daryl floundering around in France is supposed to stir feelings of uncertainty about where he belongs...again. Maybe though, just maybe, the tenth time will be the charm and he’ll realize he needs to be wherever Carol is. Forever. All the time. 

9. The “No Sanctuary” Reunion

How to top one of the most iconic scenes of the whole series: Step one, needlessly separate Daryl and Carol for an extended period of time. Check -_- Step two, put Daryl in danger. I mean, that’s probably going to happen. Step 3, send Carol on a rescue mission. The woman knows how to sail. Step 4, have her blow something up. Step 5, let Caryl run into each other’s arms and kiss. 

10. Start Over

Daryl has told Carol multiple times that they can start over, meaning they can start over together, and we know what that’s supposed to look like. It’s the two of them on the bike, exploring parts unknown whether it’s New Mexico or somewhere else. Not France though. You can’t cross the ocean on a bike -_-

[ilikealotoffandomsandstuff]

Just watched the teenwolf movie and I think it was a bit good like it wasn’t that bad so yeah spoilers

ethan is still with Jackson and lives still in London

No explanation for Isaac? Like did Chris really just left him in France and never returned to get him back????

How did Liam got this box? He didn’t was in season 3 he never knew the nogitsune and Isaac had it

Eli is stiles 2.0

Jackson in the movie is idk but I kinda liked him there

Stydia because of a ducking dream?

Derek becomes an true alpha just for him to brun alive in front of his son not even a secound later like he with his family

Where’s Corey? Did Mason and he broke up? And where did he go then?

Where’s theo? They didn’t even mention him

Honestly I think peterxchris had more chemistry than. malia and Parrish

Danny wasn’t there and no explanation where he is gone

Couch calls scott Greenberg. Like was scott just Greenberg all along? And when not then why did we never see the face of Greenberg

No mention of Kira like is she still in the dersert?

Melissa is a doctor now from what it seems and she derserved it

The nogitsune… stiles and Kira should been there they were the main plot for that

Also hes a hybrid? Even though in season 3 they say he can be a fox and a Werwolf but now he is? like what? And they killed him? But in season 3 he said that you can’t kill the nogitsune

Mason and Liam just interacted once and just for Liam to end Mason sentences like come on they were best friends

Peter’s sniffing scene…. I didn’t thought you guys were joking but wow he realised that there was no need for that

Peters hair flip was funny tho

And that he got his revenge on Derek with burning the wolfsbane out of him

What was the scene between Lydia and Scott when they were searching for the place from who Allison died ??

Scott and Alison adopting Eli you tell me Alison who tried to kill Derek and is probably still a teenager mentally maybe physically too is with Scott? A grown man and they adopting eli? Like he as family ok peter and malia not to be choice but where the duck is Cora and also the shriff could take him they have a bond and know each other and not like Scott who last saw him when he was kid and Alison he never meet her she tried to kill him

And Alison came back to live and they didn’t even bother to text Isaac it? Like Allison was his girlfriend when she died and he had to watch that she always liked Scott (even when. He was with him I guess?) that’s wow. And then he’s adopted by Chris his girlfriends father who tired to kill him and go ti France but only Chris retuned and left Isaac in grace alone???? And his daughter came back but he didn’t told Isaac???

Isaac derserved better

Like sheriff should told Eli it would make more sense

And malia or even Peter could help him with his werewolf powers yeah Scott to but he probably leave beacon hills again

Malia still hates peter and Peter still wants malia to call her dad I guess that never change

[pub-lius]

burr pt. 4 stay on that grindset mindset

with the power of abby lee miller and the devil from the bible, im getting all these posts done in one sitting. (part 3)

Europe side quest

Burr fled to Europe under an assumed name in June 1808 because literally everyone hated him after the whole treason and killing Hamilton thing.

Burr traveled through England living it up, and by that I mean sightseeing, reading, whoring, eating a shocking amount of grapes, and plotting yet another Western expedition (he tried to get British and French support but they didn't give a shit, they had an international war to worry about).

He met Jeremy Bentham and they were gay and I live for it. Bentham was a philosopher, best known for the concept of utilitarianism, which is actually really slay. He wrote to his daughter about how much he liked him and how much he thought she would like him and it's really sweet to read. More info about Burr and his gay lovers here (I love this article).

Burr visited France and almost hung out with ~M. de Talleyrand~, but Talleyrand was like "i have this portrait of Hamilton, I hope that's not a problem" and Burr was like "...maybe i'll catch you next time-"

There was also this one time (idk where or when it was, but im not looking it up) where Burr saw a statue of Hamilton and like pointed at his face wrinkles and said "here lies the poetry" or whatever. You can think about that all you want, I think it's weird and I have no clue what it means.

Return to America

Burr came back to the states in spring of 1812, and moved to the Boston waterfront, which was. different. from the elaborate mansion he had in the New York countryside. He reappeared in New York in June to resume his legal career, so I don't wanna hear he was unemployed (he was severely in debt tho).

In December 1812, Theodosia Jr. went to meet Burr from her home in South Carolina, but died in a shipwreck. cry. CRY.

Burr continued to practice law, but was completely removed from politics. In 1831, he was found living in a dirty "garret, shabbily dressed" yet still optimistic.

He married Eliza Jumel, who was a wealthy widow, in 1833. In my opinion, she was just as sketchy as he was, so like. idk, but she divorced him the following year because he was a broke bitch. She also hired Alexander Hamilton Jr. as her divorce attorney which, yeah that's a low blow, but he was a huge asshole, so maybe she should have gone with James Alexander Hamilton instead.

Burr suffered several strokes the day the divorce was finalized in 1834, and died at Port Richard, Staten Island on September 14.

A clergyman was asked about the likelihood that Burr would be freed from sin, and he said, "On that subject I am coy."

Aaron Burr was buried at Princeton on September 16, 1836.

This one is unexpectedly short, which I think is a gift from god because I have been sitting here for four hours. I'm going to go watch Shameless and eat ice cream, so I hope you all have a slay day, and I will see you soon for Lafayette's post <3

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The Year of Intelligent Tigers

Synopsis

"Doctor!" said Anji. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't just walk out on them! "Look, give them a chance, they're frightened, they're only —"

"Human?" The Doctor took a deep breath, as though to stop himself from saying anything more. "Now, stay!"

The weather is going to hell. The tigers are coming to town. And the Doctor has taken his violin and vanished.

The island world of Hitchemus is home to a colony of musicians and seemingly harmless alien animals. When the storms and the tigers break loose, the Doctor tries to protect the humans — but the humans don't want him. When he ventures into the wilderness in search of the tigers' secrets, Fitz and Anji find themselves on their own, trying to prevent a war.

With both sides eager for blood, and hurricanes on the horizon, the Doctor must decide whether this time he's on the side of the human race.

Propaganda

It's one of the most beautiful books in the EDAs, possibly in all of Doctor Who canon. It's about music. It's about colonialism. It's about animals that look like tigers but aren't, and about how the Doctor looks human, but isn't. It's about music. It's about an entire species' lost heritage, not due to outside intervention but biology and damned bad luck. It's about gay sex. It's about music. (6&7)

Human Nature

Synopsis

""Who's going to save us this time?""

April, 1914. The inhabitants of the little Norfolk town of Farringham are enjoying an early summer, unaware that war is on the way. Amongst them is Dr John Smith, a short, middle-aged history teacher from Aberdeen. He's having a hard time with his new post as house master at Hulton College, a school dedicated to producing military officers.

Bernice Summerfield is enjoying her holiday in the town, getting over the terrible events that befell her in France. But then she meets a future Doctor, and things start to get dangerous very quickly. With the Doctor she knows gone, and only a suffragette and an elderly rake for company, can Benny fight off a vicious alien attack? And will Dr Smith be able to save the day?

Propaganda

the tv adaptation of this has tighter writing but the book has. idk a lot of stuff in it that's interesting that unfortunately didn't make it into the episodes. i think they should fight (October)