#he is for sure anti-running and bad at it

[colduncrustable]

the martin antis working so hard to make waves is so funny. like, you are very much allowed to like/dislike any character you please! but making it your whole personality or acting like you’re cooler for it is a little bit silly. you are not morally or intellectually superior for hating on a fiction character.

not to mention all of the characters in tma are very nuanced and complicated, just like real people (!), and erasing all of that to serve a certain narrative is a complete disservice to the entire body of work. jon and martin’s relationship was never meant to be easy, they first and foremost worked closely together as boss/employee, and in a workplace that was actively putting them in dangerous and horrible situations. the whole point is that they’re both super fucked up but they have each other anyway. they both have flaws, they both have gone through a great deal both with and without each other, but they found love anyway. the idea that the dynamic change in s5 is due to martin just being this villain is so wild? like he’s not a doormat anymore but he also loves jon so fiercely and stands by him over and over again?

jon hated him, jon ignored him, was verbally horrible to him again and again, literally sent him on a dangerous investigation and said if anyone had to die might as well be him, jon accused him of murder, screamed at him, jon was on the run, jon died. martin was his number one defender through everything, even when honestly? he didn’t do a lot to prove he deserved it. but martin was strong in his loyalty and did his best to be a supporter anyway. he picked up extra work, he thought of him kindly when no one else did, he mourned him, and he put himself directly in the line of fire for jon. for everyone, yes, but especially for jon, he says that. because after everything, protecting jon is still his number one priority.

it’s so important to his character that he isn’t s1 martin anymore—that he learns to be a real person who has thoughts and feelings and a backbone. jon wanted that, and does it not say something that they don’t work out until martin learns to have a little bite? there’s a difference between being a real complicated traumatized human person, and just straight up being evil, or an asshole. jon had to learn how to be a lot of softer things but martin had to learn how to square his shoulders and stick out his chin. they had different arcs, and that doesn’t make either of them inherently evil or bad. it makes them real and not perfect and very multilayered, yeah.

martin didn’t handle every choice or action perfectly, he made a lot of mistakes, and he never claims to be the best person ever. but jon also fucked up, a lot. it isn’t a competition or a comparison, that’s really not how that works. but they work because of their flaws. that’s a big part of them fitting together. martin represented the humanity they were saving, with all his good and bad. jon was well beyond that, and while that doesn’t inherently compromise his character, it does mean he’s viewed in a much different light.

(meaning i think jon’s sins are seen very very different to martin’s.) (to be clear i think both deserve to be looked at critically, but hating either of them devoutly seems sort of silly.)

i’m not sure how you can listen to tma and all the ways it dissects and reflects on humanity and turn around and run blogs or make posts in the fandom about how you hate one of the main characters for being all of that.

jon never would’ve made it through without martin, even if martin wasn’t the key to everything, he was the reason to push through and not give up. martin is why jon didn’t go full monster mode, why he held onto who he was and his humanity, even with the whole ‘kill bill’ thing. martin gave him a reason to keep going, to try, to care so deeply. obviously there were other factors but jon says it himself, martin you are my reason.

if you can’t handle the fact that martin isn’t a grade a soft boy by the end of the show that’s a lot more about you than it is about him. he grew and maybe not always for the better but he could be a real person for jon instead of some kind of mirror or blank slate to be reflected on. i genuinely don’t understand how he can be misunderstood so deeply.

they’re both fucked up ! and if they are alive Somewhere Else you bet your ass they’re having long talks and going to therapy and fighting and making up and pacing the floors and figuring it all out together. it isn’t clean or easy or necessarily enjoyable all the time, but humanity isn’t either, love isn’t either. they went through unimaginable trauma, and expecting either of them to be holding it together any better than they already are is wild. context, it’s important. but let’s not turn multi-dimensional characters into flat one word answers.

it’s very human to like and dislike, love and hate based off of bias and experiences and perspective. but also opinion does not make fact. everything is relative, everything is subjective, everything everything everything. it’s an open discussion yada yada idk i’m just screaming into the wall about all the nonsense.

and beyond all of that, discourse is so useless. criticism and constructive conversations are really really important but discourse is pointless! oh you ship these people? well that inherently threatens my ship! oh you like this character that i hate? well that makes me feel invalid for hating them. like what you like, hate what you hate, have your feelings. but if you post shit on the internet you will get people who disagree, sorry, that’s how it is. partaking in little arguments over who is right or wrong when it doesn’t actually have to do with anything harmful or unhealthy makes no sense though. posting on the internet about all the hate you have in your heart when the world is already so full of it doesn’t actually do anything but add more bad to an already very large pile of bad.

things can be discussions not arguments sometimes, i promise. it’s not always tooth and nail, and let’s not forget, most of it is over things that never need to be fought over.

[holocene-sims]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore ✨️

(Your turn!)

hi hi hi!! thank you so much for sending me this!!

last time i did one of these, i answered it for my (mostly) brand new character, yunha...so, let me introduce her twin brother now!

here come the basic stats ✏️ yunseok is 6'2", his mbti type is infj, his enneagram is 9w1, and his zodiac big three are pisces sun, sagittarius moon, and scorpio rising

he's chronically OFFLINE 🌾 he's never had a social media account other than one on kakaotalk to message friends/family and a profile picture-less youtube account that he uses to watch very specific hobby videos or listen to music. that's it. i wouldn't say he's unaware of memes or online culture overall, like yunha and his friends keep him in the loop so he's not completely baffled at their references, but he doesn't care for being on the internet.

he's kind of the perfect split between nerd and jock ⚽ even though he doesn't spend much time on the internet, he does like video games, and he grew up playing them with yunha whenever they had access to a computer or a console. his favorite games at the moment are project zomboid and elden ring. on the other hand, he's also a big sports guy. he loves baseball, basketball, and soccer, and he's practiced taekwondo for a longgggg time. so, most of the time, if you're trying to find him, he'll be at some sports complex or at the gym!

halloween is his favorite holiday! 🎃 and he spends a considerable amount of energy deciding what costume to wear each year and trying to convince friends and family to do group costumes with him. that hounding sometimes works out and results in, for example, him dressing up as the corpse bride and his (now ex)-girlfriend going with him as victor

he's currently employed as a night security guard at a factory, and wow does he hate it 😭 very rarely does he actually get to do anything, so for 98% of the night he's just sitting there in the booth pretending anything interesting is happening. that 2% of the night that *is* "interesting" is going on foot patrols and sometimes letting a worker inside. it's also quite an isolating job given the schedule and the fact that he's almost always the only guard on duty every night

[autisticcassandracain]

What are good stories for the new gods. And sorry for my last and my mind just thinks stuff randomly sometimes sorry

Don't worry at all, always happy to give comic recs! Sorry for the late reply, I wanted to read the Forever People miniseries I hadn’t read yet to see if they were worth recommending. They were not.

Please keep in mind that this is not a reading list, but rather a rec list of New Gods comics I’d consider good. Unfortunately that’s mostly Mister Miracle. Please pour one out for the Forever People and their complete lack of good comics aside from their debut.

Of course, the original fourth world trilogy — The New Gods (1971), The Forever People (1971), and Mister Miracle (1971) — forms your base and is required reading. (Kirby's run on Mister Miracle ends after #18, and that's when you should stop reading because Englehart's Mister Miracle sucks.)

Others are:

The Hunger Dogs, a graphic novel continuation of the New Gods by Jack Kirby. Kirby was forced to cancel the comic prematurely and this wraps up some (though sadly not all) loose ends, although likely not in the way that was originally intended. Better ending than the original, imo, though far from perfect.

Orion, the only Orion solo run to date and one of my favourite comics of all time. Truly can't overstate how good this one is.

Justice League of America #183-185 isn't solely about the New Gods but I really like Scott and Barda in it. Pre-crisis.

Mister Miracle Special, a oneshot that was intended to re-establish the Mister Miracle canon post-crisis, but really ended up just being a stand-alone story. My favourite Scott outside of the original series.

Mister Miracle (1989) is Scott's second and longest running solo. I have my issues with it, but it's still very much worth reading.

Mister Miracle and the Source of Freedom is a post-flashpoint Shilo Norman miniseries. Again, I have my issues with it, primarily my hatred of N'vir Free as a character concept, but it's a very interesting take on Shilo and has by far my favourite Thaddeus Brown and Oberon.

Also, I’ll rec the Jack Kirby 100th Celebration Collection, which is exactly what it sounds like. As in all collections, the writing varies between stories, and I recommend some but not others, so here’s a quick overview of the New Gods-centric stories in it:

The first one, about Shilo Norman and the Black Racer (unsure of the name), I really can’t recommend because I absolutely loathe its take on the Black Racer. While it keeps to the letter of the canon established by Kirby, I do not feel like it keeps to the spirit. The little ‘Soul of Willie Walker’ blurb by Mark Evanier that precedes it is interesting, though.

The second story, The Resistance!, I very much do recommend! I really adore this story, focusing on resistance efforts on Apokolips, because I feel like it’s one of the few post-Kirby stories that actually does a good job engaging with the fascism Darkseid and Apokolips represent. This story is essentially a better version of the one from the New Gods Secret Files, which I don’t necessarily recommend because it’s far too sloppy to actually be good, but it’s not bad either, so you know, it gets a mention. 

The third New Gods story, focusing on Orion (I also don’t know this one’s name), is like, fine? It does that thing where they make specifically Orion xenophobic towards the Bugs, rather than the entirety of New Genesis, which I strongly dislike, but aside from that its characterization is decent and it focuses on Kalibak and Orion, so if you like that dynamic this might appeal to you more than me.

The fourth New Gods story, Teeth of the See: A Tale of Young Orion, I do recommend. It’s short and quickly read, but it’s a fun look at an adventure from a younger, less experienced Orion.

[guardianbee]

RE: your post about nashuri being compared to re//ylo

you're so correct. i think people get caught up in the whole "quite popular ship about enemies who might have a romantic connection" thing and ignore the fact that the romance in rey//lo is completely fabricated and unsubstantiated while namor and shuri are shown as mirrors of each other since the very beginning and the story cannot go on as it does without the connection between the characters.

kyle doesn't care for rey whatsoever and has no qualms with hurting and torturing her even after he realised they were a force dyad (which was so half assed and obviously only done to fabricate a romance that just wasn't there); on the other hand namor sees himself in shuri since the first meeting and never intended to hurt her, not even after the perceived betrayal of her leaving with nakia. him killing ramonda was a response to ramonda's own actions and a fulfilment of a promise he made to her, he never did it because he intended to hurt shuri and knew that would be the surest way (we know from tenoch's interviews that he never really thought about how shuri would see his actions as an attack to her)

it vexxes me when i see fanfictions about "dark namor" where he acts like an unfeeling asshole who hurts shuri on purpose just because he can and he "breaks" her because that's kyle, not namor. he's a king and a man of his word, his actions against wakanda were a reasonable reaction to them invading his country and killing two handmaidens, and he had warned ramonda what would happen if they did so. his actions might have been morally wrong but not unjustified, and if he didn't stick to his word he would seem a weak leader.

anyway, sorry for the big ask. didn't want to add onto a reblog because people on this app don't know how not to be rude lmao

No worries about the long ask! I like getting asks every now and again, so this was a nice surprise.

Oh my gosh, the part about Ramonda's death being a fulfillment of Namor's promise to her.... I completely forgot about that part of the movie hjsdfgsdh. I only watched the movie once so I'm forgiving myself here, but yeah, this makes total sense! Namor is truly a man of his word - he binds himself to it, for better or worse. Also, I've said this before and N'jadaka confirms it, but ultimately, Ramonda did not have to die - she chose to sacrifice herself for Riri.

And yeah, it also makes sense he wasn't thinking about Shuri in that instance - he was thinking about what was best for his people, how to protect them and keep them safe. He made a tactical decision - by submerging the throne room, he assumed either Riri or Ramonda would die. And hey, if both did, even better. Obviously, that had some unintended consequences since Shuri was devastated by the loss of her mother and wanted vengeance, and Namor is the outlet to lash out both her wrath and the unprocessed grief she still carried for T'challa. That's why the ending of the movie is just... MAN, I cannot wait until February 1 to bawl my eyes out yet again!

Their story is eons different to how Kyle and Reyy interact with one another in the ST. For one, Kyle does not seem to resepct Reyy until the very end of EP9 (I never watched it so I'm just going off the synopsis). Man literally told her she was nothing and came from nothing. Juxtapose that with Namor clearly respecting Shuri as a leader of her nation as well as her intellect and empathy.

Then you just have the differences in character - Kyle is quite literally, until the end of EP9, a fascist that will do whatever it takes to control the galaxy and plunge it into darkness for... really vague reasons like emulating his grandfather? He kills because he wants to, because he likes it, all in a quest for absolute power and control. Meanwhile, Namor is an anti colonialist/anti imperialist who loves his people and will protect them however he can. As an anti hero, that means getting his hands dirty and killing those he sees as a threat to his people's safety, whether they were good people or not, whether they deserved it or not (the contrast between him killing US soldiers plundering his ocean for vibranium vs Ramonda and possibly tens of hundreds of Wakandan citizens). While they both kill, their motivations are fundamentally different and incompatible. Namor would see Kyle for what he is - another white man thinking of only his desires, trying to take what is not his and subjecting communities to unspeakable violence and misery.

Then you got Shuri and Reyy. Both are motivated by love and grief, but in different ways. Shuri is motivated by the deep love she has for her family and her people. Reyy, however, is motivated by the absence of love - she wants love, she wants community. She grieves what she's never had. That's why the scene between her and Finn before Kyle finds them in TFA is so memorable to me. She thought she found someone who could be hers, who could be a part of her community, and Finn seemingly walks away from it. Contrast that with Shuri, who is grieving what she's lost, who is slowly hardening herself to these losses, who is allowing the grief to control her, to slowly consume her, until it might be too late. Shuri and Reyy are fundamentally different characters that tell two different stories about the human experience and its eternal quest to be loved and find purpose within that love.

In fact, the ST and BPWF tell two incredibly, fundamentally different stories. And sorry not sorry, but BPWF is just more impactful, more insightful, and more in-tune with the human experience and nature than the ST ever could be. While BPWF is about grief and honoring loved ones, it's also about rejecting the ideals and methods of a white patriarchal society, about communities of color building and healing and joining forces to combat the erosion of their cultures, their resources, and their rights. It's why Namor and Shuri have an honest albeit complicated connection, while Kyle and Reyy have hastily shoved in forced conversations to get them to a place where it's possible (but definitely not probable) that they can be allies and more.

Now, about dark!namor... I haven't read any fics like that and I'm not going to if I can help it, but that shows a writer's lack of skills in writing complex characters. They're most likely projecting and just place Namor in that "bad boy" cookie cutter mold because that's what they've known and read all their life. This is similar to when I read zutara fics as a kid - there were a lot of people who just could not write Zuko without turning him into a bad boy, obsessed with Katara, and cornering her until she fell in love with him. A lot of complex anti-heroes/villains can easily get watered down in fanfics, especially by people who don't care so much for the characters but rather the tropes they seemingly represent. I like Namor and Shuri both as individuals and as a ship, so shoving them into tropes and situations they canonically would not subject themselves to (unless it's a straight up crackfic) is a no-go for me.

You can make Namor darker, a little more unhinged without going against the character's very nature. He doesn't hurt people just to hurt them - if he did, I doubt his people would love him so unabashedly, or there would be some active resistance against him and his leadership. At the end of the day, people can write whatever they want to write and ship whatever they want to ship and consume whatever they want to consume, but if they write Namor as an abuser (which is problematic for a whole host of reasons other than he would canonically never do that) and Shuri as some hapless victim who will fall in love with him anyway, they are doing a disservice to the characters and are perpetuating the violent ideals BPWF blatantly emphasizes we need to dismantle.

[floral-hex]

So this is my thing now, I’m afraid to go to sleep. This is kinda bullshit, brain.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy being followed

Part three? I guess, cause apparently it’s not content to stay in my head. Part One, Part Two

To say Danny was awake when he fist met these guys would be true, but to say he was fully aware would be a lie, and to live in Gotham one needed to be constantly aware.

If not, they would end up in this exact situation. Being stalked by vigilantes.

Him, Danny “Phantom” Fenton, Ghost King of the Infinite realms, was being constantly followed by a vigilante family. At least Danny assumed they were a family after hearing Red Hood call Nightwing “little brother.” (“I’m older than you.” “Yeah but you’re shorter.” “That’s not how that works!”) Also there was a child and at least three teenagers running around in spandex and armor. If they weren’t a family Danny wasn’t half-dead.

Anyway, Danny was pretty-sure they were watching him. His only guess as to why, well it started with a comment he made when slightly delirious. Because on that night when he was awake but not really, he called Batman the the fury-vigilante. In front of who the young king now realizes might be the bat’s son.

Danny understands that it might have been embarrassing but also it was just a comment and not even an original one! A lot of people called him that! And sure, not always to his face but still it could not have been his first time hearing it.

So Danny saw it as unnecessary to send out his army of (admittedly nice) children to harass Danny whenever they could. It was getting old and they always looked at him as if he was the odd one. Which he was but they didn’t know that. Like, Danny is just trying to get to where he needs to go, you people are the ones squaring up to random thugs on a school night.

Not that Danny didn’t appreciate the constant rescues, but he knew the life of a teenage vigilante and it wasn’t an easy one. Danny had a list of regrets and the scars to prove it. Hell, Baby Ninja looked younger than Danny when he first started.

In the first month of being shadowed Danny was sure he had met all of Batman’s children, either by rescue or confrontation. (How was he supposed to know he wasn’t allowed near that wearhouse?) He decided that Red Robin and Signal were his favorites, they spoke to him as a fellow person. Dickwing was his least favorite. After the incident with the Fenton anti-creep stick and four creeps, Dickwing started to lecture Danny on self-preservation and “being too young to put himself in that kind of danger.” Danny had stared pointedly at Baby Ninja on the fire escape (not that Dickwing noticed.)

Danny didn’t really now what their goal was, so far outside the three a.m. gun fights, the hypocritical lectures, and Baby Ninja’s prickly nature, the Batkids weren’t so bad. Still Danny wasn’t going to tell them his name. Hello? they were following him. Yes they were vigilantes but they were also stalkers and Danny had rights.

[mv1simp]

Into You ♥️

Max Verstappen x Redbull Engineer! Reader

Oh baby, look what you've started, the temperature's rising and is this gonna happen? (Been waitin' and waitin' for you to make a move)

At 27, you've just been promoted to the role of Redbull's race engineer - a very impressive feat in motorsport for a young woman. There's just one issue though - you secretly had a massive crush on the driver you're meant to be guiding, Max Verstappen. Will you make it through the season before he catches on? (You hope so because goddamn, the HR team were a nightmare to deal with.)

Content includes: fluff, humour, Max and reader are simps for each other, sexual tension, pining, drunk confessions, 3.2k WC

Recently, you'd started having some issues at work. Okay, gun to your head, you'll admit it was more like a single issue - in the shape of a very attractive, 6 foot Dutch racing driver who occasionally had problems with anger management. Sure, it didn’t sound that bad, in fact, someone else would just sit back and enjoy the eye candy the F1 paddock provided! But to truly appreciate the full depth of your embarrassing problem, one needed to unpack all the lore behind it.

After graduating from a prestigious mechanical engineering master's program, you'd been ecstatic about getting to intern at Redbull's F1 racing team, department of aerodynamic design. You'd started working at the company at a very good time, because later that year, their top driver Max Verstappen claims his first WDC at age 24 - only 6 months your junior. A very impressive feat for such a young age - as you admire him from a distance in the garage workshop. And, super hot too, you thought cheekily, whoever wifed him up was sure to be a lucky woman.

Your own hard work hadn't gone unnoticed, and many higher-ups and sponsors alike were curious to see the team who had been behind the championship winning changes to the Redbull car. You'd risen very quickly in the ranks, from intern to permanent technical engineer and then last year to to the innovative research & development department, now involved directly with calling the big shots for what each version of the car would look like and coming face to face with Max for the first time in your career with Redbull.

Unlike the other drivers, Max was genuinely curious about your design process. The way he asked questions, thoughtfully listened to your long explanations and then would give you direct feedback about the exact issues he would have in the trial runs had made you flustered, especially from the full intensity of his blue eyes. No, seriously though, Shakespeare himself would have written poetry if he'd gazed into them. The TikTok creators certainly seem to agree, with all their ocean eyes edits. Not that you had any saved. Anyways, moving on-

You were on the quieter side but Max seemed to know just how to get through to you. It meant that your team had been able to design the most dominating car in F1 history - the RB23, and paired with Max Verstappen it was an unstoppable force, almost like you made it just for me, Max had said, smiling gorgeously at you like some GQ Sports model. You stared back at him incredulously, banana choc chip muffin halfway to your mouth, cause who the hell woke up looking like that, you two were wearing identical Redbull shirts but his looked like it had been personally tailored to fit that broad muscular chest and yours was giving oversized trash bag??

Honestly, you'd hoped that working in closer proximity would humanise him more and you'd lose this silly crush of yours the moment you saw him do some icky rich white boy move. Like maybe he’d donate to Donald Trump's anti vaccine campaign or say guys 🥺 Can’t go to Ibiza this weekend the yacht staff had an emergency, got caught in some Gulf war zone or something? Idk

But when he had knocked on your apartment door when you hadn't shown up to work in two days, and found you crying because your childhood dog had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer across the other side of the world and saying I’m sorry, I know it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll come back tomorrow I promise-

And instead of laughing like you’d expected, he’d cut you off, told you to pack a bag and then driven you all the way to his personal jet. You looked into his beautiful blue eyes while he earnestly begged you to use it so you could make it in time to say goodbye to your Arlo before your parents put him down tonight. And that’s when you realised you were doomed to be hopelessly in love with the younger man. (But also, you had a serious discussion with him about the extreme greenhouse gas emissions from private jet fuel use, we only had one planet, you would be happy to just fly first class instead-)

But when your mentor Newey announced his plans to leave Redbull this year, you had planned on following him - making the exec panic at the thought of losing two of their crucial engineers. They frantically thrown random promotions at you, praying one would stick - and Redbull twitter fans breathed a sigh of relief when you took interest in the role of race engineer and stayed in the company.

You'd been excited about becoming one of Checo's engineers, having trained under the current one for the last few months. But to your horror, one day you arrived on the paddock only to be promptly sat down at a meeting along with the two drivers and be informed that they'd had to switch some things around, GP had an emergency to attend and could you pretty please fill in for the role of Max's race engineer this weekend-

NOPE. You'd announced, standing up and slamming your hands on the table, then realising that might be a touch overdramatic as everyone questioningly looked at you. Why not? Christian Horner demanded suspiciously.

Um, because he's super hot, you fool?! How is a girl meant to focus with him whispering track feels really wet today in her headphones? Were the years of self control to just admire from a distance like a loser and not jeopardise your career just a joke to him?? You don’t blink as your boss stared you down, hoping he could pick up on the thoughts that you’re trying to telepathically communicate. The table remained silent, only interrupted by the noisy slurping of Checo's boba tea. You quickly changed tactics - well, Verstappen is the winning champion, he needs an engineer who has experience working alongside him during the race-

Alas, the object of your affections threw a well intended wrench in your escape plans by adding that you were the perfect person, then, since you'd worked together for years and understood his communication style. Unless - he paused, flashing those deadly baby blues at you - unless the issue is you don't want to work with me?

You'd lasted all of three seconds under his hurt gaze before admitting defeat and accepting the role, slumping down next to him and desperately praying you'd wake up a lesbian tomorrow morning. Max continued to sneak long glances at you through the meeting, leaning around you to grab a pen and then his phone and making you jump each time his strong arm wrapped around your small frame. Across the table, Checo thoughtfully chewed on his boba as he watched you two curiously. Ah, young love.

And to no one's surprise the pair of you had made a flawless team, you expertly guiding Max as your engineer instincts took over and him actually listening to your helpful instructions without his usual aggression over the radio. And so when GP announced that his 1 week emergency was now going to be a 6 month break, sorry! - it had been all too easy for Christian Horner to bestow the honour of being Max's primary engineer onto you.

So now, here you sat, before your 4th race with Max, grimly looking on with your chin propped onto interlaced fingers, preparing yourself for his deep, sexy voice that was going to be purring in your ears very soon. The very voice that had become a recurring theme in the dreams you'd been having lately, that and also how he would bite those thick lips of his when he'd stare at you, with his cute little freckle on his top lip-

Why do you look like you're about to go to war, your intern asks bluntly, putting an end to your illicit thoughts and delivering you your triple chocolate caramel frap. Because I am, you hissed, sculling the whole thing in one go. She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. Was this to do with how categorically down bad you are for your precious Maxie?

You proceeded to inform her that if she ever brought up how you'd drunkedly referred to him that one time, you'd have no problem abusing your authority to shaft her on tire service duty for a week. She wisely chose to leave you be in peace, taking your empty cup as she went.

Taking some meditative breaths, you focus on thinking about unsexy things. Like the hydraulics system of the current car needing to be redesigned to better incorporate-

Your thoughts are cut off a second time as another cup is deposited in front of you, this time by none other than Max himself, who's thoughtfully brought you a triple chocolate caramel frap. You stutter out your thanks, not daring to touch more caffeine currently as you already had sweaty palpitations at the sight of him looking so big and muscled in his slutty tight fireproofs. Dear God, had he no shame? They needed to bring back the Victorian era and cover him up, he was going to distract everyone (mainly you.) He frowns slightly, leaning down to your height, and informs you that you didn't have to call him Verstappen, you know, Max is fine-

Wow. And then what would come next? Maxie? And then you asking him for his hand in marriage? No, no, absolutely not - you needed to maintain strict professional boundaries or risk him catching onto your massive crush and promptly be fired. You politely informed him that for the sake of public decorum and the rabid fangirls that were watching your every move as a young female engineer in proximity to their favourite drivers, that you would refer to him as Verstappen, or Mr. Verstappen if he preferred a more formal title?

He'd pouted those lush lips of his and reluctantly agreed that just Verstappen was okay, he supposed. But he much preferred hearing you call him Max, at least when there were no cameras around? What you had done in your past life to now be forced to resist such temptation, you would never know.

So the season went on, you two continuing to be a smashing success and a very popular internet pairing. Not that you'd been paying that much attention! Just a saved TikTok edit here and there of the time Max had called you schatje over the radio after blowing up about a tire malfunction. He’d then sweetly apologised the next lap when you remained unfazed and told him to sort his shit out, babes, Leclerc was right up his ass with a tire and DRS malfunction, yeah? (Twitter had gone crazy. Who knew Max Verstappen responded so well to a 5 foot, slightly older woman giving him orders over the team radio?! You’d instantly been accepted as a replacement for the beloved GP, original gentle domTM to the Dutch driver.)

And perhaps another saved edit of the time he had protectively held you in those big, strong arms of his, guiding your tiny figure through a massive media-frenzied crowd and whispered reassurances in your ear when you couldn’t breathe properly. Or the time he’d bitten a reporter’s head off with the ferocity of a lion after he suggested that as the first female race engineer, you’d acquired your new job through your…feminine wiles.

And maybe just one of when the PR team had made you do one of those ridiculous hot lap videos with him after seeing the online response, and he'd laughed as you screamed out of fear for your life when he cruised at a cool 200km/hr. The aftermath had been brutal, as you weakly stumble out and almost fall flat on your face, only for him to easily pick you up, carrying you bridal style back towards the garage (Truly, this right here was proof God sent his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers.)

Nearing the end of the 6 month stint, when GP was due back in to resume his role as Max's race engineer, the Redbull team had decided to take a well deserved weekend trip to Verona, Italy. You’d suspiciously looked at your intern, asking why she’d selected the romantic setting of Romeo & Juliet of all places, to which she replied that just cause you’d chosen to cockblock yourself for eternity with a crush on your coworker the millionaire F1 driver, didn’t mean the rest of them couldn’t get some. Valid point, so you shut up.

So now, here you are, sitting in a romantically lit corner of a cute Italian vineyard with a small group from the engineering division, sloshed after a bottle of red wine and asking them be real, be real, you're telling me none of you have been checked out Max's ass in his fireproofs? Lies.

Across the courtyard, Lando is currently extremely unimpressed with his good friend, 3 time Championship winning, and general terror on the track Max Verstappen. That is because said friend has decided, rather pathetically, to lie on the cobblestone and drunkedly ask the stars why fate was so cruel. Seriously mate, Lando sighs, all this over a silly insta post?

Excuse you, it’s not just any insta post! Max had protested, baby tears in his eyes and face flushed from the four G&Ts he’d drunk. Pulling out his phone, he shows Lando the damning evidence of the pictures you'd uploaded from the group trip with your engineering friends. Look. LOOK. His arm is around her and she used a Lana Del Ray lyric in the caption. Do you have any idea what this means?

The Brit has to resist rolling his eyes at the melodrama unfolding in front of him. The Dutchman continues, never one to miss a chance to maxplain - as he details how it had taken him a a whole 2 months to get him to call you by his first name, and then another 2 months before you'd told him your favourite song was Summertime Sadness, and that even now if he hugged you to celebrate a win you would look like you were about to throw up and furiously speed walk away.

Lando is seriously regretting tagging along to the Redbull trip instead of Carlos's invitation to Mallorca. It was bad enough that the whole train ride Max had been on the phone begging GP to take another 6 month break so that you'd continue to be his engineer, but Lando has had his limit with this simpy pining. Taking his phone out as the maxplaining continued in the background, he shoots a text to your intern, who immediately replies, and within minutes the pair of them have hatched a conniving plan to dump you lovesick fools together while the rest of them make their way into town.

And that’s how you and Max find yourself locked inside the upstairs wine cellar, having been separately tricked with various promises from your scheming friends - only to hear the door click behind you and turn to find each other. It's very romantic and all, soft candlelight and bottles of luxurious Italian wine and a shining full moon visible from the terracotta balcony. Someone had even generously left a speaker in the courtyard, with Lana Del Ray's melodic voice rising upto the second floor. Basically, the worst nightmare for your self control as you prayed for inner strength and avoid looking into Max's dreamy blue eyes. This was definitely some twisted beyond the grave revenge from Shakespeare for you saying he'd write poetry about a F1 driver’s eyes.

Max, though, is all too happy to come right over to you with another freshly opened bottle of wine, drunk and flushed and having zero inhibitions about pulling you into his warm side with a strong arm. You're too buzzed to resist, letting yourself fall against his chest to hear his soothing heartbeat and rest a palm against his hard abs, just this once (The real thing was even better than what you'd imagined.)

You're both laughing and giggling then, hearts full, reminiscing about the season together, the inside jokes on the radio, the side eyes to each other when Horner got too wound up at a meeting, and oh did you hear that the McLaren tireboy was hooking up with the Mercedes oilchecker?

And then your eyes meet his and your homegirl Lana starts singing dear lord when I get to heaven, please let me bring my man (real) and Max is softly brushing your cheek, leaning down as your heated gazes flit to each other's lips-

NOPE! you force yourself to declare, dramatically leaving his arms and contemplating if you could land the jump from the 2nd floor balcony. The Italian wine has made Max demanding though, as he doesn't let you go, grabbing your hand to pull you back like he was Anthony goddamn Bridgerton and wanting to know Why not, was he just imagining the chemistry, did you not find him hot or?

You'd gaped at him. Not hot? Apparently the Italian wine had gotten to you too because you didn't hold back, launching into a tirade of how no, Max, the issue was actually that he was too hot for his own good and did he even know how unfair it had been to be his engineer, pure torture really, you were sure the American military would be adding it to their interrogation tactics. As if it hadn't been bad enough to crush on him from a distance for years but then have to resist falling for him every time you saw him? So, no, you couldn't just give him a casual drunk kiss because you were in love with him!

Max stares at you, initially smug that you apparently found him so irresistibly good looking, but now completely bewildered when you finished ranting. You think - he swallowed. You think that this is just casual? Cause I- cause I'm drunk?

At your nod, he launches into his own maxplaination, brows furrowed, demanding to know how on earth you could think it was just casual, what about when he diligently showed up to every meeting with a banana choc muffin and caramel frappe and his hoodie for you to wear on the chilly mornings, or when he brought two Lana Del Ray VIP tickets the very same day you'd told him you liked her, or when he'd literally called you darling in Dutch over the team radio for the whole world to hear, or how he even sold his private jet and only jetpooled with the others since you told him off?! Seriously, even that old crone Helmut had asked him when you two were going to hard launch!

Your doe eyes go wider and wider at each statement, a pretty flush taking over your own face as your mind boggles at the realisation that apparently, the love of your life felt just as deeply about you. Stuttering, you try to formulate a reply - only to come up with Oh, well, I, uh - you sold your jet? For me?

Max rolls his eyes, but there's nothing except pure adoration on his face as he pulls you back into his warm chest, grinning down at you when you eagerly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Yes, schat, he murmurs gently, the cutest blush painting his cheeks. Because I love you, too. And this time you don't pull away when he finally, finally leans down and meets your lips in a passionate kiss, enjoying the sweet moans he draws out of you as he showcases his numerous talents off the track.

Somewhere, in the middle of a Verona nightclub, your intern gives Lando Norris a firm handshake. Pleasure doing business with you.

_____________________________________________

A/N: A lil sweet fluff for me, this is actually my first fluff piece i think ahaha i've only written like 8 smut pieces in a row!! Hope you enjoyed 💖 and PS thank you ALL for the requests you’ve been sending, been getting them and will work thru them just have a few projects I’m cookin up for u guys hehe xx

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.° Swaddled in Silk ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜., 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞!), 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Little note: reader doesn’t get the abortion not because of pro-life beliefs, but because of personal wishes, this is NOT an anti-abortion sentiment!! Very much pro choice over here!!!!

Mornings tended to be peaceful with Coriolanus.

Your eyes would flutter open, the pale skin of your husband’s bare neck and chest cast in golden morning sunshine the first thing you see. You’d shift, groaning softly at the morning aches and nosing the crook of his neck, grateful he’s a light sleeper when his strong arms wrap tighter around you.

Technically, Coryo had his own room in the Presidential mansion. But he’d admitted to you in soft words late into the night, long ago, that he couldn’t sleep without you.

So you’d wake up in his arms, him holding you close as if somebody would take you from him. You found it endearing, just how possessive Coriolanus was over you. It wasn’t just in the way he held you; it was in the way he made sure you looked and felt your best at every event, so that he hold a hand on your waist and boast his wife’s beauty. It was in the way he spoiled you in just about every aspect, dipping you in diamonds and rubies, keeping your appearance manicured with days at the spa, keeping your every need satisfied, physical or emotional. Doting on you the best he could while running the damn country, loving you like a good husband should.

Except that his love was a bit inconvenient at the moment, as you tried to move from his arms and his grip only tightened. You felt a recognizable bile rising up, a sick feeling taking over your gut. Coriolanus grumbled, his brows drawing and eyes impossibly more blue in the morning as they opened a crack. “Darling..? Where…”

You peeled his arms away from you, and this time Coryo let you go. His expression was twisted in confusion as you jumped to your feet, hand clasped over your mouth as you beelined for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Oh. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making his way to the bathroom to soothe you. He picked up the pace as he heard you retching.

Coriolanus knelt beside you, gathering up your smooth tresses and holding the hair back from your face in a ponytail. His other hand rubbed your back with a strong palm. “There you go, there you go. Get it out.”

God, you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up an intestine. It felt like eternity before you got everything out of your system. “Sorry.” You croaked, wincing and sitting back on your calves.

“Why are you sorry? You can’t control it.” Coryo cooed, the hand holding your hair moving to the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your crown. His forehead creased after a moment though, he leaned away to grab you a towel. He watched you wipe your mouth before speaking hesitantly. “My love?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, swallowing hard and grimacing at the sour taste on your tongue.

“Do you think you ate something bad?” Coryo murmured, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. You met his eyes. You knew what he was really asking.

You pressed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” It seemed unlikely, you weren’t one to get sick at a whim. And you’d eaten rather healthy yesterday.

You two had been.. trying. To say the least. Coriolanus was very eager for a family, as were you. Baby fever actually had a strong hold on you. But you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. Coryo and you went to the best doctor he could get his hands on, and his meticulous nature led to keeping track of your schedule, the windows where you’d be most fertile. You never grew tired of intimacy with him, but every negative test was daunting. Every vitamin and supplement was growing tiring to keep tabs on.

For months this went on. You couldn’t help feeling that you were failing Coriolanus. He wanted a baby so terribly, and your body just wouldn’t seem to work with you. Whispers were beginning to spread around high society women, questioning why a marriage of four years had yet to produce babies. You were questioning it yourself.

“My love, it’s okay.” Coryo had cooed, folding you into his arms the first night you’d cried to him about the cruel gossip about your marriage and your “failings” as a wife. He shook his head passionately, showering you with kisses. “I love you. A baby will come in time.”

You’d sniffled, burying your face and hiding your eyes into his chest. “But why won’t it come now? We’ve been doing everything right, Coryo, at this point it has to be me.”

Coryo sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. You were perfect in his eyes, whether or not your body was sustaining a baby didn’t matter to him. He loved you regardless, and he told you so. “Just trust me. You’ll get pregnant when time is right for us. I love you, we have plenty of time.” Coriolanus took your chin in his fingers, tilting up your chin to press his lips to your forehead tenderly.

It seemed that the time was finally right for you. A broad smile spread over Coriolanus’ lips, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You laughed a bit breathlessly.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Coryo cooed, pressing his lips between your brows. He hummed against your forehead, murmuring after a moment, “I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” You breathed, finding his bare arm and squeezing it affectionately as he pulled away. “I love you.”

The moments the words “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Snow,” slipped from the doctors lips, Coriolanus was changing gears.

He was coaxing you into coming with him to buy baby clothes the very next day. The day after that, you discovered that one of the rooms neighboring your bedroom was being renovated into a nursery. Coryo was delighted when a package he sent his secretary for came in, he’d hurried to find you wherever you’d been and showed you a box full of brand new baby toys. Plush bears, rattles, another large box holding a rocking chair; you wondered how your baby would even get around to using it all.

“You’re spoiling it before it’s even born!” You teased one day as he happily presented a soft muslin baby blanket.

“Damn right.” Coryo had smiled broadly, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, correcting you, “I’m spoiling her.”

“Girls?” You cocked a brow, slipping a hand into his gelled-locks and probably messing up his styling. He didn’t care. “I’m confident it’s a girl, my love. And I live to spoil my girls.”

His attention didn’t only apply to the baby. You were his top priority these days; he took more time away from his work to dote on your every whim. Coryo was holding your hair back every morning you fell ill. He constantly was taking you shopping, making sure that your maternity clothes weren’t frumpy or ugly, but made you feel beautiful. He had the cooking staff preparing every craving you had.

But sooner than later, pregnancy proved itself to be difficult.

No matter what Coryo did, no matter what doctors he called in or what home remedies he found, you just wouldn’t get healthy. You were wasting away before his eyes. Your ribs jutted out from your sides, your face becoming gaunt and hollow. You simply couldn’t stomach food.

Coriolanus had never been more terrified than when a simple common flu had bedridden you for days. Your immune system was so weakened by your pregnancy, and nothing seemed to help. You looked deathly pale, just the sight of you was enough to bring Coryo to tears. Though he never let you see his distress.

But dear God, he couldn’t lose you. You were scaring him, with that resigned glint in your eyes. As if you knew, and were comfortable with dying. Coriolanus was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At night, he’d run his hands along your ribs, his nose brushing yours as he watched your eyes. They’d be peacefully shut, your breathing calm from his soothing touch. Coriolanus’ hand would always end up on your belly, his thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of it under your night slip. You were featherlight nowadays, when you should’ve been full and glowing.

When your dizzy spells became too powerful to handle without laying down, Coryo called in the doctor again. He wanted a baby with you, he didn’t want this. If he knew that this would’ve been so taxing on your body, he never would’ve done this to you.

That’s how he comforted himself as the doctor left the room, leaving you to sit on the chaise at the foot of your bed and Coryo to pace about, his fingers on his lips and his eyes buggy. You’d just been warned.

This baby was life or death. If you gave birth, you might not survive. It was simply a genetic condition in your family. Nothing to be done. Except..

“We’re getting rid of it.” Coriolanus announced firmly, shaking his head. You lifted your face.

You gawked at your husband. “No!” You huffed, eyes darting around to avoid another bout of tears. Your hands were wrung in your lap, squeezing tight to the point of your knuckles paling. “Don’t even suggest it.”

“I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. My love, we are not keeping this baby.” Coriolanus stepped closer, standing in front of you. He outstretched his hand to tilt your chin with a finger, his eyes glimmering with something adamant.

You shook your head, grabbing Coryo’s wrist and squeezing. Your brows pinched up at him. “You aren’t serious. You can’t— you can’t force me. It’s my body.”

Your husbands expression melted like ice in a heatwave, his eyes softening. He snuck his hand around to hold yours in a tight grip. “I won’t force you. I..” Coriolanus sighed in exasperation, moving to sit beside you. His tone was earnest and as kind as he could muster. “But I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s our baby, Coryo.” You pleaded, the hand not holding his coming to rest on your belly defensively. How could he contradict himself so greatly, telling you it was your choice while making it sound like his word was final, as always?

“It will kill you.” Coriolanus hissed, suddenly to his wits end with you. His brow creased, his lips pulling over his teeth in a sneer. He shook his head adamantly. “My love, I won’t lose you for—for it.”

You couldn’t help the lump rising in your throat, making breathing suddenly quite a task. “For her.” You corrected him this time.

Coriolanus sighed, letting go of your hand and pushing himself to his feet. He had to loosen his tie, the red article suddenly suffocating. You helplessly watched him pace, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “It would be okay. I’ve already lived, I think she should get a chance.”

The absurdity of your words brought a humorless snort from Coryo’s nose. He shook his head but seemed so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t reply, so you went on. “And you’d have a piece of me, anyway! Coryo, you’d love her so much it’d outweigh whatever grief you’d have, you’d be so happy I went through with it, because you’d get a baby out of—“

Coriolanus was staring at you with wide and buggy eyes, as if you’d suggested he eat you alive. “How dare you say that?” Your husband snapped, stepping towards you with purpose. “How could you think I’d be able to tolerate, let alone love this baby if it killed you?” His nostrils flared in frustration and in his shining sapphire eyes, a wild kind of hurt.

At the sight of the tears welling in Coryo’s eyes, you couldn’t resist reaching for his hands with both of yours. He let you take them, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands— the ridges of your increasingly apparent bones under his fingers only adding to the wetness in his eyes. “Please.” Coriolanus murmured after a moment, his brows drawing together and creasing his forehead. “Please, my love. We can get a doctor who’ll abort it, no matter what trimester. Please.”

God, he made it sound so easy. Like it was just a procedure. It wasn’t, not to you. You desperately wanted this baby, you couldn’t just wake up to a morning without its life within you.

Perhaps he could see the indecision in your eyes. He squeezed your hands. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

You couldn’t look Coriolanus in the eyes as you shook your head. “I’m keeping it.”

You kept your gaze fixed on his dress shoes, the leather freshly polished and shiny. You didn’t look up to see the way he wiped his eyes with his knuckles, his nostrils flaring and throat bobbing. You only knew that his hands slipped from yours, his footsteps were departing from you, the door falling shut behind him.

Your due date was nearing. Coriolanus took more time to be with you, masterfully hiding the sadness behind his eyes as you mentioned anything baby-related. You thought he’d distance himself.

Completely the opposite. Though every conversation about the baby brought on a nasty argument, Coryo wasn’t too big a fool to know that you needed him right now. Regardless of his constant reminders that you two could simply adopt, you could go the surrogacy route, anything to keep you alive, you denied him. You were determined to give him a baby of his own from your body.

But no matter how many fights he’d resolve by folding you into his arms, cooing an apology and petting your hair, he knew he would never love the baby that’ll take you away from him.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear watching you waste away like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted his wife to be glowing, to be happy and full with his baby— he didn’t want to choose between his child and you. He would choose you, if you let him.

Still. You tried to maintain normalcy.

Maybe it was nature, a maternal instinct implanted deep within you, but you were willing to die for this baby. You couldn’t describe it to Coriolanus if you tried. You felt a strange calm, in the weeks leading up to the baby’s birth. Knowing that one might die, being aware of one’s expiration date, well, it was eye-opening. You took to writing down your thoughts, writing down messages to your daughter. You were still quite certain she was a she, though you were keeping the sex a surprise. Oh, you had so much to tell her!

When you told Coryo about the journal, he’d smiled gently and nodded, humming that it was a darling idea. But he left the room a minute later, coming back with eyes rubbed pink.

You were aware of how much of a toll it was taking on Coryo. But you knew it was best. You knew he deserved a baby. You deserved the pride of giving that life to him, to the world.

One day, you’d been helping your maid with folding your clothes and the towels for your bathroom. You’d insisted you help, especially because you loved to chat with her.

You were laughing with her, listening to a story she was telling. You were listening, until you felt an indescribable pain in your lower half. You’d winced, clutching the towel you’d been folding, looking down at yourself and holding your belly with your other hand.

“Mrs. Snow?” Your maid’s voice was full of concern. “Is it—“

“I don’t know.” You gasped, the pain washing over you like a wave, and leaving just as fast as it had come. “Do you think..”

“I’ll call the doctor.” She rose to her feet hesitantly, eyes wide as if you were a time bomb in her hands. You could almost laugh at her expression.

You nodded. “Don’t rush, it might not be—“ you proved yourself wrong as an immense pain knocked the words from your mouth. You fold over, groaning, and sending your maid bolting for the phone.

You’d certainly underestimated childbirth.

It was absolutely the most painful experience of your life. If you hadn’t been afraid of death up until now, you definitely were now. It was a terrifying pain, a terrifying feeling knowing that while most women were strong enough to withstand such a natural pain, you might not be.

An ambulance came to bring you from the presidential mansion to the hospital. The entire ride, screams and tears filled the tiny vehicle. You’d begged for someone to call Coriolanus, the prospect of doing this without him was daunting and downright petrifying.

When you got to the hospital room, Coryo was there, dress-shirt disheveled and hair ungelled. He’d been working at the office today. You thanked every god out there for him, as he squeezed your hand and smoothed back your hair, doing his very best to hide his fear. Your screams wrung his heart, he made sure to wipe your tears and kiss your sweaty brow.

“You’re doing great, my love.” Coriolanus cooed, letting you squeeze his hand until he was numb. You’d whimpered, the pain subsiding and crashing over you again like an ocean wave.

You’d wailed to kingdom come. “I don’t want to die, Coryo!” You’d groaned. He was grateful you weren’t paying much attention to his face, your eyes on the ceiling, otherwise you would’ve seen the way your pleading broke him.

Coryo squeezed your hand, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You won’t. You’ll be fine, darling, you’re doing everything right.” He’d promised, voice as assured as he could manage.

Another thing you underestimated was how stupid long the whole ordeal was.

Atleast another hour ticking by meant another hour you were alive. But it also meant another hour of searing pain, the feeling of your body betraying you and ripping itself open, tears wetting your cheeks and wails parting your lips.

Suddenly, it was like all that intense cramping and sharp pains were alleviated in a moment. As if some divine being had graciously lifted you off a bed of nails. Woozily, you lifted your head to see the baby in the nurse’s hands, another nurse cutting the ambilical cord. God, did it look rough, but it was yours. It was beautiful. You immediately reached for your baby, eyes bleary and voice hoarse, “I want to hold it.”

As if anybody would deny the First Lady. Oh, you could bawl as they lowered the baby onto your chest, who was actually bawling and crying. You laughed a bit breathlessly, eyes lifting to Coriolanus. His eyes were wide, bluer than you’d ever seen them, perhaps from the shine to them. But he’d never let his tears escape his eyes, blinking them away to lay a hand on his baby’s head, smiling stupidly.

“I made this.” You breathed, staring down at the little thing. The baby, that you glanced down to find was a girl. Your daughter.

Coriolanus nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

“And I’m alive.” You laughed, so focused on your daughter than you didn’t notice Coryo’s sidelong glance to the sheer amount of blood between your legs. He caught the eye of a nurse, who’d given him a curt nod.

Coriolanus let out the breath he’d been holding for the past two months. “I’m infinitely grateful.” He spoke softly, reverently. He was afraid that if he said any more, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You sighed, looking up to meet your husband’s eye. Coryo just shook his head, smiling to the point that his eyes crinkled— speaking of which, they were welling up again.

“Beautiful.” He cooed. “What’re we calling her?” Coriolanus said that last bit in a breathy chuckle, squeezing your arm gently as a nurse moved to take the baby to be cleaned. You two had spoken about names before, but never decided on something definite.

You stared after your daughter, your tears drying on your cheeks and the pain twixt your legs fading into the background. Your heart was beating, your chest rising and falling. You were alive. Oh, you went from resigning to never feel the swell of your lungs with air to filling them as much as possible.

“Ruby, I think.” You breathed. A name that Coryo had suggested, long ago, perhaps in the first months of your pregnancy. A broad smile tiptoed across his lips as he smoothed down your hair.

Coryo nosed your cheekbone, not minding the sweat lingering on your skin from the whole ordeal, mumbling against you, “A gem.”

“A gem.” You agreed, turning your cheek to press your lips to his. Oh, how you loved him. Your husband. Your lover. The father of your baby. You know he’ll be the best father— doting, loving, protective..

If the way he clutched onto your arm as you kissed, his eyes and grip betraying his anxiety was any indication of how much he cared for you, how terrified he was to lose you? Then you’d married the right man.

If the way he dutifully fluffed your pillows and got his hands on a sleeping mask was a gesture of his love? You were set for life.

If the way his sapphire eyes shone with admiration, with affection and devotion for your little daughter, swaddled in silk in her crib was a testament to the father Coriolanus would be?

Then Ruby was a lucky little girl. You were certainly a lucky woman.

[yuujispinkhair]

So how is no nut November going w modern boyfie sukuna? Idk if u can get him to participate but if he does I bet he makes the whole month as torturous for u as possible.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Word Count: 400 Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, praise, face shot, overstimulation, light dub-con. All characters are of age. Credit for the banner @/benkeibear

Sukuna just huffs and rolls his eyes when he hears someone mention No-Nut-November. Your boyfriend never believes in abiding rules, especially not ridiculous ones like that! Who invented that shit anyways?! Sukuna will show them how much he doesn't let anyone tell him what to do!

He makes sure to nut in you exactly one minute after midnight to say a big fuck you to No-Nut-November, so proud of himself, moaning and smirking against your neck,

"Hmm fuck yeah, feels so good to nut in my girl. What a lovely way to start November."

He's an idiot, but it's incredibly charming somehow. And after all, he also makes sure to make you nut so good that you scream his name and leave scratches on his muscular back, so why should you complain?

A sane person would let it go after that midnight fuck. But not Sukuna. Your boyfriend is a rebel. If someone tells him to do No-Nut-November, he will take it as a personal challenge to nut as often as possible this month.

You whine beneath him, exhausted from all the times he made you cum in one session, pussy throbbing, clit pulsing hotly, both your bodies sweaty and the bedsheets soaked from all your combined cum. You feel light-headed, weakly running your hands up and down Sukuna's flexed, tattoed biceps as you look up at him with your eyes wet from tears,

"Kuna... Baby, I can't go another round... it's too much."

But your pink-haired menace of a boyfriend just smirks and snaps his hips faster, meaner, going even deeper, pounding your sweet spot so good that you mewl his name.

"Aww, princess, we are going at least two more rounds."

But he turns sweeter a moment later, leaning down to trail kisses over your neck while he humps your pussy with slow but deep thrusts.

"My princess can take it. I know that. You're my good girl after all, aren't you, baby? Aren't you gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?"

Of course, you do, your pussy clenching helplessly around Sukuna's talented cock, squealing his name as your legs shake weakly, and your face feels so hot you think you have a fever as you shudder around his fat cock with the next mind-blowing orgasm.

And Kuna chuckles smugly, followed by a low groan of "Yeah, see, I knew it. That's my good girl. I love you, princess."

He pumps your overstimulated pussy full of another load of his thick cum, before giving his little Anti-No-Nut-November performance a cherry on top by nutting one last load over your pretty face this time, just to make sure.

PLEASE I NEED HIM SO BAD!! Sweet anon, thank you for sending me this!! Sukuna can always use me for his personal vendetta against NNN uwu ;)

I hope you enjoyed this little drabble!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!!

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[yandere-daydreams]

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who crash-lands on your balcony in the middle of winter, long after he should've migrated somewhere more hospitable to his animal counterpart. He's badly injured, half-frozen, and clearly in a state of shock, but you manage to drag him inside after a few minutes of struggling and fussing over his massive wings. An emergency vet is called, a small fortune dulled out in exchange for anti-biotics and bandages, but Diluc only wakes up hours after the chaos has blown over, after he's been moved to your bed and most of his blood has been scrubbed out of your carpeting. If you didn't have such a soft spot for birds, you might've been more mad at him.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's surprisingly calm for a man who was on the verge of death less than a day ago. He apologizes for the trouble he's caused you, explains that his injuries came from a 'minor altercation' with his brother and promises that you'll be repaid for everything he's cost you so far, even if you can't say you're sure how a hybrid would have that kind of funding. His composure only falters when he realizes that he won't be able to fly until his wings heal, and even then, he manages to limit his frustration to a thin scowl and a wary sigh. His poise is a relief. He'll be stuck with you for a while, and a temper would've made a bad situation even worse.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who clearly isn't as wild as you initially thought. If anything, your meager apartment seems too a little too modest for his tastes - you're not sure if you've ever heard anyone mention the thread count of your sheets so casually, let alone a hybrid. Still, he adjusts quickly. By the end of his first week with you, you can't stop him from helping around the house. He's a good cook, especially, and he seems to enjoy being able to take some of the stress off of you. You've heard that it's a common trait for hybrids, some universal base instinct to 'provide for a pack'. To be honest, you don't really care. He's nice to have around, even if you know he can't stay forever.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who only ever blushes whenever you tend to his wings. You're not a professional, but you do your best to clear away all of the bent and broken feathers, to replace his bandages as often as the vet recommended, but you're still clumsy, still slow enough to mean he has to spend the better part of the hour sitting between your legs with his wings splayed out in your lap. He tries to keep up a conversation, but he trips over his words, balls his fists, pulls his hindlimbs against his chest and tries to pretend he's unaffected. It's cute, watching a creature as stoic as Diluc lose a few of his reservations.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's too massive to sleep anywhere but your bed. You resign yourself to the couch for a while, but it's not long before you give in to his constant offers to share and end up spending most nights pressed into his side, one of his wings draped over you and an arm loosely wrapped around your waist. You learn quickly that hawks are creatures of routine, which means that you now have a very, very strictly enforced bedtime. He's not afraid to sling you over his shoulder and put you where he wants you to be, and there's only so much you can do to fight against a bird-man twice your height and more than double your strength.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who gets... protective of your apartment, after a few weeks. It's not much - a small frown when you mention a friend he doesn't care for, a certain caginess when you have guests over - but it's far-cry from his normal, gentlemanly behavior. It might just be the instincts of a wounded animal attempting to protect his nest, but still. You worry about him, sometimes.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, whose wings are getting better every day. He's able to make short trips, now, and you make sure to praise him as heavily as you can whenever he comes back from a lap around your apartment complex. You swear, when you're at work or running errands, you'll see a scarlet shape circling miles above you and convince yourself it's Diluc, but he's not the secretive type. You're sure, if he was really that far along, he wouldn't be able to hide it from you. You're sure, if he was really able to fly that well, he wouldn't stay any longer than the time it took to tell you that he was going home.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's cuddled against your chest when you come to, your skin still numb from the windburn and your vision still blurred with tears. You can barely keep yourself awake, barely lift your head, but you can make out a lavish, crimson bedroom; a bed of sheets and pillows that goes on as far as you can see. No, not a bed, a nest. One big enough for a hawk and its mate.

Red-Tailed Hawk!Diluc, who's always been territorial. You just weren't able to see that until after he decided you were a part of that territory, too.

[maruflix]

  — ★ FIVE STAGES OF LOVE

☆ — “IT SEEMS THE HOSHINA CLAN WILL WELCOME THEIR NEW MADAM VERY SOON.”

featuring: Yandere!Hoshina Soshiro x f!reader

synopsis: You weren’t supposed to find out... but you did, and Hoshina Soshiro had no choice. Surely you’ll understand, right?

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the third division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, suggestive at the end, hoshina soshiro is a scary yandere, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number twelve

word count: 1,8k

“Vice Captain, can you stop being so kind to me?”

Stunned, Soshiro looks up to find you standing nervously. He eyes the training field— everyone is either chatting amongst themselves or walking back to get dinner. His gaze shifts back to your trembling figure.

You probably said those words as a joke. But what if you really took notice of his affection towards you? Soshiro tries to keep his expression calm although his stomach is slowly starting to turn, He tried so hard not to let them show.

“I mean no disrespect, it’s just that... I fear I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

Your shy expression makes his head spin. “Yer’ not wrong,” Soshiro probes your reaction, standing up to gently scoop your hands when you blush. “I like ya’ a lot.”

He’s unsure how you will react. For a split second, the only thing he can hear is the own thundering of his heart. Then, you gasp and look up at him with eyes wide open, also catching him off guard.

“R-really?! Me too! I like you... too...” After bursting out those words, your cheeks turn red and your head drops to the ground.

No longer trusting his mouth to say the right words, Soshiro lets his body to do the talking, moving forward to pull you into an embrace. You giggle, and at that moment he knows—

There’s no way in hell he’s ever letting you go, so help him God.

STAGE I: INFATUATION

Soshiro is a hardworking man.

Born into a distinguished clan that left him with a legacy many claim as outdated and archaic, Soshiro has never stopped running. Everyone thought he couldn’t do it, so he proved them wrong. He surpassed Japan’s so-called ‘strongest anti-kaiju combatant’ and everyone has no choice but to acknowledge his abilities, granting him honor, wealth, and the position of Vice Captain of the Third Division.

In his division alone, Soshiro has seen many talented officers, but not many people can rival him in endurance. So when you enter his line of vision, he grows curious. You’ve always been working harder than the others, training for a bit longer, so eager to do your job well.

Soshiro admires your dedication, drunk on the way you hang on his every command while you study his movements with those beautiful eyes. Soon, he can’t help but to search for your face in every crowd, half hoping you’d notice him staring.

He knows he’s falling. It’s not a bad thing, he thinks, to fall for someone who shines as bright as the sun.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one struck by your charm. He’s aware of the stares you get from male officers, their pathetic excuses to start conversation with you, how your name always pops up in their gossip. He took care of the impudent ones.

Slowly, carefully, he handpicks the people in your platoon, making sure to surround you with polite, respectful officers, mostly other ladies— because why would you ever need other men when you have him?

STAGE II: INTENSIFICATION

Soshiro is a wonderful boyfriend. It’s no secret that he’s a reliable vice captain, beloved by his division, but somehow he’s even more attentive with you.

When Kafka accidentally injured you during training, Soshiro immediately drops everything to rush towards you, making sure you’re okay—and you are, just a few bruises and a gash—before lifting you up and carrying you to the infirmary, dressing your wound himself.

Kafka returns late that night, telling you that he received punishment for the small incident with you earlier. You’re a bit worried for him but he waves it off, laughing as he limps to his quarters.

You sigh, Soshiro can be such a worrywart.

Then a new recruit enters. Quickly, he’s enamored by you. Pretty senior, he’d always call you. Everyone mocks him and tells him there’s no way he can compete with your lover who just so happens to be their division’s vice captain, but he just laughs and tells them it’s a platonic kind of love.

He’s a good friend; it’s flattering to have a younger brother who always sticks so close to you, showering you with praises. Of course, you kept your distance. You don’t want to give the sweet man false hopes and you’re too in love with Soshiro to ever look at someone else.

You never noticed the weight of Soshiro’s gaze as it falls on the two of you.

STAGE III: OBSESSION

Your world crashed down when Reno breaks the news to you— a death in the third division. You knew what you were signing up for when you entered the force, but nothing could prepare you for the loss of a good friend.

Your platoon surrounds you, patting you on the back as you mutely stare at him on the hospital bed— the pale lips that would call you pretty senior no more.

After you return to the base, Soshiro quickly finds you. He takes you into his arms as you cry in his embrace.

“How did this happen?” You gasp in between sobs, “How..?”

The new recruits weren’t supposed to be in the area he was found in. It was supposed to be closed off, only for the more-skilled officers to enter because it was swarming with kaiju. Not a single person in the platoon knows how the heck he got himself there, with no one to accompany him.

Soshiro rubs your back comfortingly, humming. “’s an unfortunate accident. A miscommunication, perhaps? He heard the area code wrong and-”

“But that’s impossible!” You sob harder, resting your head against Soshiro’s chest in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Someone suspects he got a private comm from someone to go to that area, it’s just so weird...”

“Well,” Soshiro sighs, “it is a battlefield after all. Accidents are bound to happen. You hafta’ know that as unfortunate as it is, things can quickly get out of control.”

Your blood runs cold at his distant tone. Hiccups paused, you slowly look up at him.

Soshiro tilts his head, then he smiles. Dazzlingly.

You pretend your knees do not tremble— because no matter how hard Soshiro tries to act dumb, you know he’s always the one in control.

STAGE IV: DESTRUCTION

Soshiro knows he doesn’t love in halves— it isn’t in his nature.

He does things earnestly, polishing all of his talents until they gleam and sparkle. He knows what he likes and what he dislikes— there’s no grey area when it comes to his feelings.

Soshiro loves you in extremes, but there’s a catch to that. His love is great, but his jealousy is even greater— it writhes like a great serpent, eager to be lashed out. He tries to hide his ugly sides from you, but everything always spirals out of control and he ends up with more blood on his hands.

It’s your fault— why did you have to be so perfect?

Soshiro wants to hide you away from the rest of the world, but he has his darned duties and responsibilities. Only in the darkness of your room can he fully show you how much he loves you, ravishing you until his name is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. It becomes a routine. But it’s not nearly enough.

Even now, as you caress his hair, sweat still glistening on your forehead, Soshiro still misses you. He wishes he can press himself closer to you, to feel you more, to become one with you.

“Soshiro, can I ask you something?”

You retract your hands from his hair and Soshiro fights the urge to sigh in disappointment. He gazes at you but you don’t meet his eyes, so he settles on kissing your forehead.

“Anythin.”

“Did you have something to do with Izumo’s recent transfer?”

His eyes narrowed. Well, duh. Of course he did.

The transfer was him being kind. If he had it his way, he would raze the Izumo Family to the ground along with their darned greenhead scion who dares to look at his girlfriend with lovesick eyes.

“I approved the request, yes.”

He dances along the edges of the truth, but you are having none of it.

“No, Soshiro. Tell me the truth.”

The defiance in your eyes awoke a fire in him.

“What do you want me to say, darlin’?” Soshiro challenges you, his voice soft but spiked with venom.

You shiver at the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair. “I want the truth, Soshiro.”

Your lover merely smiles at you. Innocent, taunting, daring you to find fault within him. Soshiro knows he’s a very careful man, he hides his true nature well— but you were no fool.

“Forget it. Let’s take a break.” You give in, rolling on your back to distance yourself from the violet-haired man. It breaks your heart to say it, but you were starting to feel suffocated with all his secrets.

There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Soshiro—your gentle, loving Soshiro—grips your arm hard and gazes at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

STAGE V: R̵̪̾Ȅ̷̥̟̠͚̀͑͊̋͛̈́̓S̸͎̺̺̍̃̌̇̌̈́͘O̴̧̮͍͉̻͛͌̔ͅL̵̪̖̬̖̘̬͇̄̾́́̄Ù̶̻͙̏͆̋̉̉͝T̴̹̹̤̣͇̙̬͕̉̀͑̿͛̇͘I̵̻̥̫̜͖̲̓̍̐̑͗͊O̷̢̩̮͍͉̍͒͛̇̑̓̾̚Ṅ̸̡̢̻͉͂̋͑̔̓

“A break?” Soshiro’s voice trembles with anger. In one swift motion, he’s on top of you, pinning your hands above your head. “Yer kiddin’, right? And if I say I had somethin’ to do with it? What then?”

You look in horror as Soshiro’s expression changes several times in the span of a few minutes. He’s losing it, you can tell, and it’s all because you pushed him.

“I just hate it when a buncha’ nobodies stare at what’s mine. I tried to be patient, I really did,” he shakes his head mournfully, “but they never learn.”

“And what? You transferred them? Fired them? K-” the word kill lodges itself on your throat as your eyes burn with tears.

Soshiro stares at you blankly. “’m just lookin’ after what’s mine. Yer’ gonna leave me for that? Hardly seems fair.” his one-hand grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen even after a few tears escape your eyes.

Suddenly he pauses, like he’s recalling an important information. There’s something in his gaze when he looks down at you— something feral.

“Y’know,” Soshiro muses, “the seat of the next clan head is promised to whoever gets married first between my brother and I.” He runs his free hand down your body, stopping to gently rub circles on your lower stomach.

“I never really cared much about that crap, but I can’t have ya’ running away from me,” the hand that is previously rubbing your stomach now moves down to spread your thighs apart. “if I get you pregnant with my child, there’s no way yer’ gonna leave me, right?”

He words it like a threat, yet it makes you shiver in anticipation. You want to push him away, but every fibre of your body is screaming for him to continue— perhaps you’ve also fallen into the depravity of his love.

He slips a hand inside your underwear and you relinquish control, letting the pleasure cloud your brain. Your mewls only fuels Soshiro’s fire, his own breaths getting heavy as he trails soft kisses down your neck.

“No objections? Good,” Soshiro leans back and chuckles at the sight of you, so pliant under his touch, “then it seems the Hoshina clan will welcome their new madam very soon.”

art by suou2280 on twitter

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu

end notes: if narumi is a lovesick fool who embodies the original meaning of ‘yandere’ to the tee, then hoshina is the stereotypical, scary, controlling yandere that makes you shat your pants. hoshina girlies i hope i did him justice!! i’m gonna go to sleep now goodbye snork mimimimimiimimi

[ryescapades]

❝ [ expert third-wheeler ] ╰┈➤ of the same thread (kaiju no. 8)

— ii. apparently intruding on your dates with hoshina is one of your brother's favorite past times.

genre/warning: narumi gen x lil sis!reader, bf!hoshina soshiro, fluff a/n: *puts a 'wet and soggy stray sewer cat narumi' poster up for adoption* >v< mini series masterlist

the first time it happened, you didn't think much of it.

it wasn't often that you and your boyfriend get to spend some time together with how tachikawa and the ariake maritime base being a good two hours away, more or less.

the only time that's possible is whenever hoshina is tasked to visit the first division due to the recent events involving the anti-no.9 conference and the making of his numbers weapon suit.

you're beyond grateful, really. even just the lingering eye contacts during formal meetings are enough to satisfy your soshiro-deprived self for some time, at least. take all you can get, you'd compromised with yourself. you couldn't be too picky in this line of work, after all.

hence, every time you were given the chance to finally sit down and properly have some quality time with hoshina, you'd planned on milking every loving second of it. in the world where only the two of you exist, you feel like nothing bad could ever happen.

"have you always had fangs, or have i just not been paying attention? wait, who am i kidding? my attention is too valuable to be paid on you, fox eyes."

okay, maybe you spoke too soon.

"didn't think we'd be having a third party today. and here i thought i agreed to a lunch date, not a family bonding time." hoshina hummed, shrugging off the earlier comment about him. swallowing a bite of rice, you let ouf a huff. "it is a date. that was just my inner demon talking."

irritated at the lack of attention, narumi clicked his tongue. "hey, stop being childish! i'm literally sitting right here!" he chided, snapping his chopsticks towards your boyfriend as you deadpanned at your brother. "speak for yourself. and you're not even supposed to be here, gen. did you run away from vice-captain hasegawa again?" you shot back, grabbing the game console your brother had brought along and smacking him with it, which earned you a pained yelp.

"ya know this can be considered as a breach of privacy, no? although this is a temporary space, you're here in my office without my permission, captain narumi." hoshina chuckled, leaning back against his seat behind the desk.

your brother snickered on the chair he had pulled up beside yours in front of the said desk. "exactly what you said, buddy. i'm a captain, so i can do whatever i want in a subordinate's office."

technically that's power abuse, you thought as you quietly eat your lunch, deciding to let the two men verbally argue back and forth about whatever it was they found unpleasing about the other.

oh well. surely this was a one time thing, right? your brother couldn't— shouldn't be bothered to disturb you and your boyfriend every single time... right?

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

or so you thought.

the second time it happened was when you were on one of your most romantic nights ever; you were stargazing with your beloved soshiro. and in the night sky they were shining so bright, as if whatever deities above had painted them so vividly upon the most perfect of black canvases.

at that time you genuinely believed nothing could ever interfere with how the night was turning out.

if only you didn't agree to accompany your brother on one of his many game nights. though it might've been partially your fault that you didn't specify which night he could pick. and unfortunately for you, date night seemed to be the perfect choice for gen.

you clicked your tongue in annoyance when your phone dinged for the nth time. "don't ya want to check that?" soshiro laughed, clearly amused at how distraught you looked.

you shook your head, taking out the device before putting it on dnd. "it's just gen. he wants me to play games with him," you grunted. "right now?" your boyfriend asked, which you nodded at. he contemplated for a moment, before turning to you with a feline grin. "say you're comin' over,"

you almost choke on your saliva. "what?" you squeaked. soshiro stated the same thing, causing your eyebrows to raise even higher. "are you sure? we're on a date, soshiro. which we rarely get to do these days," you remarked.

the man sitting beside you hummed, the slants of his eyes giving him the ever so crafty image. "technically, it can still be one if i'm there too," he stated, smirking.

and that was how you found yourself in gen's room, watching your brother and boyfriend go at it on the former's bs5 as they sat on the laid out futon while you made yourself comfortable at gen's work chair, the sound of a two-player fighting game filling the room.

"dammit, dammit! yeah, take that, bowl-cut bastard! wait, shit— NOOO!!" the big red KO appeared on gen's side of the screen, causing you to sigh almost pitifully.

"wanna go again? i can try goin' easy on ya this time," soshiro quipped, making the man in question grit his teeth. "okay, why did i agree to this again?! why did you bring him here, kid?!" gen snapped his head towards you, pointing an accusing finger at your direction.

you threw him an innocent smile. "you asked for a game buddy, right? i just gave you one on a silver platter, nii-chan. i'm considering this as compensation for crashing my date with soshiro by the way," you drawled, lazily spinning around in the chair. at that point, you'd have been convinced that you grew up with a grumpy cat as a brother with how ferally ruffled he looked.

gen blanched in disgust, "eugh, hate it when you say his name in front of my face. you owe me a new figurine for this," he muttered. "you're a sore loser, aint'cha, captain?" your boyfriend piped in, not bothering to hide how entertained he was from this whole situation. gen sent him a death glare before he angrily plopped his ass back down, picking up the controller that he had hurled away during his outburst.

"alright, you're on, fox eyes!" he sneered before the two of them start another game, leaving you to once again enjoy the spectacle that was narumi gen losing rounds upon rounds of video games to soshiro (he did win some but you just couldn't ignore the significant difference between his victory and defeat scores).

guess a crashed date wasn't such a bad thing sometimes...

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[burning-academia-if]

Burning Academia [Play Here]

Demo Updated: June 7th, 2024 (Prologue-Chapter 2)

Current Word Count: 89.2k (w/code)

Word Count per Play Through: ~34k

F.A.Q | Navigation | Bonus Content | Pinterest | Spotify | Character Quiz | Ko-Fi

You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real. To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with. Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years. Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.

Customize the MC; gender, appearance, personality, etc!

Romance six questionable love interests, or not!

A morality system which changes how your story will go. Do you belong to the day, the night, or somewhere in between?

A complicated family, which you've been shackled to your whole life. Will you ever be able to escape them? Do you even want to?

Survive college, your job, and attempt to not have a quarter life crisis.

Avoid getting devoured by all the things that go bump in the night.

Retain your free will.

Dawn: The world has never been kind, but that hasn't stopped you from giving up. You'll run through the night and embrace the rising dawn. A path of becoming hope.

Day: There's light in the world, if one only knows how to look. As long as you hold on, the light will find you, too. A path of finding solace.

Dusk: All you've known is suffering, and you won't stand for it any longer. Regardless where that leads you, or the choices you need to make to save yourself. A path leading to freedom.

Night: There's no hope here, not as things stand. You'll change it all, even if you must stand in the darkness. A path of destroying everything which has sought to destroy you.

More simply: Dawn/Day: traditional good paths, Dusk: anti-hero path, Night: "villain" path

Rook Bellerose [M]: A "best friend" you've known for almost a decade now. He's never let you get close even after all this time. He's the king of jokes and immaturity, but after the events which led to your enrollment at Vales Grove, something's changed. Maybe it's the guilt, or maybe it's the mask finally slipping.

Beck Castro [M]: Rook's detested roommate, although you aren't sure why. He's the kind of guy who likes to hear himself talk, and he's pretty good at it. He can captivate a room or get himself out of any situation. For whatever reason, he's taken a keen interest in you, and has offered his help for whatever you might need.

Rhea Windsor [F]: The Headmaster's daughter. Everyone who talks about her often complains that she's the traditional prim and proper young woman one would expect from a Headmaster's daughter. However, the more you talk to her, the more you realize she's the exact opposite with a dorky personality and a streak of clumsiness.

Zoe Ripley [NB]: A loner who hides in the library to avoid people. They saw what went down the day you were forced to attend Vales Grove. Despite their prickly attitude, you get the sense they aren't a bad person, and despite how they act, they've never refused to help you. If anything, you seem to be the one person on campus who doesn't get on their nerves, professors included.

Lars Angel [M]: The most exhausted person you've ever seen, and that's saying something. He's a grad student, and one you keep running in to. He can't stand you, and you can only guess at why. With a sharp tongue and a bitter disposition, he tries his best to avoid you. Too bad you both keep running into each other. It looks like fate has other plans.

??? [M/F/NB]: The thing which haunts you. You have no idea how the two of you got connected, but you can feel it in your blood, organs, neurons, synapses. You know it's evil, you know it wants to consume you, but tell me? Has anything ever cradled your soul so gently before?

Poly Route options:

Beck/Rook [triad]: Dawn or Day Path

Rook/??? [triad]: Night Path

Rhea and Zoe [V]: Dawn or Dusk Path

[RO Portraits]

CW: Gore, violence, discussions and depictions of death, parental neglect, emotional abuse, parental abuse, alcoholism, depression, classism, mtc

RO Route CWs (contains spoilers): Read here

[qqueenofhades]

Not that anything's a for sure bet but my read on the general situation re: Harris-Walz is that there's going to be a lot less headwind to fight for Harris specifically as opposed to Clinton because the amazing right wing media hasn't had twenty years for poison to seep into the layperson's thoughts about Clinton's "worthiness"

Well, that and the fact that the MAGA crowd are just really, really bad strategic planners (especially since a solid 75% of their strategy is "lol we'll just cheat and win it that way, we don't need anything else.") They howled for 3.5 years about how Biden was too old to serve and should step down, and then when he did, they had zero plan how to run against Kamala and Trump is now practically begging Biden to magically get back into the race and save him. They ran an anti-Shapiro influence campaign by encouraging the antisemitic online left and planning to exploit the issue among Democrats divided on Israel/Gaza, then furiously melted down when Walz was picked and had no plan to deal with him either. Fascism is a helluva drug, kiddos. Don't try it at home.

The reason Harris has been able to rocket so high is simple, which is that she's channeling Obama 08 energy in more ways than one. Obama also came onto the national political scene four years before (with his speech at the 2004 DNC) and four years later, he was the party's nominee. It didn't even matter that he was a skinny brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama, because people were so tired of the chaos and war and incompetence of Bush Jr that they latched onto a simple message of hope and change and the historical nature of his candidacy felt like an optimistic risk worth taking. Why couldn't it be time for the first African American president? Yes, of course, there was incredible vitriol and we are still dealing with that backlash in some ways now, but still.

As I have said before, Trump is technically not the incumbent, but the last 8 years have been dominated by his hatred, chaos, division, rage, and treason in a way even Bush could never quite manage, and when people get to that point, there's a lot of coiled-up energy that has at last come bursting out. We needed Biden's old-moderate-white-man cred to defeat Trump as the sitting president in 2020, when most of his worst scandals hadn't even happened yet, but this is not 2020 (or 2016) and the dynamic is different. We are now on offense and playing to win, people have readily and eagerly embraced the absolute god tier karma that would come from a black female prosecutor finally ending the Orange Menace's reign of terror once and for all, and the Republicans are spitting smoke and spinning gears running frantically through their usual tired old stupid cliche attacks. GAY TRANS EVIL BIRTHERISM SWIFTBOAT FOREIGN FAR LEFT COMMIE LIBERAL HEATHEN!! they scream desperately, trying to find something that sticks. Except this time, no matter how hard the corporate media tries to help them out, nobody is listening. Nobody is buying it. We know exactly what BS they're trying and we're just shrugging and going "Yeah, no. Weird."

It absolutely helps that Kamala is not dragging the ball and chain of 20 years of Republican smear attacks, yes. But there are a lot of reasons why the GOP is imploding before our eyes and it's probably now more statistically likely that there is a blue tsunami than it is that Trump wins. I still cannot, CANNOT, believe it has been barely three fucking weeks. If this is a dream don't want to wake up, etc. Let me goddamn stay in this timeline just a little longer. And if we do the work, we can in fact make it that way, and Yeah. Yeah.

[ferritins]

THIS TORNADO LOVES YOU | S. RILEY

SUMMARY: Simon takes a step you never thought he would, in a way you’d never imagine.

NOTES: the endearment ‘pet’ is used once, in an “author grew up in The Midlands City God Forgot AKA Leicester” way, not the kink way. credit for the idea for this piece goes to @bleuu-moon, who’s post about Simon letting you take off the mask has been living in my head rent free bills and utilities included for ages.

disclaimer; whilst I’m down bad for fictional men who are taller than me, I also an anti-militarism pro disarmament pacifist. COD and other military games a recruitment tool for the armed forces, and PMCs are just a way for governments to outsource war crimes to avoid The Hague. do not enlist; big oil and genocidaires are not worth dying for and armed service will chew you up and shit you out to die as soon as you are physically or psychologically incapable of dying for the sake of capital.

You come home to Simon illuminated by your television, scant blood splotches blackish on his fatigue sleeves.

“Um. Is any of that yours?” You venture, dropping your keys in their designated dish, casting a careful eye over your lover. “I thought we had come to an agreement about you actively bleeding all over my sofa cushions after last time.”

Simon grunts.

You roll your eyes.

“Words, love.”

“Just got back from Santo Domingo.” You hiss a quiet breath through your teeth, wincing as you turn to hang your coat; the boys had been following an organisation of information brokers trading in NATO military intelligence, the kind of people with whom contact was both rare and in its eventuality, incredibly bloody.

Nevertheless, Simon has never been someone who is particularly receptive to sympathy; by the time you turn back around to face him, your face is carefully neutral.

“Did you achieve your mission objective? Wait, more importantly, you didn’t answer my question; are you bleeding?”

There’s a bitter little chuckle. “Affirmative to the first, negative to the second.”

The air sits heavy as you and Simon watch one another, flashes of colour and light bouncing off the skull of his mask like a nightmare in Technicolor.

Just when the tension reaches the point of being unbearable, Simon speaks.

“They knew your name.” He says, voice basso profundo with his gathering fury.

A frisson of fear runs down your spine — not at Simon, not after all this time, but at the information — before dissipating like cigarette smoke in a hurricane.

It’s a target on your back, sure, but it is one of dozens. Your career has made you many enemies.

“They trade in military intelligence, Simon, which is pretty much my entire area of specialty.”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? What, should I give up my Lance Corporal’s stripe and my job? You met me when I was working signal intercept radio intelligence on RAF Ascension Island, for God’s sake.”

“You’d be safer.” Simon’s voice has taken on as much of a pleading tone as he’s capable of.

“I’d be miserable.” You retort.

“Fuck.” Simon snarls, a savage sigh of breath leaving him. “You know I’m not gonna leave your side after today, pet? Gonna get sick of my face.”

“If this is supposed to irritate me into obscurity, it’s not going to work. I like the mask, and having six foot eight of perfectly built spec ops soldier at my back isn’t exactly a hardship.” You snarl.

“Simon’s head tilts, predatory.

I”I said my face, lovie.”

Your heart starts hammering.

“”Simon, you’ve not been barefaced in front of someone in nigh on a decade. Your personnel file doesn’t have a photograph of you, and the only one that exists of you is redacted so far only His Maj can see it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve torn men’s throats out for so much as touching your mask.”

“Simon hums an affirmative, a mocking note under the tone of it.

“So now you’re scared of what intelligence gathering can lead to? Scared I’ll tear your throat out, hm?”

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not going to let you violate your own autonomy and boundaries to prove a point, you supercilious son of a—“

“You’re the one taking it off.” Simon interrupts.

“You’re insane.”

“If you’re not going underground to wait this out, I’m gonna be living in your fucking shadow, sweetheart, breathing in your every exhale, and I can’t do that when all they know me for is the mask. The next person to so much as look at you sideways is going to die, slow and bloody, and my face is going to be the last thing they see.”

Your next inhale is shaky. Simon, sensing blood in the water, goes for the kill.

“Either you can look me in the face, acknowledge what you’re dooming anyone who hurts you to, or you back down.”

Even as you’re swinging a leg over both of Simon’s to situate yourself in his lap, you’re aware of how hideously stupid what you’re doing is.

Bolstered my nothing but bravado and an inkling of curiosity, and with your pulse rabbiting, you slowly pull up his balaclava, revealing his face to you piecemeal; a strong jaw, a bottom-heavy mouth, a patrician nose broken thrice and healed right only twice, whispers of long blonde eyelashes, and brown eyes, dark as bitumen.

On anybody else, the features would be discordant, too much dissonance to be cohesive; on Simon, they work.

His face is arresting, more than handsome; you can’t help but look at him.

His top lip is pulled up into a perpetual snarl on the left by a long deep furrow of scar tissue that starts just under his eye.

There’s a silvery scar about a half-inch long from his hair line, and his cheeks are dotted with faint demarcations; nicks from shrapnel and knifepoint, you assume.

All flat eyes and scarring, this is perhaps this most dangerous Simon has looked to you in a while.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, referring to both your job and Simon’s unmasking. “I’m not backing down.”

Simon is a big man, and has a surprising amount of heft to him, even when he's not trying.

His hands are large enough that even the love tap to your rump has you tipping into him. Your front is pressed to his, and you're looking up, up, up into his eyes, bearing witness to the way hunger floods them, a hungry kind of dark pouring into his gaze like an oil slick in the Mediterranean Sea.

“And I’m not backing off. Hell or high water, death or desertion; we’re in this together for good now, you and I.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been in the development hell folder of my Google docs for like two months so if it’s shite that’s no longer my problem I’m afraid 😭🙏🏽 thank you for reading! please do not recommend/repost on TikTok.