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glamourscat · 21 hours ago

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FLOWERS? ISAGI YOICHI X READER

the bastard münchen vs pxg match HAS FINALLY ENDED. A lil (late Valentine’s) childhood bestie! x Isagi fic because I love him so much

Pathetic.

That’s how Isagi felt; truly and utterly pathetically in love.

It was foolish of him, really, falling for his childhood best friend. The one person who knew him better than anyone else, the one constant in his life. And yet, he had fallen anyway.

He had known you since before you could even string proper sentences together, back when the biggest problem in your tiny world was who got to play with the fluffy teddy bear. He had been there for every phase of your life, just as you had been for his.

The bad haircuts, the breakouts, the braces. The cringe stylistic choices that made you both groan whenever old pictures resurfaced. The triumphs and failures, the reckless dreams and harsh realities. Every best and worst moment you had been by each other’s side.

And because of that, maybe he should have realized sooner.

Your parents, his parents, had always teased. “You two will end up together eventually.” A statement so casual, so inevitable in their wise eyes. Maybe that was why he held back for so long. Maybe it was out of sheer defiance, or maybe it was the terrifying truth that you already saw him. Every flaw, every insecurity, every crack in his carefully built walls.

And yet, you still chose to stay.

To love someone who truly sees you, all of you, and still stays by your side? That scared the shit out of him.

But Blue Lock is over now. He felt like he had aged thirty years in that soccer prison, but it had been worth it. Because now, he was here. Walking freely through the streets with the weight of his dream in his hands. He was part of Japan’s World Cup team.

And you, his best friend, his everything, would be by his side, not just as his anchor but also as the team’s manager.

Isagi exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the selection of flowers before him.

He had faced some of the greatest strikers in the world. Outwitted geniuses on the field. Fought, struggled, won.

And yet, confessing to you on Valentine’s Day? Felt like the biggest challenge he had to yet face.

“Roses are too much, right?” he mumbled under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the bouquets like they were an opposing team’s defensive lineup. Puzzle pieces hardly connecting in his brain. “I mean… yeah, they literally scream romance, but isn’t that kind of obvious? Too predictable? Shit.”

The old lady behind the counter glanced at him, unimpressed. She had seen countless lovesick fools in this exact position before, hell, today alone and Isagi fell right into that category.

Tulips? Too plain. Sunflowers? You might think he was calling you bright and cheerful, which—yeah, fair, but what if you took it as a joke? Lilies? What do lilies even mean?!

“You need help?” the florist finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admitted immediately. “I mean—yes? No. I’m just trying to figure out what flowers match a card that I, uh, may or may not have rewritten six times… as a valentines gift. Which turned out fine! I think. Maybe. Hopefully.”

The florist hummed, giving him a long, knowing look before glancing at the selection in front of her. “Alright, what kind of message are we going for here? Romantic? Sweet? ‘I’ve been in love with you since childhood and only just realized it because I’m a dumbass’?”

Isagi choked. “Why would you say it like that?!”

She gave him the flattest stare of his life. “Because that’s exactly what’s happening.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, fair point.”

The florist smirked before plucking a bouquet from the display. “Here. Go with these. A mix of daisies, lavender and forget-me-nots. It says you care, but you’re not coming on too strong. Subtle romance, but meaningful. Perfect for an idiot in denial.”

He took the bouquet, staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. “Huh. Yeah. This… this actually works. How did you—”

“Experience, kid. Now go before you start overthinking again.”

Isagi nodded, clutching the flowers like they were the winning ball in a match. Alright. Flowers? Check. Card? Done—well, kind of. Cake? As good as it was gonna get.

Now, he just had to actually go back home and give them to you.

…Oh, shit.

This was really happening.

This might actually kill him.

He is pretty sure his heart is beating faster than the last goal he scored while playing for bastard münchen. He feels like throwing up. Was this normal? Probably not. But despite everything he wants you to know. He needs you to know that at the end of the day, pathetic or not, Isagi Yoichi is in love with you. And it was damn time he did something about it.

But for his luck, as he walked out of the flower shop, he almost crashed into someone.

“I am so—“ before he could even get the words out his soul almost came out of his body.

YOU. Out of everyone, you. In front of him. With a bouquet of flowers too. Wait, FLOWERS? Who— you…. Did— who gave you those?

“Yoichi” you say, words coming out slightly higher pitched than intended, trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the panicked expression you were trying to fight off with a smile came off more as you were constipated, more than anything else.

“Y/n” he says, seemingly unaware of your mental state, thankfully? Or maybe you should be worried that he was so oblivious to it.

“ Are you g—“

“Who— gave you those?” He said so quickly, not even allowing you to finish your sentence.

Your eyes fall to the flowers in your arms, if your cheeks weren’t red before, you’re pretty sure they are now.

“Who gave you those?” you say, nodding to the flowers he had in his arms. Trying to change the subject.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second”

A moment of silence before you two burst out laughing from the strange moment.

“Alright— alright. On the count of three? Together?” You says amused

One. Two. Three.

“I got them from you” you two say in unison.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

That’s what his brain was screaming. He probably looked like an absolute moron, standing there with a confused expression and jaw open as he looked at you. Huh? Him? YOU GOT FLOWERS FOR HIM— AKCKEPWLCNGIVVIFNRNWPW.

“You— eh?”

That was it. That was all his brain could come up with. World-class striker, future ace of Japan, but the second you said you got flowers for him? Immediate system failure.

You smiled, shy but warm, the edges of your expression softening in that way that was playful yet so beautiful. It made his heart feel like it was about to spontaneously combust. “Yeah, you—is that so weird?”

Yes. No. Maybe. His brain was still rebooting.

“You—you got me flowers?” he repeated, as if the words might make more sense if he said them out loud.

“I mean, yeah,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot. The bouquet in your arms crinkled as you fidgeted with the wrapping. “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? I figured i had to be clear because you’re so dense sometimes.”

“I’m not dense!” he argued immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little dense,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the rest of the world. “But—wait, why did you…?”

The words hung heavy in the air. Why did you get me flowers?

You took a shaky breath. “Because I like you, idiot.”

“I—wait—what?” He blinked, gripping his bouquet tighter like it might hold him upright. “Like… like-like?”

“Damn… and you say you aren’t dense” a small snort left your lips. “Yes, like-like!” you huffed, but your voice trembled a little. “I’ve… kinda liked you for a while. And I figured—if I didn’t say anything today, I’d probably chicken out forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month. Maybe two.”

“You like me,” he repeated dumbly, trying to wrap his head around it.

You tilted your head, exasperated. “Yoichi, please tell me those flowers are for me or am I about to die of embarrassment right now?”

“What? NO—I mean, yes! Yes, I like you too!” The words practically exploded out of him, way louder than he meant to. “I’ve liked you since—God, I don’t even know when. Probably since that stupid teddy bear fight when we were kids.. And—” Lord, he is rambling now. “And I have made you a card. A beautiful one, I think you will like it. And a cake. Though I burnt it the first time. Maybe the second time too. But, fuck yes, I like you too”

For a second, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, two idiots clutching flowers, blushing like middle schoolers with their first crushes.

Finally, you exhaled, shaking your head as you tried not to laugh. “Wow. We’re really bad at this.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “But, like… at least we’re bad at it together?”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Together, huh?”

“I mean… if you want that. If you want me.” He said, trying not to look more giddy than he already is.

“I wouldn’t be standing here holding flowers and trying to not burst into flames after a confession that I definitely did not rehearse in my head twenty times for you if I didn’t, genius.”

In a rush of courage, Isagi moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, bouquets squished in between your guys’ chests. You smelled like warmth and home.

“Can I—uh,” he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, “can I kiss you?”

“Yoichi, if you don’t kiss me after all that, I’ll start overthinking and we know—.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His smile shushed you, as his lips finally met yours in a kiss that was a bit messy, yet soft and sweet. You tasted like that tea you like so much. A mix of honey, flowers and sugar that makes him greedy for more. Despite being in the middle of the sidewalk and in retrospect, he will for sure be embarrassed about the pda later.

But that’s a problem for later. Because the realisation that fuck yes, he is finally kissing you, settles in. And for the first time that day, but perhaps in his entire life, his brain went completely and blissfully quiet.

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w2mini · 2 days ago

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RED MEANS TAKEN DUMMY! atsumu x reader

-happy valentines 𓂃۶ৎ warnings: reader is reserved, swearings, black cat x golden retriever (I'm never getting tired of this trope for atsumu) fluff only

For Atsumu, he's always been drawn to you—the quiet, pretty muse from unfortunately another class who never seemed to fall for his popular charm. And what's worst is that you weren't even doing anything to catch his attention. It was just a random Tuesday when you were introduced as a new student in Inarizaki, then went on with your day as a normal student like everyone would—and that?

That drove him crazy.

It was probably your reserved nature that felt refreshing to him since he's used to having a crowd of admirers around him. You weren't trying to stand out, be loud—you just always seemed like you had your own little world to be content with.

And he desperately wants to be a part of your life. But let's be real—he's probably not the type to immediately accept his feelings about you because this is genuinely the first time he's falling for someone, so with some ups and downs, denial, and winning a war with his own feelings—yep, he wanted you BAD.

So little by little, he would hang out with you during breaks, keep you company, and slowly become a part of your inner circle—you grew fond of him in your own quiet way. So with Valentines coming up, Atsumu decides it would be the perfect time to confess his undying love for you.

But of course this is an Inarizaki centered story, and it's not one without chaos.

"Yo, have you guys seen the new post from the student council?" The volleyball club were currently in the gym practicing as usual every after school times. Akagi, who was simply scrolling at his phone during break ends up with an interesting post from their student council's social media page regarding the event tomorrow. "The color-coded shirts? still haven't decided what I'm gonna wear to be honest." Aran replied, approaching Akagi to look at his phone, checking what each color meant. To celebrate Valentines, the student council announces a color-coded Valentine's event wherein students wear shirts that indicate their relationship status: Red meant taken, White meant single, Pink means friend-zoned, Black meant heartbroken, etc. Atsumu, who was already plotting his confession, grinned to himself. White it is, because, obviously, he's saving himself for you. So could you just imagine on a Valentines day morning, he's all excited walking at the school, ready to show off in front of you, and sees you in the hallway—

... wearing a red top.

aka TAKEN.

his soul shatters at the sight.

I—what—When—WHO???? Osamu and Suna who was with him—seeing the devastated face on Atsumu bursts into laughter.

He turned to Osamu, aggressively whispering "WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN???”

"She's taken? tough luck Miya." Suna says in between giggles.

You on the other hand who was just simply talking to a friend—doesn’t recognize the chaos happening behind you for wearing a red top.

“You never told me you were in a relationship?” Your friend offhandedly asks, but they were also internally panicking because they know about Atsumu’s plan.

You tilted your head in confusion, “huh? but I dont?”

“what? it’s red though.” your friend points at your top.

“so? don’t people wear red for valentines?”

You friend’s expression drops.

“[name] you dumbass.”

—

Atsumu spent the whole day sulking, even during practice. He messed up the easiest receives, screwed up his sets, and almost hit Suna on the head with his serve.

that damn red top, he’s never been this furious over a color, and what’s worst is that you looked good with that top too!

How come he had already lost without starting?

And how come he never knew you were already in a relationship? You never gave hints or said anything about being in a relationship—

“If I were you, I would’ve confessed already rather than sulking like that.” easier said than done Aran.

“She was wearing red, RED!” Atsumu dramatically exclaims as he drowns on his own sorrows.

“What did red mean again?” Ginjima asks.

“Taken.” Suna replied bluntly, making Atsumu hiss at the word.

“Never stood a chance huh?” Osamu grinned mockingly.

“SHUT YER TRAP SAMU.”

Kita could only facepalm at the situation, but he’s rather amused since this is the first time he’s seen Atsumu like this, “You know Atsumu, have you ever thought that maybe she just wore the color and discarding the meaning?”

Atsumu’s ears perked up, then Ginjima suddenly had a lightbulb over his head, “Oh yeahhh, it could mean like that too, there were a bunch of guys wearing black for fun earlier despite not being in a relationship.”

“Maybe try asking her about it then?” Akagi suggested.

I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Actually scrap that, it would.

That is until knocking was heard on the doors of the gym.

The team looks over to the source of the sound then sees—

You… with a small box.

“Uhm, pardon me but can I call for Atsumu?” You asked, peeking over to the doors.

Atsumu immediately RAN and was suddenly infront of you, looking… nervous?

“Did ya’ uh, need anything?” he asks, his voice crackling a little.

Then, you hold out the gift to him. “For you.”

Atsumu froze.

“Huh…?”

“Thanks for always keeping me company,” you say softly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to approach.”

Atsumu finally finds his voice. “Wait—so yer not datin’ anyone?”

You blink. “No, why?”

His brain short circuited. He points at your top, “But—THAT’S RED.”

“So?”

That’s when he realizes.

You didn’t know shit about the color-coded event.

His entire face lights up, and lets out the most dramatic sigh of relief. “Wearing red means taken stupid.” He says, flicking your forehead.

It was your turn to get struck by realization now.

No wonder everyone kept asking if you were in a relationship, and no WONDER everyone was wearing different colors for valentines.

Oh you feel fucking stupid.

You then immediately took your phone out, opening an app then searching for your school’s official account page.

You face drops seeing the png file on the very first post that appeared, no wonder why your friend had asked that odd question.

“I—didn’t know…” you muttered, embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding.

Atsumu only chuckled in response, laughing at your misery. “Yer’ killin me ya know that? I though I lost my chance before I even tried.”

You perked up. “You were trying?”

“Obviously.” He grinned.

You smiled warmly, feeling funny about the situation. “Try harder then.”

Atsumu had the brightest grin on his face, he ruffled your hair then gently took the gift from your hands. “Oh I definitely will.”

“P-D-A ALERT” Osamu suddenly shouted from the gym, surprising you and pissing off Atsumu.

“MIND YER OWN BUSINESS!”

WOOOO KINDA SHORT IM SO SORRY GUYS but happy valentines!! and of course I had to celebrate it by writing my all time favorite character😻 hope you guys enjoyed HDJHFODK

💐 >> bouquets for those who don’t feel special enough on this special day <33

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secretmellowblog · 3 days ago

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Inspector Javert is canonically a furry (not joking, not clickbait)

Inspector Javert from Les Miserables is canonically a furry and I’m not joking even a little. His fursona is extremely symbolically important, and you need to understand it to understand the book. I’m serious, let me explain. (You can also view this post in Video Essay format at this link.)

In the novel, Javert is always compared to a dog– but specifically, a dog who is the son of wolves. I’ll explain why in a minute. But the important thing is that Victor Hugo emphasizes this dog metaphor literally every time Javert is on page. I can’t overstate how much Hugo compares Javert to a dog at literally every single opportunity. It’s the first thing we learn about him when he’s introduced;

he’s described as looking like a dog:

other characters compare him to a dog,

there are chapter-long extended metaphors comparing the way Javert hunts criminals to the way hunting dogs pursue their prey.

His sideburns are described as whiskers, his hands are described as claws, he’s always barking, snarling, and growling. Any time Hugo sees an opportunity to compare Javert to a dog, or to have Javert act dog-like: he takes it. Javert:

But like…why?

Let’s look at Javert’s first appearance in the novel. So when Victor Hugo first introduces Javert in Volume 1, he’s literally like “so this guy name was Javert and– wait, back up, I need to explain the concept of fursonas.”

Then Hugo interrupts Javert’s introduction with a multi-paragraph digression about how everyone has an animal that symbolizes their soul. And that animal is unique for each person. Sometimes people just are an anthropomorphic animal.

It is our conviction that if souls were visible to the eyes, we should be able to see distinctly that strange thing that each one individual of the human race corresponds to some one of the species of the animal creation; and we could easily recognize this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals exist in man, and that each one of them is in a man. (...)

And he goes on for a while, but if you know what a furry is, you already understand what he’s getting at. After explaining furries, Hugo goes on to explain Javert’s symbolically important fursona. Quote:

“Now, if the reader will admit, for a moment, with us, that in every man there is one of the animal species of creation, it will be easy for us to say what there was in Police Officer Javert.

The peasants of Asturias are convinced that in every litter of wolves there is one dog, which is killed by the mother because, otherwise, as he grew up, he would devour the other little ones. Give to this dog-son of a wolf a human face, and the result will be Javert.”

So Javert is a dog who is the son of wolves. He is a wolf that has become domesticated– and is now a hunting dog, serving humans, devouring his wild wolf siblings. (That’s an edgy emo DeviantArt sparkledog backstory if I’ve ever heard one.)

But what does that symbolic backstory mean? It means that Javert is what the kids call “a class traitor.”

In the next part of his introduction, Hugo elaborates that Javert was born inside of a jail, the son of an imprisoned mother and a galley slave father. He was born into the same traumatizing poverty, stigma, and intense criminalization as characters like Jean Valjean. In fact, Jean Valjean himself is often compared to a “wolf”-- because in the novel, wolves are often used to symbolize criminals, outcasts, and the people who society oppresses and treats like monsters.

But unlike Jean Valjean, Javert turns his back on his ‘wolf siblings.” He turns his back on people from his class. He domesticates himself– by becoming a lowranking police officer, and enforcing the same system that imprisoned his family and destroyed his life.

He rigorously defends a hierarchy that he is at the bottom of. He serves an authority that views him as subhuman, like a dog defending its masters. Society will never treat him as an equal, and Javert knows this–- but society tolerates him because he is useful, because he hunts down the wolves. Javert would arrest his entire family to please authority, and he would do it with no other feeling except for the pleasure of obedience. He’s a dog, happy to devour his criminal wolf siblings.

And the reason Victor Hugo goes so overboard with the canine imagery is to emphasize how much the metaphor is the key to his entire character and how he interacts with other people from his own class.

And recognizing that metaphor really deepens your understanding of the novel. For example, it’s one of the many ways that Javert parallels Eponine– another character who describes herself as a dog from a family of wolves.

The dog imagery also has layers of meaning that change over time. For example: in the original book, Javert is not obsessed with Jean Valjean. The idea that “Javert makes it his life goal to catch Jean Valjean and spends all his time pursuing him out a personal revenge quest” is actually something that adaptations invented– largely as a way to avoid engaging with Victor Hugo’s systemic criticisms of the police. [rant redacted.] In the original book, Javert follows up on Jean Valjean whenever he coincidentally happens to pick up his scent– and yes it’s described that way, as picking up his scent, because he’s a dog. Otherwise Jean Valjean isn’t really a person to him, he’s just an extremely difficult piece of prey. There's nuance, there are things that specifically stick out to him and frustrate him in a unique way, mainly the way that Jean Valjean is able to camouflage himself so well as a bourgeois. But overall-- no, he's not making a Sacred Promise to dedicate his life to finding him. Quote:

But after Jean Valjean saves his life, that changes. Javert suddenly develops deep intense wildly overcomplicated emotions for him, emotions that are described using the metaphors of dogs and wolves. The scene after they reunite, when Javert lets Jean Valjean go, is described like this:

“He felt something between a wolf that has found its prey and a dog that has found its master again.” (...) “To be the watch-dog, and to lick the intruder's hand!” (....) “He was tempted to fling himself upon Jean Valjean, seize him, and devour him– that is, to say, arrest him.”

{insert vore joke.] In a previous chapter he boasted about how his hands were claws:

In this chapter, he views his clawed hands with disgust and self-loathing.

But here’s the thing: it’s more than just a symbolic metaphor in the narration. The characters in the novel often seem to be aware that Javert is a dog. Like, Jean Valjean has that whole inner monologue about how Javert is quote a “frightful hunting dog.” Javert describes his own hands as claws and thinks about himself in dog metaphors. When he’s being executed at the barricades, the rebels tie a rope around his neck to use as a leash. There's a bit where Javert's eyes are described as having "the feline phosphoresence of birds of the night," as if he literally has tapeta lucidum. Javert also canonically wears a leather collar with a buckle— which I don’t think is supposed to be related to the dog thing, but it FEELS related. And I’m gonna be honest: I don’t know what to do with that. But Ao3 does.

And in a very different way: so does Takahiro Arai, the creator of a recent Les Mis manga adaptation. Arai draws Javert’s soul as a massive frightening wolfdog, that emerges to symbolize his emotional state in critical parts of the story. And it shows how understanding the deeper meaning of this imagery leads to a more complete understanding of Javert’s character.

Thank you for reading! I feel like Javert being a furry is a Known Thing on Tumblr, but it’s gotten to the point where everybody takes it for granted. And so: a post was necessary, to archive the lore.

[But if you want even more furry Javert content, I recommend joining the @lesmisletters readalong! Les Mis has 365 chapters, and this email subscription sends you one chapter a day for a year. We also have a discord server linked in the pinned post on our tumblr blog! It’s never too late to join. ]

#les mis #les mis letters #lm 1.5.5 #jean valjean #inspector javert #valvert

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ghouljams · 20 hours ago

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I'm always so on the fence about whether Simon would be a drug user or not. On the one hand, I can totally see him despising hard drugs because of how it fucked up his dad and his brother for a while, and knowing how easy it would be for him to fall into addiction given his mental state and family history.

On the other hand, I could see him needing something to take him out of his head for a little while. Drugs feel good, they take the edge off of bad days (at least until you crash back down to Earth again) and given Simon's trauma, he really does have bad days. Without better coping mechanisms, I could definitely see him thinking "just a little will be fine".

My question is, how bad is the part where he comes down? Does he feel it was worth those few hours he was out of his head for, or does he feel worse after? Does he crave that feeling of weightlessness where nothing truly matters? I saw you say that Simon isn't like his dad and brother, he can control himself, but is there some internalized hate for addicts? Does he think "I'm not as bad as *them*" while downing more pills just to feel something?

Much to consider! Thank you for bringing up such an interesting point.

Yeah! I can really see it going either way with Ghost, but I think no matter what, at his core there is a very deep hatred for addicts. Deeply internalized, but it's there. And it makes him think that he's above that, that he's too smart to become an addict(not true) and that he can indulge in addictive substances because there's some intrinsic betterness to him(also not true). He's stronger than his father and Tommy, he doesn't give into temptation, he has more willpower, more self-control than them. His father was weak, and that's why he beat up kids. Tommy was weak, and that's why Simon had to step up and be the man of the family.

I think that @niocel had it right in the tags that Morphine was Ghost's first taste of drugs, stolen from Tommy when he was forcing his brother through rehab and used in a "moment of weakness" that Ghost will never admit came from curiosity, of need.

He takes little individually wrapped pills meant to wean addicts off heroin/morphine whine he's deployed. Three times a day, or he starts getting shaky. But that's just his body, his brain knows that he doesn't need the high, that he can just stop. Look, he did stop, he doesn't want the drugs when he can fill that hole in his chest with blood and violence, with sex and alcohol, with cigarettes and those little pre-packaged pills. He isn't an addict. Addicts have some inherent weakness to them, and Ghost isn't weak. He crawled his way out of a grave, no drug is going to drag him back into one.

Which makes the come down hard. Means when he isn't floating anymore his body is heavier, guiltier, weaker. He's not as bad as Tommy, he's better than Tommy. Tommy was escaping reality, Ghost-

Ghost just wants to feel something. He's already so numb to it all, so cut apart from every knife and bullet that's left its mark on him, he's already proven that he can handle anything life throws at him, he's not going to let some pill-

So yeah, just a little is fine. He can do just a little. No one has stopped him, which means it's ok. They know he can handle it.

#simon ghost riley #cod headcanons #tw drug addiction #tw drugs

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skullypettibone · 2 days ago

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Omg PLEASE tell me more about Bellara/Illario!! 🤩

YESSSS BELLARIO MY BELOVED. ok so this post here is what sold me on them. I just love the idea of Bellara needs help writing her romance novels and who better to turn to than the Romance Expert (self proclaimed) as a consultant. she's like "hey Illario does this line sound cheesy or is it working?" and he looks in her eyes and reads it aloud in That Voice and oh yeah that's good 😳for the book I mean. and obviously Illario is preening like a silly tropical bird under all the attention

Also once serious feelings are involved I think Bellara would scare the shit out of Illario. He's craved validation and to be the one chosen first all his life. Now this lil ray of sunshine is being so sweet and kind to him and the worst part is she sucks ass at lying so oh nooo he knows she actually means it. I think Illario would lose his mind a little and want to eat her.

As for Bellara, I like the idea of her having a partner that doesn't infantilize her. Something Illario can definitely understand as he's always been treated as less competent than he actually is. People don't notice bc she's cute but lol Bellara's lowkey pretty morally grey. Picture she's rambling to Illario about something she wants to build if onlyyyy she had this one super rare part that's locked up in some Orlesian vault :(. Couple days later Illario says here you go don't ask how I got this. and Bellara would just be like okay❤️ yay❤️ He would hear out her vision for laser turrets on the Lighthouse

They're one of those ships that I think you can take a lot of different directions! it ends tragically or they make it work and are really good for each other

#bellario #illario dellamorte #bellara lutare

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semihearts · 3 days ago

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Undercover

— Reader who is a disguised cop in the Squid Game and join it as a player.

— Dae-ho who tries to impress reader with his “courage” but instead he’s the one who gets surprised.

Pairing: Dae-ho x reader

Author’s note: Hi! This is my first post, hope you like it and sorry if there’s any typos! Feel free to give your opinion and suggestions for more fics ⁺⠀⠀.⠀

- In the beginning of the games you already knew that you had to stick with player 456, who already won the games before. You’ve seen him multiple times at the police station, reporting some deadly child games. No one ever believed him, only you, and that’s how you not only investigated the games, but literally joined it.

- Everyone was starting to make teams and alliances, and you thought that getting in Gi-hun’s would be difficult, you couldn’t just ask to join them or something. But as you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around, you saw him.

- Player 388, who introduced himself as Dae-ho, was looking for one more person to join their team, and you seemed to be the best option for the last spot!! ( he just thought you were cute ).

- What he didn’t expect was that you were actually one of the bravest person of the team ( dae-ho was almost pissing on his pants during mingle!) At least he could feel your hands in his when both his legs stopped working and you had to drag him to a room.

- Dae-ho would always tell you stories about the marine ( some of them weren’t completely true..) and you had to lie about your life out of the games, pretending that you were just some ordinary person with an ordinary job and whatever.

- He actually cared for you, you could feel it, and all his attempts to protect you made your heart start liking him more.

- You helped Hyun-ju with their plan to end the games for good creating strategies and, when the time came, you did pretty good at knocking those guards off. Oh and you also volunteered to go with them to find who’s behind the games.

- But Dae-ho only comprehended: You + gun + guards who also have guns = ??? And also, how did you fight them so well… that wasn’t cute at all!! He tried stopping you from joining them but it was of no use.

- When he was about to tell you how dangerous a gun was and that you could get hurt, there you were, with a MP5A3 in hands teaching the others how to use it.

- During the mission, he saw you, giving everyone orders, covering for Hyun-ju and taking the lead when needed ( that also wasn’t cute at all ).

- When Dae-ho took so long to come back with more ammo you immediately went looking for him, worried that something happened on his way to the players’s room. He was hidden in a corner, almost crying, and it only took your hand on his for him to tell you everything. That he didn’t really wanted to be part of the marine and he got lots of trauma because of it, and that he was scared as hell in that moment.

- You didn’t know what to say, I mean, yeah you kinda expected him to not be the ‘'oh so tuff’’ marine soldier he tried to be, but you can’t say that hearing such a confession was in your mind. So the only thing you could think of, was telling him your truth now.

- ‘’Dae-ho I… the reason I am here, the true one, is to stop these games, it doesn’t matter who I really am now, and I’m sorry that I lied to you, but my objective since I got here is to stop all this killing. And right now, I need your help, please.

- ‘’ I’m sorry I can’t’’- he said while burying his face in his hands “I’m just stupid, God! I wish I could help you, be brave for you, I’m just a idiot in debt who pretends to be someone else to impress a girl”.

- You remove his face of his hands and hold them. “hey, you impressed me when I saw you getting out of your way more than once to try to save me. That was braver that any other story about the marine or whatever, you have a protective side for your loved ones that is rare to find. Now, we are in the middle of a gunshot there and Hyun-ju really needs our help, and I need yours, would you come with me?”.

- Born again, you could see determination in his eyes, getting up and taking the ammo, he wanted to deliver them as fast as he could, of course he wanted to help and destroy the games, but honestly that was just the aftermath. The truth is, he enjoyed the feeling of being needed by you, the fact that you specifically wanted his help, and he wanted to show you that you could always count on him.

#kang dae ho #squid game #dae ho x reader #dae ho x you #dae ho squid game #dae ho fluff #dae ho imagine #round 6

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thedarklightwithinus · 3 days ago

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Love is a Stillness

A/N; Sam Smiths new song came out three hours ago and I’m in awe. Listened to it was to much to the point the words became something.

Summary; Love was messy and chaotic until it wasn’t.

Characters; Daryl Dixon, You.

In the quiet moments between day and night, there existed a love that was unlike any other. One that was soft, steady, and unshakable. She never knew what it meant to feel truly still until she met Daryl.

She had always been a whirlwind, a restless soul. She rushed through life, chasing dreams with the kind of fervour that only someone who’d been waiting for an anchor could muster. Love, for her, had always been loud. It was dramatic, like a storm that could either lift her or destroy everything in its path. She was used to those wild, intense moments, where everything felt either incredibly right or desperately wrong.

But with him, love was a stillness, like the calm between waves on a quiet shore.

At first, it had unsettled her. She didn’t know how to exist in that kind of quiet. She was used to the noise, the adrenaline of passion, of confusion, of urgency. But with Daryl, she felt like the world around her could slow down. He was the calm in her storm, the steady rhythm to her scattered thoughts.

Daryl wasn’t the kind of man who filled the room with energy. He was the opposite, actually. When she was with him, there was an undeniable peace that settled over her, like the world paused for just a heartbeat. She’d often tell him, love is a stillness I never knew, and he would smile, never needing to say much in response. His presence was enough. He was the ground when she wasn’t strong, her steady foundation in a world that often felt like it was shifting beneath her.

There had been times, so many times, when she’d felt like she was about to fall apart. Times when the weight of the world seemed too much to bear. But Daryl had never faltered. He was always there, a constant, like the earth beneath her feet, steady and unwavering.

Even the silence between them held a kind of meaning. It was a silence that remembered. It knew what words weren’t spoken, the comfort of just being. And though she wasn’t the kind of person who typically found comfort in silence, with Daryl, it was different. It felt like they were together, even in the quietest of moments.

He was like a rock to her, grounding her when she felt lost, but also like a rolling song that she could never quite get out of her head. The kind of melody that would come back to her when she least expected it, reminding her of all the beauty in the world. She couldn’t explain how, but in his arms, she was home.

No matter how many mistakes she made, no matter how many times she faltered or stumbled; Daryl was there to shoulder the weight. He never once looked at her with disappointment. Instead, he helped lift her up, offering a steady hand and a kind word. She had a way of beating herself up over her flaws, but he made her feel like they weren’t flaws at all. They were just part of the song they were making together.

And every morning, when the first light of day broke through the curtains, it was like spring had arrived. The warmth and promise of new beginnings filled the air. In the crisp, fresh air, they would step into a new day, his hand in hers and she would remember again, love is a stillness I never knew.

As the seasons changed and life moved forward, she would often find herself lost in thought, repeating those words in her mind. Love is a stillness I never knew. She’d never known love could be so gentle, so unwavering. It wasn’t the loud, dramatic kind of love she had imagined. It was the kind that grew quietly, the kind that rooted itself deep into the soul without ever making a sound. It was the love that didn’t need to roar to be heard.

And for the first time in her life, she understood that the most profound kind of love was the one that didn’t need to prove anything.

It simply was.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x y/n #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #Spotify

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tvboaerosmith · 2 days ago

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I thought it'd be good fun if I did a list like this for Smith and Neo, so I took one that looked interesting and this happened. Happy reading.

1. When did you start shipping them?

I first watched The Matrix somewhere around May or April of 2023. I didn't ship them on my initial watch through of the Matrix... It was just more of a gradual like for them as a pairing. I think I started concretely liking them around August 2023? In fact, the first ever ship related art I drew for the Matrix was Morpheus and Neo, and my first ship fic was quite literally *Merovingian* and Neo!

2. What do you like about them as individuals?

I'm surprised to say that what I love most about Neo isn't even actually his looks or his personality (even though I like these parts of him too) but rather what he represents. He's a second chance, freedom personified.

Though he was indeed a puppet in the end, I loved what he built for himself even as he was stuck to his role, how calm and collected he can be. He really is elegant, svelte, but that doesn't mean he's blank or wooden — It makes me smile that sometimes classic "90s badass hero" speech leaks through, like "Hiya fellas".

As for Smith, I initially only found his writing interesting. I cannot say I am attracted to Hugo Weaving. Gradually I understood his character more and more and found that I really can relate to him. Actually, people often call the Matrix movies a trans metaphor, and I feel like this metaphor for self discovery and struggle with the world can actually be found most in Smith?

Of course I'm not saying I think his character is trans, just that his problems really felt like mine. I like that he's such a lonely character in perfect parallel to how popular Neo is, I like that he is the perfect personification of bigotry because people hate what they do not understand because they are crucially scared of it just the way Smith is terrified.

He reminds me of a child grappling tearfully at things he just can't understand, because he simply has a mental blockade to these things because he was made and bred and raised in a totally different purpose and world than that of Neo's.

3. What about their dynamic appeals to you?

Actually, I often see others say their appeal is in Smith and Neo as the classic enemies to lovers troupe. I admit a lot of my favourite ships fall under this too, but I've always viewed Smith and Neo's story as one of redemption and one of a second chance.

Smith represents somebody who doesn't fit into society, suddenly finding himself ripped away from the comfort of conformity, even when he was made specifically for that. He hates everything that he perceives, because to him they are mentally and physically vile. He craves the comfort of belonging.

And when he is totally thrown and discarded from the system, instead of changing himself the way Neo does for his own freedom and peace of mind, he foolishly deigns to change his cage, to hijack The Matrix.

He struggles, and in this struggle I find sympathy with his character. Neo on the other hand is Smith's saviour, as is his entire character as the saviour of the human race, but I like to think he can save other races too, even when Smith is to me the most human of the two.

This is important: Neo is the ONLY one in the whole world who can possibly understand Smith's anguish. Inexorably they are linked not just through fate but also by choice. They need each other, they love each other, they hate each other, and all these things surmount to such importance it cannot not be mentioned in tandem with the names of Smith and Neo.

They are together in life and in death. Neo is the only one who can soothe Smith's fears, and it is Smith's own refusal to accept that Neo understands that dooms him. They matter more to each other than anybody else. The Matrix is a love story—but not between the characters of Neo and Trinity.

4. What are their favourite things about one another?

This is a hard question to answer, considering Smith and Neo aren't just some regular pairing.

I can't decide if Neo's favourite thing about Smith would be his machine side or his humanity. Would he enjoy that Smith is a program, because it shows him the whole new world he didn't know of, of programs who love just like Rama Kandra told him, or would he enjoy that Smith is so human in his emotions and his inner conflict and find it beautiful in a creature meant to be incapable of them?

Would he love that Smith can access these emotions, that Smith chose to access these emotions, that it means he can love and hate Neo so deeply and so subconsciously and so truthfully?

Either way, Neo's favourite thing about Smith would definitely be his character. I think speaking on terms of by the end of Revolutions, he'd like to watch Smith struggle, because it shows Smith is trying, Smith is alive. But he would not like Smith's pain, or his fear.

And how about Smith's favourite thing about Neo.... Hmm, I don't know! I thought maybe "his capacity to understand Smith" would be a good answer, but Smith's just scared of that as proven by his reaction at the end of Rev.

I think I'll still have to keep that as my answer though, but with some notes, that Smith would come to love this part of Neo, that he is the ONLY ONE for Smith, but only with time and only by learning this very very slowly. In the end, what he likes (or maybe more accurately, what part of Neo successfully attracts the most of Smith's attention whether positive or negative) most about Neo is that he *is* Neo.

He's human in all the worst ways, he's relentless, he's able to learn his own mistakes, he's able to rise above conflict, he's able to accept Smith as his death, that Neo believes in love so fiercely that he'd throw the world away for said love.

5. How do you envision them getting together?

I don't think there's such a thing as "dating" or "talking phases" for these two. It's more of a natural, unspoken thing. From the start they've "gotten together" after all, they're stuck to each other from beginning to end!

Technically they've been "dating" since conception, even. To be honest, I have never once agreed with any portrayal of Smith or Neo confessing to each other, because they understand each other so innately that none of it even has to be said. It comes to them like breathing, their love for each other.

Maybe if I had to picture it, Smith would be the first to explicitly say something like "I love you" years into the future after Revolutions (this is following the theory that Smith and Neo become tutelary saints after Rev), but only just to say what they've already known, and what they've frankly already said a thousand times with their eyes or their actions, just to set it all into concrete, to acknowledge this in a healthy way because Smith would definitely become a changed man after everything.

By then, Neo wouldn't have any reaction to it, he'd probably just reply "I know", and they'd continue on as normal.

6. What would their dream home look like?

7. How do they split up the housework and chores?

Going to skip both these questions because by the way they operate, neither Smith nor Neo would require anything like a house. But whenever I imagine them in any kind of living quarters I surprisingly imagine either the mail building where Mouse was killed and Morpheus got captured, or in The Merovingian's chateau (thanks to this old RPG on LJ). Though I do think Room 303 would be a place of significance to them both.

About question 7, I don't even need to elaborate on why I can't even answer this one.

8. What are their love languages, and how do they show their affection?

If we're talking about affection the way a regular couple would show it like buying flowers or a peck on the cheek or holding hands—thats just a big fat MAYBE for this pairing, and probably only YEARS after Revolutions with a lot of character development for Smith.

Otherwise? I think the way Smith would show affection in a very unhealthy way would be by possession. He must own Neo. He will chase him (the exact way he did in Reloaded through Revolutions, even chased him all the way into the real world!) until he gets him. He'd be overly territorial to the point it'd be overbearing.

If we're talking about how he would show affection while the timeline is still set in the movies, he simply would not be able to understand his own intense feelings for neo adequately enough to be able to interpret and act them out in a way that wouldn't be completely destructive. In order for his manner of "affection" to win Neo over, Neo has to be a god that understands and forgives and sympathises, and thankfully, Neo really is this kind of "god". Smith would break the moment Neo sees through him.

Neo on the other hand, if I'm going to go off what I can parse out from the movies.... To be honest it'd probably be sex. We can see that he never ever once gets his hands off of Trinity in Reloaded. For fucks sake he jumps on her the MOMENT Link walks out. He'd probably crave sexual contact with Smith.

In the draft script of Reloaded though there isn't any such thing as an explicit Neotrin sex scene, there's still a scene where Dujour and Chong tell them about how important it is that they should have sex, etc etc. Plus the existence of the rave orgy scene implies that apparently this is what is considered the highest form of affection and intimacy for Zionites, so it'd be the same for Neo.

Otherwise and on a far less sexual note, his way of showing affection is probably just *being there* for Smith as he struggles through his messy existence. Quality time together, you know.

9. Do you see them getting married, and if yes what does their wedding look like?

No, they wouldn't get married. Marriage is only a piece of worthless paper made from only human customs to signify a relationship. It doesn't have to be the end point of any relationship to "perfect" or "complete" it. Neo and Smith have a deeper connection than this, but I still think there is potential for fun in an OOC type marriage scenario.

10. Can you imagine them having any kids or pets?

I actually have this weird running thing that keeps popping up in my head where Neo and Smith adopt a white cat called Jamais Vu, a parody of Deja Vu.

Of course the word "adopt" doesn't quite fit here, it'd be more like the cat shows up often from time to time til the point Neo can name it and they recognise each other.

And a little bit of OOC guilty pleasure: I like to think they might unofficially adopt Sati, though she'd definitely think of Smith as the bad parent and Neo as the good parent and get grumpy when she sees Smith. You best believe Seraph would be "fighting for custody", though.

11. How do they comfort each other?

With presence, with existence, with words and feelings and their connection. With deep, unrivalled understanding of each other and therefore who they are, what they're here to do, how they feel.

12. Is there anything you don't like about this ship?

Nothing. Not even the fact it isn't canon, actually, in fact I think that makes it even better. "The fact Smith died!" Could have been a potential answer, but even then, that was such masterful writing on the Wachowski's part, that I can't say anything.

13. What would be their least favourite thing about each other?

LMAO.

Smith hates Neo's ability to understand, ability to believe in love or even in something no matter what it is, hates Neo's ability to be unbothered by the stench and smell and abhorrence of his own human kind, he pretty much hates Neo himself, even, even if I like to interpret that hate as more of a messed up byproduct or outcome of his own hard to understand, burning love for Neo that he interprets as obsession, and because he is wired the way he is and made for that one purpose and that purpose only: To Kill Neo, his love comes out as hate.

Neo probably hated Smith too in the beginning, but as a personification of the system. After all Smith is an enforcer of it, this fake digital prison that has so many of his fellow men in it. And also Smith literally kidnapped Morpheus, a man Neo already had held in high regard. But frankly, that hate turned into understanding into a little bit of pity or sympathy.

14. What sorts of things might they argue about?

Everything they already do argue about in the trilogy (take special note of their final conversation in Revolutions). I have nothing to add onto this.

15. Do they face any pushback from friends, families, or society over their relationship?

Now THIS is an interesting question! I read once in this really cool RPG a scenario where nearly all the programs and rebels disapproved of Smith and Neo's public relationship because they were "different races", and they even had a made up slur for a human that dates a program (little questionable, but keep in mind this RPG was made in 2005)

Meanwhile, Neo's "parents" who are still alive in this AU are deeply shocked that he's dating a man, but if we are to be precise, Smith is not a man, he's genderless lines of ageless code meant to look behave and talk like society's portrayal of a man and to inhabit a man's shell. We don't even know for sure if Smith has a dick, I don't even think he's ever taken his clothes off before frankly!

So basically I mentioned this AU because it got me thinking: holy shit, Smith and Neo would be the ONE and ONLY program/human mixed relationship in their world. That'd be cool. I like to imagine they'd be more of a beacon of the humanity in programs and the ultimate symbolism of humanity and machinekind's ability to love each other and work together more than a point of disdain for all three factions (machine, programs, humans) though.

So no, no pushback, though I imagine it would definitely be shocking to learn that the adored One is in a relationship with what is considered the "enemy", but that's nice too, because it shows the ultimate acceptance, and isn't that exactly what progressives(the rebels) strive for?

16. Who has more experience with relationships?

Definitely Neo lol. Neo would be the first ever person Smith would have ever had something going on with. I think Neo may have had relationships with others before Trinity, too.

17. What physical traits do they find most attractive about each other?

Hmm, this is tricky.

I can't exactly see Smith outwardly liking anything physical about Neo to be honest? I know that sounds absurd, but if following canon we all know Smith finds humans repulsive to smell touch and even see, I think. It'd be hard for him to overcome this problem even when together with Neo.

But then again, that's the thing about being in love. When you love them, you will love the body that holds the mind and the person that you love. The more you speak to them, the more you are enamoured by them, the more attractive they appear to you, the more you are able to romanticise their body. That's the case for me as well.

So maybe.... Smith's favourite thing about Neo's body is... His elegance??? The way he moves with totally unconscious grace. He'd love everything about Neo's body, there wouldn't be a favourite part, all parts are equally liked.

And Neo's favourite thing about Smith's is his expressive face that shows his humanity, particularly his eyes, the window to the soul.

Sorry, I can't answer these questions sexually as originally intended. I realise that I've never even put in thought to that question before answering this, which is a bit shocking.

18. Do they ever engage in PDA, and if so, to what extent?

Neo seems to be more private. Everybody knows what goes down behind doors, but he still has the decency to wait until they'd be alone to go ham on Smith. If in public, I don't think I've ever seen him even ONCE touch or hold trinity's hand or kiss her in the audience of several people.

If however let's say they haven't seen each other in a long time etc or something serious is going down, Neo would probably abandon all pretense and kiss him and throw his arms around him at his first chance, just the way he did for Trinity in Mobil Ave and after she revived.

Smith on the other hand.... Oh boy. He'd PDA all OVER the damn place. In the first place he wouldn't hold any regard for what is considered acceptable in human society or etiquette in the first place, he's a rogue program.

That's ironic, since he is supposed to be the personification of those societal expectations. Plus because of his tendency for possessiveness that I mentioned earlier, he'd probably feel a need to signal to everybody and anybody that THIS IS MINE, HISS, DO NOT COME CLOSE.

Besides, Smith is childish in the sense that he is just now figuring out his own humanity, so like a child he'd probably want to completely own the one constant and one thing in his life, Neo, and cling onto him.

19. What are the most sensitive parts of each others body?

Neo: Waist, stomach, back. He probably doesn't have a ticklish neck if he can wear that long mandarin collar all day every day. Maybe his inner thighs if I let myself be a little idealistic?

Smith: Does Smith even feel sensations???? Or does he just mechanically register them in code or some shit? Maybe he only is able to start registering them after he goes rogue? Either way I don't think Smith would be sensitive literally anywhere. That or the complete opposite, where he is sensitive everywhere because he is unused to the new sensation of pain or pleasure or touch etc, and hates it.

20. What is their dynamic like in the bedroom?

As for the question of top or bottom, I honestly am only interested in Neo as a bottom and Smith as a top, but realistically speaking they would switch. Although here's my take on that: I think the very first time they do it, Neo would definitely have to be the receiver, because of Smith's desire to consume and own, and because Smith who has always craved a position of power/security would probably rather shoot himself in the head than ever bottom.

For Smith to bottom would have to take time and would only happen later into their relationship once Smith fully trusts Neo, and once he's developed enough. Besides, Neo would probably like to try something different from what he's used to with Trinity.

And no, I don't believe Trinity would have ever pegged Neo at all, because that's a common projection from the queer fandom onto two characters who are a typical cisgender heterosexual couple. So yes, Neo would have something different in bed with Smith. I think that's a cool parallel with the two people most important to Neo's story.

Okay, seems like that's it. Thanks for reading through this whole thing, if you did! Feel free to make your own SmiNeo or TriNeo or etc etc versions of this, I'd love to read that.

20 Shippy Questions for your OTP’s, OT3’s, and Polycules

The basics

1. When did you start shipping them?

2. What do you like about them as individuals?

3. What about their dynamic appeals to you?

4. What are their favorite things about one another?

5. How do you envision them getting together?

The fluff

6. What would their dream home look like?

7. How do they split up housework and other chores?

8. What are their love languages, and how do they show each other affection?

9. Do you see them getting married, and if your answer is yes, what would their wedding look like?

10. Can you imagine them having any kids and/or pets?

The angst

11. How do they comfort each other?

12. Is there anything you don’t like about this ship?

13. What would be their least favorite things about one another?

14. What sorts of things might they argue about?

15. Do they face any pushback from friends, families, or society over their relationship?

Bonus ~saucy~ questions

16. Who has more experience with relationships?

17. What physical traits do they find most attractive about one another?

18. Do they ever engage in PDA, and if so, to what extent?

19. What are the most sensitive parts of each individual’s body?

20. What is their dynamic like in the bedroom?

#ship meme #ship questions #otp meme #otp questions #the matrix #Matrix reloaded #matrix revolutions #agent smith #neo #neo x smith #SmiNeo #Cp: Smith/Neo #Ramble

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squishygirl46 · 6 hours ago

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Hi everyone, this is a story about my deepest fantasies and dreams. It will be written about me Let me know if you like it. Part one: the beginning.

God, I don't know where I am, some man left a camera in the room and said I had to speak my mind on it or I would be killed. The last thing I remember is leaving the house to go to the store. Now I'm here and I don't know what's going on, I'm so scared….. There's only one dim lamp in this room, a big bed, a toilet, a speaker on the wall and a door. I'm probably going to be killed or raped, I don't know, I'm so scared. Suddenly a masked man came into the room, carrying a scale and a camera.

- Hi said: Get on the scale and take off your clothes. I obediently did everything he ordered. Completely naked I stood on the scale which said 45 kilograms(99 pounds). -You're skinny, now stand against the wall and turn sideways. I went to the wall and turned around, then he told me to stand in front of him and he was taking pictures. What a shame… But I can't help it, I'm so scared. After this strange photo shoot and weighing, the man left. I don't know how much time had passed, but I was very hungry. Luckily the man came back soon and brought a huge tray of food on a gurney. Fried chicken, potatoes, meat pies, pancakes, brownies and cake. There were also several bottles of soda and some pills.

-Whoa, why so much food, I can't eat that much. -No one's asking you. He told me to take two pills and a soda. After I drank them he left and closed the door behind him. I started eating and as usual I got full very quickly, literally after a couple wings my little tummy was full and I laid down to rest and fell asleep, I don't know how long I slept but after I woke up the food was still there and I was very very very hungry…. I started eating again. A few wings, then a brownie, washed it all down with soda, then wings again, then potatoes and then soda again… I could feel my stomach filling up, but the hunger didn't go away, and only after 30 minutes of eating and stopped for breath…. -Oh, God, what was that just now? -Ufff. I mumbled. I looked at the tray, it was covered in leftovers. I put my head down and saw that my stomach was protruding very much, as if I had been inflated like a car tire…. And it was so hard. I was very thin and this protuberance really stood out. I laid back on the bed and dozed off….. When I woke up, the tray was gone, but on the wall were my pictures and a graph with my weight written on it. God, what does that mean, am I being fattened up? I've always worked hard on my figure, I don't want to be fat, I need to exercise to burn off the calories from that gluttony. I got out of bed and started doing exercises, 50 squats, 10 push-ups and 50 abs, then I rested and did them again.

-Fuuuuh, now we can have a little snack, as long as we don't eat too much. Right after these words, this man came in again with a tray, this time there were mountains of fast food, 5 big burgers, a bucket of fries, wings, nuggets, and 2 bottles of coke. -Oh my god, I'm not allowed to eat that, I've always avoided fast food in my life-. But the man silently handed me two pills. -No, I won't take them, they make me unable to stop eating! In response to these words, he just took them and put them in my mouth, then clamped my nose and poured cola into my mouth, I had to swallow them…. -Good appetite- he said and left. I decided that a little fast food wouldn't hurt my figure, especially if I kept doing exercises, or even more exercises, yes, it wouldn't hurt. I took the smallest burger I could find and took a bite. -God, this is so good,” I said with my mouth full. And a wave of warmth spread through my body. -Yeah, one burger wouldn't hurt me. -Yeah. But I couldn't stop at one, as soon as I finished it I took a Coke to drink, I thought I'd just drink a little bit, but I started gulping it down greedily, like I hadn't had a drink in a year. I only stopped when I had half a bottle. Right after that, I went on a food binge. A burger, another one, fries, nuggets, all dipped in sauce and swallowed before I could chew. After 30 minutes of such piggishness, I felt nauseous and almost threw up. I decided to lie down and rest.

-I ate a ton of food again, my God, what am I turning into, but ok, I'll exercise some more and everything will be fine. I put my hand on my warm, bloated tummy and fell asleep. When I woke up I thought it would be a good idea to exercise. Like last time I got up and started squatting, but I stopped at 30 reps and sat on the bed…. The leftovers were beckoning me… -Okay, I've done enough, I can have a snack. I finished everything on the tray and went back to sleep… It went on like that for about two weeks

#stuffing #get me fatter #stuffed feedee #gaining weight on purpose #fat #chubby #getting bigger #belly #weight gain #chubbiness

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taelophone · 22 hours ago

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Red Rimac. Luigi Mangione x StreetRacer!Reader Vol. 1

trigger warnings ─ gambling . illegal street racing . reader is kind of mean . exclusion . "gang activty" but not really . 5k+ words . you shift POVs a lot .

StreetRacer!Reader. Moodboard. Other Parts.

Summer was a time to roam the streets from the early morning hours to the low and late strokes of night. Life was always better when it didn’t get dark until eight o’clock— at least if you didn’t have a job.

Spending hours upon hours hunched over a computer screen is not only bad for your tan, but also, the digital strain and binary brain rot tended to gnaw at the pink matter of most computer science majors' brains. Summer, in all her warm and floral glory, was a time for poor, sleepless, and programmed zombies to emerge from their cold and dark labs to enjoy some rare sunlight.

Luigi, in all his nerdy and left-brained glory, just so happened to align with the stereotype like the shimmering stars in their native sea of navy blue.

In the mornings, he lurched, his eyes hazy and unfocused as his pale knuckles clung to whatever life he had left in his soul. All-nighters soon turned to insomnia, the lack of rest stinging the whites of his eyes and attempting to force the windows to his soul shut every time he stood still for more than thirty seconds.

Life goes on, things grow and things change, and another day means another opportunity to improve himself and work towards bettering his arsenal of skills. Another day, another play.

He spent his morning getting ready for the day— going on an early morning run, sending around some emails, reading a couple of chapters of his newest addition to his near-crowded bookshelf, and listening to a couple of podcasts while he did the dishes. Just a slow morning to match the slow and steady hum of the urban neighborhood that rested just outside his front door.

Somewhere in the distant future, a slightly older Luigi is watching him right now from a memory that would feel vintage. Perhaps he's looking back and smiling proudly, admiring the dedication he had since the ripe age of twenty years old.

But when Luigi’s phone rang and Pico’s name projected itself on his screen in those thin white letters, future Luigi could only laugh and shake his head about the butterfly that fluttered into Luigi’s life, her white wings ready to create a life-altering butterfly effect.

“Yo, hey man, what's up?” He answered, pressing the speaker icon on the glassy screen.

“Yo, Pep, I found this underground racing thing slash car show. It’s supposed to have custom cars, cool bikes, helmets, slingshots, and a couple of Dylan’s classmates actually know one of the girls who’s racing today. We’re going at nine, do you want to come with us?” He asked, his staticky and slightly fuzzy voice blaring through Luigi’s phone speaker.

“Uhh, maybe? You said it’s like a car show? Isn’t street racing illegal?” Luigi asked, balancing his phone between his face and shoulder as he folded up the last components of his laundry.

“Please don't start asking questions,” Patrick sighed.

“Saying don’t ask questions when you’re asking me to go commit a crime with you is crazy,” he chuckled, his mouth coming up into a panicked smile as both of his brows furrowed with slight concern.

“It should be fine, I think…Dylan says they’re invite-only, so no snitches, plus they’re never held in the same area more than twice. It’s at a frat house an hour over, actually,” he explained.

“Pico, I don’t think this is very smart—“ Luigi began, the idea mulling over his mind again and again, juicing it dry of the sour taste it left on his tongue.

“Luigi, no offense – you don’t go outside. We need to have you outside this summer,” he snickered, and Luigi swore he could almost hear his brows rise and fall on the other line. “And let’s not pretend like you aren’t a jaywalking warrior.”

“Either they hit me and kill me, or I live. It’s a win-win situation,” Luigi chuckled, sucking in a deep breath of air as he thought about his decision carefully.

On one hand, he had a lot to lose in life. A scholarship, a good sense of moral ground, and a spot at a nice Ivy League university nestled right in the heart of the city he loved more than anything in the world.

Temptation is an evil temptress, and man has been known to fall for her tricks time and time again. Luigi was better than no man and found himself falling victim to her stirred cup of curiosity every once in a while.

He could be weak just once, he thought. After all, it seems like a fun one-time thing he likely won’t get to experience again, right?

“I think I’ll go actually…but I’m not driving, hell no,” he answered, punctuated by a small sarcastic chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“Type shit, type shit,” Patrick beamed, immediately texting Luigi his address again. “We’re gonna meet at my house, and then I’ll drive us.”

“Cool, thanks,” he nodded, listening to Patrick’s laggy and loud goodbye before they both hung up the phone.

Boop, boop, boop!

“Chris, can you get me a soda from the kitchen!?”

Your voice echoed through the hallway, bouncing off the empty walls and doing its best to maneuver through the loud vibration of Do What I Want by Lil Uzi Vert. When he didn’t respond, you huffed, adjusting your red and ivory varsity jacket before you waltzed down the hall a bit further from the bathroom.

“Chris!” You shouted, leaning over the black iron railing.

“Yeah?” He shouted back, immediately lifting his gaze from the living room couch.

“Can you get me a soda!?” You repeated.

“Absolutely not, get it yourself,” he beamed, adjusting the white rim of his red Chicago Bulls cap on his head.

“You’re evil, get out of my house…” You groaned, making your way back to the bathroom to continue finishing your makeup.

Tonight would mark your third race this summer, and your twenty-ninth in the past year. The month of June was always the slowest, but you were more than ready for things to kick off in early July.

You had been racing since just seventeen years old, ripping and tearing through streets at a pace no sane woman would ever see on their speedometer. At first, you were doing it for a rush, but it quickly became lucrative the more experience and speed you got.

Bets were made, donations flowed, crowds flocked, and cash was cashed the more you managed to claw your way through the asphalt. Your quiet and academic-driven life slowly began to sound like the inside of a crowded casino, slots clinking and money fluttering every time you stepped into the driver's seat.

You dabbed some highlighter on the tip of your nose, blending it out with the pad of your middle finger before looking over your outfit one more time. Red and ivory varsity jacket, low rise deep blue flares with large slits at the calves, a black tube top, and black Air Force Ones to tie everything together! Cute.

“When are Pink and Dhakiya coming?” You asked, making your way down the stairs to retrieve your black leather purse and a pair of glossy black browline glasses from the side table.

“Uhh…” Chris murmured, immediately flipping through his Snap to check his messages again. “Pink should be pulling up now, and ‘Kiya is gonna meet us there…she’s going with Dylan, and apparently he’s bringing some new bitches, so…” he chuckled, shaking his head in very obvious disapproval.

“You need to stop dropping addresses for him…he cannot keep his mouth closed, my fucking god…” you sighed, rolling your eyes as far as your sockets would allow before collapsing down onto the cotton fabric of your grey couch.

“Chill, Dylan’s fine. More people, more money…” he huffed, raising a brow at you before reading a text on his phone and snapping a pic of the corner of his bright green eye for a streak photo.

“Yeah, but he’s gonna get us fucking caught…” you huffed. “Who’s on lookout? Also, do we still have scanners?” You asked, flipping through your photo album titled ‘Firee’ and looking back on all the irresponsible memories you made in a car.

“Yeah. But we don’t need them anyway, we’re going to Bryce’s…playground, or whatever he calls it,” Chris nodded. “It’s good, you’ll like it. Big fucking villa, massive roads, and a big garage that can hold like thirty people.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you hummed, propping yourself up on your elbows to face Chris. “Who we driving? Pluto or Dashielle?”

“Dash, obviously,” Chris scoffed, half a chuckle lightening the end of his declaration.

He tossed the glossy, cherry-stained, and futuristic-looking key fob with your abundance of glimmery and glittery charms and keepsakes. Just as you pulled yourself off the couch, your bones cracking from slight exhaustion, the cherry oak front door came swinging open to reveal a tall and skinny young woman with a large curly black bun.

“Blitzen!! Baby!” She beamed, the golden grillz full of diamonds and spades on full display under the white fluorescent light of your living room.

You gasped, jumping up off the couch with a bright grin. “Pink!!”

You met her halfway, two steps away from the couch and two more away from the front door before you engulfed each other in a tight and wobbly hug. The woman wore a red tank top with little white bows on the spaghetti straps and the smallest low-rise jean shorts you could wear without being charged for public indecency.

Her slim stiletto heels clicked and clacked on the glossy dark hardwood floors, alerting the house to her presence as she frantically sipped the sweaty Coors Light in her hand.

“I’m so excited to be outside again!” She huffed, bending slightly at the knee as she pretended to lose her footing momentarily to signify how bored she had been this year. “Psychology was a mistake, Calnan has been killing me slowly, literally.”

“Girl…you don’t even wanna know what they’re putting me through,” you sighed, clipping your keys around your belt loop as Chris rose to his feet and stretched, his white wife beater riding up slightly.

“Alright, let’s go…the drive is like forty-five minutes, so we’ll get there at like six-twenty. You can do some donuts and show off the car,” he hummed, making his way out the front door.

You scrambled into your car as a group of three, kissing the hood of your red wheels before popping into the front seat and letting the icy breeze from the air conditioning fill the Cupid-red leather interior of your car. With Pink connected to the aux, the soles of the seats vibrated with the heavy bass and loud treble of some violent rap that prompted you into the afternoon distance.

Meanwhile, Luigi was cooped up in the passenger seat of a silver Chevrolet Camaro. The lyrics to Headlines by Drake filled the car, pressing against the glass as he scrolled on his phone to distract himself from the anxiety that rose the hairs on his arms and legs.

When they reached their destination, they saw a large Mediterranean-style home that was jam-packed with extremely extravagant cars— some were custom, built from the rims to the wings, some were customized beyond belief, and some were wrapped in various colors and textures of car wraps.

Emerging from the dim light in the back of Patrick’s car, he saw a sea of moving bodies that chatted and chirped as more seemed to nest in the bright garage. Everyone appeared to be nursing some sort of cold beverage, be it a Solo cup of mystery or a fresh can of carbonation with beads of condensation clinging to the tin.

“I’d rather not have my car get vandalized, so I’m gonna park across the street. Go in, Dylan should be somewhere in the house,” Patrick urged, a half-giddy smile on his face before he pulled his car off into the distance.

With Patrick gone, Luigi made his way up the stairs to the front porch, the sloped incline raising the greyscale home with black iron windows and ash-brown double front doors, slowly filling out more and more as he neared the front entrance.

His ears indulged in the music before his eyes took in the sight, the heavy vibration of Time Of Our Lives by Ne-Yo and Pitbull biting his ear with every word that Mr. Worldwide spent talking about his trials and tribulations. Now that he had a clear view of the front lawn and the side, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he saw the cars and women present.

A brunette with black roots in an all-American bikini top, the warm and humid sunset breeze kissing the freckles that ran up and down her arms as a man with a matte black helmet that had been scribbled on by many people across many timelines of his life. A McLaren 720S with bright pink glossy paint and heart-shaped rims that seemed to belong to a young lady not far from the cooler.

She, too, was dressed in all pink; from the cropped leather jacket with Hello Kitty patches all over the front, to the miniskirt that adorned her hips which undoubtedly made it impossible to bend more than fifty degrees. There were people everywhere, grillz in mouths that danced like flappers— flappers who complimented the heavy fur coats and exorbitant diamonds and gold.

If Luigi tried hard enough, he could almost match every person to a car. The flashier the vehicles, the brighter the bearer seemed to glimmer under the reddish summer sunlight.

He didn’t dare speak to any of them— not when he was dressed like an outcast with a bank balance in the negatives. By no means was Luigi poor, absolutely not— but he found himself a little timid as people walked by and looked him up and down.

He wasn’t intruding, but it was damn obvious nobody knew his face. In this new world, he had been forcibly thrown into by the eager whims of his best friend, real recognized real, and he was a very unwelcome face.

He felt like a fraud just being there. He decided it was best if he tore his eyes away from the beautiful machinery in favor of finding the actual person who permitted him to be here in the first place.

His feet carried him before his racing mind could, nearly tripping over the spilled beer cans that were hydrating the freshly mowed blades of grass. The front door was wide open— just enough to accommodate the big egos and even bigger wallets that flowed in and out of the archway.

His eyes scanned over the crowd, cherry-picking his favorite outfits of the evening as he wiggled through the hallway to the kitchen in pursuit of Dylan. There seemed to be a common theme amongst the young women in attendance— bikini tops that left very little to the imagination, or maybe the occasional tank top paired with some form of low-rise jeans.

Accessories clinked and twinkled, allowing him a moment to get familiar with what sound each person’s soul made when allowed a moment to express themselves. Dull, chunky sounds of maximalist resin bangles, sharp and starlike twinkles of gold and silver chains or necklaces, and heavy thunks of rubber soles on heels or sneakers against the hardwood floors.

He found Dylan in the west hall, a golden yellow smile on his teeth as he conversed with a brown-skinned woman wearing a red tube top with black leather split-hem pants.

“Yo, Luigi! You’re outside! For the first time in forever!” He cheered, greeting Luigi with a firm dap and an intimate side hug. “Glad to see you could make it! Where’s Pico?”

“Hey, man! Yeah, Pico said he’s gonna park across the street. So what’s going on, is this like, a party? What’s happening?” He asked, exchanging polite waves and upward nods with the woman next to Dylan.

“Hello…I’m Dhakiya,” she said, giving him a polite smile.

“Oh, yeah, this is Dhakiya, her friend is hosting today. Uhhh.., we’re waiting for Chris, Pink, and Red Rum to get here, then she’s gonna race against Half Moon…” Dylan said, the aliases rolling off his tongue and losing their way to Luigi’s brain as his brows furrowed.

“Who names their kid Pink…” he said, more of a statement than a question as he ignored the lingering stares from people who passed him by.

“Nah, her name’s not actually Pink, we just call her that…but they should—“ He began, the childish flower clips at the end of his two strand twists clinking together as he abruptly turned his head to face the sudden sound of a door slamming open.

“AYO! BLITZ IS OUTSIDE, ERR’BODY GET THE FUCK OUT!”

There was a flash of clamor, bodies all traveling in one direction as each person scrambled for a way out the door with large smiles and eager chatter.

He heard the sound of a loud engine revving, tires screeching and squealing in pain as they drifted and rubbed against the asphalt. A nasty, grim, and ghostly hood of smoke fizzled from underneath your tires.

A testament to your speed, darkened friction marks imprinted themselves on the road as you did donut after donut in the street. Patrick had found Luigi standing in shock at the top of the hill, watching as your red Rimac looped over and over in the wide road below.

Cheers and exclamations of excitement filled the air, limbs pushing and shoving as everyone clumped together to witness the speedy display. To Luigi’s surprise, a woman rolled down the passenger side window just to sit on the ledge and stick her tongue out in triumph.

She yelled, her nonsensical whoops of freedom piercing through the crowd and the now-hushed music before the glossy vehicle whipped into the large driveway.

Chris emerged from the back, and the woman in the window spun around to drop her feet on the floor with a bright, silver smile. Soon, a young woman with a red varsity jacket and low-rise jeans that hugged her up so good it restored his faith in flare jeans emerged from the driver's seat.

You emerged from your car, fanning your face free of the smoke that Chris had huffed and puffed in the back. A little bit of showing off never hurt anybody, and the crowd seemed to enjoy seeing the little figure eight of friction marks you left scorching on the road.

You smiled, watching as a familiar man with a golden grin approached you to give you daps and welcome you to Bryce’s old car workshop, or playground, as he referred to it.

“Welcome, welcome! Pep, Pico, c’mere!” He called, beckoning over two tall men in your direction.

One was much broader in the shoulders, his extremely casual monochrome Adidas hoodie adorning his trained and disciplined muscles. You definitely didn’t recognize the chocolate brown curls or the jet-black hair of the lean man with raccoon-like eyebags next to him.

“This is Patrick, and this is Luigi. They’re new…they’re my Phi-Psi brothers,” Dylan smiled, matching a name to a face as he wrapped an arm around either of their shoulders.

“I could tell, don’t worry…” you stated, raising your brows at their white cargo shorts and blue skinny jeans that didn’t scream usual crowd…or race etiquette. Stepping out of the house looking so casual was a choice— not a good one, but a choice nonetheless.

You gave them a half-nod, clutching at Pink’s hand as she joined you in looking the two men up and down.

“Hmm…well, have fun. You leave here, this didn’t happen,” you smiled, the ends of your lips forcing themselves upwards in a grin that lacked emotion in the eyes.

“Yeah, of course…I like your car,” Patrick said, eyeing up your wheels like a child spotting their first sugar fix of the day.

Candied apples, dripping with red syrup and glossed up by the sweet fading sunlight. You turned around, admiring the black wing and how low it sat on the asphalt before facing the men again.

“Thanks…” you murmured, nodding slowly before pushing your way past the three in pursuit of your opponent, Half Moon.

You found his car quite quickly, that gorgeous shade of blue-black, high wing, and as many illegal mods as he could cram into its internal organs without making a mechanic question his origins. Chevrolet Corvette Stingray— a beautiful hymn of words that purred like a well-fed kitten on the streets.

“Half Moon! What’s good, what’s good!” You squealed, eagerly jogging up to the man decorated with a matte black helmet complete with cat ears and a pitch-black visor.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a stack of silver chains that clinked and clattered as he moved. A large moon spanned across his chest in its third quarter phase, along with one full sleeve of snakes and vines across his left arm.

His pants sagged so low you could see about twenty percent of his black Calvin Klein boxers, they poked out from underneath his black ripped jeans like a loud reminder of his careless demeanor.

“A’sup, Blitz,” he greeted, pulling you into a tight side hug and chuckling beneath the helmet. “Aye, no hard feelings, but we went like sixty to forty in the bets. I will gladly take the remaining forty people put on your car.”

”Hell nah, I’m taking all sixty home tonight. Bills to pay, tuition to fund…no hard feelings,” you snickered, furrowing your brows at his cocky and zealous statement.

“Sure…See I got respect for you, cuz you stayin’ in school, but don’t bet your future on no car…” he advised, tilting his obscured head at your ‘naïveté’.

“It’s not a bet if I know I’m gonna win, though…” you smiled, giving him a polite nod before retreating to your car with Pink.

Luigi, merely a bystander from the sidelines, watched as the man named Half Moon pulled his car around next to yours, aligning himself perfectly parallel with your candied automobile. His nerves seemed to climb by the second, despite not being involved in anything that was happening around him.

He watched as the crowd began to walk down to the road, letting you and Half Moon peel out of the driveway just as smoothly as the pair of you had pulled in. Some bystanders dragged with them some sort of chair to sit on, while some chose to stand and guzzle down whatever remained of their drink, and many clutched onto others as a man with two large trays walked around and collected fat stacks of money from each member who cared enough to bet.

With a roar of the ignition, each cold and clean-cut car seemed to spring to life on the spot. White and foggy smoke puffed from your exhaust, shots like bullets sputtering and sparking from each car’s rear as one brave woman stepped in front of both cars to set up the make-shift lighting system, something Chris had referred to in Luigi's ear as the “Christmas tree.”

His lungs had never felt fuller, and his eyes had never been so still in his life. He wasn’t exactly fond of your introduction to him, but he did have to admit your car was grabbing his attention more than he’d like to admit under these circumstances.

Each engine growled, your Rimac angry and hot like a dragon gearing up to bring fire to the front lawn. Loud, resentful, and eager to devour the purr of the quiet and kitten-like engine next to you.

If Luigi strained his ears enough, he could tell exactly what car was making what sound over the noise. Even the smoke that flowed from your vehicles was different, yours came out in a steady stream of cotton-like clouds that faded much quicker than Half Moon’s.

His heart pounded against his chest cavity, the blood rushing to his ears as his anxiety and anticipation forced his eyes forward on the cars in front of him. To say he was nervous was a criminal understatement— if at any moment the cops decided to show up, everyone was done for.

His thoughts only turned off when he saw a tall, almost hazardously skinny woman dressed in an all-white bikini and blue Moon Boots strut her way in front of the cars in a blue cropped fur hoodie that seemed to swallow her arms and head whole.

“Alright! Ladies and men, I wanna welcome you to Bryce’s playground! Three things before we get started: I need both drivers to check their seatbelts, and verify that their airbags are indeed in check! Make sure that your dash cam is on and that any potential passengers or guests are not recording at this very moment!” she announced, taking an old-fashioned pistol out of her fuzzy coat pocket.

“When you hear my pistol go off, that is your sign to make your way down from this very road down to that red barn we see in the distance!” She shouted, turning around to point at the run-down-looking barn that appeared to be no farther than about a mile. “And for my newcomers, if we have any with us tonight, we’d like to welcome you on behalf of my dear darling boyfriend, and point out that if this happens to get leaked and you decide to go tattling, we are very good at covering our tracks! That being said, BUCKLE THE FUCK UP!”

Blood rushed through your veins, adrenaline fogging your mind as your foot teased the gas oh so subtly. The car practically vibrated with the force of the engine, the turbos in your car’s guts forcing as much air in the combustion as physically possible.

She growled like a dragon, your little leather seats shaking in learned fear as you waved at Half Moon from the window on your right. You offered him a kind smile and a thumbs up before focusing on the long strip of road ahead of you, shooting up a silent prayer to any god that could protect your life as she had done many times before.

“On your mark!” Lucy said, her manicured finger teasing the trigger of her pistol with the most determined and nonchalant expression you’ve ever seen someone in her shoes don.

“Get set…”

Before you knew it, the Christmas tree flashed two green lights and the bullet had dispatched from its fiery chamber. The bang was loud enough to render the weakest of the pack deaf, weeding out the runts that found themselves hindered by their inability to recognize the call of two fanged predators ready to hunt.

Your foot slammed down on the gas, sending you flying forward as your car rapidly gained speed at an alarming rate. Two hundred and thirty miles per hour in just three point eighty-three seconds— your front wheels departed from the floor, the front of the car bearing the brunt of your speed as your opponent made a hearty attempt to close the distance that had built in such a short amount of time.

It was like watching the son of Satan chase after his father's red robes of fury; he was practically riding your ass with how close he was, but it wasn’t enough.

Pink screamed and giggled her head off, her heels kicked up on the dash as the air raided your windows and made quick work of sending your hair flying in every direction it was able. With this kind of speed and horsepower, the tightest of curls never even stood a chance.

The roar of the dragon was heard all the way back at the playground, her claws ripping up the asphalt as she flew forward in a manner that should defy the laws of physics. Her wings aided her escape as her tires came screeching at the barn, reaching her destination a mere two seconds earlier than the runt she left behind.

After the smoke cleared and the smell of scorched rubber dissipated from the air, you got out of your car to give Half Moon a firm handshake and a fist bump.

“Sorry. I’m too good at school to not be able to pay for it,” you smiled, watching as he flipped open his visor to reveal a slightly defeated but impressed smile.

“God damn, what are you feeding that thing? What mods you got?” He asked, walking around the front of your car to observe what rested under the hood.

“There’s a couple of E-turbos in there…she’s an electric engine, so I gotta treat her right,” you nodded. “You’re not gonna see ‘em under the hood though.”

“Smart girl…” he hummed, shutting the car hood with a nod. “How much was she? No way you get this while still in college…”

“Maybe two million…? But I bought it for much cheaper from a friend from school once I started getting my bread together. Chris, actually…he said he was making an investment, whatever that means,” you shrugged.

“Smart man,” he chuckled, climbing back into his car to make his way back to the playground. “I have no idea where you got the money, much less Chris’ dumbass, but I’m not gonna question it.”

“Thanks,” you nodded, returning to your front seat and giving celebratory hugs to Pink.

You clawed your way back up the hill, parking your car back in the driveway as you stepped out to the crowd thundering with cheers and celebrations. It seemed as though anyone who bet more than three dollars on Half Moon began to grow upset, groans and grunts of loss mingling in with the loud applause as you faced the orchestra of joy.

You stepped out with Pink, your tongue out in triumph as your hands motioned for more applause. If there was a time to boast and gloat, it was now or never.

You were young, rich, and played in the face of the almighty grim reaper on a day-to-day basis. Your earnings were served like cold ice cream after thrashing about in a heated jacuzzi.

The large and fat platter of cash was handed to you, featuring a couple of rings and necklaces that were offered up rather than cash that could be flipped for their value in gold. The celebration was short-lived in all its right, and you watched as the gaudily dressed individuals filed into their respective cars and hopped on bikes after retrieving photographic evidence of their whereabouts that they’d inevitably boast about on social media.

You had taken about fifty photos within the following ten minutes. Posing with girls in the tiniest bikinis, men in the darkest outfits that would be considered emo if they weren’t coupled with bright and flashy jewelry. Most people had left, and you were just left with Chris, Pink, Dylan, Dhakiya, and the riffraff Dylan had brought along.

“That was tough as shit, B! I see you! Dustin’ hoes in your lil’ candy car, okay!” Dylan praised, eagerly patting your shoulder as Dhakiya came over beside him with a fat joint between her fingers.

“Breaking Half’s streak is crazy,” she said, a bright smile on her face that contrasted her heavy lids that were pink from the Mary Jane.

“Thank you, thank you,” you smiled, giving high fives and hugs all around before Luigi and his friend came around.

“That was really cool…” Luigi murmured, child-like admiration woven in his tone while his brows shot up with shock.

“Thank you,” you smiled, nodding your head as Chris brought you over a cold pineapple Fanta.

He was new, and maybe you were being a little mean…his beady black doe eyes pulled at your heartstrings, plucking out of tune notes of empathy underneath your hardened demeanor. He was just looking for a good time, and it felt a little hypocritical to wave him off like a flea-bitten stray.

In a way, you could almost see your past self beyond the windows of his soul. Staring back at you with that same wonderstruck expression. It was hard to not offer small talk when he was just so cute…like a little dumb baby!

“I remember watching my first race,” you hummed, taking a deep swig from the aggressively carbonated drink that stung deep in your nostrils, but after being subjected to car hotboxes so sweltering that your eyes stung from the smoke, not much could affect your nasals.

“It was hell. The dude I bet on lost terribly. Then he crashed out and started yelling, but god damn those cars were sexy,” you chuckled.

You watched as Patrick began conversing with Chris and Dylan, exchanging numbers and information with Dhakiya before delving into a conversation about future car shows and any potential races coming up.

“Man, that’s rough…but you did really good! I thought your car was gonna flip backward at one point,” he chuckled. “How is your car even that fast…they said you got there in like sixteen seconds!”

“I can’t tell you,” you smiled. “It’s a secret…maybe if I see your face a couple more times I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, I see…” he beamed, his brows pinching together as he nodded down at you. “No respect for the new guy, I see.”

“Nope. You might be a fed,” you joked, pretending to pat him down for a wire.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, shaking his head and watching as you counted your earnings from the large silver tray.

“That’s a lot of money…” he nearly whispered, watching as you counted blue-tinted hundred-dollar bills at the speed of light.

“What money?” You teased, raising a brow at him and pausing with your shuffling. “I didn’t earn any money. I got this from my safe at home…”

“Oh yeah, right, totally. I forgot, how ignorant of me,” He nodded.

“Yo! B, let’s go! Cops get wind, we’re all fucked. Don’t act brand new in front of your lil’ friend,” Dylan called.

You paused, giving the man a sly nod and a grin as you shoved all of the wads of money into your black purse.

“Maybe I’ll see you again, maybe I won’t. If I do, don’t show up like this again,” you beamed, gesturing at Luigi’s sandals and relatively generic outfit. “And wear red…it’s my color.”

“Sure…I can do that,” he chuckled.

“Now get, before Bryce rolls up and calls the cops on you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You climbed back into your car, tossing your keys up front to Chris as you slumped in the back seat to take a hard-earned nap. Something in the atmosphere told you that you would see him again, whether it be at a new race or maybe at a local Trader Joe’s.

Wherever it was that you’d cross paths, you were sure you’d recognize those spiral curls of cocoa and his firm voice that trembled and fumbled when he spoke. And as you unzipped your purse to count your money, you let him fade into the back of your mind to become a distant memory until you’d have to put a name to his face once more.

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muttsupreme · 1 day ago

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drunk as hell but this Valentine’s Day I want Roman

I want Roman not even asking you to be his Valentine because it’s a bargain deal. He gets you as a life partner, his little fugglesnuggle, his freak, his partner in crime, so yeah, it should be obvious you’re his Valentine. But he sees some tweet about how guys should always ask, that it’s just so important, so — while you’re in the shower, he comes in. As he usually does. But with your favorite flowers (it doesn’t matter that they’re out-of-season). Oh, and outside he also has some huge box of assorted Ferrero Rocher chocolates he remembers you talking about? And those designer shoes, you know, the ones you saw in Saks Fifth? Yeah, you should wear them tonight.

It’s not really that, though, that makes you all feel-good. It’s more that he kisses your back and shoulders when you get ready. More, more of that — more of, “You’re soft. Do you drink virgin’s blood? Seriously? The lotion I get you cannot be that good.”

He takes you to your favorite cafe for brunch. It reminds you of Paris, with outdoor seating and a delicious toasted marshmallow latte, but today you get a matcha with strawberry cold foam. He makes fun of you, “You’re drinking grass. Grass drinker. It’s not even, like, uhh — a what, cleanser? Just straight urban hippie grass juice. With a little fruity fluff.”

Afterwards, you both attend a nice museum exhibit, which you both enjoy for the first thirty minutes until you realize you’re both self-assigned critics and need a day off. So, movies — which, with Roman’s background in the film industry, is debatably worse. But Annie Hall is playing in his private theater until the late afternoon. It’s nice, it’s sweet, you’re both entangled like one great, big knot.

For dinner, he takes you to an Italian restaurant. It’s one that was once way out of budget when you first started working with him, one that you were honestly scared of walking into when he first brought you after work. Now it’s a second home. He calls it ‘your place’, meaning the place you had your first official-unofficial date. He still gets whiny when you say you didn’t know it was actually a date. You were just under the impression that your boss was trying to be nice so you don’t tattle on him for every little perversion.

He acts like it’s nothing, “Whatever, fuck you, it’s Valentine’s Day. Was I supposed to let you sit all alone and vibrate yourself numb?” He doesn’t expect a ‘thank you’, doesn’t really expect anything. This is just what you do, right? Standard procedure. You’re supposed to at least get your…romantic person (he holds himself back from saying ‘wife’), some chocolate and candy and flowers, and a nice dinner.

You walk for a while after dinner; he likes walking sometimes, usually when he’s drunk or high or upset. He’ll tell his driver to follow, just sort of not stay too far away, for when they actually wanna get home. You buy him flowers on the way back; some street vendor has Osiria roses. Beautiful flowers with dark reds and soft whites striping through the petals. He was fucking humiliated, because what, you’re buying him flowers? Like he’s some flamboyant metrosexual? You can only laugh at how ironically accurate that is. Truth is, he really doesn’t mind. He actually fucking loves it. Can’t stop ‘subtly’ smelling them when you ‘aren’t looking’.

He leans all over you on you while walking to the car. He just drapes himself over you, clings to you. Opens the door to the car for you with a snarky, “M’lady, the penthouse princess.” He nuzzles your shoulder and neck the whole ride, like a stray you’ve just picked up. For just a moment, he picks up your hand and kisses the part where your thumb meets your pointer finger, and then acts like it didn’t happen at all.

He clumsily grabs his roses and — most importantly — your hand as you both walk inside. Nudges you, an excuse to rub up against you as you both step into the private elevator. He quickly gives in, leaning on you and then making some exaggerated snoring sound as if he’s fallen asleep on your shoulder. A moment passes.

“You full? Like it?” He sounds uncertain. It shows, now, as it always will eventually, that he especially wanted you to like it. Paid attention, thought it out.

“When don’t I?” It’s half a scoff and half a laugh. You really have no room to say you don’t like one of your favorite restaurants in Manhattan, if not the world. Especially when he gets you the same pasta you had on your first date, the same tiramisu, with a hazelnut latte. He scoffs in return, face scrunching up as if it’s physically painful for him to imagine that you’re just lying, going with the flow.

When you both get into the penthouse, it’s actually not very late. You’re both full, and he groans as he stretches like an old man. He’s getting stocky, because he actually eats with you around. You notice when he doesn’t.

“You…like, like me, right?” He’s changing when he asks the awkward question, one he feels like should be left unsaid, it should be kind of obvious; you live with him, you work with him, you’re his Valentine. Every time something goes wrong or you’re upset, you call him. Of course you like him, duh, but maybe you don’t, or maybe you’re just playing the game, getting inside his head.

“Rome, come on. It’s us,” your words are supposed to portray just how dumb it sounds to ask you, of all people, that question. You’ve seen this guy cry, sob, you’ve felt him sneak into your bed after a nightmare, he’s told you stories of his fucked-up childhood and you’ve seen him get hit so hard he’s lost a tooth. He has admitted to you, in the privacy of the dark, quiet penthouse, while in the same bed with him playing a game of ‘Truths’, that he pissed the bed as a teen. And you’re still here. You’re always there.

“Fuck you, I know. I know you like me. But, do you?”

“Yes! Jesus, honey, yes, I like you,” you say quickly. It doesn’t take long for you to grab and hold his cheeks, feeling the scruff on them, rubbing circles with your thumb. He leans into the touch, kisses your thumb. His eyes practically twinkle.

“Yeah. Yeah, you do,” his first ‘yeah’ sounded almost whispered, like it soothed some part of his soul, whereas the second ‘yeah’ immediately turned back into typical Roman. That faux suaveness never fails to make him look silly, all sweet and stupid.

“Bed now?”

“Bed now,” you agree. And it isn’t inherently sexual. You’re both tired, and he wants your skin on his. He lays the roses beside your flowers, assuming the maid will put them in water for him.

The two of you brush your teeth together in the en-suite. You do your skincare routine together (although his takes longer). And at the end of both, he comes over to where you sit on the edge of the sink and puckers his lips for you to kiss, and you hop off and head over to the bedroom to change.

He nearly never sleeps without a shirt. Whether he’s wearing an undershirt, or one of your tees, he’s almost always in some shirt and his briefs. He takes his shirt off tonight, and doesn’t put one back on in its place. He’s soft, shaven, and just a little pudgy. Little freckles and moles are dispersed sparsely around his pale skin that has very recently been seeing just a bit more sun from a recent vacation to Italy.

“You’re such a fuckin’ perv,” he comments awkwardly at your staring. It sounds confident, funny, but you can tell that he’s sucking in his tummy, flexing his biceps as if he’s some big, strong man.

“I appreciate beautiful things. Don’t you?”

“Oh — smooth, smooooth fucking operator, very nice. I mean, an art exhibit is one thing, but full-frontal is kinda different.”

“Mm,” you come up to him, kissing his back now, kissing his shoulders. “Not with you.” It has two meanings, a double-edged sword: he always finds such weird shit so artistic, and not even in a directly perverse way; he loves the movie Brown Bunny, and genuinely believes that the blowjob was crucial to the plot. On the other hand, he’s also just — different. Even if full-frontal, on average, may not be worthy of the Louvre, it’s Roman. He’s Venus as a boy. He’s something entirely different from the rest.

And he can’t handle that. His face scrunches up again, as if in pain, feels his eyes hot, wet. You’re kissing his back and saying he’s art.

With a quick whine, he’s turned around in your arms and facing you, kissing you the way you’d imagine a woman may kiss her husband after he returns home from The War. It’s silly, it’s almost like he thinks you’ll disappear if he stops, it feels like he’s a kid, like he’s a little kid again with a crush on Sally-May-what’s-her-name aka who-gives-a-fuck. Like he’s never kissed in his life, and he’s wearing noise-cancelling headphones and the only thing playing is how the fabric of your dress moves against his hand as he hold onto it like reigns, and the squeaky noises of lips on lips, and your soft little noise is surprise.

But you don’t push him away. You let him take his fill. And he does, and when he’s done, he licks his spit from your lips with such reverence that it’s hard not to laugh.

“W-fuck, what?”

“No! No, Roro, it’s fine, no, you’re just,” you chuckle breathlessly, partly because you’re trying to hold back a laugh at his actions, tongue slowly tickling and tracing your lips, and partly because you hardly have any breath left after that kiss. “Oh, Romeyrabbit. You’re just silly. Silly, silly boy.”

He’s about to retort, but your hands are in his hair and he allows it. He’s okay with being some fucking stupid ‘Romeyrabbit’ and ‘silly boy’ if you take off this dress. So he crumples, nuzzles into your touch, and tries tugging off your dress.

“Okay, okay,” you respond, paying no mind to his puppy dog eyes the moment you pull away to take off your dress. “You, too!” You demand, and he quickly obeys, unbuckling and unzipping, slacks on the floor in seconds, tugging his socks off along with them.

He watches while still standing. He knows he looks stupid, just standing there and gawking at you, but — Venus of Townley is in his bedroom tugging down her dress and slipping off her shoes.

Taking too-big, clumsy steps, he walks with his bare feet in only his navy blue Calvin Klein briefs to go behind you and take off your bra with clammy hands. He tugs it down your shoulders and lets it fall down your arms. It’s not sexual, it isn’t anything at all; it’s him, it’s you, it’s a quiet, cool bedroom on Valentine’s Day.

Panties are next and then it’s all off. He keeps his briefs on, usually does, though he may take them off at some point through the night. But this is enough. He leans into the crook of your neck from behind, his nose nudging at your ear.

“Mmbed,” he mumbles what seems like a childish demand. “Beddy-bye.”

You hold his hand where it’s wrapped around your tummy, draw it up to your lips, and kiss the back of it. He sways with you in his arms — well, less of swaying, more of yanking you side-to-side with a playful growl. You giggle, let out a ridiculous laugh. You can feel his grin on your skin.

In bed, it’s soft, and the sheets feel as expensive as they are. Your noses touch, and he nudges them together when you start to fall asleep during the ceremonial staring contest ritual that has apparently just begun. But soon, you drift off and he doesn’t nudge you, just lets you. You make little “mmn,” noises in your sleep and his lips quirk up at them. He stares. He watches you sleep, if only for a few minutes. It’s a weird thing to do as is. But he likes it, the two of you entangled and him being able to just love you, watch you, observe you as you are. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. It begs the question of what the whole fucking holiday is about if not just this.

Just this. You and him. How nice is that? How nice can life fucking get?

#DRAFT FROM LAST NIGHT SORRY IM LATE WOOOOOHOOO #roman roy #hbo succession #succession #roman #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #romulus roy #roman x reader #succession fanfic #succession imagine #roman roy fanfic #roman roy imagine #roman x you #mutt is supreme

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popcornforone · 2 days ago

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The Lore

A Max Phillips Valentines Fan Fic

Bitey Maxie… for valentines… now we’re talking!

@happypedrohours are doing a valentines challenge this weekend & I took up the challenge, my Prompt of Max with heart shaped candies/chocolates. There was only one way to go with this so yes I went there.

Synopsis:- You are not bothered by Valentine’s Day to show your love, but Max has other ideas.

Word Count:- 4100

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!There is a lack of consent in this for lots of reasons, please in real life always give or receive consent before doing anything. PIV sex, drinking blood, alcohol, swearing, vampire lore & powers, drugging, stalking, controlling, boss & staff relationship, age gap (max is a vampire he’s like 200 years older than you in this story) manipulation.

Thanks for the read peoples. I hope you enjoy this.

Oooh as my poem got a lot of love last time, if you click here later this weekend you will get the poem version of this story.

“Ooooh isn’t it going to be romantic”

“I love this holiday”

“Wonder how many roses I will get”

You groan at the constant comments around the office in the lead up to Valentine’s Day. You have never been the kind of person,be it single or in a relationship, to enjoy Valentine’s Day. Yes it’s nice to get gifts & be doted on but you believe you don’t need a day to tell the person you love that you love them, you love them every day. Also there is currently the added bonus that no one in your office knows your in a new relationship. For lots of reasons you’ve had to keep it quiet. It’s been 6 months now, there’s been a few difficult conversations along the way so far but you know what to expect of each other.

As you sit there hearing Darcey talk for the 8th time that on Friday she has the day off & she’s sure her boyfriend will finally propose to her, you get a pop up on your screen.

My office with the reports in 10 mins.

“Always to the point” you mutter & start downloading last months sales reports to the usb drive. He is the only person in the world who hates using the cloud so this has to be done. You don’t mind it though. Means you know he’s not just skimming through the reports.

9mins later you knock on his office door & walk in closing it behind you.

“A minute early,” he says his back to you as he looks out the window at the grey busy city below. His Gucci suit being sleek & making his peachy arse, tiny waist & broad shoulders look emaculate. “Either that’s not good for sales, or you are getting too good at your job, guessing when I’m gonna ask for stuff.” He shifts back on his left foot before turning. There he is. Not a hair out of place. Looking as handsome as ever.

Your boss.

Your Boyfriend.

Max Phillips.

You always gulp upon seeing those eyes. Eyes so smouldering they could set a forest a blaze with one look. His hand smoothed out his blue tie. That large hand that makes you think bad things. & those lips, thin for now but blushing with life, the perfect way to end any day is to have those lips make contact, in lots of ways.

“Well that is why you hired me” you reply & wait for him to beckon you over. He might be your boyfriend & boss, but you are also his sub, & part of his supply of food. Max is a Vampire. Your obedience is rewarded with all sorts of things, but mainly mind blowing sex every other night. You’ve had so many orgasms in the last 6 months your world has truly been rocked. The two fingers extend & he does a come hither. You nod & walk across to him & hand him his usb. He grabs your hand, tightly & you gasp.

“Thank you darling” he then kisses your neck. You flinch a little. It’s the sore patch. It’s where he drinks from. You won’t let him drink while you have sex, one of the disagreements you’ve had, but on a Friday after you’ve dined & wined with whoever you have been out with, he will come over, drink from your neck so he can feel a little intoxicated too & then as you lie exhausted from being consumed yourself, he will devour your pussy until you can’t cum anymore.

“My pleasure sir” you say. He giggles a little, the glint in his eye even more shiney today.

He sits behind his desk & the two of you go through the sales reports. Despite you being his in almost every sense (he’s not agreed to turn you yet) he’s still very impressed with you, your work ethic, your charisma, your professionalism & the fact, that even though he is your master in lots of ways, that you will challenge him. No one has done that for over 200 years. He likes you feisty , because then he knows you’re being real & true. You wear your heart on your sleeve & that’s one of the reasons he adores you.

“That is actually all good” he says at the end of the review & chat”up 15% on last month that’s very reassuring, shows growth is continuing to get stronger”

“As I said Sir” you interject “we don’t need to grow at rapid speed just 12% each month for this year & then they will keep coming back & then recommend us”

“You’re so business savvy” he takes his large hand off the keyboard & strokes your chin. You try to not blush. “Your my little Angel”

“Max” you giggle unable to keep calm you know what thumb stroking usually means “we’re at work”

“&…”

“What if…”

“I’m in charge remember darling” the grip on your chin gets firmer. “If I wanted you under my desk every morning for a blow job, all

I’d have to do is snap my fingers & you’d be on your knees” your bright red, because you know it’s true. Power attracts you. His lore radiates. He pulls your face down, the eye contact intense, the sexual tension could cut through a coconut. Your kiss never materialises, as his phone rings. He answers it angrily.

“Fine fine fine” he says sternly before hanging up. “Sorry darling, rain check, new interns from the college, here to see if they want to work here”you are both disappointed but know you will get to continue later.

“Actual interns or a snack?” You ask he pulls a face of shock. Almost disappointed in your remarks, but you see the glint in his eye.

“Actual interns…” he then pauses & raises an eyebrow. “But the most Karen amongst them might be a nice little nibble” you giggle at him & take the usb back. “Hang on” you pause just before the door. “Remember I’m at a conference next week”

“Of course sir”

“Means a couple of nights away” he then pauses his face worried “including late home on Friday”

“&…” you reply.

“But it’s Valentine’s Day” he says. He’s shocked you don’t look sad.

“It’s just a day Max” you say softly. “I don’t need a certain day to be doted on” he then looks really shocked by this. In the 284 years he’s been alive he’s always spoilt the woman in his life on this day.

“You sure”

“Yes Max” you smile at him softly “my feelings won’t change for you they will be the same on Saturday as they will be on Friday” you nod & then leave his office.

Max sits back in his chair contemplating what you just said to him. Amazed you don’t want a fuss. He can read your mind, 9 times out of 10 he decides not to, but he had a quick feel around during that conversation & realised you weren’t lying. You really aren’t bothered. But that is going to make what Max has planned so much better. His mind planning only interrupted when the intercom goes to say the interns are in the lift to see him.

Valentine’s Day arrives.

After hitting your alarm on snooze, you see the message from Max on your phone.

I know i love you every day but today I felt like saying it, love you darling 💕

You reply saying the same back before getting in the shower. The hot steam making you wish Max was here, to touch you in lots of ways. Once dressed & in the kitchen making your coffee the door goes. You moan a little & hit the buzzer for whatever delivery this is to come up to your apartment, but your eyes are a delight when you open your eyes. A heart shaped cookie, with some small heart shaped chocolates on it & two roses with thorns still attached. The note that with it says “I bet this made you at least smile MPx” it had. Your dark heart which usually hates Valentine’s Day & the commercialism of it, starting to defrost a little. You decide to eat a chocolate as you head out to get the subway to work. As the last bit of chocolate melts on your tongue you feel wave of euphoria. Maybe it’s having something so sweet this early in the morning that’s woken up your senses, you’re not sure. But it’s making you bounce into the office this Friday morning. People notice how happy you are & are wondering what’s up.

When you get to your desk on your floor there is a pink heart shaped box, with a gold bow & a note. “Thought this morning was all you were gonna get? MPx” you untie the bow as some of your colleagues watch you. Those who aren’t then hear your squeal of excitement once it’s opened. A lavish selection of heart shaped chocolates & sweets sit inside & they smell amazing, making you lick your lips.

“Thought you didn’t do Valentine’s Day?” Danny asked.

“I don’t”

“& aren’t you single?” You blush at that.

“It’s complicated” you say. You’d love to shout out that you are getting railed by Max, but that would make things awkward. “But I have someone” you finish & you take a white chocolate heart & plop it in your mouth. “Oooh raspberry” you then offer the box to Danny “take one”

“But they are yours”

“I’m not gonna be able to eat them all Danny you take one for now & one for the journey” you offer innocently.

2hours later you suddenly realise the office is all around a much happier & nicer place. The usual mid morning slump never arrives. In fact, the entire office feels like it’s running on a different frequency, lighter, faster, buzzing with an energy that’s almost contagious. People are smiling, laughing, moving with an unusual ease. Even the usual grumblers seem… pleasant.

You lean back in your chair, watching as Danny animatedly chats with Sarah from accounts, his usual nervousness nowhere to be seen, he’s always had a crush on her. Across the room, even your perpetually stressed admin clark is grinning as she types away at her keyboard. It’s like someone has turned the volume up on life. It’s only when you realise that you’re tapping your foot at a ridiculous speed & that your fingers have been flying over your keyboard without you even noticing, that a thought creeps in.You glance at the open chocolate box on your desk.

Surely not?

Another bite of a heart chocolate sends a fresh wave of warmth through you, like you could take on the world. Your body feels incredible, light, sharp, almost euphoric. Your brain is firing on all cylinders.

Your phone vibrates. A message from Max.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

Your stomach flips. That bastard.

“What did you do?” You reply.The three dots appear.

“Hopefully get you loose”

You look up. Across the room, Danny meets your eye & grins, cheeks flushed. He winks.

“Oh fuck” you whisper & grab the box & run into Max’ office & lock the door behind you before calling him. He answers straight away.

“Darling”

“What’s in the chocolates Max?”

“Happy Val…” you interrupt him.

“I’m serious Max” you say sternly. “I passed them around the office”

“WHAT!” He screeches”why did you do that”

“Cos I’m not gonna eat 30 chocolates it would take me months”

“Fuck” he says “so how is erm… the rest of the office”

“Euphoric, In the most chilled Friday mood ever” you hear him tut.

“Well they have a mild aphrodisiac in them, just to let you inhibitions go” he chuckles. He’s drugged you & no also due to your generosity most of his staff.

“You think this is funny?” You state.

“I do, sorry daring. I didn’t want you stressing & I wanted you to have a nice calm day without me” he then pauses”wait where are you calling me from im guessing not the office floor”

“I ain’t that stupid Max” you scoff “I’m in your office, panicking”

“Bottom left draw of my desk” he says. His tone demanding even down the phone & you obey. You open the drawer & there is a bottle of champagne.

“Max”

“Take it home when you leave, enjoy it tonight, you deserve it baby” & then the phone clicks off, he’s hung up. Your stood there speechless & also very concerned you’ve just drugged the office with heart shaped chocolates. Well technically your boss has, your boyfriend has.

After the most relaxed Friday anyone has ever imagined, you go back to your apartment. Another bunch of red roses are waiting for you with a smaller box of chocolate & the note on the card says, “order a take away on me beautiful MPx” you blush & take them inside. After setting the roses in a vase & placing the smaller chocolate box on your kitchen counter, you flop onto the couch, phone in hand. Ready to let Max know what he might be coming back to at work next week.

“You do realise I am never trusting any food from you again, right?” His reply is instant.

“Oh, come on, darling. Didn’t you have the best Friday of your life?”

“You drugged an entire office.”

“Lightly. They’ll be fine. No complaints, right”You pause. He’s right. No one seemed upset. In fact, people left work happier than they ever have on a Friday. It was as if all the tension that usually hung in the air had dissolved. Still, you weren’t about to let him get off that easy.

“You’re a menace.”

“& yet, I’m your menace & you love me.”

You groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table at his reply. He’s insufferable, smug & unfortunately, he’s right.

Your stomach rumbles, bringing your attention to the takeout menu you’ve grabbed, you know it doesn’t go well but a burger & champagne sounds good. As you place your order, your thoughts drift back to Max’s little surprise. The chocolates. The way they made you feel. That warm, floaty sensation still lingers in your veins, but now it’s mixed with anticipation. Because you know exactly what’s coming next. After all, he’s not the type to leave things at just chocolates & flowers.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates again.

“Enjoy your dinner, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you soon”

Your breath catches. Max isn’t meant to get back until really late tonight. Is this all just a game to him? Playing with your emotions or is it just the heart shaped chocolates playing with your mind.

What you have no idea is that Max was never working away today, he’s been following you. He had been away for the rest of the week but he got back to his place last night. He watched you get the gifts on each occasion including putting a couple of mind control tricks on you, a little one every now & then doesn’t effect you, he even snuck into work to see how the chocolates were going down. He’s been watching you from outside your apartment feeling your aura, ready to strike at the moment you are most care free & relaxed. He wants a special Valentine’s Day himself. He wants you, & he knows by making you so calm & relaxed there is a huge chance you will let him drink from you when you have sex. He will need no mind controls tonight.

When you’ve finished eating & you pour another large glass of fizz, you hear a soft knock at your actual apartment door. Not the buzzer or the intercom. It’s deliberate & sends a shiver of both nervousness & delight down your spine. It has to be him. You slowly make your way to the door, is it nerves, fear, anticipation, lust, desire or all of the above that’s making your heart pound inside you? You can feel the tension as you unlock the door.

Max always has the devil in his eyes being a vampire but tonight it’s glowing. There’s an extra glint shining bright in those eyes. He knows he’s been naughty but he can’t contain his enjoyment of his teases through the day. He’s dressed to the nines as always spotless, the tie in his sleek jacket pocket, you can see the red poking out. Trousers that if he thrust, would show you which side he was dressing today. He’s smirking the only way he can.

“Surprise” he says cockily. You roll your eyes & tut in a sarcastic way. You step aside & he bows before entering. It’s a vampire thing.

“How was the late stay for the work thing?” You ask but you already deep down know he’s been spying on you. Something in your mind is telling you this.

“Erm about that” you sigh”oooh come on I wanted to have fun & you clearly have had enough of it, & I had to know if you really were enjoying yourself.”

“How often do you watch me max” not just a question for today but just in general.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to, I’ve set my own boundaries. Trust me I could stand at the end of your bed all night watching you sleep & you’d have no idea”

“What” you say shocked.

“Joking” he says putting his hands up apologetically, but there’s something about he smirk that makes you think maybe he sometimes does. He then takes your left hand & kisses it. You blush crimson.”you know your better than any drug or blood to me”

Just being with each other intoxicates you both. No more mind games are needed tonight, no more alcohol or chocolates to let yourself go. Your combined auras are making the sexual tension so thick. As you rest a hand on him your certain even though you know it cant be that you can feel his pulse quicken.

“Max i…”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, his lips crash into yours, stealing your breath easing your soul, igniting the fire within your bones. He’s possessive as he pulls you into him. He knows you’re his in every way but that doesn’t stop him wanting to claim every last inch of you. You’d willingly be this man’s last meal if he asked you, his scent, his touch, his body, his mouth & those eyes that are are usually so soft now primal & wild, they all belong your man. No one else’s he’s yours.

His mouth leavers your lips, to your jaw, to your neck, to your throat, to where he likes to sip. He’s a man possessed. Too much to feast on. On such a beauty as you. He knows he should ask, he also knows he could use a mind trick but he wants you to willingly bring it up. The thing he wants most. His tongue flicks against the usual puncture holes, the teeth grazing, those prestige fangs starting to form. He lets out a small growl, it vibrates through your body.

“I want you”

“I know max”

“No I really want you in every way”

Your body melts & you moan as he softly starts to nip. It’s not painful anymore it’s arousing.

“Yes” you whimper.

“Sorry” he says & lifts his head

“ I said yes, take me to bed before I change my mind” you say & he lifts his head.

“Only if your sure darling & you must say black if it’s too much”

“Max i trust you with my life”

That’s all Max needs to hear.

Vampiric power is extraordinary in so many ways. In a flash he’s scooped you into his arms & carried you to your bedroom. You body feels like it’s falling in slow motion. In the time it takes you to get your jewellery off he’s gone & got some towels & a bottle of water & a few other supplies, incase things go wrong, although he keeps promising it never would, that he’d never hurt you, that it would make sex so much more enjoyable.

You’re excited as you both undress each other. You’re always excited for sex with max, but today it’s different. You’ve been drank before & after sex but never during it. This is a special treat & one that you know, now that you’ve opened Pandora’s box, he will expect more regularly.

After peeling away your clothes Max kisses every single inch of your skin. So full of life, so beautiful. He makes him more of a creature of a night than ever before. He’s savouring each kiss & touch. You moan as he sucks on your clit for a few minutes, your hands going into his hair. Your hips already rolling pushing his face further into your pleasure, as h gets you going.

“Fuck max”

“Don’t cum already baby” he giggles before his fangs then graze your nipples. He then pauses. He knows once he sinks his fangs into you & his penis, he will turn into an animal.

“Last chance darling” he says hopeful you still consent. Slight restraint in his voice. You pull him up so he can be near his usual drinking spot. Your hand traces over this jaw.

“I’m all yours max, in every way, yes I want this”

“Remember black” he says. He then very unromantic hits a timer next to your bed of 10mins, the longest the knows he can drink without doing any damage. You moan as he penetrates you slowly, filling up your cunt as he kisses you deeply. “I promise you will want this every night” he then licks down your throat, his hips slowly thrusting, you aren’t gripping the bedding yet but you can’t stop moaning already.

Finally his mouth as back at his supply. He sighs, licks & then softly sinks his fangs into your flesh. You’re gripping the bedding now.

Pleasure ripples through your body. You’ve never felt this high, you’ve never felt this happy. Sharp, hot, intoxicating, sexy, ritualistic. Your body arches as you moan pushing him into the air with you before you come back down onto the bed. It’s almost an out of body experience. Your own nails dig into Max to hold him in place, his growling & thrusts making each contraction of your cunt around his penis invigorating like you’ve been born again.

This isn’t just a drink, this isn’t just sex, this isn’t just a vampire & his partner being intimate, this is sacred. Each thrust sets off fireworks, each slurp has you both seeing stars. It’s binding you together in a moment of bliss.

Bzzzzz

The alarm goes off & Max to his word slowly removes his fangs from your neck, drops of blood fall onto where he drinks, your blood & his venom to seal the wound.

“Fuck baby” he snarls & then he picks his pace up. Those 10 minutes flew by, but the ferocity of both your orgasms makes you feel the same connection once again. Your body quivers in pleasure at your release. His face radiant & almost alive, from sweat blood & lust filled eyes.

“Perfect” he pants a few minutes later & lifts his head to look deeply into your eyes, moving a stray hair off your face. “How was it for you darling”

“indescribable”

“Is that good or bad?” You laugh at his response as your thumb traces over his lips. You suck your own blood off it.

“More” you say. Max looks shocked.

“M…more” Max is stunned his voice husky but it doesn’t take long for that smirk to return to his face. “darling do you have any idea what you just asked for” he murmurs as his hands cup your breasts & he slowly takes hold of you.

“Then show me Max” you challenge him.

“You greedy little thing” he says & he rolls back on top of you.

“Not really” you joke trying to lighten the mood as you get comfortable for round 2”I gave all of my chocolates away”Max laughs.

“Actually” he quickly leans over the top of his timer he had brought some chocolates upstairs with him. Those likely heart shaped chocolates which have caused all sorts of fun today. “Is one more gonna hurt” he says as he bites into his. He then feeds you the final chocolate. Your world exploding into colour once more. You tilt your head to the side.

“no it’s not baby”your practically vibrating with anticipation.

Slowly he pushes deep inside you, thrusting a few times watching your eyes glaze over from pleasure before he lowers his head to your neck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day darling” he whispers before growling in satisfaction as he sinks his fangs into the only sweetness he needs in his life.

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tabsters · 2 days ago

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wiege observations - part 1 (because of tumblr's 30 image limit)

part 2 here

first of all:

WHAT ON GOD'S FUCKING EARTH DOES THIS IMPLY???? does it mean that the luka we know killed all the other lukas??? it looks like he hit a switch of some sort, causing all the other lukas to spill out of their pods and presumably die. we've all been saying that the other lukas died because they weren't perfect enough, but what if they were killed accidentally, by our luka's negligence? there's also green shit all over them, someone said that could be alien blood, so what's the implication there? does hepuru have something to do with them all dying as well?

these shots were beautiful. I love hyuna. and it shows her reminiscing about the times she spent in anakt.

edit: someone said that the top image is her with the rebellion members. she's smiling in the first one, because she cares about her fellow escaped humans, but she'll always value the time she spent with luka more.

this is depressing. it's already probably been stated, but this is the only way luka can ever see or touch hyuna after she went rogue.

people have also already said that this means that originally, sua had the black dress and mizi had the white one. does this mean that the aliens originally thought that mizi would look better in white because white = innocence and mizi is the most innocent anakt contestant? and then does that mean mizi gave sua the white dress because white = holiness and sua is her god?

also been said, till is spray painting his shirt because he's a rebel and he always does things his own way.

this is presumably after hyunwoo dies. hyuna is obviously in shock and she's crying about hyunwoo's death. but luka is happy. he's happy that he now gets all of hyuna's attention, that he can be the ruler of her heart the way she rules his heart.

this is a picture presumably drawn by hyuna, given how only she and hyunwoo have eyes, and how she's the only one who has a mouth. however, an interesting thing to think about is that this could be a callback to this:

notice how hyuna is the only one who has her eyes and mouth uncovered. hyunwoo has his mouth scribbled through, while luka doesn't have a face at all. this could imply that luka was actually the one that drew this picture.

what's interesting about these photos is that this shows that human connection wasn't just limited to our main six. there were humans all over, in the slums and anakt, connecting with each other and finding the reasons to live in each other. and I think that's beautiful.

THE FUCKING XYLOPHONE.

as @hoisinblackcat pointed out, that is chu chu from revolutionary girl utena. if you're a mizisua enjoyer, go watch revolutionary girl utena.

as many people have pointed out as well, THEY WERE MARRIED IN ANOTHER LIFE.

what is bro doing. is he doing karaoke. get it till.

this picture is a callback to this one picture at the very beginning, in round one:

this implies that mizi took the fish out of water to keep as a pet, and then it died.

4NAKT. I love 4NAKT. this is my new wallpaper. this is also a callback to the one alien from round 3 and round 6:

now, this interesting to me because what I immediately thought of when I saw this alien was Cerberus, the three headed dog to the underworld in greek mythology. this could imply that this alien serves as a guard for anakt, making sure that no kids escape. however, Cerberus has three heads. this alien could have three heads, but only two are picturesd. however, there is also a two headed dog in greek mythology named orthrus. what did orthrus do? guarded cattle. yet another reference to how humans just animals in the eyes of the segyein.

now, this scene. it has a possibility to be connected to this scene:

where there is AN ENORMOUS FUCKING BEETLE ON LUKA'S HEAD. I think this is the direct reason for why luka killed hyunwoo, hyunwoo hit luka on the head to kill the beetle, luka hit him back because he didn't understand what was going on, hyunwoo's head got smashed into a rock, and luka smiles and goes "oh well, less competition for hyuna's love."

what the fuck is this. is luka looking at even more clones of himself. but these guys look taller. what the fuck.

mizi's still crying over till's death. hyuna's still injured. IVAN, TILL, AND HYUNA ALL DIED ON THE EXACT SAME DAY. WHAT IF I DIED.

anyway post 2 coming soon because I decided this was more important than AP precalculus.

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sidethatyoudontknow · 1 day ago

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DDAKHO HEADCANONS

That you all been waiting for,hope you enjoy!!

Let's start from the most people agree one, after inho sh**ts junho in s1 he not just told the fisherman to get him and make sure he stay away from the island, he also ask the salesman to make sure he's alright after the incident, that might looks like as some would say "st*king".

Their "before sleep" talk was mostly about salesman's life, not bc he's selfish that he wants everything about him or anything it's just mostly bc junho is too tired from work that he has no energy to talk + he likes hearing salesman so openly talking about his past and family.(might make a separate post about this) ☆

Junho tells the salesman about his plan of finding his brother and the salesman was ordered to inform inho about it but he actually might or might not lie about some things just to make it complicated between the 2 bc that means he would have more time with junho before he founds out he's part of the games.

Ofc don't forget about, junho fixing salesman tie. Mostly when salesman gets too panic bc he's running late and just tie it carelessly until junho stops him and told him to calm down while fixing it(and remind him that he's the boss so no one will be mad at him if he's late)or when salesman's have an important meeting or agenda and was too nervous and been asking if his tie was good way too much times that its actually making it worse so junho have to fix it and also calm him.

They would always help bandaging or treats each other wounds if one of them was hurt(they both have a dangerous a** job)

Salesman was so flirty but would get soo flustered and as red as a tomato when junho flirted back(which is rare).

Junho is a valentines hater but Salesman is a valentines lover, so usually on valentines day the salesman would get all lovey dovey and giving junho A LOT of chocolates and flowers meanwhile junho get cringed by how cliche it is(deep down he actually loves it and keep all of the letters that salesman wrote for him, bc he thinks that, that's the most normal and human thing that salesman do).

Salesman would do anything for junho but all he wants was to find the island and bring his brother back which is ONE thing he couldn't do bc if that happens its not only him that would be ded but possibly junho too.

Some of you might not agree with this but they're so boy dad coded, until they have a daughter at least( yes I hc them having children together, a son(older) and a daughter(younger)). (Also might make separate post about this) ☆

Junho sleeps first but wakes up last, when he doesn't have work that day yk damn well he would sleep until past noon if he could and salesman would always try to get him up but only for him to get dragged down to bed instead.

Salesman sometimes would bring/send junho lunch/flowers/gifts when he's at work and all his colleagues starts teasing him about it bc ofc he would wrote/give the sappiest thing ever(his colleagues doesn't know who sends it bc he would always use his initial/inside joke nickname).

Inho DID NOT approve their relationship at first bc he thinks the salesman is not good enough for junho(like his relationship is any better) and scared that he would do something bad to his dear little brother.

When the salesman do the most human and normal thing ever, junho would always put his hand on salesman forehead to check if he have fever or something bc there's no way the salesman just cooks him dinner casual on a random tuesday just bc he "wants" to.

Ok I think that's it for now, let me now if you want more or if you think I should post more part about the hc I ☆.

#sorry it took me so long to write #if you see me try to post this more than 3 times no you're not #for some reason it wouldn't appear in the global tags #the salesman #hwang jun ho #hwang inho #457 #junho x salesman #ddakho headcanons #ddakho #salesjun #juncruiter #squid game #the recruiter #FINALLY IT APPEARED

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the-mandawhor1an · 2 days ago

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Searching for the stars pt.3 | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You could have never guessed how much your life would change when you first looked into the dark brown eyes of a stranger who showed up at your work place one day, claiming to be a Roman general who presumably died 1800 years ago.

Words: 2.1k

Tags: Time travel; puppy Marcus; fluff galore; wedding; we might need tissues; no use of y/n;

(further tags omitted to not spoil the outcome)

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: Part 3 comes just in time for valentines and I did not hold back on the fluff. Happy end incoming. (Also there might be a prequel, who knows)

Comments etc. are appreciated

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Hey, wake up,” you were awoken by a raspy, sweet voice, whispered into your ear as soft kisses wandered all the way down the side of your neck towards your shoulder. You felt another body right behind you, snuggling against your back and one arm around your waist. “I’m awake,” you yawned and turned your head. “Good morning,” you greeted the man behind you with a soft smile, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Good morning, my love.”

You turned your body around to face him, placing a kiss on his lips, which he eagerly returned. “What if I don’t want to get up?” you teased, running your fingers through his dark curls. “Guess we’re not getting married, then,” he concluded with a shrug, rotating his head to look into your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean it, but you joined into the discussion nonetheless. “No, that’s unacceptable.” “Well,” he hummed and nudged his nose against yours, “then you have to get up, my precious.” You let out a sigh in protest. “Fine.” A soft kiss later, you rose and got out of bed.

It was still very early in the morning. You both had to get ready and you preferred to have enough time to prep just in case things didn’t go according to your plan. First, you hopped into shower, taking your sweet time to mentally and physically prepare you for the long day ahead. Fresh coffee greeted you when you returned to your kitchen. Marcus looked absolutely delicious in the black polo, casually leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hand too. As soon as you had walked over to get your coffee, he wrapped his unoccupied arm around you, pulling you close to his warm body. “How are you feeling?” “Excited,” you replied, raising the coffee to your lips and taking a careful sip. It was still a mystery to you how he did it, but the coffee always tasted better when he made it.

“Not nervous?” he asked, a smirk creeping up to his lips. “Not at all. I get to marry my best friend.” As soon as you had finished your sentence, his smirk had turned into a full-blown grin. Infected by his expression, you grinned as well, suspecting you knew why your reply made him grin like this. “I did it again, didn’t I?” He nodded. “You sure did. Even with the same facial expression.”

You leaned in closer, allowing him to kiss your forehead while you hummed approvingly. “Isn’t it boring that I’m so predictable?” you asked, not really meaning it, though. Nevertheless, your fiancé refused to even entertain the thought. “You know that I would never grow tired of you.” With the bald patch in his beard just within reach, you kissed the heart-shaped spot and whispered against his skin “keep some of the sweet talk for your vows.” Marcus hummed as well, closing his eyes for a second. “I have plenty more.” “You sure do,” you said as you stole another kiss. Finally, you focused on your coffee and the schedule for the day.

Instead of doing it like everyone would expect, you and Marcus got ready together. None of you believed seeing the bride before the ceremony would bring bad luck, so it just made sense. Besides, you were there to help him in case he needed it. He had gotten adapted to the 21st century quite nicely, but every now and then, he would get stuck and you were ready to help. Additionally, getting ready with him meant you could sneak in a few more kisses and spend time with him – as if you didn’t get enough with him.

Curiously, Marcus watched as you did your own makeup, watching you though the open bathroom door. He had seen it before, but his fascination with you never ended. Every time you came out with a hand mirror to check if you looked horrible in natural light, he seemed completely hypnotized by the mere sight of you. Of course, the first steps looked a little weird, but with every in-between check, the vision of your wedding makeup became clearer and the love in his eyes grew. “You’re so beautiful,” slipped out of him, speechless otherwise so his brain defaulted back to Latin. “Says the handsome one,” you responded, lowering the mirror to give him a warm smile. It was as if you could the little hearts in his eyes. “Come on, I’m an old man.” You shook your head. “Stop that, you’re not.”

Just some time later, you assisted him in buttoning his shirt up and adding the bow-tie. Technically he could do it himself, but it was hard to keep your hands off of him when he looked this good. “Do you remember when you did that for the first time?” You looked up to him, the same expression on his face now that had been there all this time ago. By now it felt like it was years ago. “It was your first full day here, of course I remember.” How could you forget? Your life project, the work you had put your everything in, practically coming to life and he was there, in your apartment, in all of his glory. “I thought about kissing you back then,” he confessed. How would you have reacted to it, you wondered. “Well, you can kiss me all you want now.”

Taking the invitation, he leaned in and kissed you a bit hungrier than usual, causing you to pull back. “Careful, the makeup will smudge,” you reminded him, but it fell on deaf ears. “I don’t care,” he growled. “I do!” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. ”Save that for later.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner. “Idiot.” “All your fault.”

When it came to getting into your dress, Marcus of course helped you. “You’re so beautiful,” he swooned, not able to take his eyes off of you. “So are you,” you purred. Not wanting the opportunity to go to waste, you took a few pictures in your apartment, before wind might ruin your getup or tears that would surely come sooner or later could mess with your makeup. Marcus looked absolutely gorgeous in his suit and as persistent as he was in telling you you looked like Venus herself would get jealous, you thought he looked like the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

The way to the courthouse was short, you and your husband-to-be holding hands all the way there. The courthouse was small and just minimalistically decorated, you weren’t expecting many guests. Your fiancé lacked family members and everyone you had invited knew why this was the case. As strange as it sounded at first, they had adapted to him just as he had to adapt to the modern times. The ceremony was relatively short, there was no need to mention religion and you would save your vows for the reception afterwards. Your hand was buried in Marcus’s when you listened to the officiant’s speech.

Marcus never stopped looking at you, and a knowing glance was exchanged when the officiant mentioned intertwined fates. You winked at him, he gently squeezed your hand in return. When it came to exchanging the rings, Marcus tugged at your heart strings badly. With your shaking hand in his, he gently slid the wedding band onto your finger and softly said “I promise I’ll be the husband you deserve, in sickness and in health. Until my last breath.” As soon as he saw you tear up, tears sparkled in his eyes as well. “And I’ll be the wife you begged the stars for, until my last breath.” This was it for the vows, at least for now. You were sure he still had a lot more to say in private, and so had you. He kissed you gently, but pulled you in close, one hand in the back of your neck. A little protest escaped you when he pulled back. “Later, my love,” he whispered against your temple before he placed another kiss on your skin.

The party after the ceremony was held in a back room of a somewhat fancy restaurant. You had cake, coffee, lots of fun and later in the day you also had dinner together. You had danced so much with Marcus that your feet felt a little numb and you were thankful to be sitting. Marcus looked so good in the gray suit, especially in the softer light the candles gave off. The silver threads in the fabric sparkled just like the grays in his hair did. He was so damn perfect and he was all yours. Your husband. It felt surreal, like a fairytale that had turned into your reality. It felt like yesterday when you first laid eyes on him; the general. Marcus Acacius, general of the Roman empire.

While you were having dinner, he had his hand on your thigh rather than holding your hand, you needed it to eat, after all. Still it felt so intimate with him, him never breaking contact with you one way or another. His love was so obvious, so pure. Despite your concerns for him, he managed to carry conversations all on his own, switching between English and Italian every now and then, sometimes mixing the two. It made you wonder if he had practiced in secret.

Back at home, it was about 11 at this point, you slow danced on the balcony, still in your wedding dress, under the stars, with just him and you. “I love you, Marcus” “I love you too.”

You looked up an him, there was a sparkle in his eyes, brighter than you had ever seen before. “We haven’t exchanged vows,” he reminded you, placing a kiss on your lips. “If you want to see me cry so badly, do it.” A grin crept up to his lips. “If they’re tears of joy I’m fine with them. Ready?” You nodded and cuddled up to him, leaned your head against his shoulder. You felt him take a deep breath before he started. “I promise to protect you and make sure you receive all the admiration, adoration and support you deserve. I want to make sure you know how precious you are to me and how much I love you.” With a soft hum, you raised your head and kissed his cheek. “and I promise to be there when you need me. I’ll take care of you and make sure you’ll never miss your old life.”

He leaned his head against yours. “I thank the gods for allowing me to have a second chance, to fall in love with you all over again.” “Ubi tu gaius, ibi ego gaia,” you said and cupped his face in your hands. And there were tears in both of your eyes, but you knew he just teared up because you were crying. “I hope today wasn’t too much for you,” you added. Marcus shook his head. “It’s fine. You had fun and I had something beautiful to look at all day.” He grinned and you shut him up with yet another kiss.

Still caged in his arms, you turned around so you could look at the stars together. “How was your first wedding?” you asked him, leaning your head against his again. “Bigger than this. Less formal. Way more alcohol and louder.” He chuckled. You could barely imagine what a wedding back then had looked like, but you were sure he had been just as happy as he was right now. “What about Astra?” “Strikingly beautiful. She was in tears more times than I could count on our wedding day. She was so happy.” With a sigh he kissed your temple and pulled you in closer. “We don’t have to talk about her any more. I know she is happy and safe. Whether it’s in my arms or in the afterlife with our daughter.”

Speaking of…

“Have you ever had a name for her?” “No, Astra wanted to wait until our child was with us before we would choose a name. She didn’t like the idea of just calling her Acacia after me.” “I really like the name Stella,” you said as you closed your eyes and let your body sink against his. Marcus’s chest rumbled. “Mh.” “You don’t like it?” “I do but why have you picked a name for a child you don’t –”

As you opened your eyes again, you saw the expression on his face go from confused to surprised. His mouth fell open and soon enough his lower lip quivered. There were tears in his eyes and you knew there were about a million thoughts racing through his mind in this moment. “You’re…” You nodded. “We are. It’s a girl.”

#roll a trope challenge #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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