#is now making me hate my career choices if they can even be called a frigging choice

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 26: July 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The conference room was sleek and quiet — all minimalist design, smooth wood, and muted light. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Monaco’s marina, but Belle barely registered the view. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, one leg crossed over the other, Max’s knee brushing hers beneath the table like a silent anchor.

Belle sat beside Max at a long table in a private meeting room, her hands folded carefully in her lap. The lawyer — a tall, gentle-voiced woman named Monique with sharp eyes and an expensive watch — smiled politely as she turned the final page of a stack of documents.

She had known about the pregnancy since Max had called last week and said, “We need to make sure she’s protected. Properly.”

It hadn’t been dramatic. There were no tears. No whispered breakdowns.

Just Max, calm and steady, saying "my wife is having our child, and I want everything in place if I don’t come home."

And Belle had agreed. Because love like theirs wasn’t made of denial.

It was made of preparation.

 Monique spoke first.

“I’ve drafted the new will, updated with the marriage registration and the preliminary trust structure for the baby.” She slid a folder across the table to Max. “It’s standard language, but I can walk you through it.”

Max nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Belle glanced at the page — her name in clean legal font at the top. It still startled her sometimes. Isabelle Verstappen. A name that felt more like a promise than a title.

Monique continued, calm and clear. “Everything’s been updated as requested. The property title adjustment will be processed this week, and the new will reflects both your marriage and the pending addition to your family. In the event of Max’s death, Belle inherits all real estate assets, including the Monaco apartment, She also has controlling interest in the holding companies and exclusive guardianship of the child. There is a clause allowing her to appoint a secondary guardian if needed, and a separate financial trust to be accessed at her discretion for the child’s care.”

Belle’s fingers tensed slightly on her notebook.

Max reached under the table, slid his hand into hers.

Monique continued. “You both now hold medical power of attorney for one another. In the event of a serious injury or incapacitation, decisions will legally fall to the surviving spouse. The trust for the child will be activated upon birth and can be revised at any time.”

Belle blinked. “You’ve already set up a trust?”

Max nodded beside her. “I wanted it in place before they got here.”

Monique smiled. “It’s not uncommon for high-risk professions.”

High-risk. Belle hated that word.

Monique glanced at Max. “There’s a healthcare proxy included as well. You’ve named your wife as the sole decision-maker if you’re incapacitated.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Belle didn’t speak for a moment. Just breathed. Absorbed.

Because here it was. In print. In contracts and clauses and notarized certainty.

This man — who drove faster than anyone else on earth — was handing her the most fragile parts of his life and saying I trust you.

Not out of fear.

But out of love.

Monique gave them a moment before gently flipping to the next document. “There’s just one more point of discussion — guardianship, in the event that… well, neither of you are able to care for your child.”

Belle straightened.

“Obviously we don’t need an answer right this second,” Monique added, professional but kind. “But it’s something we do recommend including in advance. Just in case.”

Belle didn’t hesitate.

“Victoria and Tom.”

Max glanced at her, surprised.

“They already have three kids,” she said softly. “Their home is overflowing with love. Lio and Luka would be like big brothers. Hailey a big sister. ”

Max looked at her for a long moment — not surprised, just… moved.

“Okay,” he said, quietly, final. “Victoria and Tom.”

Monique made a quiet note, then gathered the papers. “That’s all for today. You’re welcome to take copies home, review anything again, but legally — everything’s in place.”

Belle signed.

Her name — Isabelle Verstappen — in clean, looping ink at the bottom of the page. Not to take something away. But to build something forward.

Belle hesitated. “Is there… anything else?”

Monique raised an eyebrow gently. “Such as?”

Belle glanced down at her lap. “I thought Max might… want me to sign something else.”

Silence.

Then, Max’s hand slid over hers beneath the table. “You mean a prenup?”

Belle nodded once.

Monique blinked, surprised. “There’s nothing of the sort, Belle. That was never discussed.”

Belle looked at Max, who met her eyes steadily.

“I didn’t marry you with conditions,” he said simply. “What’s mine is yours. What’s ours is already half your idea anyway.”

Belle stared at him for a second — stunned, soft, wrecked.

Then she cleared her throat. “Okay. That’s… not what I expected. But okay.”

When it was done, Monique gathered the documents, promising scans and copies by end of day.

The room emptied, polite and efficient.

Belle stayed seated.

Max didn’t move either.

She finally turned to him. “That felt…”

“Big?” he offered.

She nodded.

“But good,” she added, quieter now. “Because this is ours. Our life. Our family. Even the scary parts.”

Max kissed her temple. “That’s why we’re here.”

Her hand found his on the table, fingers lacing together.

“I hope none of it ever matters,” she whispered.

He looked down at their names on the signed pages.

“It already does,” he said.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey You got a minute?

Victoria: For you? Always What’s up?

Max: Belle and I had a meeting with the lawyers today We’re setting everything up properly Just in case something ever happens

Victoria: Okay… Everything alright?

Max: Yeah. Everything’s good. More than good We just want to be smart about things

Victoria: Of course So… what do you need from me?

Max: We listed you and Tom as guardians For the baby If anything ever happens to us

Max: I wanted to ask you first Properly Not just throw your name on a form

Victoria: Max. Yes. Obviously. Always. You didn’t even have to ask. But I’m really, really glad you did.

Max: Belle said it without blinking She trusts you too

Victoria: Now I’m crying in the supermarket, thanks 🙄

Max: Sorry (But not really)

Victoria: We’ll take care of them. No matter what. But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?

Max: Yeah I know Still I sleep better knowing it’s you

Victoria: We love you. And we love her. And we already love this baby. 

Max: Thanks, Vic. Really.

***

The therapy room was quiet in the way only tension could make it — not peaceful, but primed. A silence that hummed with everything unsaid, everything tiptoed around for years.

Belle sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her pulse thrumming just beneath her skin like a warning. Every muscle in her body was taut — trying to hold everything in place. Her blouse, loose by design, felt suddenly too tight across her chest. She hadn’t been sleeping. She hadn’t eaten lunch. There was a dull ache in her temples, a sharper one behind her ribs.

Max was beside her.

He hadn’t spoken.

He hadn’t even moved, aside from the occasional brush of his thumb against hers.

But his presence was solid. Anchoring. The one thing in this room that didn’t make her feel like she had to prove she belonged.

Across from her, her family sat arranged like a tableau of old fractures: Pascale, elegant but weary, lips pressed tightly together; Arthur, fidgeting in his chair, worry written into the curve of his brow; Lorenzo, arms folded like a gate; and Charles — the one who hadn’t looked at her properly once since she’d walked in.

Camille, the therapist, smiled gently. “Thank you all for being here. We’re here to listen first. Belle, since you asked for this session, would you like to begin?”

Belle nodded, throat tight. “I don’t expect this to fix everything. But I wanted to give you a chance to hear me. I’ve felt invisible for a long time. And I know that might not have been your intention, but it doesn’t make it less real.”

She paused.

No one spoke.

She added, voice quiet but edged in iron: “And I’m not here to be blamed for how I coped with that.”

That was when Charles finally looked up. “Then maybe he shouldn’t be here.”

Max didn’t move.

Belle’s grip on his hand tightened.

Camille interjected gently. “Charles, we agreed to keep this space respectful—”

“Respectful?” Charles cut in, eyes flashing. “You brought him to a family session. The man who didn’t even tell me he married my sister. The one person guaranteed to turn this into a war.”

Belle’s voice cracked, quiet but firm. “Max is here because I want him here. He’s my family now. He supports me. He doesn’t speak over me or forget I exist unless it’s convenient.”

“You bring him here, like he has any right to sit in a family session—”

“Charles—” Camille began.

But he was already unraveling.

“—Like he didn’t make it worse. Like he didn’t encourage all of this—”

Belle flinched.

“Charles,” Max said, voice low but firm.

“You don’t get to talk—”

“Stop it!” Belle snapped, her voice breaking.

The sound echoed louder than shouting.

Everyone went still.

She stood — too quickly — and emotion spilled over before she could stop it. Her hands shook. Her breath hitched. Tears began streaming down her cheeks before she could blink them back.

“I invited him,” she said, trembling. “Because he’s the only one in this room who never made me feel like I had to earn his love. He didn’t ask me to shrink or wait or perform. He didn’t disappear until it was convenient to care again. He showed up.”

Arthur’s expression twisted with guilt. Pascale’s eyes filled with tears. Lorenzo exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I tried for years to matter to you,” Belle whispered. “And when I finally stopped waiting, when I found something good, you acted like it was betrayal. It wasn’t. It was survival.” 

But when Belle cried harder, silent and shaking, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach — a reflex now, a habit more than a choice — Max’s restraint cracked.

“Enough,” he said, voice sharp and fierce and final.

The entire room froze.

“This isn’t good for the baby.”

Everything. Stopped.

The silence that followed was different. Not tense — stunned. Heavy. Real.

Charles froze.

Pascale’s hand flew to her mouth.

Arthur blinked, mouth slightly open.

Lorenzo — unreadable, contained Lorenzo — lost every ounce of composure.

Belle sat, still breathing too fast, still cradling her abdomen like she didn’t even realize her hand was there.

“She’s crying in a therapist’s office because her own family forgot her,” Max said, his voice flat, controlled. “And she still came here hoping you’d be different. And you’re yelling at her like it’s her fault she stopped begging you to see her.”

“You—” Charles started.

Max’s eyes burned. “She’s pregnant. And this stress? This shouting? This guilt-tripping? It’s not just hurting her anymore. It’s hurting both of them.”

Real, stunned silence.

Belle covered her face with both hands, chest heaving.

Max moved instantly, kneeling beside her. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. “You gave them a chance. That’s more than they deserved.”

Camille cleared her throat gently, measured but soft. “Belle… thank you for being honest. Max, thank you for saying what needed to be said.”

Belle shook her head, still too overwhelmed to speak. Her body ached with tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

Max didn’t let go of her.

He stood and turned to face them — not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

“She’s pregnant,” he repeated. “And she came here because she still believed you deserved the chance to be part of that. But if what you bring is more of this — more silence, more anger, more entitlement — then maybe she needs to stop giving chances to people who don’t know what to do with them.”

He sat beside Belle again, taking her hand in both of his.

She didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her hand stayed curled over her belly, protective. Heartbroken.

Then, after a long, still moment—

“I didn’t know,” Charles said. Quiet. Shaken. “Isabelle, I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” she whispered.“That’s the problem.”

More silence.

Then Pascale wiped at her eyes, voice shaking. “I want to be part of this. Not just the baby. You. I want to do better.”

Arthur nodded. “I will. I already started. But I’ll do more. Whatever you need.”

Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. “You shouldn’t have had to say any of that alone.”

Camille waited. Then softly, “This is where it begins. Not with fixing. But with listening. With staying.”

Belle finally looked up.

Still hurt. Still guarded.

But in her eyes — something softened.

She didn’t say I forgive you.

She said something truer.

“You have a long way to go,” Belle said, voice rough.“But you’re here. That’s a start.”

***

By the time they got home, Belle hadn’t said a word.

Max didn’t push. He unlocked the door, opened it for her, let her walk through the apartment at her own pace. She moved like someone underwater — slow, dazed, like her body had been hollowed out.

She didn’t even take off her shoes.

She just stood in the middle of their living room, arms limp at her sides, until Max gently touched her elbow.

“Sit,” he said softly. “I’ll get you water.”

But she didn’t sit.

She crumpled.

It wasn’t a fall — not all at once — but something slower, sadder. She sank down onto the rug like her bones had given out, hands covering her face, breath catching in her throat.

Then the sobs came.

Max was beside her in an instant, sinking to his knees, gathering her into his arms without a second’s hesitation.

She curled into him like she’d been waiting all day for it. Like she’d finally let herself feel everything she hadn’t let show in front of them.

And Max—Max held her like he never intended to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling her head as she buried her face into his chest. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head against him, but he kept going.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Max said, voice rough. “Not like that. I should’ve asked. I should’ve let you decide.”

Belle didn’t answer — not in words — but she held him tighter, and that was enough.

She cried for a long time.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just steady.

Heartbroken.

Max held her through all of it. Through the shaking, the ragged breathing, the muffled apologies she tried to whisper into his shoulder. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t argue. He just rubbed circles into her back and reminded her, again and again, in the softest voice he had:

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

At some point, he coaxed her into bed. She resisted, groggy and stubborn through the haze of exhaustion, but eventually let him pull back the covers and tuck her in. She wore his hoodie — one of the big, soft ones — and it swallowed her. Her hand still rested over her stomach as she lay on her side, eyes red and barely open.

Max kissed her temple, her forehead, her hand. He didn’t leave her side until her breathing evened out and she finally slipped into sleep.

Then — and only then — did he let himself move.

Quietly, he crossed the room to where his phone sat on the kitchen counter.

He didn’t text. Didn’t scroll.

He found the number for Belle’s doctor and sent a message requesting an appointment.

Tomorrow. Urgent if possible.

She hadn’t eaten all day.

She hadn’t slept properly in nearly a week.

And her crying tonight… it had shaken something in him.

She always carried things so quietly. Until she couldn’t anymore.

Max stood at the kitchen counter, staring down at his phone, still in his jeans and hoodie from earlier, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He couldn’t make her family change.

But he could protect this.

Her.

Their baby.

He would make sure she was seen, cared for, and safe — even if it meant dragging the world into a quiet, burning rage to make it happen.

The phone buzzed with a confirmation.

Appointment: Tomorrow. 9:30 AM.

Max looked back toward the bedroom.

Belle was asleep, one arm curled under her pillow, still holding her stomach like a shield.

And Max made himself a promise.

They would never make her cry like that again.

Not while he was breathing.

***

The four of them sat in stunned silence.

The therapy room door had closed behind Belle and Max ten minutes ago, but no one had moved since. Camille had offered them space to process, and they’d taken it — not because they needed it, but because they didn’t know what else to do.

Charles sat with his hands clenched in his lap, staring at the floor like it had betrayed him. Pascale held a tissue tightly in one hand, face pale, mascara faintly smudged beneath her eyes. Lorenzo’s arms were crossed — his usual stoicism barely holding under the tension in his jaw.

And Arthur — the youngest— was pacing.

Charles finally broke the silence. “She’s pregnant.”

“Yes,” Arthur said flatly, not looking at him.

Charles blinked, still stunned. “She’s actually—she didn’t even tell us.”

“She didn’t owe us that,” Arthur snapped, turning to face them. “Not after everything.”

Pascale looked up. “Arthur—”

“No,” he said, sharper than they’d ever heard him. “No. I’m not doing this. We’re not going to sit here and act like we’re the wounded ones.”

“She should’ve told us,” Charles muttered. “We’re her family—”

Arthur rounded on him. “Then maybe we should’ve acted like it.”

That landed.

Charles looked up, startled.

Arthur laughed — a short, bitter sound. “You really don’t get it, do you? Belle spent years trying to be seen. Trying to be heard. Every time she did something good, we clapped for a second and then went back to talking about karting or my race result or whatever Charles was doing that week.”

“That’s not fair,” Charles said stiffly.

“No?” Arthur said, eyes narrowing. “Name where she was when she graduated top of her class. You remember what we sent her?”

Charles didn’t answer.

“Exactly,” Arthur snapped. “Nothing. We forgot. We forgot her birthday, Charles. And even then, she didn’t scream at us. She just stopped trying.”

“I didn’t mean to forget—”

“You didn’t mean to notice her, either,” Arthur said, quieter now. “But Max did.”

That silenced the room.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. “You know what gets me the most? She still gave us a chance. She walked in there, pregnant, vulnerable, and hoping maybe we’d finally show up. And what did we do?”

He looked at Charles.

“You shouted at her husband.”

He looked at Lorenzo.

“You stayed quiet until she was crying.”

Then he looked at Pascale.

“And you only spoke when Max said the word baby.”

Pascale’s lip trembled. “I didn’t know.”

“She didn’t trust us with it,” Arthur said, softer now. “And that’s the part that should scare you. Not Max. Not the secret wedding. Not the baby. The fact that she didn’t feel safe enough to tell us.”

Lorenzo exhaled slowly, some of the anger draining from his posture.

Charles looked like he’d been hollowed out.

“She was holding her stomach,” Pascale whispered. “Even when she cried, she—she protected the baby. From us.”

Arthur nodded. “Exactly.”

Silence again.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Arthur looked at them all — older brother, older brother, mother — and stood taller than he ever had.

“No one is making her cry like that again,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”

Charles swallowed hard. “So what do we do?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “You start by earning a place back in her life. Slowly. Without demands. Without entitlement. You show her you’ve changed. And if you haven’t? You step aside.”

No one argued.

No one could.

Because they’d all seen what Arthur had — a sister at the end of her rope, still trying to offer them grace.

And they’d nearly broken her again.

But maybe not completely.

Maybe, if they were lucky, there was still time to do better.

To be better.

To finally be family in the way Belle had deserved all along.

***

Belle woke to sunlight and silence.

Her eyes burned. Her head ached. Her throat felt tight from the hours she’d spent crying into Max’s chest the night before. For a long time, she just lay there — curled on her side, one hand resting against the soft curve of her stomach, the weight of the last twenty-four hours pressing against her skin like bruises she hadn’t earned.

Max wasn’t in bed.

That was the first thing she noticed.

But when she pushed back the covers and sat up, she could hear him. Low voices. The sound of him in the kitchen. Coffee brewing. Something being cut on a chopping board.

When she padded out into the hallway, Max looked up instantly.

“You’re awake,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked at him. He was already dressed — hoodie, jeans, hair still damp from a quick shower. He looked like he hadn’t slept, though she had no idea when he’d crawled into bed beside her. All she remembered was him holding her until her tears stopped.

“Tired,” she said honestly. “Drained. Like I fought a war in a hotel lobby.”

Max’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not really. He poured her a glass of water and walked it over.

“You need to get dressed,” he said softly. “We’ve got an appointment at 9:30.”

Belle blinked. “Appointment?”

“With your OB.”

She stared at him. “You made a doctor’s appointment?”

Max looked… sheepish. In that way only Max Verstappen ever could — a little bit guilty, but completely unapologetic. “You were crying for over an hour. You didn’t eat. You didn’t sleep until after midnight. You kept holding your stomach like it hurt and I just—” He broke off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to be sure everything is okay. With you. With the baby.”

Something inside her cracked — not with annoyance, not even embarrassment, but with a kind of vulnerable affection that made her chest ache.

“I’m fine,” she said, quietly.

Max didn’t argue.

But he looked at her like fine would never be good enough again.

They left ten minutes later.

She wore leggings and one of Max’s hoodies, too tired to care. Her hair was in a bun, her face bare. Max had packed snacks and a water bottle in her bag like he was preparing for a cross-country drive. He opened the car door for her without a word. Held her hand at every red light.

The clinic was quiet when they arrived — not many patients that early. A nurse smiled at them, already familiar with Belle, and waved them through. Max never let go of her hand.

The doctor — kind, warm, sharp-eyed — asked gentle questions. Belle answered them all in a quiet voice.

“Any unusual cramping? Headaches? Nausea? Emotional stress?”

Belle glanced at Max, then gave a small, exhausted laugh. “Define unusual.”

The doctor smiled, then softened. “What you went through yesterday? It matters. Stress does affect the body, but you’re here now. We’ll check everything.”

And they did.

A blood pressure cuff. A blood draw. The gentle press of a fetal doppler wand against her stomach.

Then— The soft, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat.

Max’s fingers tightened around hers. He didn’t say anything. But when Belle looked at him — really looked — she saw it in his face: that fierce, wordless love that had carried her out of that therapy room and straight into this one.

The doctor smiled. “Heartbeat sounds perfect. Baby’s strong. And you’re doing better than you think.”

Belle let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Max pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he whispered. “I couldn’t watch you cry like that and not do something.”

Belle closed her eyes.

Then, without even thinking about it, she rested her head against his shoulder and whispered:

“Thank you.”

Because it was more than an appointment.

It was a promise.

***

Text Messages:   Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: how’d it go yesterday?

i waited until morning because i didn’t want to be that friend but also i’ve been lying awake since 6 trying to imagine how many things charles said wrong in under an hour

Belle: you waited like a saint you get a medal

Emilie: oh good you’re alive that’s step one

Emilie: how bad was it scale of 1 to “i considered throwing my shoe at someone”?

Belle: i cried max snapped everyone went quiet and then Max accidentally revealed i’m pregnant because he couldn’t watch me sob anymore

so ...somewhere between “shoe-throwing” and “emotional napalm”

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: MAX DROPPED THE BABY BOMB IN THERAPY??? WITH CHARLES THERE??

Belle: yep :)

Emilie: oh my GOD how is max still alive how are YOU

Belle: tired kind of hollow but also maybe... a tiny bit relieved?

it was a mess but they listened eventually i think

Emilie: do i need to bring cake or a shovel or both

Belle: both but i’m okay now doctor said everything’s good with the baby max scheduled the appointment himself

Emilie: of course he did husband of the year defender of the bump destroyer of sibling egos

Belle: he really did go full “don’t make her cry it’s bad for the baby” in front of everyone it was... a moment

Emilie: i would’ve PAID to see that wait no someone in that therapy room owes you money for that performance

Belle: arthur tried maman cried lorenzo looked like someone slapped him charles sat down and didn’t speak again

Emilie: is it terrible that i find this deeply satisfying

Belle: no it’s why i love you

Emilie: seriously though i’m proud of you i know how much this cost you and you still showed up

Belle: i’m trying for the baby for me

Emilie: and when you’re ready for step two i’ll be there with tea and probably more sarcasm than is healthy

Belle: perfect i love you

Emilie: i love you too, belle you’ve got this

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

 Luke Crane: Max. My guy. My married guy.

Gianni Vechio: Is it Verstappen or Mr. Leclerc now? Just checking.

Max (deadpan): I’m already regretting logging on.

Luke Bennett: You regret logging on? Imagine our shock when the paddock exploded because someone casually dropped a kiss in Parc Fermé like it was no big deal.

Max:  (muted chuckle) It was a race. I won. Belle was there. That’s all.

Chris Lulham:: “That’s all.” HE SAYS. Like he didn’t casually change the internet’s collective brain chemistry.

Luke Crane: Bro, you were standing there looking like you'd just won the title and found true love.

Gianni: THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HER.

Chris: THE HAND ON HER WAIST.

Gianni: THE KISS, MAX.

Max:  (muttering) You guys are insufferable.

Luke Bennett: I’m sorry — did we not deserve to know that your secret wife is Isabelle Leclerc?!?

Max: She wasn’t secret.

All at once: YES SHE WAS.

 Luke: Where is she anyway? We’ve earned this. Bring her on stream.

Max: She’s not going to—

Gianni: MAX. YOU OWE US.

Chris: SHOW US YOUR WIFE. SHOW US THE MYSTICAL INTERIOR ARCHITECT GODDESS WHO FIXED YOUR PENTHOUSE.

Max: You people are insane.

Luke (chanting): BELLE. BELLE. BELLE. BELLE.

Chat:

BELLE! BELLE! BELLE!

WHERE IS SHE MAX

DROP THE WIFE

MRS VERSTAPPEN SUPREMACY

WE SAW THE RING SIR

MAX BLINK TWICE IF YOU MARRIED UP (we know you did)

 Max:  (sighing, amused) Belle?

[muffled in the background] Belle: Yes?

Max: They want to say hi.

Belle:  (closer) They want to do what?

Max: Just come here for a second, Schatje. They’re not going to shut up otherwise.

 [Belle leans into frame wearing one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies, hair up, tea mug in hand.]

Belle: Hi.

Chat: OMG IT’S HERMRS MAX IS REALSHE’S SO PRETTY WHAT THE HELLTHE HOODIE IS KILLING MEMAX MARRIED A QUEENINTERIOR DESIGN SLAYI CANNOT BREATHEMAX YOU ARE OUTKICKING YOUR COVERAGECHARLES CURRENTLY DEAD BECAUSE HIS SISTER IS WEARING RED BULL MERCH

Luke Crane: Okay. So first of all, Belle. Thank you for putting up with this idiot.

Belle: (drily.) He’s nothing to put up with. He’s something to treasure. 

Gianni: We just wanted to say congratulations. And also... how did you keep it secret for this long?

Belle:  (shrugging): People only see what they want to see. We never hid it. We just didn’t make it obvious. 

Chris: Oh my god she’s articulate. You really married up.

Max:  (soft, proud) Yeah. I did.

Belle:  (grinning, pressing a kiss to Max’s cheek, making him blush) Anyway. That’s enough fame for one evening. Bye boys.

[Belle exits frame. Max looks extremely smug.]

Max: You happy now?

Luke Crane: Beyond.

Chris: I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/GridGossip:  MAX VERSTAPPEN’S WIFE JUST SHOWED UP ON TEAM REDLINE STREAM IN HIS HOODIE WITH A MUG OF TEA AND SAID “HE’S NOTHING TO PUT UP WITH: HE’S SOMETHING TO TREASURE.” I AM NOT OKAY.

@/TifosiTears:  CHARLES LECLERC IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE AND HIS SISTER IS OUT HERE IN RED BULL MERCH KISSING MAX ON STREAM. I’M SCREAMING.

@/F1TeaSpiller So to recap: → Belle Leclerc kissed Max in Parc Fermé → Changed her name on IG → Is apparently married?? → Wore his hoodie on stream → And the grid is collectively feral. 10/10. No notes.

@/SoftLaunchSociety The Red Bull hoodie. The tea mug. The unbothered queen energy. Belle Verstappen didn’t soft launch — she hard dropped and said “you’ll catch up.”

@/RedBullUpdates: BELLE VERSTAPPEN WALKED INTO FRAME LOOKING COZY, SMUG, AND MARRIED. WE HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE.

@/FerrariPain:  charles leclerc when he realizes his sister wore red bull merch in 4k: 🧍‍♂️😐💔

@/WifeGuyMax: max verstappen grinning like a man who knows he married out of his league and then blushed when she kissed his cheek this is romcom content i never expected from sim racing

@/F1MemeLord: Team Redline: Show us your wife Max: She’s not gonna— Belle Verstappen, already wearing his hoodie and holding tea like a queen: Hi Me: this is better than Netflix

@/MonacoRoyalty: i want belle’s PR team forgotten by her family? married in monaco? red bull hoodie and soft lighting? KNEW exactly when to show up. this girl is PLAYING CHESS.

@/MaxEmotionsFan Max: (quietly, proudly) “Yeah. I did.” Me, in tears: and you DID, Max. he married his girl.

@/F1ChaosClub: charles leclerc forgot his sister’s birthday and now she’s on twitch in a red bull hoodie being called “queen” by 600,000 viewers. you literally could not write this better.

@/GridPsychics: prediction: Charles is currently pacing his Monaco apartment wondering if it's too late to be a supportive brother spoiler: it might be

@/F1FanFictionCentral plot twist: Max Verstappen wasn’t the emotionally unavailable villain. He was the surprise wife guy all along.

@/TifosiMeltdown:  Everyone’s like “awww Max and Belle are so cute 🥺” Meanwhile Charles Leclerc is living in the eighth circle of PR hell because his baby sister is in Red Bull merch on Twitch with his literal racing rival

@/SoftLaunchScholar: The Max & Belle reveal timeline is a case study:

Ignored birthday

Secret wedding

Parc Fermé kiss

Instagram name change

Twitch hoodie wife drop This is art.

@/F1Lorekeeper: The fact that Charles forgot Belle’s birthday and then found out she married Max Verstappen two weeks later

And now she’s drinking tea in Max’s stream wearing Red Bull gear

I genuinely think we’re watching a live sibling rivalry rewrite Greek tragedy @/MonacoRoyalty: Belle said “we didn’t hide it, you just weren’t looking” and the Leclerc family should NEVER recover from that

@/CharlesIsCrying: no because BELLE VERSTAPPEN appearing on stream in Red Bull merch while the internet still hasn’t healed from the forgotten birthday incident??

Charles is somewhere short-circuiting in real time

***

It was raining softly against the windows when Belle brought it up.

They were curled up on the sofa — Max in joggers and a hoodie, Belle tucked against his side with a blanket draped over her legs, her cheek resting on his chest. The television hummed quietly with some old documentary neither of them were watching. Max’s hand traced slow, absentminded circles against the bump that had started to become undeniable beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“We should probably tell the rest soon,” Belle murmured.

Max didn’t answer right away. His fingers stilled, then resumed their gentle pattern.

“I know,” he said. “I just… don’t want it to turn into a thing.”

Belle lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Like… a press release thing? Photoshoot? Magazines? Perfect lighting and fake candids of us in a meadow somewhere?”

He let out a soft snort. “Can you picture me in a meadow?”

Belle smiled. “Only if you were holding a kitten and a baby goat.”

“Belle.”

“Okay, fine, just the baby goat.”

Max laughed into her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “No photoshoots. No flower crowns.” He made a face. “No soft-focus, perfectly lit, black-and-white Instagram announcement with matching white outfits and hands shaped like a heart.”

She laughed softly, burying her nose in his shirt. “The horror.”

“I mean, unless you want that,” Max added quickly. “If you want that, I’ll do it. I’ll even wear linen.”

Belle looked up at him again, mock-serious. “Max, you’d rather crash into a gravel trap at Monaco than wear linen on purpose.”

“Correct.”

She smiled against his hoodie. “I just… I don’t want it to feel like I’m trying to prove something.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Max said, his voice low. Sure. “You’re pregnant. You’re my wife. That’s it.”

Belle glanced up at him. “You say that like it's simple.”

“It is.” He tilted his head a little, thoughtful. “So how do you want to do it?”

She shrugged. “Something honest. Quiet, but… real.”

Max was quiet for a beat. “You mean, like the wedding.”

Belle smiled. “Exactly like the wedding.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her head. “We can do quiet. That’s our specialty.”

She chuckled, then bit her lip. “I was thinking… what if we just posted a photo? Not even of us. Just a pair of tiny shoes on the coffee table and a caption like, ‘Coming soon.’”

Max grinned. “You want to break the internet again.”

“I want to give it to us first,” she said. “And let everyone else catch up later.”

Max looked at her like she hung the stars. “Deal.”

They sat in silence again, the kind that meant safety.

“I don’t need the whole world to know at once,” Belle murmured, her voice softening. “I just want to share it in a way that feels like us. Not a brand.”

Max pulled her closer, his hand still resting protectively over the bump neither of them could stop reaching for.

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

***

Text Messages:  Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Thinking of announcing the pregnancy before Silverstone.

Emilie: oh?? as in… telling the entire planet??

Belle: Yep. Before I start showing enough that people start whispering.

Emilie: You mean before more people start whispering You okay with going public?

Belle: I think so. We’ve been quiet long enough. Besides… Silverstone’s always a circus. May as well drop the baby news before the clowns arrive.

Emilie: Iconic behavior tbh Do I get a heads up before the post goes up so I can prepare emotionally

Belle: Of course. Also— You should come.

Emilie: To Silverstone??

Belle: Yes.

Emilie: Belle. That’s Lando’s home race.

Belle: And you like Lando.

Emilie: I do not like what this insinuation implies.

Belle: You like him. He adores you. Your flirting during dinner could’ve powered the entire paddock.

Emilie: Okay first of all That’s rude And accurate

Belle: Come anyway. Come as my friend. Not as Lando’s girlfriend.

Emilie: …you are dangerously persuasive.

Belle: Lily’s coming too. It’ll be fun. You, me, Lily, a very grumpy Max pretending not to be nervous about the baby stealing his press conference thunder.

Emilie: You really think the baby will upstage Max?

Belle: If she has my hair and his eyes, absolutely.

Emilie: oh my god if it’s a girl with his grumpy face and your attitude the world is not ready

Belle: Exactly. Which is why you need to be there. Help me judge the chaos.

Emilie: Okay okay Fine But if Lando tries to make things serious while I’m there I am blaming you

Belle: Deal. You’ll be the secret girlfriend, I’ll be the public wife. We’ll keep balance in the universe.

Emilie: Verstappen-Leclerc diplomatic summit in Silverstone Can’t wait.

Belle: You bring the wine. I’ll bring the reveal.

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/maxverstappen1: 🍼❤️ 

@/danielricciardo: I’M GOING TO BE THE FUN UNCLE CALLING IT NOW

@/landonorris: AAAAAHHHHHHHHH 🍼😭❤️

@/alex_albon:The baby already has better fashion sense than me and it’s not even born yet.

@/oscarpiastri: Congratulations!! So happy for you both 🤍

@/charles_leclerc: Congratulations. Truly.

@/georgerussell63: Huge congrats!

@/arthur_leclerc: 🥹❤️ You’re going to be the best mum, Belle. 

@/yukitsunoda0511: baby Verstappen with Leclerc sass?? terrifying. adorable. congratulations!!!

@/sebastianvettel: Welcome to the next adventure. You’ll both be amazing parents. 💛

@/carlossainz55: The paddock is already preparing the next generation of chaos.

@/f1girlie44: BELLE IS GONNA BE A MUM I’M SOBBING

@/leclercsrevengearc: Max winning races, hearts, and fatherhood. Charles losing sleep. Balance.

@/gridgossip: Between the birthday drama, the Red Bull hoodie, the Parc Fermé kiss and now THIS — Belle Verstappen has had a better character arc than half the grid.

@/victoriaverstappen: Best news of the year 🍼 Can’t wait to meet this little one!! 

@/f1: We love a future champion in the making 👶🏽🏁

@/verstappensupremacy:

I KNEW THE RED BULL HOODIE WAS FORESHADOWING

MAX IS GOING TO BE A DAD I’M CRYING

@/f1babygossip:

Baby Verstappen is going to have the softest mama and the most aggressively protective papa and I LOVE THAT FOR THEM

@/charlespls:

someone go check on charles

she posted this BEFORE A RACE WEEKEND

we need an ambulance at Ferrari

[myownwholewildworld]

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

[mooosicaldreamz]

follow the signs (supercorp)

this is for @ekingston's crazy prompt-a-whirl thingy. i got fluff + fake dating + forced to share a cab + fortune cookie which was very lucky in my opinion. and they all start with f! wow. anyway here it is, sitting at EXACTLY 1K. here's the thingy if you want to do it too.

Kara is waiting for a cab. It is midnight in Jacksonville, Florida. She’s here for a wedding she’d planned to avoid, but then Mon-El had called her and Kara had lied out her butt and said yes, me and my girlfriend will be there. And it hadn’t even been grammatically correct, let alone true.

Kara didn’t have a girlfriend. She had a career and hopes for a puppy. She and Mon-El had broken up a year ago and that’d been her last romance.

Lena had been a random choice for her fake girlfriend, the only person Kara could think of who she was close enough to ask to participate in this harebrained scheme, but also someone who had never met Mon-El. She and Lena had met at a press conference when Kara had cornered Lena in a hallway and been tased by Lena’s security guards.

Lena had been less than pleased with their actions and had offered Kara a one-on-one interview, and it’d been off to the races from there. It was nice to have a new, different kind of friend - Lena was rich, too smart for her own good, and indulged Kara more than others might advise. Case in point: they are sitting on a bench outside Jacksonville International at midnight.

“I’m starving,” Kara laments, digging through her bag in the hopes that she’ll unearth something.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a chauffeur?” Lena asks.

“No, the cab should be here soon,” Kara sighs. “I’m sorry for this mess, Lena. I know this probably isn’t how you like to travel.”

“I don’t mind,” Lena shrugs. “Flights get delayed whether they’re private or not, and it’s not as though commercial domestic first class is terrible. I think you’re overestimating my need for fancy things.”

“Tell that to your Balenciaga sweatshirt,” Kara says. Lena smacks at her lazily. She’s so pretty, is the thing. Kara could have gone out and got a real girlfriend, or asked someone Mon-El hadn’t known well, but when she’d settled down a few weeks ago and convinced herself to go through with her nonsensical lie, Lena had been the only option in her mind. She’d been the only option she even wanted to consider.

“Is that them?” Lena asks, nodding as a bright orange cab pulls up. Kara jumps up excitedly - and then stalls as the driver climbs out of the car and comes sprinting around the hood directly at her.

“Kara!” Mon-El yells.

“Frick,” Kara mutters as he pulls her into a hug. She looks over at Lena with wide eyes and makes sure to enunciate: “Mon-El, it’s so good to see you!”

She watches as Lena raises one eyebrow and then sighs loudly with an incredible amount of boredom. It distracts Mon-El enough that Kara can withdraw from his cloying hug. He’s sweating. It’s gross.

“Hi, you must be Kara’s girlfriend!” he says enthusiastically. Lena shuffles closer to Kara’s side until she can grip Kara’s whole elbow in her fingers in a vaguely possessive way. 

“Yes, this is Lena,” Kara says, nearly swallowing her tongue. She and Lena are not really touchy, which is not how Kara would prefer it, but Lena is sometimes shy and unsure and one time Kara had hugged her in greeting and Lena had almost cried, so Kara’s been taking it slow. This is the fourth time they’ve touched with this amount of intention today alone. It’s a new record. Maybe Jacksonville wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mon-El,” he grins, looking happy. “Just making a little extra cash before the big day this Sunday. Did you guys just get in?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, grabbing Lena’s suitcase as well as her own and starting to wheel them over to the curb. Mon-El had always hated when she did things that were, per his understanding of the world, things the guy does, which she had on rare occasions found sweet.

It doesn’t matter now, because Kara is swiftly and decisively entering Lena Luthor girlfriend mode. And that includes putting the suitcases in the back of the cab, despite the fact that Lena’s is tagged overweight and nearly breaks her wrist.

When she turns back after shutting the trunk, Lena is smiling at her, and Kara is pretty sure that Jacksonville might really be alright. She takes Lena Luthor girlfriend mode a step further, opening the passenger side door for Lena and waiting gallantly for her to slide in before closing it. 

Mon-El looks giddy when they meet face-to-face at the driver’s side. He points subtly down at the cab and goes, “Dude. Hell yeah.” And then he raises up his hand for a high-five.

When Mon-El hadn’t been the most infuriating boyfriend possible, Kara had liked him. This was one of the reasons why. She smacks her palm into his and then slides into the car, smiling probably dopily over at Lena, who smiles back before digging into her leather tote purse thing and extends, out of nowhere, a fortune cookie.

“I think this is from when we got Chinese last week,” Lena says, shrugging. “If you’re still hungry.”

“I am so hungry, you are the best,” Kara gasps. Lena laughs at her as she pulls the package open and the cab pulls away from the curb. When she cracks it in half, she shoves half of it in her mouth and unfurls the paper. She laughs at what she reads. “It is time you ask that special someone on a date.”

She watches as Lena’s cheeks go a little pink in the lights beginning to whiz by. She’s pretty.

“Oh, Mr. Fortune Cookie, Kara’s already there,” Mon-El says. Lena laughs quietly. Kara reaches out to grasp her hand where it’s clutched in the supple leather of her bag, initiating their fifth consequential touch of the day. Lena looks at her for a long second before she moves to lace their fingers together. 

Jacksonville is gonna be so good. She can feel it.

[bonbonly]

a/n: a little thought to help me get back into writing (because god forbid im allowed to sit down in front of my computer without my family losing their mind asdfasdf), new au alert tho: hollywood!

↪ producer!carlos sainz that's more than willing to sign you onto films only if you showcase your gratitude on your knees. you're more than happy to oblige to help boost your career, but you realize he's slowly starting to see you less and is now more focused on a younger supporting actress, costing you some big films in favor for her.

↪ actor!daniel ricciardo who's still trying to make his big comeback with a good film, but can't stand having to share the screen with you and makes it more apparent when he decides to purposely outshine you in scenes that were made for you. you bite your tongue and play along, knowing you only had a few days left before filming ended.

↪ actor!max verstappen who garners all the praise on set, snapping his fingers and asking you to get his coffee. you tell him repeatedly that you're his co-star, not his assistant, and he slaps his forehead, apologizing and explaining that he just keeps forgetting. you find out later that he was one of the main reasons why you were snubbed from an oscar a few years ago.

↪ actor!charles leclerc that's the fresh face, the pretty boy that came in for an increase in audience viewership as you put it. he smiles at you, saying that's always admired your work but before you can rescind your statement he adds, "just your work, not you, though" and now you're trying all you can to get him fired from set for hurting your ego.

↪ producer!lewis hamilton who always sends you back to producer!carlos despite your pleas to work with someone new because you cannot stand being the second female lead, you want priority! he smirks at you, shaking his head and saying the only way for him to prioritize you is for you to only ever listen to what he demands. his offer isn't very tempting, but you'd rather stick with him than carlos. that was the best choice, right?

↪ director!sebastian vettel that loves to dote on you while filming, praising your skills in front of the other artists who aren't very happy. he loves to guide you through a scene, hands on your hips as he positions you just the way he wants in front of the camera. he likes to inhale your scent, leaving a flirty comment about how amazing you are. you soak all his words, at least someone was giving you the attention you deserved!

↪ retired scriptwriter!nico rosberg who you keep calling to come back into the field so you could work on something together and create an academy award winning film. he's not very thrilled and likes to be left alone, being fed up with the lifestyle of actors and actresses. but when he sees you waiting outside his house in nothing but a fur coat, he might reconsider your proposal. he has some good ideas on what to do with you... scriptwise that is.

↪ film critic!jenson button that loves to write a new article about how your films suck. he gets a kick out of seeing you all riled up, storming into his office at night with a scowl on your face. he twirls his pencil around his fingers, tossing you another critique he wrote. he circles around you, asking if you liked his new paper. when you tell him he better write an apology, or else you'd ruin his career, he shrugs and pulls you onto his lap whispering "we both know the real reason why you even bother to visit me"

↪ retired actor!fernando alonso that's your mentor and hates to see you perform poorly on screen. he lets you come over to his house for some private acting lessons that's only for you and none of the other rookies. most of the time, you're always tangled in his bedsheets, the script for your new movie on the ground. he might be sneaky enough to have his hand on your ass when you walk on the red carpet, telling the media he was just guiding you to the premiere nothing else!

[accio-victuuri]

my thoughts on xz’s spring festival debut and loch 📝

“Every role leaves something in me or takes something away from me. The character of Guo Jing is very powerful. His perseverance and persistence subtly gave me a lot of support and faith later on.” - xiao zhan

just a few disclaimers before i start:

1. i’m a cpf. this is a cpf blog but i also identify as xz and wyb’s career fan. meaning i care about the impact of their works to the general public. i’m tagging this post with xiao zhan on it cause it’s mainly about him, but if you already hate cpfs, then save yourself the trouble and scroll along. if you still read this and wanna say something, do it on your own blog.

2. this is not the place to compare xz and wyb’s spring festival bo debuts. nor is this a place for conspiracies.

3. i haven’t watched loch. i am not well versed in the whole lore behind it.

okay, now i can start 😅😅😅

As soon as XZ was announced to play the role of Guo Jing in Tsui Hark’s new movie — we all knew that it’s a great opportunity and at the same time, a huge responsibility. Legend of The Condor Heroes is a beloved story/franchise with multiple remakes so this movie had to bring something fresh to the audience. Tsui Hark is a celebrated director, but it’s not a guarantee of excellent results. I’m personally not familiar with his works ( yep, cause i’m uncultured lol ) so at the time i was okay, cool. However, i trusted the people both fans and the public who had mostly good things to say.

It was also pretty obvious that this movie will be screened during Spring Festival. It’s a no brainer. A big IP and movie like this should be released during the biggest box office day in China.

You also have Xiao Zhan. The god of wealth. A traffic star who brings in the money and is a talented Actor. He also has a solid and dedicated fanbase.

However, to those of us who are familiar with how the SF box-office works, fans alone cannot sustain it. The key is to capture the General public’s favor to grow the numbers and to get more cinemas to screen your Movie during the SF holiday. They call it “word of mouth” — when people give good reviews, more people will be encouraged to give it a try. If you are someone on SF holiday, you can probably watch 1-2 ( 3 at most possibly ) movies from the lineup. So it’s critical that LOCH will come up as something you would wanna watch based on what you read online ( or offline ) even if it’s not your 1st choice. I was hoping LOCH fans will come in, but i was also afraid cause they will be the most critical. They know the source material, they possibly watched all the iterations, so they will be the toughest to please.

The showing came later than we anticipated but it was fine. Editing and all the special effects always take up most of the time anyway. ✨

Weeks before the holiday, Nezha 2 announced it was gonna join the Spring Festival line up. This alone was a sure bet that this movie was gonna dominate the Box Office. no question. It’s a popular character and a family-friendly film. A first choice kind of movie if you will. There’s also Fengshen Part II with it’s own set of fans and considering how big the first movie earned, you would think they were gonna come back for Part II.

LOCH still prevailed tho, The pre-sale numbers dominated 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

in reality, these are mostly fans. which is not a bad thing at all. having LOCH at the top of the pre sales creates a good buzz around it. if you are someone thinking of what to watch, and don’t know much about the line up, it would be good to pick the most anticipated film 🫶🏼

(this photo does not represent the final numbers before opening)

I wanna add too that this year’s promotion for SF movies is next level. They have really done well in making sure that the public knows what movies are out there for them to watch.

The first day for a movie like LOCH with a big pre-sale will show a small rise because people who wanna see it on Day 1 mostly have bought it already. It was still steady tho, It broke 14 box office records which is mostly for the martial arts genre ✨

There are also mostly positive reviews about XZ’s performance like this one ( i will share more on my blog as they come ) and critics. Which is fine. we know it’s not gonna be all praises anyway. One review that went high up on HS was from Nanfeng daily, which is more of a discussion on the story’s flaws. I won’t share it here anymore, but the article was talking about the weak plot and how the two leads having basically no chemistry. I also looked into this other blogger ( who is pretty consistent with reviews and not just one who popped up lately ) one which I think fairly described the shortcomings —-

The film adapted the content of chapters 34-40 of the original novel. It is a story about the integration of the martial arts world into the post-war world, involving the love line of Guo Jing and Huang Rong + the national war line + the martial arts line. The main part of the martial arts line is the previous situation before the 34th chapter, which is the foreshadowing of love and war. It can't be less, nor more. The question that needs to be considered here is how to explain so many martial arts stories before, flashbacks? Arrange information in the lines? Connect events and insert back? Or is there a more clever method?

As a result, The Legend of the Condor Heroes didn't think so much, and just went straight to the "PPT". The first hour was a long, fragmented and incomplete account of the story, and the two leading actors took turns to read the narration to tell the previous story. This is not called The Legend of the Condor Heroes, but "Reading most of The Legend of the Condor Heroes in x minutes".

This is not enough. I don't know if Tsui Hark is taking revenge on someone. It's already a PPT, and the two protagonists are reading letters to each other in the air, with narration superimposed on narration. The audience is like a class in the first half.

AGAIN. I haven’t watched the movie but I think, i get where this going. It seems to me that the screenwriter should have done better. Xiao Zhan can only do so much hard work and bring in talent, but if the story is all over the place, it’s gonna be hard to market to a random viewer.

As of writing, LOCH is on HS and the topic is about the supposed deleted scenes. Getting rid of those didn’t help the flow of the story obviously. There is a post going around that talks about that I will partly share below:

In the original script, Guo Jing's expedition to the west and return to the south are closely integrated. The complete character arcs of all the main characters in the movie, the Western Expedition is also in the film.

The film has spent a lot of effort and resources to visualize Wu Mu's will, war, and animals. The essence of the play, this entire section was taken away for review, and a lot of the plot needs to be reviewed later. The dubbing of the previous part continues, and some memories and inserts of the previous part are added. The broadcast becomes even more fragmented, resulting in incoherent plots.

Guo Jing experienced the suffering of all living beings in the war, and Huang Rong's role of leading the Beggars' Gang is gone, and the early adaptations make it even more miserable.

Some of the character arcs are incomplete.

Then it goes to talk about the cuts ( censorship ) caused by sensitive subjects that may cause diplomacy issues.

We still have a few more days for things to take a turn and I will update this blog for that. LOCH can also run even beyond this season and get more Box Office numbers. I have to admit this post i’m making is premature cause we are only days in, but by experience, the early days will usually tell you what’s gonna happen moving forward.

( as of writing, nezha leads with 1.5 billion and loch at 500 million )

A few more points:

• The film was promoted heavily around Tsui Hark being the director. It didn’t live up to expectations and this is why some negative reviews are coming. This is such a big production with lots of moving parts and it seems like it didn’t all fit. Some antis are saying that XZ fans are “blaming” again but this time i guess it’s valid. i’m not saying XZ was perfect either, i’m sure there is room for improvement but he can’t fix the story.

• 🍤🍤🍤 were too confident. it’s not a secret that I have no love for these sea creatures but they were boasting a lot. AND NOW HERE WE ARE.

this has always been my frustration. the karma is getting them. but is also directly affecting XZ who worked hard on this film. who didn’t tell them to do these nasty things. i also see people who wouldn’t even consider LOCH cause at some point 🍤🍤🍤 were rude to their bias before.

it’s like, people wanna see the 🍤 fandom fail. not xz. just the nasty 🍤🍤🍤 who offended a lot of people online at some point.

my god. they really don’t deserve XZ 😭😭😭😭

• the issue of unfair screening times and slots are also being brought up by fans. all i have to say is, welcome to the spring festival clownery. welcome to the movie world, you all must be new here. it doesn’t mean people can’t complain and be frustrated. what i’m saying is LOCH isn’t the first movie to experience this. it happens every year. it happens every big film holiday. this is not the land of dramas where streaming and rating works. Movies are different. if there is anything I learned, it’s more vicious.

• some are also complaining about cinemas refunding their tickets saying there is technical issues. only to find out that they are replacing the showing for a different movie. this is so shady 💀 but again, it’s all about the money. T___T

• the theme of the movie is also not popular at the moment. TH was saying it’s time to bring back films & stories like this again. I found this article that explains my point:

Jin Yong is an idol of previous generations. In their eyes, he has gradually become a tall but distant statue. Tsui Hark's embrace of Jin Yong's IP again is an outlet for the film market to seek a breakthrough in the predicament. He tried to add mainstreaming, genre innovation, traffic stars and other means to revitalize Jin Yong's IP. There is a logical component, but there is also the possibility of success and risk.

The younger generation of audiences who are not Jin Yong fans have not actually broken off their understanding of the martial arts spirit, but they have chosen new works as carriers. For example, the audio novel "Snow Sword" labeled as "martial arts novel" has been played 2.92 billion times on a certain platform, which is far more than the number of audio books of Jin Yong's works. To some extent, the "traditional chivalry" written by Jin Yong is quite different from the "cool martial arts" that the new audience likes, which combines magic, games, and VR.

In fact, from the pre-sale results to the current box office results, it can be seen that the market and the audience still have high expectations and sufficient space for martial arts themes. The altruistic spirit and noble character naturally carried by the martial arts spirit will still make young people curious and have a strong desire to follow and imitate. For the filmmakers, the difficulty of the creative challenge is far greater than the market opportunity-the care and empathy for individual growth, the assumption of social responsibility, etc., still need the work to provide a new interpretation.

After Jin Yong passed away, someone said, "It's not the end of an era, it's the beginning of an era." What this sentence means is that the spirit of martial arts will never become obsolete, but it needs to be updated from time to time. In addition to constantly exploring new forms of expression of martial arts, we must also strive to find new soil for the spirit of martial arts to land. Only in this way can the spirit of martial arts remain high and vigorous in the hearts of generations.

• the goal for xz ( and wyb ) is to be popular and liked by the general public. having a solid solo fandom definitely has it perks but situations like this — they should have a good reputation. the movie/drama must also be exceptional for it to “get out of the circle”. a movie they make should not be “a movie for fans” but for everyone to enjoy.

Let me wrap this up with some good news tho, because international fans can make a difference. To the countries that are going to have screenings, you can contribute by watching and sharing your reviews! 💕 it’s the essence of fandom, to enjoy the content and be happy with the experience. it’s too easy to get caught up with the competitive nature of the SF movie season cause it’s a favorite topic on weibo, but it’s better to celebrate Xiao Zhan’s Spring Festival Movie debut 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

I have absolute faith in XZ’s strength as an actor and that time will tell us the truth. right now, the black propaganda is strong cause they have to manipulate public opinion really quick ( i’m not saying all negative reviews are antis but you know what i mean & viewers are expected to be extra critical of XZ cause of how famous he is! ). His talent will shine through. He will have more movies/dramas that are gonna be better than this and we are here to support him. Box-office numbers is not the measure of XZ’s success in playing Guo Jing. I haven’t seen it but knowing XZ’s care for the characters he plays, seeing the training he went through — he did him justice.

-END.

[thollandsgirl2013]

I loved that angst fight one with Peter! Oooh could you do one for Tom? That got me in a angst type mood lol

Hi! It was so easy to come up with angst fic ideas for Peter, but with Tom? I struggled. But finally got something! Hope you like it.

-----------------©®©®©®©-----------------

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰

Parings → Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → Angst, heartbreak, emotional hurt/comfort, reckless behavior, breakup, soft moments, bittersweet, hopeful ending.

Summary → Tom left you, breaking you in the process. Now he’s back, determined to fix what he destroyed—no matter how long it takes.

Tom had thought he was doing the right thing. That’s what he told himself when he looked into your tear-filled eyes and forced the words past his lips.

"I don’t love you anymore."

It was a lie. The biggest one he’d ever told. But he needed to make it believable—needed you to hate him so you wouldn’t wait for him. So you wouldn’t spend years tangled in his life, always second to his career, always struggling under the weight of his fame.

So he left. And for weeks, he convinced himself he made the right choice.

Then he saw you again after a month.

And everything shattered.

---

The party was loud, filled with laughter and music, but Tom barely heard it. His gaze locked onto you the moment he stepped inside.

You looked… different.

Your smile was wide, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Your laughter was too loud, too forced, as if you were trying to prove something to the world.

You didn’t even flinch when some guy leaned in too close, his hand brushing your waist.

Tom’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t you.

The girl he knew would wrinkle her nose at parties like this, complain about overpriced drinks, and tease him about always dragging her into social events.

The girl he loved would never let a stranger’s hand linger on her waist without shoving it away.

Something inside him snapped. Before he could stop himself, he was cutting through the crowd, pushing past bodies until he was standing right in front of you.

Your laughter died the second your eyes met his. But unlike before—where your gaze used to hold warmth, love, something—now there was only indifference.

Like he was just another face in the crowd.

Tom swallowed hard. "Hey."

You blinked. Took a sip of your drink. And then—you walked right past him.

Like he didn’t exist.

His heart clenched painfully, but he wasn’t about to let this go.

He spun on his heel, following you out onto the balcony. "That’s it?" He called after you. "That’s all I get?"

You exhaled, setting your drink down on the railing. "What do you want, Tom?"

He hated the way you said his name. Flat. Emotionless.

"I want to talk," he said, stepping closer. "I—" His throat tightened. "What happened to you?"

Your lips curled into something bitter. "You happened to me."

Tom felt the words like a punch to the gut.

You leaned back against the railing, crossing your arms. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and act like you care?" You let out a dry laugh. "That’s cute."

"I do care." His voice was rough, desperate. "I never stopped caring."

You tilted your head. "Then why did you leave?"

Tom swallowed hard. "I thought I was protecting you."

Your laugh was sharp. "Protecting me? That’s funny, because it felt a hell of a lot like abandonment."

His jaw clenched. "I thought you’d be better off—"

"You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Tom!" You shook your head, blinking away the sting in your eyes. "You broke me. And you didn’t even look back."

Tom felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had done this. He had turned you into this version of yourself—the one who didn’t feel, who didn’t care.

And he hated himself for it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raw. "I know that’s not enough, but I am. I swear, I—" He exhaled sharply. "I'm going to fix this."

Your eyes darkened. "There’s nothing to fix."

He didn’t believe that. Not for a second.

And he wasn’t going to stop until he proved it.

-------

The first package arrived a week later.

You frowned when you saw it sitting at your doorstep. Small. Wrapped neatly. No return address.

Inside was a book.

Not just any book—your book. The one you had wanted for months but never got around to buying.

A small note slipped out from the pages.

I saw this and thought of you. Hope you’re doing okay. – T

You clenched your jaw. Then you tossed the note in the trash.

The second package arrived three days later.

A box of your favorite chocolates. Another note.

Just in case you need something sweet. – T

You shut the box without touching it.

By the time the fourth package arrived—a hoodie that was far too soft to be ignored—you were gripping the note a little too tightly.

I figured you lost mine. This one's just as warm. – T

You stared at the hoodie for a long time.

Then, despite yourself, you put it on.

It smelled like him.

And you hated that it made your chest ache.

The first time he showed up in person, you nearly slammed the door in his face.

"Before you shut the door," Tom blurted, shoving a cup into your hands, "I brought coffee."

You stared at it. Then at him. "You brought coffee?"

"Well, technically, I bought it," he said sheepishly. "But I remembered how you like it, so—"

You narrowed your eyes. "You remembered how I like it?"

Tom looked at you, serious. "I remember everything about you."

Your breath hitched.

But you still slammed the door in his face.

And yet—when you took a sip of the coffee, it was exactly how you liked it.

Damn him.

---

Tom kept showing up.

Sometimes with coffee. Sometimes with flowers. Once, with a stuffed bear that he practically shoved into your arms before you could protest.

You wanted to hate it. Wanted to hate him.

But slowly—painfully slowly—the walls you had built around yourself started to crack.

One night, you finally let him in.

You sat on opposite ends of the couch, the silence heavy.

Tom cleared his throat. "I missed you."

Your fingers curled around the fabric of your hoodie. "You missed me?" You laughed, but it lacked any real amusement. "You left me, Tom."

"I know." His voice cracked. "And it was the worst mistake of my life."

You inhaled sharply, looking away. "You can’t just say things like that."

"But it’s true." His voice was soft. "I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you." He swallowed hard. "And I hate myself for it."

Something inside you twisted painfully.

He had hurt you. Deeply. And you weren’t sure if you could fully forgive him yet.

But the way he was looking at you now—raw, vulnerable, desperate—you knew one thing.

He still loved you.

And despite everything…

You still loved him too.

So when he leaned in—hesitant, as if he was afraid you’d push him away—you didn’t move.

His lips brushed against yours, a whisper of a kiss, barely there.

But it was enough.

Enough to tell you that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t too far gone.

That maybe, with time, with patience, with love—

You could find your way back to each other.

And for the first time in months—you wanted to try.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

[ateliersss]

Call of Duty

...is part of The Bookshelf.

⇨ This is a collection of my favorite fanfics/oneshots on Tumblr I love to re-read once in a while. None of those works belong to me! Feel free to use it as well.

⇨ My own works are here

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Keep You Close Summary: He's pretty sure he's in love with you. Not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it.

Fresh Ink (Series) Summary: You become Ghost’s artist and therapist in a way.

Polaroid Summary: You find a polaroid of yourself in Ghost’s vest.

When I Was Your Man Summary: Ghost regrets breaking up with you after seeing you again.

Little Lady, Big Guns Summary: A new weapons developer catches the eye of many, especially one balaclava wilding man.

Only One Boundary Summary: When it comes to his body, Simon is all ears for anything to do for you. However, he only has one boundary that he’s hesitant to compromise with now.

An Old Siren Song Summary: You're injuried on a mission early in you and ghost careers' and it affects him even 6 years later.

Lonely Summary: After Simon had left for his next mission, you were faced with the biggest challenge of your life and you had to get through that all by yourself.

Faking Summary: As the mission goes on, you are forced to fake your death, hurting the man you love most.

Fell Into You (Series) Summary: Ghost isn’t looking for anything and neither are you. But when a mission goes wrong, throwing you two together, where will things go from here?

The Little Things Summary: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141’s Medic, and the one time he gets an answer.

Little Treasures, Life's Pleasures Summary: Now that Soap knows when to pay attention, he realizes you and Ghost aren’t as subtle as you think you are.

Life's Little Comforts Summary: Soap finally gets a better glimpse into your relationship with the Lieutenant- even if it’s not the way he wants.

Our Little Secret Summary: Soap finally gets all of his answers- and then some.

Interrupted Part 1, Part 2 Summary: When your make-out session gets interrupted, you shield Simon's face with your hands.

Zombie!Ghost Summary: Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

Hate You Summary: Ghost seemed to despise you, making a mission you have to do together much tenser than it ever had to be…

Cat Got Your Tongue? Summary: Ghost thought you hated him, but he had no idea why. He didn't remember ever doing anything to cross you. When you're stuck doing a mission alongside him, he gets curious enough to finally ask.

Bad Day Summary: After a bad mission, Simon comes back and takes his pain out on you.

To Be Alive In Summer Summary: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

If You Bite My Hand Again Summary: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years? How dare you still find it in yourself to love him?

Untitled Summary: You, a civilian, kills someone out of self defense for the first time.

'Til It Ends Part 1, Part 2 Summary: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

We Both Know Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who protects you from your creepy neighbor

Simon "Ghost" Riley accidentally yelling at you Headcanon

Being Yelled At By Ghost Part 1, Part 2

Confessions

Sleepless Night

Don't Make A Habit Of Dying

Call Sign

Kindergarten Troubles Part 1, Part 2

Imagine going to sleep as 09 Ghost’s widow only to wake up next to reboot Ghost Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Captain John Price

The Traces He Left Behind Summary: You had never expected the dog tags to be so heavy, but, now, as they sit in your hands they’re just about the heaviest object you’ve ever held. M.I.A doesn’t mean John’s dead… but it might as well.

Baby Blues Summary: The promise of a normal Sunday is lost when your door is torn open, and, you, kidnaped. All you can do is pray that John finds you in time.

Let Me Lean On You Summary: You have a bad habit of putting yourself in harm’s way, enraging John to no end. But can you survive a wound like this? Or will everything you hate to love about John Price never see the light of day?

First Kiss Summary: It makes you want to laugh, it’s not how you’d envisioned your first kiss would go; you had hoped it would be romantic or passionate. Instead it was desperate battle of trying to breathe life back into John without ever having told him about your feelings.

Our Remains Summary: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Cheating Heart Summary: Your feeling for John were wrong - horribly wrong - but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore?

See No Evil Summary: The flowers came every week - Tuesday, two O’clock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they weren’t coming from John.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Shaky Fingers Summary: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

Reveries Of A Lost Lamb Summary: Tempers flare when it hits the seven-day mark. Could they all be sure you were even still alive?

Gossamer Silk Smiles Summary: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up. 

A Little Small Talk, A Smile, And Baby I Was Stuck Summary: When Soap mentions the new medic, Gaz doesn’t think much of it. 

Keegan P. Russ

(Don't) Go To War Summary: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.

First Strike Summary: Keegan had always captured your attention. You've found out that maybe that's the best and worst thing to happen to you.

König

The Invisible String Theory Summary: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either.

Moths Hit The Window Summary: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

Overflow The Stars Summary: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Vladimir Makarov

The Great War Summary: Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

No Title Summary: You have an encounter with a creepy guy.

No Title Summary: You are pregnant with Makarov's child and someone is stupid enough to mess with you.

Valeria Garza

Back When I Loved You Summary: It's been years since you had been stationed in Las Almas, returning opens some old wounds you hadn't realized never healed.

Tolerate It, Tolerate Losing Me, You Lost Me, You're On Your Own, Kid

Valeria Garza

[xoeroticaxo]

THE TRIPLETS RANT

I've been watching the triplets for a substantial amount of time, and I have enjoyed their content. I haven't been very active on Tumblr, but I enjoy reading and interacting with other posts surrounding them. However recently I noticed their content take a nose dive. Quality over quantity seemed like a promising thing, however this is not the case. The quality of their videos have, in my opinion, have gotten worse in content quality. the only thing that's gotten better is the thumbnails :/ I honestly feel like we give them so much, and in return get a kinda mid video that feels like a constant repeat of what they've done before. Please don't give me hate when I say this, because I do love these people, but I've come to this realization. As much as we love them, it feels like they really don't love us. They love our views, and money that we give them through overpriced merch with low quality material, or chapstick that could be bought at a drug store for ten bucks. What about lower middle class/ lower class fans who can't afford this? They love that we are buying overpriced tour tickets, and they love we are paying their bills. In return we get the bare minimum People can tell me to be grateful for them, but it is hard to be grateful for below the bare minimum content, and disconnected online personalities. I do not know what it is like in their shoes, and it is understandable to take their personal lives and mental health seriously. They should. But if them posting a 25 minute video once a week damages their mental health, and puts a large strain on their life then this career choice doesn't even make sense anymore.

Now, they aren't going to be posting every Friday on tour, but assure us that we will get content in different ways. How can we even be so sure, when they said that they would have more social media presence when cutting out Monday and Wednesday videos (and didn't). I feel like they have lost their selves to mindless videos that will get them just enough money to live comfortably. Or, maybe they are finding themselves and this is how they truly are. Lazy influencers who feel they are entitled to the one sided love that we give them. One thing that is kind of off from this whole conversation that I find is important is nick, and what he has been aloud to get away with. He calls women dumb bitches, and people glaze over that because he's gay, so it automatically makes it okay. It doesn't, and as a woman I can't see how many other women could disregard that just because they are fans. I love these boys truly, but I think they need to take their fans' point of view into consideration so they can improve. Not get angry, and "clock" their fans for being disappointed with their content that used to be so more genuine.

[fkinkindagauche]

The Indiana Lakers

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo prompts, one from my main card for Round One (prompt: trinket) and one from my Twelve Days of Christmas Mini-Event card (prompt: make-up sex). Thanks to the @strangerthingswritersguild server for help coming up with a bad gift!

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,341 | CW: None | Tags: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, gift-giving

Read on AO3

"Are you serious right now?" Steve's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He looked down at the yellow and purple jersey, emblazoned across the back with "BRYANT" and the number 8.

"I was pretty proud of myself for remembering," Eddie beamed, completely misinterpreting Steve's tone of voice.

Steve was speechless for a few moments, glaring down at the jersey. "Eddie," he huffed.

Eddie's face fell. He seemed to finally be catching on to the fact that Steve wasn't happy with him. "This is the guy you like, right? He scores a lot of points really fast?"

Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. "I like the Pacers, Eddie. Reggie Miller. This jersey is for the Lakers. You know, the team that beat my team in the NBA finals in June."

"Shit," Eddie muttered. "Why do they have almost the same exact team name?"

Steve took a deep breath, trying to quell his knee-jerk reaction to scream in frustration.

He'd started Christmas morning in a bad mood, and this certainly wasn't helping. He was one of the on call scrub nurses over the holidays again and had been called in late the night before for an emergency appendectomy. He'd barely gotten any sleep. Plus, they were going to Steve's parents' for Christmas dinner in a few hours. That would have been enough to put him in a bad mood even if he had slept. He was dreading the hours filled with thinly veiled criticisms of his career choice and repeated complaints about the lack of grandchildren.

And now this. He knew he couldn't expect Eddie to care as much about sports as he did, but this was a pretty egregious error. Buying Steve a jersey not just for the wrong team, but for the team that had stolen the NBA championship from Steve's team. As Steve cataloged the morning's mental wounds, he lost control of his temper.

"Do you ever actually listen when I talk?" he snapped. "We've been together for ten years now! Basketball is very important to me! How can you still not know my team?"

Hurt flashed across Eddie's face. He leaned away from Steve. "I- I'm sorry, Stevie. You know I mix up letters and stuff sometimes."

"This isn't just mixing up letters!" Steve persisted, unable to pull himself back now that he'd gotten riled up. "There's colors and logos and player names. Also, you could have just asked an employee wherever you got it which team was from Indiana!"

Eddie frowned. "Steve. Maybe we should talk about this after you've gotten some sleep."

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie," Steve yelled. He hated it when Eddie got all reasonable like this when they argued, treating him like he was some kind of child throwing a tantrum. He balled up the jersey and threw it in Eddie's face. Then he stood up and walked to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Steve sank to the floor and leaned back against the door, thunking his head against the wood. He was crying, ugly tears with all sorts of snot. He had a tendency to cry at the slightest inconvenience when he was exhausted. The tears usually upset him more, and he'd spent most of his life trying to shut them off as soon as they started. But this time he let them come, trying to ride the waves of his emotions like he'd talked about with his therapist.

After a few minutes, he calmed down. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, scanning down his body and cataloging all the little sensations to ground himself.

As he settled down, he felt embarrassed. It would be nice if Eddie paid a little more attention to Steve's sports-related interests, but the intensity of Steve's reaction to the present hadn't been great.

Just as he was about to get up and go apologize, he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Stevie?" Eddie called through the door. "Can I come in, baby?"

Steve opened the door. Eddie's face was pinched with worry. Steve started to sob again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie crooned, pulling Steve into his arms and guiding them over to sit on the bed. "I'm so sorry."

Steve gasped through his tears. "N-no! I'm sorry, Eddie. I- I was so mean. I'm h-horrible!" Steve was hiccuping now. He buried his face in Eddie's long hair.

Eddie stroked up and down Steve's back, gently shushing him as Steve continued to mutter nonsense into his hair through hiccups. Eventually, Steve quieted down.

"Thanks for apologizing for snapping at me," Eddie said. "But I am really sorry I fucked up with the jersey, Steve. You're right, I should try to listen to you more when you're really excited about sports things. You always listen when I talk about music."

Steve sat back, wiping the tears and snot off of his face. He gave Eddie a watery smile. "Thanks, Eddie," Steve whispered.

Steve noticed that Eddie was holding something in the hand that hadn't been rubbing his back. "What's that?" he asked, cocking his head.

Eddie followed Steve's eyes. He seemed surprised to realize he still had something in his hand. "Oh. This is your other present." He handed Steve a wrapped flat box.

Steve took the box from him. It was heavier than it looked. He unwrapped it and opened the box to reveal an antique gold pocket watch. It was beautiful, and still told time accurately.

"This is lovely, Eddie," Steve gushed. He flipped it over. On the back was inscribed "Edward Munson, 1880". He frowned at the inscription, looking up at Eddie.

"It was my great grandfather's," Eddie explained. "I'm named after him. Wayne found it in a box he'd had in storage forever. It only needed a little work to get it going again. I know it's just a little trinket, and I didn't even have to pay for it, but you like old stuff so much, so I thought you'd appreciate it." He looked unsure of himself, like Steve might reject this gift, too. Fuck, Steve felt like an asshole.

He threw his arms around Eddie, squeezing him tight in a hug. "This is the best present anyone's ever given me," Steve insisted, tears starting to build in his eyes again.

Eddie laughed. "Okay, well, maybe you're over-correcting your gift response a little too much there, big boy."

Steve leaned back to look at Eddie. "I'm serious," he insisted. "It's beautiful and thoughtful and a piece of you."

Eddie blushed. "I'm glad you like it."

Steve turned his attention back to the watch in his hands, flipping it over and looking at it from different angles. "I really do feel like a dick," Steve whispered.

Eddie reached out to still Steve's hands. Steve looked up. Eddie pulled one of Steve's wrists to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the soft skin there. "It's okay, sweetheart. I know you're tired and stressed about your parents."

Steve shivered as Eddie's lips brushed over his skin. He'd always assumed at some point Eddie's touch would start affecting him less, but they were ten years in and he was still hopelessly horny for the man after a chaste wrist kiss.

He put the watch to the side and pulled his hand from Eddie's grip. He clambered onto Eddie's lap, pushing at his chest to get him to lay back on the bed. Steve leaned over to kiss Eddie, tongue snaking into his mouth. He pressed his hardening cock to Eddie's through the thin layers of their pajama pants, and could feel Eddie's cock responding in kind.

"Oh, okay," Eddie laughed when Steve broke the kiss. "Wasn't expecting quite this reaction to the watch, but I'm loving it."

Steve pulled Eddie's shirt up, exposing the pale skin of his belly, a light dusting of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. Steve reverently kissed the skin just below his belly button, a brush of his lips in one of his favorite places. Eddie shivered.

Steve pulled down Eddie's pants, releasing his hard cock, precum beading at the tip.

"Steve, you don't have to give me an apology blowie," Eddie huffed.

Steve glared up at him. "It's not an apology blowie. It's a Christmas present for me, the man who loves to suck your cock."

Eddie smiled fondly down at him, cupping his cheek and then tracing a thumb over his bottom lip. Steve opened his mouth, sucking in Eddie's thumb while he maintained eye contact.

"Alright, then," Eddie breathed. "Be my guest."

Steve let go of Eddie's thumb and leaned forward. He stuck his nose in the crease of Eddie's thigh, inhaling his musky scent, so strong here. He paused for a moment, enjoying being surrounded by the warmth and smell of Eddie.

Turning his head, he kissed the base of Eddie's cock. He kissed his shaft again and again, moving up the length until he reached the tip. He licked the precum from Eddie's slit and sucked the head into his mouth.

Eddie moaned, hands coming to Steve's hair. He grabbed handfuls of it and tugged gently, just the way Steve liked.

Steve worked Eddie's cock into his mouth, getting used to the sensation as he slowly took in more and more of his length. He pressed up with his tongue as he maintained firm suction. More precum flooded his mouth, salty and bitter.

Steve drew in a deep breath and swallowed as he took Eddie all the way into his mouth. His eyes watered as Eddie's cock pushed into his throat, a different kind of tear than before rolling down his cheeks.

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie moaned, hands tightening in Steve's hair. Steve pulled off, gasping in a deep breath. A string of saliva connected his lips to the head of Eddie's cock.

"I want you to fuck me," Steve said. "Hard. Wanna still feel it when I sit down for dinner at my parents'."

Eddie closed his eyes and groaned. "Shit. Okay."

Steve scrambled to take off his clothes, throwing his shirt and sweats across the room. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and was in the process of squirting some onto his fingers to hastily open himself up when Eddie stole it from him.

"No, I'm gonna do that," Eddie insisted, voice a low rumble. He was naked now, too. "Lay down on your stomach."

A thrill ran through Steve's body straight to his balls. He complied quickly with Eddie's request, pressing his face into his pillow.

Eddie draped his body over Steve's, kissing him between his shoulder blades. He moved down Steve's back, covering what felt like every inch of Steve's skin in kisses as he went.

Steve sighed as Eddie's hands cupped his ass cheeks, spreading them apart. Eddie blew across Steve's rim, making it flutter, then licked over it. He licked Steve like he was the world's most delicious ice cream cone, all firm pressure and wet saliva. Steve keened as Eddie's tongue breached his rim, pushing in gently past the tight muscle.

Steve pressed himself against Eddie's mouth shamelessly. Eddie fucked him slowly with his tongue for what seemed like hours, Steve wiggling his hips and whining for more.

Finally, a finger came up to join the tongue. It slid in easily, Steve's hole wet and relaxed from Eddie's tongue. It was quickly followed by a second finger. Eddie curled his fingers, rubbing against Steve's prostate. He continued to lick around his fingers, keeping everything wet and messy.

"Please, Eddie, please," Steve begged, panting. "I'm ready, I swear, just fuck me."

Eddie laughed against Steve's ass but otherwise ignored him, continuing to lick and finger him with no sign of stopping.

"Eddieeeee," Steve pleaded, pressing his ass even more firmly into Eddie's face. "I need you."

Eddie could never resist that. He pulled his fingers out of Steve, grabbing a pillow to shove beneath Steve's hips. Steve heard Eddie uncapping the lube, then felt Eddie's cock press against his entrance. He slid into Steve slowly as he pressed kisses over Steve's shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Once he bottomed out, he pressed his forehead to the middle of Steve's back, breathing in deep. He eventually started to move, slowly and gently. It felt amazing, but it wasn't what Steve needed right now.

"I want to feel it, Eddie," Steve whined.

Eddie huffed a laugh against his back. "Alright, princess." He shifted to kneel between Steve's legs, using his hands to pull Steve's hips up off the bed and into the air. He moved one leg to the side and forward to brace himself up on his foot, then began to fuck into Steve in earnest.

"Yesssss," Steve hissed as Eddie pounded into him. His grip on Steve's hips was firm, hard enough to leave bruises. He yanked Steve back onto his cock over and over again as he thrust hard into him.

Steve let out staccato curses and encouragements, another one punched out of him every time Eddie thrust. Eddie was pummeling his prostate now, and Steve was well on his way to coming with his dick untouched.

"You're so fucking perfect, Stevie," Eddie panted. "Gonna cum inside you, fill you up, make you mine." As if Steve wasn't already completely and utterly Eddie's.

"Fucking yes, baby, fill me up," Steve screamed.

Eddie growled and thrust even harder. Steve came with a yelp, spurting cum all over the sheets, his ass clamping down on Eddie's cock. After just a few more thrusts, Eddie came with a grunt, burying himself deep inside of Steve.

Eddie shook through his orgasm, eventually pulling Steve onto his side to spoon him. He kissed Steve's shoulders, and Steve could tell from the pattern of the kisses that Eddie was giving a kiss to each one of his moles.

"I love you, baby," Steve mumbled, stroking the fine hairs on Eddie's arm wrapped around his waist.

"Even though I thought the Indiana Lakers were a thing?" Eddie asked.

Steve snorted. "Yeah. Even after that."

[petercushingscheekbones]

david tennant on off menu thoughts (i'm still pinching myself over this)

Love how David started off the podcast by slagging off a prop lamp (?) (then admitted he's worked with way worse *cough* *cough* dw)

David talked about using the real skull of André Tchaikowsky for Hamlet and he sounds soo excited and James and Ed got soo excited about it too (also david thinks it'd be a cool idea to donate his own skull to be used in a play)

Dr Pepper better give David a commission for all the promotion he's doing

David is right, bread is supreme

Love how James tries to sneak in a shitty regeneration joke about the bread changing and David straight up ignores him. multiple times. (like five times)

David liking snail (even though it is a posh wanker - his words - thing) may convince me to forgive him for hating sushi

I'm beginning to think David Tennant maybe missed a career as a food blogger, he can make whatever he talks about sound so delicious (although he did spend more time talking about the garlic butter and the plate than the actual escargot)

David not getting the weed references made by Kendrick Lamar made my day

David talked about having done a cooking show with his dad that his dad was a fan of, and it was so sweet

Love that James is such a fan of Kilgrave as a villain he just had to randomly bring it up (also Ed saying he set up a timer to see how long it would take James to mention it)

I kinda want to go to a Burn's Night thing now (also wdum Scottish people actually toast a sausage? i'm loving the descriptions of it though)

slightly irrelevant thought but they seem to be getting on so well, can James and Ed convince David to do taskmaster? (I have one secret agenda and it's called 'get david tennant on taskmaster')

James and David should totally do that documentary. actually they whatever they want to together. I would kill to see them do literally anything together

Ed made it a point to talk about and praise stellar David's tongue work as barty crouch jr (and then there was a lot of discussion about tongue)

potatoes!!!!! (he's right he's so right potatoes are amazing)

I'm just thinking of Stanley Tucci recommending David Tennant fancy wine and in turn David saying "so Stan, this is what you can do with a Mars bar" (he is scotttish after all) (I can't wait for the stanley tucci ep of his podcast)

David wanting Georgia to join him for his meal and then when given the option of having anyone else from all of history to join him as well, saying that he doesn't want to share a meal with anyone but Georgia😳

(also James and Ed invited themselves for dessert, can't help but imagine them third wheeling dt and gt)

David's choice of dessert - butterscotch angel delight with chunks of Mars bars and James' enthusiasm to try it out, reminds me of that time he (james) ate an entire pint of ice cream on tv

David ending the episode by calling James a wanker..

[sabotourist]

Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

[mamirhodessxox]

Could you please write a Cody Rhodes fic where author!OC and Cody have broken up because he's on the road all the time and OC doesn't see a future but then Cody realises he can't live without her and so surprises her and proposes?

YESYEYSYEYSYES I’MM TWEEAAKIIINN AAARRHH WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

His Strange Addiction

part 2

Cody Rhodes x Fem Wrestler!OC (Melina Reyz)

Desc: Cody & Melina have had years worth of chemistry, Literally since 2010 up to Today, Cody & Melina had split off their relationship in 2015 due to him being on the road almost constantly & barely got to see her, but it wasn’t very affective for Melina like he thought it would be, because of the issue they had with their relationship she didn’t think there would be a future between them but she still had love for him. Melina has had a history with wrestling as much as Cody has & recently got signed in with WWE & barely paid any attention to Cody half of the time but Cody had been fixated on her since she stepped foot into the company.

Contents: Angst?? Fluff, Milena serving cunt, Cody begging on his knees for her back, Foul language, Drinking, Violence, etc etc. (Hope you don’t mind but smut won’t be included in this FF since I still need to work on writing smut plus i want this to be wholesome <3)

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Cody knew since the moment he called it quits with Milena that it would be an instant regret, he hated the fact that she would live her life without him present, he wouldn’t be there for her success, but he had no choice, he loved her with his entire soul & will to live but he didn’t want her to be stuck in a relationship where her partner wouldn’t even be present for anything over 24 hours.

It had officially been 9 years since the split up between Milena & Cody and he was absolutely MISERABLE, He legit did not want to feel the touch of another woman since Milena. He hated nothing more than the fact that he couldn’t have this woman near him for the rest of his life, it had gotten to the point where he was convinced he was trapped in some sort of Stevie nicks like love-spell.

Meanwhile Milena was doing fine, She was sad about it but at the same time what can you do!? She barely saw Cody, did it suck? Absolutely, but was she going to mope about it forever? Fuck no, she had things to do, a life to live & a career to focus on, after the breakup she was signed with AEW but as of recent? WWE just signed a contract with her, of course she would have to see Cody at some point in her life, it was to be expected, given the fact that were under the same company and wrestling entertainment business? Of course she would see him but she couldn’t focus on him.

Unfortunately for him, he had no fucking clue until he saw you walk past him backstage with Liv Morgan, at first he thought he was having a hallucination “what the fuck?” He muttered and turned towards Jey uso pointing in Milenas direction “You saw her to right?” Jey looked at him as if Cody was stupid “Are you fucking dumb? Of course I did.” He shook his eyed and walked off while Cody just stood there confused muttering to himself “When the fuck did she sign with WWE?”

Meanwhile she sat in Livs dressing room & helped her out with tightening her belt while starting conversation with Milena “Alright i’m just gonna address the elephant in the entire arena in the room, we all know about your history with Cody so why did you decide to contract with WWE if you knew you would see him almost every day of your life?”

Milena chuckled “Our breakup from over 9 years ago won’t determine my career path, I signed with WWE because they could offer me more benefits than AEW, Cody is the least of my concerns right now.” She addressed Liv’s comment before standing up straight. While adjusting her own outfit. “Good luck out there later Liv.” The WWE decided to mess with the split up between Cody & Milena by having Milena come out from backstage with Roman before his match against Cody.

Just as Cody finished his entrance in the ring Milena & Roman made the grand entrance, Cody looked at Milena directly in the eyes completely ignoring whatever roman was saying but he then heard his final sentence “I’m gonna let Milena decide what happens to your monkey ass tonight, Should he take a look at the championship or get his ass kicked.” Cody looked directly at Roman & Scoffed while Milena took the microphone “How polite of you roman thank you, really, but I think, since the American Nightmare himself likes to act all big and bad! Isn’t that right Cody? Then I think you should, Kick his ass.”

She announces while adjusting her women suit & Blowing a kiss at Cody before exiting the ring & strutting off into the backstage area of the Arena.

She knew this would have irked Cody she knew if it pissed him off enough he would beat the living hell out of roman & win the match & that’s EXACTLY why she did it, so he could win by his own anger.

She looked around for his dressing room while he was up in the ting & soon found it so she sat in there with here leg over the other in a chair, she watched the match through the TV in the room & smiled lightly as her plan was working,

After a good 30 minutes Cody stormed in his dressing room slamming the championship belt on the couch she sat next to & caught a quick glimpse of her & scoffed before leaning against the vanity looking at her through the mirror “Your a real piece of work you know that Mills?”

Milena rolled her eyes “A ‘thank you for helping me win and get my bullshit story to the beginning of the end’ would be fucking great Cody.” He glared and turned over to face her properly “You’re so full of yourself that it’s goddamn ridiculous.” She let out a fake laugh and stood up “oh I’M full of myself? Okay awesome let’s discuss the fact you dumped me because you were too famous & busy to actually give a shit, Your a fucking hound dog cody, a fucking DOG you’re not a man, you’re not the American Nightmare your a pathetic fucking hound dog!”

Cody glared at her once more and pointed his finger in her face “Watch your fucking mouth.” She squinted and before she could get a word out & talk back she found herself pushed up against a wall being kissed by Cody, for a few moments it was just pure making out but she soon pushed him off & cleared her throat “I gotta go.” And before he could even protest she was already out the door & leaving him in his lonesome.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-•-•--•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

The weekend soon rolled by & Milena had just arrived to Vegas for another wwe event being held and she immediately searched up and down, side to side for Cody. She looked around the locker rooms & saw him with Jey so she cleared her throat causing the two to give her their full attention “Um- If it isn’t a problem may I borrow Cody for a moment? I’ll give him back.” Jey nodded and pushed Cody towards Milenas direction, she grabbed his arm and turned a corner “Look I just want to talk about last wee-“ Cody held up a hand

“Let me guess, this is what you’re gonna tell me right?” He cleared his throat and started speaking in a high pitched tone “oh gosh, Cody, I’m really sorry for Running out on you last week, and I loved making out last week. Maybe we can try it again soon tonight in your bed?’ Absolutely, sweetheart I’m more than happy to accommodate your needs and do as you please.” Milena crossed her arms with an unimpressed expression “You’re not funny Cody, seriously.” He smiled teasingly and pressed her up against the wall “Oh but you love me don’t you sweetheart? It’s alright to admit it, I’m an irritating irresistible bastard aren’t I doll?”

Milena sighed and placed her hand against his cheek “Cody I can’t be with you, we both know this, you called the shots on that 9 years ago.” He frowned and pressed his hand against her “Baby that was 9 years ago, this is today, just let me redeem myself to you, please?”

She sighed as he crouched down onto his knees and looked up at her with pleading eyes as his hands ran up her thighs placing a kiss on-top of them “You have no fucking idea how psychotic I am without you sweetness, I feel like a goddamn lunatic without you.” Milena let out a soft hum and ran her fingers through his hair “Goddamnit Cody-“ he looked up at her but before they could do anything they heard a door shut and Cody shot up to his feet & smiled at her. “Meet me in my bus tonight alright? You can even ride with me to California & I can make it worth your while.” She huffed and nodded.

Later that night Milena knocked on his shuttle & the driver opened up the door with a smile “Ah!! There you are, Cody’s been waiting for you, he should be back there.” She smiled respectfully and walked in and went into the tiny little built in room & made eye contact with Cody “I hope you know I don’t plan on having sex with you right now.” He shrugged and grabbed her head “I don’t want sex sweetheart, that’s not the goal here.” For some reason she felt almost relieved hearing that.

“Look I know I fucked up big time breaking up with you but it wasn’t because I fell out of love, I just didn’t want to force you into staying in a relationship where I couldn’t be there for you when needed, that’s not fair to you.” He had a point, “I understand Cody I do I just- I don’t want to get my hopes up.” He frowned and cupped her face into his hands “You won’t baby I won’t do that to you ever again, we could be a team, you could go where I go now, hell we could even be in tag team matches together, all that matters is I will be yours, forever, nobody else , yours, my heart is you my goddamn soul is yours everything involving me including my goddamn body is all yours.” She sighed out and grazed her lips against his “I’m going crazy right now Cody..” he held the back of her head and stared down at her even though they were already close enough “I’ve been going insane since we split sweetheart so welcome to my world.”

She chuckled and smashed her lips up against his & laid down on the bed with him while the shuttle started driving.

The next day you were already in L.A, The show wasn’t starting until Atleast 6pm so she had enough time to walk around & spend the day with Cody at Santa Monica pier, But for the first half of the day he had to do press conferences so he decided to meet up with her at the beach, Milena wore some shorts a bikini top & some glasses while walking around but soon came across a daily news paper being sold, & immediately saw her & Cody’s face on the front of the paper & slowly picked it up & Smirked with a light scoff before pulling out her phone as one of the quotes said in black bolding “Is Milena Reyz Cody Rhodes strange addiction??” she snapped a picture of it and set the paper down before continuing her walk down the beach looking at a few stores before realizing Cody had snuck up on her with a plastic bag with what seemed to be burritos inside.

“Excuse me miss! I’m looking for a brunette woman the size of a midget have you seen her?” Milena took off her glasses & turned towards Cody with her middle finger out “wow so original, you’re hilarious, truly.” He chuckled and wrapped an arm over her shoulders as they both made their way to the sand & sat down “Got you your favorite, knew you liked California burritos so I got you one.” She smiled as he dug through the bag and gave her the burrito & then soon held a ring out in front of her.

“Cody-“ he covered her mouth and shook his head “No let me speak, Listen I know it’s soon but if we make this official today we can still count the last 9 years of us being together and just forget about the breakup, Milena my entire existence revolves around you, I only think about you. I am fucking addicted to you, so please for the love of god baby just take the damn ring put it on your pretty little finger & make me your husband or I swear to god I will book myself into a psyche ward because I am going fucking crazy without you.”

Milena felt her breath hitch & she started crying and laughing at the same time “You fucking idiot I can’t believe you’re proposing to me with a damn burrito & a ring.” She sniffled and kissed him passionately while he slipped the ring on her finger & laughed against her lips “Goddamnit I am so fucking in love with you.” He muttered while pulling her close as he couldn’t wait to start this freshly new chapter with his only girl in the world.

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @puppy-princ3ss @valkyrurr @alyyaanna @niknakbucks92 @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

A/N: HII nonnie!! I hope you enjoyed! I didn’t add smut in this one since i’m still practicing on how to write smut but I hope it was good nevertheless :))

[ourbeloved1011]

Yibo is a straight man who has publicly stated countless times he’s a straight man, and he has denied cp countless times since 2019. So he’d never address a gay rumor lol. Not only would that be shameful but it would bring unnecessary and unwanted attention to him especially in a largely homophobic country like China and it’s government. As for xiao zhan he will continue leeching on Yibo because while the former’s career has stalled since 2020, Yibo continues to go higher and higher and make a name for himself in every industry that interests him (film, dance, racing, fashion, skateboarding, motorcycle, etc.). Maybe you dirty turtles will finally wake up when one of them gets married? Although it’s well known that xiao zhan is currently dating his jingjing manager. <3

I see what you're trying to do here, solo fan 🏍️Thanks for dropping by ☺️

I bet you know everything about xiao zhan, I guess? 🤔 Do you know him personally? Otherwise, you won't be spreading hate against him confidently here.

I don't have issue with solo fan. Solo fan have all my respect as long as you don't incite & encourage hatred in society.

Xz leeches on wyb? You got it wrong. They are mutually leeching on each other 🤣

No offense but your fav doesn't even know you exist. Why bother to be useless keyboard warrior? I hope you will be sued for your hateful comments one day 🫶🏻

"Yibo has publicly stated countless time he's a straight man" - he did mention this before. However, no one in their right mind will come out publicly & announce "well, actually- not really."

He's a public figure. I'll use back your word -especially in a largely homophobic country like China. Why need to self-destruct?

Personally, let me repeat this again, in my personal opinion, wyb doesn't like guy in general but xz is an exception.

I don't know if yibo is a straight guy or was a straight guy & I can neither confirm nor deny anything. Only yibo knows the truth behind his words.

Yibo: hey, I'm a straight man too.

Also yibo: 🤝🏻🫰🏻☺️😘😛😉👀 at xz. Shamelessly say I love you.

Yibo's double standard can be seen clearly when it comes to xz. What an extreme way to tease a friend. I see.

If you can't watch xz, it's ok. Just focus on yibo. Especially his eyes cos eyes never lie.

As for xz- he can date whoever he wants to. I don't own him. I don't have any right to decide on it.

Once again, I will never know for sure if yizhan is a real thing. I'm not their parent or family or close friend. There's no way- me, as a mere fan knows 100% what is real and what is not.

Some 🐢 say they will be seen together in public in 2026. To be honest, I don't even trust that 2026 prediction 😂

For me, let's say they aren't together now, at least, at some point, they did have a crush on each other esp yibo. He's wearing his heart on his sleeve 😂

Their happiness is everything. Whether they end up together or with someone else. It's their life.

That's how I see it and it's plenty enough for me. However, I've made a choice to believe that both of them are doing fine & their relationship is still going strong until today.

On what basis?

Actually, they don't have to prove to the world if they are in relationship. Somehow, they kindly leave some hidden traces to decipher from time to time. It's still ongoing.

Call it what you want. Throwing 🍬 or fanservice or leeching onto one another 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thought solo fans dont trust 🍬 ? Then please don't make fuss out of them. Let us, the dirty 🐢 enjoy & make a fool of ourselves.

Again, either one of them gets married to someone else or marry each other or never marry at all. It doesn't have anything to do with you. Your approval or your words mean nothing.

Don't act like you are the mighty one. Acting like you are on the 'right side'.

So please. Don't say to others to wake up.

You. Please. Wake up first.

We are just an unknown fan.

[velvees-archive]

save for the dual destinies dlc case, i’ve finished my first play through of the mainline ace attorney games. incredibly solid series. i have a draft with my thoughts on each case in the aj trilogy + game ratings. dunno if i’d wanna post it though, it’s kinda long.

so instead, i’ll post some misc thoughts about phoenix and edgeworth portrayals across mainline/aai + my personal favorite interpretations of them by the writing team!

spoilers for AA mainline and AAI duology

by far, my favorite phoenix portrayal is og trilogy phoenix. the way he interacts with his environment and the people around him is very authentic, albeit rude as hell (which, in hindsight, is even more authentic for phoenix, so…). saw someone’s tumblr post mention that phoenix is such a “straight guy” which…yeah LMAO. real to life accuracy, so much so it’s infuriating. i think what i’ve played of dd’s dlc case captures what i wanted to see from post-trilogy phoenix in that he’s still an asshole and comically stupid, but not actually stupid, if ykwim. something i disliked abt the rest of aa5 and aa6 is how the writing team watered his character down to the following two oversimplifications: “phoenix only wins cases bc he bluffs!” and “uhh...what evidence does phoenix present now?”

don’t mistake a silly man for a stupid man. mia calls phoenix a genius in the og trilogy. phoenix dives in head first but he’s meticulous when it comes to drawing out the truth. most of all, he doesn’t outwardly show how frazzled he is (see that one drew misham quote about phoenix quietly watching the court as he’s accused of forging evidence), even if he feels that way. i get the colorful usage of expressions is for comedic effect but it just makes him look like he doesn’t know wtf he’s doing, and that’s a disservice to his character. yes, he bluffs, but he isn’t clueless. anyway, i’m excited to replay the first trilogy now that i “know” second trilogy phoenix. that might also just be my way of saying “give me back MY phoenix”, bc the last time i’m (mostly) on board w his portrayal is in aa4, and even then i didn’t like the dialogue in his forged evidence trial.

*though, as of writing this, i’ve seen some good arguments abt his forged evidence trial dialogue that make me think ok maybe it was actually pretty accurate. let’s see wht i think on replay

on the other hand, my favorite edgeworth—at least in principle—is post-apollo justice edgeworth. in many ways, i think how he’s portrayed at 35 is how he would’ve been had dl-6 not occurred, barring his career choice. still a bit pompous, still fairly mean (at least on the surface, we all know he cares more than he lets on) and perhaps a bit uptight, but self-assured and just. the writing team makes a point to show that edgeworth doesn’t care about prestige or fancy titles. that feels like him in a way post-first trilogy edgeworth doesn’t. this particular point was fleshed out in aa1 and rfta, tho, so idk if i can give yamazaki credit for it.

there are some things that will always bother me abt post-first trilogy edgeworth (the problems are present in the aai duology as well) where the writing team shoves him into a box teeming with boring tropes for his character archetype.

an example:

creds for both these pictures: me

edgeworth is fine w pictures in the first trilogy, but comes to hate them in the aai duology.

ik it’s small but honestly what was the reason? what justification is there for this outside of wanting to fit edgeworth into a “cold character” stereotype?

bridge to the turnabout and turnabout ablaze are only about a month apart. i’m not buying into the sudden aversion to picture taking, regardless how minute a criticism it is. in any case, i feel like what i’m trying to say comes through w these screenshots: yamazaki’s edgeworth is always just a little off.

i am forgetting where i saw the post and i have too many liked posts to scroll thru to find it again but i saw a reblog?? tumblr post?? abt yamazaki and takumi’s diff approaches to edgeworth, where takumi says edgeworth listens to trot while yamazaki thinks he’d listen to classical music, and if that doesn’t drive the point home, idk wht will.

why then, did i enjoy post-aj edgeworth most? short answer is i’m taking liberties w his development and its implications. while i never completely buy into post-aa3 edgeworth, i can digest and get behind most of him when i’m not nitpicking, unlike w post-aj phoenix. does edgeworth feel a little uninspired and one- as opposed to three-dimensional? yeah, but his core is so strong i can overlook it. i’ll miss seeing a developed edgeworth when replaying the trilogy. him at 35 makes me feel warm inside.

anyway, i didn’t intend to start hating when i made this post bc i ultimately still believe the second trilogy was pretty good, if not overly ambitious with it's storytelling. maybe i'll post that AJ trilogy review.

overall, tho, t&t and aai2 were my favorite games to come out of the franchise. i’m going to do that slow replay of the first trilogy, aai duology, and aj:aa before making final judgments.

[omtai]

u ready fucker. get ready. ask game time biatch

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44

thank you........ im putting this under a readmore becauase im thoughtful

0: Height - 170cm or a fart away from 5'7

1: Virgin? - wouldn't you like to know

2: Shoe size - 5.5 uk size

3: Do you smoke? - yes im waiting for it to stop raining so ican go smoke rn actually

4: Do you drink? - yes

5: Do you take drugs? - not even benadryl fuck my life

6: Age you get mistaken for - anywhere between 16 and 22

7: Have tattoos? - call me john locke the way im all about that blank slate

8: Want any tattoos? - imagine i get the numbers from lost

9: Got any piercings? - re: my john locke comment

10: Want any piercings? - yes

11: Best friend? - well it sure isnt this son of a bitch thats making me answer all these goddamn questions anymore

12: Relationship status - im a confirmed bachelor

13: Biggest turn ons - weird freakish motherfuckers

14: Biggest turn offs - polo shirts

15: Favorite movie - the slideshow they played at my funeral

16: I’ll love you if - you say rawr

17: Someone you miss - gerard way

18: Most traumatic experience - the infamous visual novel playthrough event of 2025

19: A fact about your personality - i am exceedingly patient and forgiving as proven with this ask game

20: What I hate most about myself - i say Y E S to everything girl stand up for yrself speak your shit once in a while

21: What I love most about myself - i have a high capacity for bullshit before i start murderising

22: What I want to be when I get older - NOTHING AT ALL!!!!!!!

23: My relationship with my sibling(s) - great

24: My relationship with my parent(s) - its there

25: My idea of a perfect date - deserted island adventure

26: My biggest pet peeves - people who will die before accepting theyre wrong on something

27: A description of the girl/boy I like - churchmouse brown hair, apple pie face, old whispers of scoliosis, around 47yo

28: A description of the person I dislike the most - even describing her will cause me to break out in boils but in saying that im sure you specifically can guess

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend - to save their feelings and to save my own ass

30: What I hate the most about work/school - THAT SHIT NEVER ENDSSSSSS

31: What your last text message says - "in two farts of an ass"

32: What words upset me the most - You are not the guy you're not capable of being the guy I had a guy and nwo i dont You are not the GUY!

33: What words make me feel the best about myself - you are the guy youre capable of being the guy i had a guy and i still do you are the guy

34: What I find attractive in women - broad shoulders, tall, deep voices, hairyness

35: What I find attractive in men - the opposite of above but keep the hairyness

36: Where I would like to live - in a snowglobe where nothing ever goes wrong and i love everything and everything loves me

37: One of my insecurities - i have a secret third leg #mymassivehog

38: My childhood career choice - artist

39: My favorite ice cream flavor - cookies and cream

40: Who wish I could be - myself ten years from now when i got it all figured out

41: Where I want to be right now - ten years from now when i got it all figured out

42: The last thing I ate - katsu chicken & rice

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately - my hot manager

44: A random fact about anything - i love lying