#not for us to suffer or anything 🥰

[astonmartinii]

big reputation part two | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

a new season dawns but that doesn't mean we don't have a map to our buried hatchets

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,221,783 others

charles_leclerc: ferrari has been home for as long as i can remember, even before i joined the academy, the dream of driving for ferrari gave me a purpose. i am heartbroken it hasn't worked out, but formula one is, at the end of the day, a selfish sport and i have to think about my real goal here: to win a championship. ferrari has an amazing history, but that is what it is history. in the four years i have been here i haven't seen the drive and ambition to be as ruthless and as complete as they were with michael and with kimi. therefore i have to leave. it hurts me to leave the tifosi, but know you're always in my heart and i will always hold dear your support. grazie regazzi essere ferrari ❤️

view all comments

user3: i knew it was coming but HOLY FUCK CHARLIE COME HOME

user4: tifosi lecfosi YES SIR

user5: for real i'm down for him not that clown team

yourusername: i'm proud of you charlie, i knew how much this took. but you have to put yourself first at some point. i love you

charles_leclerc: i love you too. i'm sorry i can't stop crying

yourusername: no i love that you are so passionate. it's been a long season and you're finally allowed to let it all out

charles_leclerc: can we go to a rage room?

yourusername: FUCK YEA

maxverstappen1: pretty please may i join. i have a lot of rage. call it teammate bonding?

charles_leclerc: give me a tow in bahrain quali?

maxverstappen1: fine (NO ONE SCREENSHOT THIS OR HOLD ME TO IT)

yourusername: at least this one i don't mind having to third wheel us

user6: the SHADE that's mother right there

user7: trying to stay insanely normal over the fact that max, charles and y/n are besties

pierregasly: congrats calmar, HOWEVER, i though i was your favourite third wheel 🥰

yourusername: but you bring kika ??? how can you third wheel if kika is there? DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO COUNT?

charles_leclerc: thank you pear i love you brother

user8: i love how this is some super sentimental post and y/n is asking pierre if he can count i hope they never change

landonorris: max as fave third wheel ??? @alexalbon @georgerussll63 twitch quartet erasure

yourusername: womp womp

alexalbon: WOMP WOMP?

charles_leclerc: guys i'm sad about leaving my dream team where is the compassion?

georgerussell63: yeah boo hoo there are bigger things at play here I DID NOT SIT THROUGH YOUR TEN HOUR MELTDOWN ON AN APPROPRIATE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY GIFT NOT TO BE TOP THIRD WHEEL

yourusername: you fools really will argue about anything huh

landonorris: this is the sanctity of our friendship on the line here

user9: the grid was really like YOU might be sad about leave ferrari but we ain't

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,421,455 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: holibobs with sharlie

view all comments

user10: i love as soon as the season finishes charles becomes THEE instagram boyf

user11: j.peg account? no. just taking photos of y/n? YES.

charles_leclerc: i have an eye for beauty

yourusername: heheheheheheehehehehehee

alexalbon: so he can use a camera? why does he only take 0.5s of me?

yourusername: the best angle for your big ol dome

alexalbon: EXCUSE ME ?

yourusername: yeah sorry that was a bit far

alexalbon: it's like you got off the ferrari leash and now we all have to suffer

yourusername: WELP

charles_leclerc: ma belle, the only one i'll actually listen to and put sun cream on

yourusername: yes you will because we...

charles_leclerc: put spf on everyday !!

yourusername: yes! because...

charles_leclerc: we're scared of aging?

yourusername: no?

charles_leclerc: we want to be safe 👍

maxverstappen1: you guys done with the kindergarten reading lessons?

yourusername: have you seen lobster leclerc? this kind of work needed to be done

user12: lobster leclerc? goodbye, goodbye, goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

user13: see now i'm confused cause why are some papers saying that they're breaking up? or that charles is embarrassed by the way y/n acts?

user14: bestie we've been through this DON'T TRUST THOSE HOES - TRUST THESE HOES

liked by yourusername

user15: unless i see it from the horse's mouth I WILL NEVER BELIEVE THEY'VE BROKEN UP

redbullracing

liked by yourusername, christianhorner and 882,339 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

redbullracing: charles the qualifying king takes his first pole position for red bull in his first race and is joined by max for a front row lockout

view all comments

user18: UNWELL

user19: suck on that ferrari xoxo

user20: *rubs eyes* is that... max being happy to be challenged by a teammate ???

user21: winning three championships really takes the heat off huh

yourusername: THAT'S MY MAN YALL

charles_leclerc: love you baby

yourusername: love you too darling

maxverstappen1: love you three 🫶

yourusername: this is not the problem i thought we'd have when coming to red bull

maxverstappen1: my gf can't make most of the races so you WILL deal with me

user22: max being clingy to charles and y/n is so fucking funny to me

user23: sainz not making it out of q1? shwartzman only making it to q2 but still out qualifying carlos? charles looking sexy in blue? EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST CHARLES LECLERC SHALL FALL

christianhorner: mega job boys, let's keep our eyes on tomorrow

maxverstappen1: tell them they have to let me come to dinner with them

christianhorner: isn't this the exact reason we rehired daniel

charles_leclerc: PLEASE MAKE DANIEL COME TO THE NEXT RACE

maxverstappen1: erm rude

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry i'm not used to a teammate that actually wants to be friends for real

yourusername: EXCEPT SEB WE LOVE SEB

yourusername: but for real max emilian i am monitoring the dutch papers... be very careful

user24: healthy teammate relationships (for now) ??? is this what heaven is like

user25: are you telling me that if max doesn't get the lead in the first lap he might actually HELP charles .... a certain spanish individual could never

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,778,451 others

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: wow !! a 1 - 2 in our first race i couldn't be happier. this car is a dream to drive and i'm so grateful to red bull for being so welcoming. teamwork makes the dream work

view all comments

user26: tears in my eyes

user27: okay i understand both of them are like with their forever partners but lestappen is also real TWO THINGS CAN EXIST AT ONCE

yourusername: SHARLIE OMG YOU TALENTED, TALENTED KING

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername: crying sesh. sharlie's drivers room @ 8. bring your own alcohol and tissues

charles_leclerc: just to make sure everyone knows THESE ARE HAPPY TEARS

landonorris: SAP ALERT GET IT TOGETHER MAN

yourusername: i know lando no-wins ain't talking rn 🤨

charles_leclerc: you walked into that one buddy

landonorris: just because i'm friends with carlos doesn't mean you have to come after me like him ...

this comment has been deleted

yourusername: bold... real bold. you're lucky i'm doing meditation and yoga (and that i want to make a good impression on christian)

alexalbon: lando do NOT look at the text she just sent your your ego CANNOT take it

user28: no no no do spill... i need the ammo if he ever takes out my fave

user29: true i need it for the next time either of the ugly twins at ferrari open their gobs

oscarpiastri: it was brutal. they need to get y/n to host the reading challenge on drag race

yourusername: oscar knows drag race?

oscarpiastri: i might be an athlete but i'm not completely uncultured

maxverstappen1: if we're talking being cultured... GET READY FOR YOUR FIRST RED BULL PARTY

yourusername: born ready my university years singlehandedly financed your 'catering budget'

charles_leclerc: no really i think she's actually addicted to the tropical one

maxverstappen1: are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? IT WAS YOU WHO DRANK ALL OF THEM

yourusername: and what?

maxverstappen1: idk i'm still kinda scared of you

user30: the way charles deflected the questions about fred and sainz ? WE'RE FREEEEEEEEE

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,311,723 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i wanna be your end game <3

view all comments

user32: you guys better be end game or like you're paying for my therapy

user33: i respect her dedication to go to every race, make ferrari staff tremble in fear and pull LOOKS

charles_leclerc: i want to be your first string

yourusername: what if we just called taylor up?

charles_leclerc: you know here you call her i'm nervous

yourusername: @taylorswift paris night one, lover and this is me trying ft. charles on the piano?

taylorswift: sure thing

charles_leclerc: why was that so easy?

yourusername: better get practising baby

charles_leclerc: OH GOD

user34: how did we get red bull charles and a taylor collab in one year?

user35: i guess we used up charles' good luck from the last four years SORRY CHARLES

charles_leclerc: i guess you're forgiven...

maxverstappen1: so could you like tell me what you'd call me if i hypothetically fucked charles over... i'm not gonna but like i need to mentally prepare myself to hear it

yourusername: i have faith in you so i haven't thought that far ahead

maxverstappen1: can you please not be too mean i can't take it

charles_leclerc: you wanna come to therapy with me buddy?

maxverstappen1: i think i might

yourusername: when we entered the reputation era i did not think it would lead to taking max verstappen to therapy

maxverstappen1: and taylor swift?

yourusername: ... and taylor swift

user36: this is all very cute and all but can we have mean y/n back

user37: when will yall learn that reputation is a love album and y/n and charles are just loving each other freely

user38: but mean y/n did teach someone a lesson in not spreading false rumours cause them tabloids have been QUIET

f1tea

liked by user43, user44 and 7,233 others

f1tea: carlos sainz was caught liking these tweets about charles leclerc and y/n y/ln, what do you think?

view all comments

user45: put me in the ring with carlos i am being so serious

user46: okay for a while i was on the fence about y/n and how intense she was being but like seeing this shit and realising it was probably what was being said in the garage she needed to do more

user47: for real if someone said that about my boyfriend i'd be in prison

user48: so charles and y/n were under contract to not say a word out of line about ferrari or anything to do with ferrari and this guy is out here liking this

user49: call me a conspiracy theorist but this was his public account... he meant for people to find it and wants people to know this stuff

user50: this is why he DNFed in the first race KARMA

user51: maybe this is why he's always the one with relationship issues bro clearly has no loyalty

user52: charles has never said anything about him even now and y/n only said something in retaliation

user53: fuck peace and love y/n needs to give this man hell

user54: read him for filth

user55: bro needs to keep his twitter fingers to himself and focus on not being in the wall ❤️

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,311,885 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: this is why we can't have nice things, darling

view all comments

user56: this is the most response we'll ever get from charles i fear

user57: allow me to elaborate: this is why we can't have nice things by taylor swift is about 'forgiving' the people who wronged you but she literally says "and here's to you because forgiveness is a nice thing to do... i can't even say it with a straight face" so basically charles doesn't forgive carlos or fred. and it specifically shouts out her family and friends and lover for sticking with her which is what charles' family, friends and y/n have done

liked by charles_leclerc

user58: thank you for service

yourusername: i'm reading what they call you lately (it says you're a race winner and a title contender)

charles_leclerc: got a taste of the celebrations and can't get enough

maxverstappen1: KEEP IT PG THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE

charles_leclerc: you're older than me

yourusername: all we said were celebrations, if anything you have the dirty mind 🤨

maxverstappen1: i am usually in the room next to you, i hope this helps

charles_leclerc: our bad <3

maxverstappen1: you don't care do you?

yourusername: not really no. when we get to the same amount of wins as you maybe it'll wear off

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

user58: is this an entertaining title fight but without the bad blood?

user59: and nowhere near ferrari? bless

alexalbon: i hate that i understand all these references

yourusername: lily trained you well

lilymunhe: like a drill sergeant

yourusername: as you should

sebastianvettel: proud of you charlie, i'm glad you're not wasting your talent

charles_leclerc: i love you seb, i'm sorry it took so long

sebastianvettel: make sure you win here, we can be ferrari failures together

yourusername: *ferrari failed you

sebastianvettel: i knew there was a reason i liked you

fin.

note: SOZ. so like i am still working on requests but that radio message FUCKED ME UP. so this had to happen. glad my queen girls (max and charles) did well today, hope you enjoyed !!!

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[littlemelaninfics]

Hey girl❤️🥰As a POC I absolutely love your work. You truly do make all of us feel so seen. I have a kinda odd(?) request for a Buck x Reader imagine. Obviously you don’t have to write it if you aren’t comfortable with it but I feel like you’d be able to do it justice

Could you write something about the reader having a bad period and Buck being there to comfort her/take care of her and then some period sex after…yk? I feel like that could be good and I really wanna read something like that.

A Crimson Connection ❤️ || Evan Buckley Smut

WARNINGS: Period Sex, 2.55K words (I got carried away and that's a warning in itself🥰)

A/n: I love you so much! That really means a lot to me and is the whole reason I create for Black (POC) readers 🤎 Thank you for your request and I'm so sorry it took me two months to complete! Period sex is a different kind of horny. You’re SO sensitive and a little sore. A little embarrassed <3 and blood feels so different from your usual pussy lube. Thinner, less viscous, and there’s so much of it. Uh, or so I've heard 👀

After being woken up by a piercing pain in your stomach, you rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom. Even though you didn’t have to go, hunching over in a solid seating position helped the cramps pass a little easier. You could feel the pressure rising and started to get really nauseous, really fast. Before you knew it, you were prying the lid open and down on your knees.

You closed and flushed the toilet, still breathing heavily. You slouched over, gripping your abdomen and squeezing your eyes shut in pain as another deep pang hit you. It was then that you heard the bathroom door slide open and you didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Buck. You were still moaning and groaning in pain while he slid down next to you, taking you in his arms. You mold into him, but you weren’t prepared for the cold sensation on your forehead and jumped slightly,

“Whoa, sorry. It’s just a rag, baby.”

“Hmmm."

Buck felt bad that your period was this painful every now and then. You suffered from random ovarian cysts that affected your cycle and made you violently ill for at least 24 hours. You two were in the ER two weeks before when your suspicions of the sharp pain were correct. The ultrasound showed a decent size cyst on your left ovary and you were just happy it wasn't both like last time.

He continued to wipe your face with the cloth, pulling you in more and kissing your clammy forehead,

"Is there anything I can do, baby?" He spoke with his lips still touching your temple. The vibrations his voice went through you, sending a calming sensation over your body and mind,

"Mmm mmm," you replied.

"Can you stand?" You just nodded and he began to get up from the floor, you gripping onto his forearm to not lose balance. He walked over to the tub and turned on the shower,

"I need to brush," you said softly while pointing to the counter.

"Shower first. The hot water will feel good, I promise."

You debated extending your argument, but you instead found yourself gripping on to Buck's shoulder riding out another cramp. It faintly passed and you accepted your boyfriend was right. You breathed heavily and nodded your head. Buck helped you pull your night shirt over your head before kneeling to help you step out of your panties. He placed a kiss on your hip, then swiftly stood to his full height,

"I'll be right in the room. Just yell if you need me, okay?" He said as he helped you over the tub.

"Thank you." He smiled gently and kissed your head once more before exiting the bathroom. You slugged your feet to move under the shower head; heavily debating on sitting down but quickly remembering you wanted to clean the tub earlier that day and never got the chance. The hot water sent chills down your spine as it ran though the rows of individuals and onto your scalp.

You grabbed your wash cloth drenching it in the hot water and placing it on your abdomen while you took a few deep breaths. The pain subsided minimally, but you took advantage and quickly finished your shower. Exiting the shower, you grabbed your towel and immediately went to the sink to brush. Instead of opting for your already simple night routine, you made it even simpler by just applying moisturizer, hair oil, deodorant, and chapstick.

You rewrapped your towel before bending down to pick up the clothes you were wearing earlier to put them in the hamper when you felt something run down your inner thigh. Thinking it was water, you wiped it away when you realized it wasn't water. You quickly cleaned yourself up before looking under the cabinet just to find that you never moved the new box of Tampax to the bathroom. Tears immediately started to well as you prepared to leave the bathroom. Buck could hear the sniffles and knocked on the door gently enough not to scare you,

"Baby?"

You didn't answer, but tried to move faster,

"Y/n?" He called through the door while pushing it open. He found you with your clothes bunched in your arms and tears in your eyes,

"Baby! What happened?" he asked as if you were a little kid. And well, you responded like one with your face bunching slightly and the tears falling freely. You couldn't help it. He might as well have asked, "are you okay?".

Buck waited with his eyebrows up, but not actual worry yet. He waited for you to catch you breath, soothing you through your spell,

"I started my period and my tampons are out here, but my cramps are too bad to leave a tampon in right now and I don't have any pads and I didn't want to wear underwear, to be honest. But now I have to pick one because it's usually light the first night so I would've worn my granny panties and no tampon and it would've been fine. But I don't wanna wear underwear," you sobbed out; the words basically strung togther.

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Baby. Baby. It's okay," Buck said bringing you into his chest trying really hard not to laugh. He would never laugh at your pain and/or the fact that you were upset. It was simply the reason you were upset. He held you in the threshold of the bathroom while you calmed down.

"C'mere, Baby." You followed as he grabbed your hand and led you around to the foot of the bed. He reached behind you and grabbed the shirt he picked out for after your shower. Buck unwrapped your towel, letting it fall on the hardwood beneath you. He inhaled deeply while shamelessly taking a flashing glance at your naked frame in front of him before sliding the shirt over your head. This drew an instant blush to your cheeks as you knew what was going through his mind. No. His reflexes. He went against his own instinct to push you back onto the bed and fuck you into oblivion.

He picked up the panties and chucked them across the room, earning a laugh from you,

"There she is," he said smiling widely, "think you can stomach some Tylenol?"

"Please," you said almost begging for a less painful nights sleep.

He walked to your side and grabbed the medicine and water he set out for you.

"You really thought of everything. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And almost everything," he said turning to leave the room. You were confused as you took the pain reliever, but relished in the way the water felt going down your stinging throat. You heard the thudding foot steps coming back and Buck coming back in, when he unrolled a maroon colored towel down on your side of the bed.

"Everything!" He said sticking his arms out and displaying his goofy grin. You were beyond grateful, but instinctively declined because you didn't want to risk anything,

"Y/n. This way everyone is comfortable and if anything happens, who cares?"

You take him on his word and climb into bed. He reaches for your scarf and helped you neatly wrap your hair. Buck leaned down to kiss you, softly running his tongue over your lips. You reach up and grab his neck when he groans begrudgingly and pulls apart. You smile, feeling warm that he still wants you even at one of your lower times. You snuggle in, getting comfortable with the new texture on your butt, while Buck strips down to his briefs and climbs in next to you.

You want to lay on your back, but the medicine hasn't kicked in yet and another cramp was coming. You turned over on you left side and curled into a ball. Buck immediately turned his body your way and brought you close. The cramp faded and you slowly uncurled,

"This sucks."

"I'm so sorry," Buck replied while kissing the good spot behind your ear.

"Mmmm."

"That sounds a little different than before. Does this-" *kiss* "-feel good?" *kiss*

"Mmm hmm."

"Mmmmm," he moaned lowly as he kept kissing that spot. He kissed a spot that was only 3cm over, but it tickled like no other, so of course Buck took advantage and kept kissing that same spot, then all over your face.

You were laughing hysterically when you couldn't breathe,

"Okay. Okay. OKAY! Ha Ha! Stop! Stop! Stop! Don't make me laugh! I'm not wearing underwear! Ha Ha!"

Buck let out a hearty laugh before diving in one last time, just to reach over you and flick the lamp off. While his torso was extended over your body, you could feel his semi-hard cock press into you. He plopped back down next to you, taking you back into the position he had you before. Your eyes were open, but you were surrounded by darkness.

“Mmm. I love you, baby.” He said lowly in your ear,

“I love you too,” you replied. Buck kissed your right shoulder, tightening his arm around you to bring your body closer to his. He rested his head down and got comfortable with you in his arms. As his muscles we tensing and relaxing with each movement, he let out a string of low hums and throat clears.

It’s nothing new. In fact it didn’t take you long to realize he’s just making boy noises. But this time, you’re feeling the vibration of his chest against your back and his mouth is basically connected to your ear. You start to wiggle slightly and let out little moans of your own, but they didn’t mean the same thing as his.

Or maybe they did.

He removes his arm from around your torso and starts to gently rub the side of your thigh, trying to get you settled. He planted one more kiss on your shoulder and you’re pretty sure he felt your body react. You take his hand and slickly snake it up to your chest. He pulls you once more, this time with more intent as he squeezes your tit.

He picked up right where he left off and started placing kisses to your spot again. His groans laced with lust and desire as he attacked your skin, nipping down to the side of your neck. You hips are grinding into each other. Your eyes go wide, realizing there is a point of no return and you're approaching it rapidly.

You halt your movements and push your hand back to stop Buck. Your chests are rising and falling, your bodies getting flustered so quickly.

"Buck. We've never...."

"And we don't have to if you don't want to."

"You want to?" You asked, craning your neck back to look at him in the dark.

"I crave you in any form you're in. So yeah, I want to. I want you." He whispered the last part like a sly fox.

"But-” you cut yourself off trying to think of an excuse as to why this is not a good idea,

“Let me help you feel good, baby,” He said, nudging your head back to the side to kiss your spot again. Your eyes close gently and your arm reaches back to hold his the nape of his neck. Buck begins to slowly grind his hips back into your t-shirt covered bum, nipping at your skin while still peppering kisses. His fingers hook your jaw and he brings your lips to meet his. It takes no time for the fight for dominance to take place, but you retreat. Letting Buck take the reins tonight.

Your kisses deepened, passion overcoming any lingering uncertainty. As your tongues explored one another’s mouths, giggles and warmth filled the air. It felt liberating, shedding the last remnants of hesitation and embracing the whole of each other, unfiltered and raw.

His hand travels down your silhouette, softly tracing his fingers along your thighs once more. He brought his body even closer into you, making you moan into the kiss. You reach back, palming his cock through his briefs and getting a similar reaction from him. Buck hand starts to inch in towards your pussy, causing you to break away,

"I'm okay tonight. I just need you."

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Mmmhmm," you say, pulling him back in. The truth is you were hesitant enough about having sex on your period and the thought of staining his fingers red was too much to handle right now. Buck moves his lips to nibble on your shoulder through your shirt as he frees his cock, wrapping his left arm underneath your body and puling you back to him like a little doll.

He rubs his cock against your slick hole before gently prodding. You lean your head back on his shoulder while he takes his left hand and lightly wraps it around your throat,

"Are you ready, baby?" He asks directly in your ear.

"Yes, please. I need you," you beg, reaching your hand back to pull him in this time. He chuckles lightly at your impatience and reminds you of your safe word. Buck finally pushed his hips forward, both of you moaning at the stretch. His movements were cautiously slow, paying attention to every single reaction. The pain was a lot at first, but focusing on the pain slowly turning to pleasure distracted you from the blinding cramps.

Your bodies moved together with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Every touch, every whisper, felt electric. You was surprised to find how the experience intensified your sensations. Rather than feeling restricted by your period, you were allowed to feel empowered. You and Buck created a world for yourselves that night. One where you could fully embrace your desires without boundaries.

Buck transcended your whole being into an unknown world. You both thought you had little left to explore together, yet here you are with the love of your life on the adventure of a lifetime. The moans and deep grunts filled the room as you both chased down that high. When he knew he could, Buck applied more weight to your hip as he pushed himself up and deeper into your body. Practically now fully on top of you.

His thrusts became more frantic, yet never missed the mark. He lowered his torso over yours, cradling your angelic face and your orgasms crashed into both of you. His movements never stopped has beads of his sweat started to drip down on your from the tip of his nose.

Buck's hips finally slowed as he leaned down for a lingering kiss, the kind that lingered longer than any other, filled with warmth and connection that transcended the physical. In that moment, you felt closer than ever—a bond deepened by you willingness to break societal taboos and embrace your bodies as they were.

You welcomed his weight on top of you as your breathing started to slow. Rain began to patter against the window, and you two drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The night held no judgments, only the promise of a love that was true and unashamed, building a foundation on trust, intimacy, and the freedom to explore the beautifully messy reality of life together.

[amnayel]

not to sound like a terrible person, but i hope that malleus will be actually affected by his ob

i mean, ok he is more powerful than all these characters combined and he can get more magic from nature itself… but do we forgot how much time he has been overblotted?

idia is expected that he wouldn’t suffer anything bc he can literally burn blot, but from riddle to vil the overblots seems to have lasted around 30min~2hours at maximum

malleus is lasting for around two days

ortho took a entire day just to go from the satellite to styx, but theres also the time he spent leaving his gear > uploading his data > THEN going to styx > fighting malleus > going dream jumping with everyone

thats more than one day confirmed, and we still have a long way to go

Malleus may end up being ob for 4 days until the end of this chapter, thats WAY more than any other character until now. Idia might’ve been ob for 12~18 hours but he has the curse that burns blot to help him not die, Malleus only has his own strength, but it is enough?

we hear about how blot is so dangerous and all that but Leona ob and then went to a magift competition right after, Vil ob and then won second place at the vdc.

If they will pull the “Malleus is op this is only 1% of his power🥰” card again to just fix everything i’ll be genuinely so fucking mad

make us fear ob again, make the other ob boys lose the sleep at the sight of what could’ve happened to them, let everyone remember that Malleus is just a teenager, that he is not immortal, and that blot can kill.

idk about what exactly im expecting i just hope that there will be some actual danger to Malleus well being, i want to see the diafamily despair of seeing that the one they swore to protect with their lives is actually the one that would kill and die for them.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 1: Ares, God Of War]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.7k

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 🥰💜

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let’s begin with a definition.

Disaster is a noun derived from Ancient Greek: dus, a prefix meaning “bad,” and aster, or “star.” In the time when humans worshipped Zeus and Hera, Hephaestus and Aphrodite, it was believed that tragedies resulted from the inauspicious positioning of celestial bodies: a volcano erupts because of Jupiter, a returning comet brings with it a flood. There is a certain helplessness inherent in this mythology. There is predestined suffering that lies in wait until all the jewels of the sky have malignantly aligned.

Have you ever met someone who made you ache to change the stars?

~~~~~~~~~~

Gunshots explode through the lobby of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, Florida; you feel the wind of the bullets as they clip by, fragmented metallic rage. Aemond is on the marble floor, blood pouring down his face, blood all over the white shirt beneath his navy blue suit jacket when you rip it open, tearing a button loose. He’s reaching for you through the jostling and the screams, leaving crimson handprints on your mint green dress. And you think: He just won the Florida primary. He’s not supposed to die. He’s supposed to be the president.

“What happened?” Aemond murmurs, his right eye dazed and only half-open; the left has vanished beneath a cloudburst of gore. Perhaps ten yards away, people have caught the assailant and pinned him against one of the vast Venetian windows until the police arrive. They’re roaring at him in red-faced fury, their closed fists strike his ribs and his cheekbones, their knuckles paint him scarlet and indigo.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” You brace both palms over the maroon stain spreading rapidly across Aemond’s chest and press down as hard as you can. Your fingers are drenched in seconds, warm fading life. He’s bleeding to death. You shriek through the turmoil: “Criston?!”

“Is he okay?” Aemond asks faintly. He means the baby; you’re six months pregnant with his first child, his greatest treasure, his Atlantis, his Holy Grail. Aemond has already decided that it’s a boy. Sometimes you fear what will happen if he’s wrong.

“Yes, honey, the baby’s fine, don’t worry. Criston!”

Aegon is here instead, sweating out rum and ruin like he always is, hair too long, veins full of pills, colliding with you and pawing at his dying brother with untrustworthy hands. “Aemond?!”

You shove Aegon away, splattering him with blood. “Get back, he needs air!”

“Where’s he shot?! Let me see—”

“I told you to get back!”

“Goddammit, you don’t own him! He’s mine too!”

Criston has battled his way to you and is yanking Aegon back by the collar of his frayed olive green army jacket, stolen from Daeron when he visited home after basic training, a uniform of embittered revolution worn by a man who’s never fought for anything. “Aegon, make sure someone’s called for an ambulance, then meet the paramedics at the door and help them find us.”

“But—”

“Go!” Criston yells, and Aegon scrambles to his feet and is lost within the crowd. You can hear Otto bellowing at journalists and hotel employees to make space for the fallen senator; there are flashes of cameras and prayers shouted aloud. Above your head are crystal chandeliers and a vaulted ceiling hand-painted by 75 Italian artists in the 1920s; swimming in your skull are visions of Jackie Kennedy in the pink suit filthy with her husband’s brains. It’s just before midnight on Tuesday, May 28th. Upstairs in their oceanfront Imperial Suites, nannies will be shaking awake the absent adults of the Targaryen dynasty, who retired with the children before Aemond made his victory speech in the hotel ballroom: Alicent, Helaena, Fosco, Mimi.

Criston’s hands—larger, stronger—replace yours over the gushing wound in Aemond’s chest. What did the bullet hit? His lung, his heart? He’s not speaking anymore, his right eye is closed. His bloodied hands rest open and empty on the floor. “Criston, he’s dying,” you sob.

“No he’s not. We’re not going to let him.”

“What’s the closest hospital?”

“Good Samaritan is just across the bridge on the mainland.” It’s Criston’s job to know these things, though he had been thinking of you when he plotted his meticulous notes in his day planner: in case you eat a bad cheeseburger, or trip on the stairs, or catch the flu and start burning up with fever. Aemond worries about the baby. Aegon has five children, Helaena has three, and Aemond will feel that he has been robbed of something if he does not swiftly procure a family of his own. He needs you on the campaign trail, but still, he worries.

Across the lobby, the police have arrived to arrest the aspiring assassin. He puts up a fight when they try to handcuff him and earns a nightstick to the gut, an elbow to the nose. He is choking on his own blood. Perhaps he is drowning in it. Good, you think.

“Don’t kill him!” Otto booms at the officers. “I want him alive for trial! I want him to ride the lighting up in Raiford, you keep that son of a bitch alive!”

“Aemond?” You thread your fingers through his blood-soaked hair. What happened to his left eye? Is it somewhere underneath all that carnage, or is it gone? “Please wake up. Please stay with me. We need you. The baby and I need you.”

“He’s going to live,” Criston promises, both hands still clamped over the bullet wound to slow the hemorrhaging.

“Aemond, please…” How can he be the president with only one eye?

An old woman in a yellow striped skirt suit is lumbering close with a homemade prayer rope clenched in her fist. “A komboskini for the senator!” For his last rites. For his soul.

“He doesn’t need it!” Criston says. “He’s not dying! No one is dying tonight!”

Still, you take the komboskini from the lady, each of the 100 knots a prayer unspoken. She is a devotee of Aemond, and you must show her gratitude. “Efcharistó, aderfí. O Theós na se evlogeí.” They are some of the few Greek words you’ve mastered; you’ve used them often since Aemond announced that he was running for president. Thank you, sister. God bless you.

The paramedics arrive, splitting the crowd like a laceration, white uniforms and a stretcher to ferry Aemond away. People are wailing, cursing, swearing vengeance. Aegon has returned and is peering down at Aemond with those large, glassy, muddled eyes, afraid to ask. “Is he…is he still…?”

“He has a pulse,” Criston replies. He helps the paramedics drag Aemond onto the stretcher and strap him to it. Your husband’s shirt is now drenched in red like garnet, like cinnabar, like the poppies that commemorate the boys butchered in World War I, like the wasted blood being spilled in Vietnam, men reduced to memory. “Good Samaritan?” Criston confirms with the paramedics.

“Yes sir,” the most senior one agrees. And then to you, with great deference, with compassion that transcends what somebody can harbor for strangers: “Ma’am, there’s a place for you if you want it.”

“I do,” you say, tear-streaked face, hands bathed in blood. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The ambulance is idling outside the main entranceway of the hotel. Criston grasps your hand to steady you as you step up into the back, and you take a seat on the red leather bench beside the stretcher. The paramedics are placing IVs, holding an oxygen mask to Aemond’s face, muttering urgently into their radio, abbreviations and code words you can’t understand, a secret language of organic calamities. High above the stars are crystalline and radiant in a clear sky. In your own chest—unshredded by metal, unpierced by rage—your intact heart is pounding.

The lead paramedic turns to you again and says: “We can fit one more person.”

It’s your decision. You are the senator’s wife; you were supposed to be the next first lady of the United States. You look through the ambulance’s open doors. Aegon stares back expectantly, his hair falling in his face, his arms thrown wide, petulant, combative, useless, drunk. “Criston.”

“Bitch!” Aegon hisses at you as Criston climbs into the vehicle. The doors slam shut, the engine rumbles, the siren squeals as the ambulance races westbound on Breakers Row towards County Road, which connects with Flagler Memorial Bridge and the mainland.

Through the rear window you watch Aegon as he stands in the white-gold hotel luminescence, becoming smaller and smaller until he vanishes, and all you can see are streetlights, and all you can smell is blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

Every story needs its cast of characters. Here are the major players in the summer of 1968.

President Lyndon Baines Johnson is in the White House watching the clocks tick towards November 5th, when his successor will be ordained. He has chosen not to seek reelection. Since his ascension upon Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, Johnson’s domestic focus has been unprecedented civil rights legislation and his War On Poverty, yet what has infected the media like blood poisoning is the war in Vietnam. On the television are napalm bombs incinerating Vietnamese peasants, caskets draped with American flags, riots being beaten down by police, college students torching draft cards and chanting “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” Now the president is sick in body, in spirit, in heart, and this is not a metaphor: he suffered a near-fatal cardiac arrest in 1955 and another shortly after John F. Kennedy was murdered in Dallas, Texas. He will die almost exactly four years after leaving office. Had he sought another term, he would have been unlikely to survive it. The public eye is something like a snake bite; it sinks its fangs in and you hope the venom burns clean before it can curse you with clots or hemorrhages or paralysis, before it can drown you in the dark waters of infamy.

In the void left by President Johnson’s surrender, four factions have emerged within the Democratic Party. The old guard—the same labor unions, congressmen, and local political machines who have steered the platform since the days of Franklin D. Roosvelt’s New Deal—has flocked to current Vice President Hubert Humphrey. Humphrey is competent yet uninspiring, a mid-fifties Midwesterner who flinches at the unpolished fury of antiwar protests and sedately lectures Black Power activists on the dangers of “reverse racism.” He is not a threat. He is a sheep in sheep’s clothing, and this is the time for wolves.

Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota is unapologetically opposed to the Vietnam War, a moral crusader, a reluctant warrior, a man who wears his lack of taste for the presidency like a badge of honor. He feels compelled to run, but he does not crave it. He thinks this makes him a saint; but Joan of Arc was burned at the stake and Saint Lawrence was roasted alive. Like Halloween candy plunked into a child’s neon orange plastic pumpkin, McCarthy has collected his own coalition, college students and posh urbanites who believe themselves to be the future of the Democratic Party. In 2016, people will conjure McCarthy’s ghost when drawing comparisons to a controversial left-wing senator from Vermont named Bernie Sanders.

If McCarthy is the future and Humphrey is the past, then former governor of Alabama George Wallace is downright archaic. He is the candidate of choice for Southern white supremacists, averse to Republicans since Lincoln and still reverent of Depression-era New Deal programs that kept them from starving to death. Wallace is best known for his promise of “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” and pledges to end the chaos that has besieged America through strict law and order. Provided he loses the Democratic primary, Wallace plans to run in the general election as an Independent, hoping to peel away enough support from the major party candidates to force the House of Representatives to declare the winner and then leverage his votes to negotiate an end to federal desegregation efforts in the South. His devoted wife Lurleen just died of uterine cancer, a diagnosis which Wallace kept hidden from her for years; doctors are in the habit of informing husbands of their wives’ ailments and giving them carte blanche control over the treatment plan, which unfortunately in Lurleen’s case was nothing. She was 41 years old.

In his short-lived castle of red corridors like the marrow rivers of bones, President Johnson hides from the hippies who jeer and spit; Humphrey frowns at them, McCarthy tries to appease them, Wallace says the only four-letter words they don’t know are “w-o-r-k” and “s-o-a-p.” But Aemond climbs down from podiums to meet them like old friends. He is young, only 36. He has a brother serving in the swamps of Vietnam. He is focused, determined, insatiable; he devours every scrap of news that is printed about him and writes his speeches by hand. As the self-admitted runt of the Targaryen family, Aemond knows what it is like to be underestimated. He wants a better America, and he wants to be the president, and he wants these things in equal, relentless measure, each fueling the other until these ambitions become inseparable. He has grown up hearing slurs against Greeks and consequently has no tolerance for discrimination, which he contends is antithetical to the American Dream. He attends civil rights marches in labyrinthian cities, antiwar protests on college campuses, union meetings in coal mining towns of West Virginia and Kentucky and Wyoming, music festivals crowded with long unwashed hair and braless women, fundraisers flush with the deep pockets of the Northeastern elite. Aemond’s coalition grows each day, bleeding away strength from his rivals like a Medieval surgeon. Their flesh turns cold and anemic, while Aemond’s heart pumps scalding torrents of blood.

If Aemond wins the Democratic primary at the convention in August, his opponent will almost certainly be the Republican frontrunner Richard Nixon of California. Nixon wants the White House just as badly, and he’s much smarter than he looks. He was Eisenhower’s vice president for eight years in the 1950s and lost to the ill-fated John F. Kennedy in 1960 by a whisker; some say he did not lose at all, but instead was cheated out of 100,000 votes by Kennedy’s mafia connections in Chicago. But with the Democrats divided and their incumbent president floundering, Nixon’s timing has never been better. He was once a poor boy with two dead brothers who earned a scholarship to Duke Law. Now he will become whoever he needs to be to win the presidency of the United States.

1968 is the year of wolves. The fangs are sharp, and the bellies ache with hunger.

~~~~~~~~~~

A local deli has opened early and sent sandwiches to Good Samaritan Medical Center for the family and friends of the senator from New Jersey: ham and Swiss, cucumber and cream cheese, tuna salad, egg salad, pimento cheese, BLTs, Cubans. The lobby is filling up with bouquets of flowers and handwritten notes. You pace and count the knots of the komboskini over and over again as you wait; Aemond has been in surgery for hours. The nurses periodically bring you Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, scalding watered-down sweetness to distract you from the fact that some surgeon is currently rooting around inside your husband’s ribcage.

Alicent—a convert to the Greek Orthodox faith just as you are, though far more zealous, far more sincere if you dared to admit it—is pleading for God to save her son as she clasps her own prayer rope. Helaena is seated beside her, eerily calm. Helaena’s husband Fosco is wandering around boredly and inflicting small talk upon the nurses, ogling out the third-story windows, playing with his red Duncan yo-yo. Otto is making a series of calls using one of the phones at the nurses’ station. Criston is there too, leaning over the countertop and speaking with Otto in low conspiratorial whispers.

Aegon is sitting alone and glaring at you. He takes a rattling bottle of pills—prescriptions that doctors are too afraid not to write for him when he asks—out of a pocket on the front of his green army jacket, spotted like a leopard with your bloody handprints. He opens the amber-colored, cylindrical container and pours two, no, three tiny white tablets into his palm. He tosses them into his mouth and washes them down with a swallow of his own mediocre hot chocolate, still glaring. You ignore him.

“How could this have happened?” Mimi says again from where she’s slumped in her chair. Aegon’s wife has a Snow White sort of beauty, but with a perpetual ruddiness in her nose and cheeks from the gin she sips constantly. You suppose it would make anyone a drunk, being married to a man like that. Her maiden name was Marina Marceline Leroux, but everyone has always called her Mimi, even the press on the rare occasions when she makes an appearance. Her children—Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, and little Cosmo, only five years old—are all back at the Breakers Hotel with the nannies, the same as Helaena’s. Mimi blubbers to nobody in particular: “How…? Who…? Who would want to hurt Aemond…?”

Someone needs to sober her up. You fetch a BLT off the platter of sandwiches and offer it to her. “Here. Eat.”

“I’m not hungry. Who on earth could be hungry at a time like this? I’m absolutely nauseated, I’ll never want food again—”

“Mimi, eat the sandwich.”

“Fine, fine,” she slurs morosely, then takes an unenthusiastic bite. She listens to you, all the women do. They listen to you, and you listen to Aemond, and the circle is closed and complete.

Criston is walking over now. You turn to him, needing good news, bad news, any news. “It was a Wallace supporter,” Criston says. From his seat, Aegon is watching Criston with his slow drugged gaze, listening intently. “Some bell pepper farmer from up by Jacksonville.”

“He’s been taken to the local jail for holding?” you ask, and then add: “Alive?”

“Yeah, and he already has a record. Assault and battery. His brother-in-law is apparently a Grand Dragon in the Klan.”

“What the hell is a Grand Dragon?”

“Well, it’s higher than a Goblin, but not as illustrious as an Imperial Wizard, does that answer your question?”

“Perfectly.” You smile at Criston, a pained, wry smile. He returns it and places a palm over your belly. You are still wearing the mint green dress Aemond picked out for you this morning, before he won the Florida primary, before he was shot twice by the disciple of a political adversary and laid at death’s doorstep. You are still covered in your husband’s blood.

“You’re feeling alright?” Then Criston smirks, knowing how ridiculous he must sound. “You know. All things considered.”

“We’re both fine. The baby’s moving around, I can feel it.”

“You can feel him, you mean,” Criston teases, knowing Aemond’s preoccupation with his unborn son; but you can’t bring yourself to appreciate the joke.

Aegon says to you suddenly: “How the fuck did you let this happen?”

“What?” you answer, stunned.

Aegon stands and approaches, lurching, raging. “You always have to be right beside him, in the photographs, in the headlines, in the soundbites, but you let some psychopath run up and shoot him? Twice?!”

“I thought he just wanted to shake Aemond’s hand, or maybe get a quote for an article—”

“You didn’t notice the gun?!”

“Aegon, sit down,” Criston orders.

“It happened in seconds,” you say. “You think you would have done better? You and your Valium, and your Librium, and your Percodan? You think your reaction time would have been so superior to mine?”

“Please,” Alicent moans, mopping tears from her pink cheeks with a handkerchief. “Please, don’t fight, not now…”

“We are all friends here,” Fosco adds in his thick Italian accent, yo-yoing by a window.

“You want to be the first lady so bad but you can’t handle it!” Aegon shouts, his voice echoing through the lobby. “You’re not some prodigy, you don’t have all the answers, you’re just a girl who stitched yourself to Aemond and then you let him get shot, he’s being operated on right now, maybe he’s even dying, and you still act like you’re so fucking perfect—”

“You’re mad because you know that everybody here is thinking the same thing,” you tell Aegon, cold and cruel. “That if someone had to get killed tonight it should have been you.”

Aegon’s mouth drops open; he stares at you with that slippery, opaque, stoned woundedness, pathetic, infuriating, illogically childish. Everyone else pretends they haven’t heard you. Alicent sniffles into her handkerchief. Fosco begins humming I Want To Hold Your Hand. Mimi chews sluggishly on her BLT. From the nurses’ station, Otto says, holding the phone to his chest: “It’s George Wallace. He’s calling for Aemond’s wife.” Then he waits to see if you’ll agree to take it.

Of course you will. You have to. You are acting in your husband’s stead. You go to the nurses’ station and grab the handset when Otto passes it to you. “This is Mrs. Targaryen.”

“Ma’am, I just wanted to offer you my sincerest condolences.” He has a pronounced drawl, born and raised in what he has praised as the Great Anglo-Saxon Southland. You animal, you think. You braindead bigot. “I do hope the senator makes a hasty recovery. I sure would like to beat him at the ballot box, but I have no stomach for anarchy. An act like this is repugnant to me, as it should be to any red-blooded American.”

“It was one of yours, do you know that?” you say, dripping venom. “One of your hateful ghouls.”

“I have no such knowledge. But if the shooter does turn out to be a supporter of my campaign, I disavow him utterly. He deserves a nice long sit in Old Sparky and then to meet his maker.”

“You inspire men to commit violence, and then you renounce them when they spill blood. I’m still wearing my husband’s. It’s on my hands, it’s on my dress, and I will not absolve you of blame. You are a gardener of discord. You grow it like roses or wheat. You tend to it until it blooms.” Otto is studying you, bushy eyebrows raised. “If you’d truly like to repent, perhaps dropping out of the Democratic primary would be a good start. And then you could find something useful to do, like drowning yourself.”

From whatever office he’s currently lounging comfortably in, his shoes kicked up on the desk, Wallace chuckles. “Aemond is very fortunate to have as ardent a defender as you, my dear.”

“Yes, a devoted wife is such a treasure. It’s a shame you killed yours.”

“Ma’am, once again, I just wanted to express how terribly sorry I am for your family’s hardship. I would never wish for an incident like this—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be emboldening white supremacists then!” You slam the phone as you hang up.

Otto looks at you. He says: “Did it go well?”

The heavy double doors leading to the operating theater swing open, and a surgeon steps through them, still drying his hands with a dark blue towel. He has changed his scrubs and washed his skin, but you notice a spot he missed: a fleck of half-dried blood up by his temple. That’s Aemond, you think. That’s a piece of him.

Everyone rushes to gather around the doctor, even Mimi; she lists like a ship taking on water as she walks, gnawing at all that remains of her BLT, just a sliver of white toast crust.

“The senator is alive,” the doctor says, and Alicent cries out in relief. Criston rests a palm on her shoulder. “But we could not save the eye.”

“He’s half-blind?” you ask. There’s never been a half-blind president. There’s never been a Greek one either. And the only reason this is stuck in your mind is because you know it will consume Aemond’s.

The doctor nods. “We had to remove it. The bullet that struck Senator Targaryen in the head, fortunately, was more of a graze. It ricocheted off his skull and didn’t cause any trauma to the brain, but his eye was…” He hesitates, trying to find a more polite word than shredded, macerated, pulverized. “Destroyed.”

“You stopped the bleeding?” Aegon says, astonished. “He’s okay? He’s really okay?”

“The second bullet pierced the thoracic cavity and was lodged less than an inch from his heart. He was very lucky. We repaired the damage to the best of our ability, and I am optimistic that the senator will make a full recovery. He’s resting comfortably now, but he should be awake soon.”

“Oh, thank God,” Alicent says, glistening dark eyes raised to heaven. The salient points gathered, Fosco wanders off again, his yo-yo dangling from its string.

Otto asks: “When can he resume campaigning?”

The doctor is caught off-guard; it takes him a moment to answer. “That will depend on the senator’s stamina as he regains his strength. If he chooses to stay in the race at all.”

Otto scoffs. “Of course he’ll stay in. This is what he lives for. You really can’t give me a ballpark figure?”

The doctor is determinately impassive. “I would estimate a month or two before he can withstand the rigors of the campaign trail again.”

“California is June 4th,” Otto recalls, counting off dates on his fingers. “Illinois is the 11th, New York is the 18th…”

“Look, there are people outside!” Fosco announces excitedly as he peers through one of the windows. “Hello! Hello everybody!”

“Fosco, you idiot, stop waving,” Otto snaps. “Go sit down.”

“But they are cheering.”

“Not for you.”

Fosco, somewhat deflated, grabs an egg salad sandwich off the platter and plops into a chair to eat it. He’s dressed in a green plaid sport coat and tight white trousers, very chic, very European. You’ve never been able to imagine Fosco and Helaena being passionately romantic with each other. They’re both a bit too doll-like for that, closer to Barbie and Ken than flesh and blood, blank stares and vague ambitions.

“Someone should talk to them,” Alicent says softly. She means the crowd that is forming in front of the hospital: journalists, cops, local politicians, mutilated veterans, college kids, farmers, fishermen, women and children, the future and the past. Everyone turns to look at you.

“I’ll do it,” you volunteer. You will, you must. Aemond could have chosen a hundred similarly suited women to be his wife, but he chose you, and when he did your vows became a blood oath.

Criston accompanies you downstairs to where the crowd has gathered just outside the front entrance of Good Samaritan Medical Center. The night air is warm and humid, the stars bright. You had thought of so many things to tell these people as you’d stood in the elevator as it descended, but now your mind is empty, fearful. There are photographers with blinding camera flashes and apostles waiting with famished eyes. From the depths of injustice and poverty and war, they have come to pay their respects to the man they believe is destined to save not just themselves but their world. What should I say? What would Aemond want me to say?

“I am very pleased to share with you all that Senator Targaryen is out of surgery and regaining his strength.”

There are cheers and applause and prayers; you are still clutching the komboskini that the old woman gave you in the lobby of the Breakers Hotel. You see more prayer ropes in this flock, and rosaries too, Bibles and dog tags, copies of The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Joanne Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem.

“We would like to thank you for your heartfelt support. Aemond and I are so very grateful, and he is looking forward to being back on the campaign trail soon.”

More clapping and whistling, and then the crowd waits. You aren’t sure what they want to hear as you stand in the glow of the hospital luminance; your hands are trembling wildly, so you clasp them together as you hold the komboskini. Criston glances over at you, concerned. You settle on the truth.

“The man who tried to kill my husband tonight is a supporter of former Alabama governor George Wallace and an avowed white supremacist. Any ideology that advocates for violence and prejudice is a threat to our bodies, our nation, and our souls. We will not surrender to it, not even when our lives are in jeopardy. We will not concede that hope for a better world is lost. We will press ever onward with the knowledge that God is on our side, and that the future of this country is worth fighting for.”

You are bathed in flashbulb lightning; your ears ring with the thunder of the applause. You are shaking hands now, nodding, beaming, Criston following you like a shadow as you move through the congregation. You stop to listen to a middle-aged woman in a floral dress who wants to give you marriage advice: never get bossy, don’t become selfish, remember that you are his safe harbor in the storms of life. It is your job to gift her your momentary veneration. You have beauty, but she has wisdom; or at least, that is the bargain that has been struck, that is the presumption everyone agrees upon. She must have some advantage over you, otherwise the decades she has spent in service of her parents and husband and children have been wasted, she has carved away pieces of herself to feed hungry mouths until she vanished like the doomed nymph Echo. In return, she tries not to envy you too much, not to dismiss you as foolish or frivolous or lustful. Sometimes you think that women are filled with such vicious, relentless self-loathing that it feels good to direct it at someone else for a while, to pick apart another body, to tally up the deficits of her spirit.

“Aemond is so lucky to have you,” the woman says. You can barely hear her over the roar of the crowd.

And you smile as you dutifully reply: “I think it’s the other way around.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There is a television mounted on the wall in Aemond’s room. The news coverage, the volume turned way down low, oscillates between his own near-assassination and the stalled peace talks in Paris. Representatives of the United States and North Vietnam cannot agree, and so each day more body bags are flown home to return the bones of the nation’s sons and fathers to Missouri, Alabama, Idaho, Maine, Wisconsin, Maryland, Arizona, California, New Jersey, everywhere else. Someone has to end it. Aemond will end it.

“I dreamed I won Florida,” your husband mumbles, and that’s how you know he’s awake, here in a hospital bed and wearing IVs like strings of Christmas lights around a pine tree.

“You did,” you tell him, gently smoothing back his hair from his forehead. His left eye—where his left eye used to be—is bandaged; his words are soft and labored. “Humphrey was second. Wallace got third. But you won. And you’re going to be okay.”

“McCarthy?”

“It seems you’re devouring his coalition.”

Aemond’s lips slowly curl into a grin, triumphant. “It is God’s will.” And this is what he always says. It is God’s will that he survives, it is God’s will that he wins the presidency, it is God’s will that you give him sons.

“Yes,” you agree, lifting his right hand to kiss his knuckles. Then you press the komboskini you’re still carrying into his weak grasp. It means more to Aemond than it does to you. “Yes it is.”

Aemond sinks into unconsciousness again, morphine and dreams that blur with reality. There will be pain soon, and plenty of it, but he is free from that impending truth for now. You rise from your chair to tell the rest of the family that Aemond is beginning to wake up. Alicent and Criston will want to speak with him.

When you open the door, Aegon is standing there: an eavesdropper, a trespasser. He glares at you with his large wet ocean-blue eyes, hazy with pills, glinting with resentment. Reluctantly, you step aside to let him in. Aegon wobbles as he passes you and has to grab onto the doorframe to steady himself, scrabbling like a trapped animal.

“You’re a disaster,” you say, caustic like acid, biting, repulsed.

Aegon whirls and jabs his index finger against your chest, bloodstained mint green wool bouclé by Chanel. “You’re a vessel. You’re a cow. And one day he’ll be done with you.”

You feel something hitting you like a bullet, cracking ribs, piercing lungs, tearing muscles and ligaments. Your lips have parted, but you can’t fathom words. Aegon has said many things to you—bitter things, belittling things, things in mixed company, things when you’re alone—but never this. For the first time since you met him two years ago, he has won one of your sparring matches. He has the upper hand. He has wounded you.

Aegon can see this, certainly. But he doesn’t seem pleased with himself. He looks a little shellshocked, like he can’t quite believe he said the words, like maybe if given the chance again he wouldn’t take it. But the moment is over now, and you can’t get time back, it is a thread that unspools until every inch is gone, spent, tangled in a thousand webs.

Aegon staggers into the hospital room. You flee from it. Out in the lobby the phone at the nurses’ station is ringing again. They’ll all be calling now to give their requisite sympathies. Humphrey counsels prudence, McCarthy prays for peace, LBJ offers the empathy of someone who has felt the cold gaze of Death in his own doorway, Nixon praises Aemond’s resilience and quotes the ancient philosopher Seneca: “There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.”

[venerawrites]

Thanks for the headcanons of Itachi and the s/o who has illness🥰. Oh my god your writings are just awesome keep it up❤️💪

Can I request some headcanons of itachi,kakashi,naruto when their s/o is pregnant?🤭

author's note: oh my god, this has been sitting in my drafts forever! I have only one assessment left, so I finally have the chance to catch up with my requests! Thank you so, so much for your patience and for requesting! Hope you enjoy!

➤ Itachi

I think I am going to disappoint a lot of you, but Itachi was definitely not happy when he first learned that his s/o was pregnant.

HEAR ME OUT PLS!

It is not that he is not loving his partner, but given everything that has happened to him and all the decisions he had to make throughout his life, he has promised himself that he would never have children. He didn't want to put them at risk, or worse, make them suffer because of his own mistakes.

The initial reaction was shock.

He was always so careful and they always used protection, so how did that happen??

I imagine he would leave for a few days just so he can clear his head and gather his thoughts.

Itachi is naturally a carer and also loves kids, so it doesn't take him long to come around. After a few days, he is already back to his s/o and they better believe he would not leave them for ANYTHING.

Very overprotective, sometimes quite unreasonable - even in the early stage of the pregnancy, he would insist on taking care of his s/o, cook for them, clean the house etc.

Does not like the idea of his lover leaving the house by themselves, mainly because he is paranoid that either Sasuke or any of his enemies would target them. He always accompanies them when they want to go out, and when he does, he keeps his arm wrapped around their back or shoulders.

As the pregnancy progresses, so do his worries, and if his s/o doesn't want to be overwhelmed by him, they have to set clear boundaries and let him know they need some space to breathe.

Totally a man who would deliver his baby at home!

The moment he heard his baby's cry, he started trembling. No one loves like the Uchiha after all, especially when it comes to their love for their children!

➤ Kakashi

Just like Itachi, for most of his life he was of the firm opinion he DOES NOT want kids.

His s/o, however, was the one that brought up the question at some point in their relationship, and since then he couldn't stop thinking about it.

When his lover told him they were pregnant he was surprised, but not shocked. With the amount of "practice" they were doing, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

I think internally he would be worried and stressing about his s/o, but he would try and act cool about it.

He would purchase dozens of books about pregnancy and would read them all the time. (including during missions and night outs with friends!) Guy and Kurenai would find it cute and would often discuss their own tips with him, while Genma and Anko would roll their eyes at their antics.

Knowing how important is for him to give space to his s/o, he would subtly help around the house, but would still let them go out on their own, do chores or if they are a ninja, even go to low-rank missions.

The more their belly grows, the more fascinated he becomes!

Very touchy - his hands are constantly on his s/o's belly, caressing it or sometimes just holding it.

Kakashi would do that only when his lover is asleep, but he is totally talking to his s/o's stomach and telling his baby random stories.

During the last months, he would also become quite overprotective.

He won't bother his s/o that much, but he won't allow anyone to get close to them, touch their stomach, or bother them for longer than few minutes.

Overall, very supportive and sweet partner, who is going to make his s/o's pregnancy as easy as possible, despite his own fear of failure.

➤ Naruto

0 clue about what's going on! 0!

At first he thinks it is exciting - having a baby is fun, right? You get to dress it, feed it, take it out... it is like playing with a doll!

Buys tons of clothes and toys literally a week after he found out his s/o is pregnant, despite not even knowing the gender yet. (yes, they had to return most of them!)

Comes with a ton of weird names for their little one, because he wants them to be 'unique'. Oinks, Huggy, and Nemar (which is just 'ramen' spelled backward!) were on the top of his list.

The first months are pretty nice and fun! When the hormones start to kick in, however...

I love Naruto, he is one of my fav boys, but I bet my soul that he is so annoying during his s/o's pregnancy!

He would not understand when he needs to give his s/o space and instead will be in their face 24/7. I imagine that he would also (try to) do some housework, but because he put only like 10% effort, his lover would have to constantly go after him and re-do it!

Lots of small petty fights!

Which would always end in Naruto bringing his s/o their favourite snack or takeaway, so it works out!

Very proud to be a future dad - he would go around the whole village, telling everyone how excited he is and how he can't wait to see the baby!

Not scared or nervous at all - he knows that in the end, everything is going to work out! Plus, he and his s/o are going to have each other, so why fear?

His s/o better be prepared to take care of TWO babies, because it would take a long time for this man to become serious and laid back!

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

[kataraavatara]

my favorite nessian moments 🥰😍😜

• when Cassian told her everyone hated her

• when he told her he couldn’t understand why her sisters loved her

•when he continued to harass her when she told him to leave her alone multiple times

•when he followed her home against her will

•when he laughed at her falling down the stairs 🥰😍

•when he locked her up and forced her to train as a warrior because she was using sex and alcohol as a coping mechanism and proceeded to have sex with her when she was emotionally vulnerable

•when he slept with her at a time he had so much authority over her he dictated what she ate 💓

•when he purposely had Azriel pack a heavy bag so she would physically suffer on the hike

•when he didn’t stand up for her when Rhysand threatened to kill her

•when he never confronted or was upset at Rhysand for threatening to kill her (did he? I’m not rereading acosf to find out that’s for damn sure)

•when he realized she was suicidal…and continued to force her on a hike with lethal drops while not even bothering to look back at her for hours at a time <3

•when he didn’t bother telling her Feyre wasn’t angry with her for telling the truth about her pregnancy, leaving her in mental agony over it for days (to go with the physical agony he was inflicting on her, how sweet 🥰)

•when he forced her to physically exert herself until she collapsed ❤️

•when he forced her to physically exert herself until she had a complete mental breakdown

•when he had sex with her after said mental breakdown

•when he told her point blank that he could handle anything she threw at him and then immediately snapped at her because she slightly criticized Rhysand

reblog with YOUR favorite Nessian moments 😍

EDIT: additions from the comments

•when he said he didn’t ask to be shackled to her

•when he refused to let her put sugar on her oatmeal and then said she could eat what he gave her or starve

[ruddyhotelau]

Hello, by the way, your work is amazing and I try not to miss anything or updates🌟

I have a question. I knew a lot about Emily and Lute's🥰💞, but what about Michael and vox's? How did their relationship start???

JusticeStatic's storyline in the AU begins after the main series ends. Vox was guilty of a felony, but thanks to Emily's success in convincing Michael, Vox was given a second chance to prove that he could change under Michael's strict supervision (This was Emily's idea).

So the two of them were stuck with each other and Vox had to live in Michael's palace so the King can have a better watch on him. Both Vox and Michael inherently did not like each other, but in the situation of having to be together, the two of them gradually got used to the other's presence. Over time, Vox also put away his charming, fake businessman mask because he knew that mask had no effect in front of the King of Hell.

Originally, they didn't even intend to talk to each other, but because Vox had most of his power sealed and Michael's palace was quite boring, the TV demon often appeared to bother Michael, making him feel extremely annoying. However, over time, Michael also discovered many aspects of Vox that he did not think existed.

Vox might not be as stupid as Michael thought. At one point he attempted to throw some unimportant papers to Vox for him to handle, but mainly to make Vox shut up. Unexpectedly, beyond Michael's expectations, the demon completed the assigned task quite well. Even with the sharp eyes of a businessman, he also came up with solutions that Michael had never thought of. This also left a good impression of him in Michael's eyes.

On a rare occasion that they had a serious conversation, Michael had always thought Vox would enjoy watching humanity writhe in crime and chaos, love to witness people's suffer but turn out, Vox just didn't give a damn about that. Don't get him wrong, Vox sure loves chaos and pain for others but that never is his number one priority. The demon only cares about what will bring most benefit for him, for his wants. If people being happy means he would get closer to his goal then he will make sure those bitches keep their smile still on their faces by one way or another.

While Michael hates the idea of sacrificing everything for desire, Vox is infatuated with it. For him, it is the blind pursuit of desire and stubbornness because of greed that makes human life in hell even more bustling, exciting and unpredictable because every day will pass like a mysterious and exciting gamble. Compared to angels who suppress their desires and live aimless, boring lives, wouldn't it be happier to pursue their ambitions and taste the sweet fruit at the end of the road? Like Princess Emily, for example. Didn't her dream also originate from desire?

Having finished speaking, he smiled a cold, evil smile of a scummy bastard while slowly enjoying the glass of Whiskey in his hand. At that moment, the King of Hell felt that the demon in front of him was no longer the usual flat faced TV that he knew. He vaguely saw an image of a sharp businessman in his 50s, proudly showing off a pile of money stained with innocent blood - a terrible bastard. Michael was disgusted by him, but he also didn't expect that the idiot he always despised would have such "profound" moments...

And it was also extremely interesting to see the person Michael thought was sharp a few hours ago turn into a rowdy child after losing a game of chess, just few taunts from Michael made the demon angrily flipped the chessboard.

In the end, Vox is still a hundred years old man, the "silence" between them will still happen. The moment the two stood side by side without saying a word.

The moment when Vox could be quietly smoking outside the balcony while Mike soon noticed from afar. Different from the look that irritated Michael the day before, different from the look with a sly smile the other day, even more different from the look of a noisy from before... There is something more "real" about that cunning demon. And before Michael knew it, he had unconsciously walked towards Vox.

Vox quickly realized Michael's footsteps were approaching. He turned back to look at the fallen angel and his expression immediately changed. He smirked and teased Michael a few words. Vox braced himself for a punch to land on his screen, but it never came.

This time, Mike just glared at Vox before ignoring the rest of his words and silently watching the explosions and screams from the city in the distance. Vox saw that the person next to him had no reaction to the sarcastic words. He could only roll his eyes in annoyance, then leaned back against the railing to light a new cigarette.

In that moment, a rare sight occurred. The King of Hell was currently calmly looking out at the chaos from afar while the demon he had always despised quietly leaned his back against the railing while inhaling a rich cigar…

Immersed in his own thoughts, Vox didn't notice when Michael's hand reached out. Michael was always curious about the taste of those cigars - the drug that always filled the body of the man next to him. Why is he so addicted to it? Perhaps today, Michael will break the rules and let himself try something "toxic"...

Michael suddenly snatched Vox's unfinished cigarette away, making him startled and upset, shouting, "Hey!" Michael continued to ignore Vox and slowly imitated the other person, taking a gentle breath. Gray smoke poured into his mouth, making the King of Hell frown slightly. The taste was exactly as he expected, extremely bad and completely unappealing... But Michael did not throw it away, instead continued to bring the cigarette to his lips and slowly enjoy it...

His thoughtful appearance while smoking and the image of the cloudy smoke escaping from the his dry lips made Vox's choke a bit, his face suddenly slightly warmed up. Uncomfortable with his own unusual thoughts, Vox turned to the other side of the railing, feeling the blood-scented Hell wind blowing onto the screen, causing Vox to relax a bit... And that wind also brought the smell of coffee that he always loved from the smoke of the person next to him...

Vox frowned slightly, then leaned his whole body against the railing, looking down... A rare peaceful atmosphere, both were immersed in their own thoughts and did not mind about the other's presence at that time. It wasn't until Michael finished smoking that he quietly walked inside, giving Vox back the quiet space.

A moment later, out of habit, Vox reached into his pocket to take another cigarette, but this time he discovered that the pack was empty. Vox stared at the empty cigarette box for a moment while his thumb gently rubbed the golden letters on the box. Then, suddenly and without thinking, Vox flicked it, sending the box flying down. Luckily Michael wasn't there to witness it, otherwise Vox would have had to hear him complain about littering again. Standing just a moment longer, Vox turned on his heel and walked back inside, silently closing the balcony door.

_____________________

Basically, their relationship will start really slow. It's a long amount of time to change from hate to love. Like it just their slice of life of understanding more about each other and find out that maybe the other wasn't that bad and eventually, slowly open themselves with the other and enjoy each others' company... This just some of what happen in their daily life when they live together. Sorry if you guys found them kinda messy and hard to understand because our explanation is kinda long and not to the point much. I guess t is is more lia an oneshot than a real ans to er the question.

But I hope you guy can at least see some reason behind why we ship them and even love them as we do?

If you can read to the end and see my silly ranting then thank you so much for reading this. I really appreciate that!!! >=333

Bonus some JusticeStatic arts for you guys who don't use X

[wadewnstonwilson]

chronic illness child wade wilson headcanons || suggestion by anonymous

author note: this may be a little triggering for people dealing with chronic illnesses/broken families so please read at your discretion.

as always, if you'd like to see this as a full blown fic, let me know! my inbox is always open at anytime if anyone has any wade, logan, or poolverine headcanons they'd like me to write out 🥰

wade constantly struggles with the guilt of his child’s pain, often blaming his mutation. he spends sleepless nights questioning if his past choices led to their suffering, and despite vanessa’s reassurance, he can’t shake the feeling that his genes are responsible. he doesn’t let them see this side of him, but when they’re not around, he’s often wrapped in self-doubt.

wade tries so hard not to swear around his kid, catching himself mid-sentence with some creative alternatives. “son of a—fudging muffin! sorry, kiddo.” his kid has grown used to his colorful near-misses and often giggles at his ridiculous substitutions, making wade’s efforts feel worthwhile.

when it comes to doctor’s appointments, wade, despite being brilliantly street smart, gets frustrated with himself over the medical jargon and instructions he struggles to read due to his dyslexia, so he brings logan along. logan acts as a calm anchor, translating the information wade needs without judgment. wade often feels embarrassed but grateful, knowing logan is there to make sure he understands everything about his child’s condition.

logan is a surprisingly steady figure in the child’s life, always gentle and reassuring with them in ways wade admires. wade sometimes jokes that logan has “secret powers for calming kids,” but he’s genuinely grateful for logan’s patience and support, especially on days when his child is struggling.

wade goes all out to ease his child’s pain in creative ways. he might rig up custom pillows or heating pads shaped like their favorite animals, anything to help them feel a little better. “maximum comfort for my favorite human,” he declares, hiding his worry behind a grin as he watches them settle in.

wade has a unique way of telling bedtime stories. he makes up wild tales about superheroes who feel pain but overcome it to be strong, subtly hoping to inspire resilience in his child. he often includes logan and vanessa as characters, finding small ways to show that they have a big support network.

whenever his child is feeling down or frustrated by the pain, wade uses humor to lighten the mood. he’ll make silly faces, do exaggerated impressions of the doctors, and crack jokes that only get more ridiculous until they’re laughing. seeing them smile is everything to him, especially on tough days.

on days when the pain is particularly bad, wade stays close, his usual antics subdued. he’ll sit by their bedside, stroking their hair gently, feeling an ache he can’t put into words. in these quiet moments, he often fights back tears, blaming himself for everything they’re going through.

vanessa’s unwavering support keeps wade grounded. they work together seamlessly, both prioritizing their child’s comfort and happiness. on days wade struggles with guilt, vanessa reminds him of the joy he brings to their child’s life, grounding him with a touch or a few comforting words.

wade's journey of parenting a child with chronic pain has taught him patience he never thought he had. he’s become gentle and careful, adjusting his humor to fit their needs. this journey is one of the hardest things he’s faced, but he’s determined to give his child the love, comfort, and support they need—no matter how much he battles his own self-blame.

[khristie16]

Dom Charles Leclerc sub Italian reader, a very long, hot spanking punishment (belt too) for the reader because of her rebel/bad attitude in their previous fight/discussion, bend over the table rough sex, wrists tied using the belt, a lot of dirty talk (in French too) and teasing, "Oui, Monsieur", after sex soft/gentle Charles. Thank you so much!! 🥰

This was so fun to write! Thanks for the tip!!:** Warnings: see above, swearing

I said No Charles! What do you mean no?? Like a fucking NO! Excuse-moi?? he looked at you in disbelief. You think it was my fault the guy touched me? You really think that huh? No it is not your fault but I told you to stay away from that group of people! And you think you can boss me around like that? Well, you are my girlfriend. So when I don't like something, I will tell you. Well then you have to accept I'm not gonna do everything you say! YN - his eyes incredibly dark. NO! Cazzo. - you stormed out out of your place. Leaving Charles behind. -

As you went back to your home after some time of cooling down, since you have a short tempered personality, you opened the door and saw literally nothing inside. It was dark everywhere. Gulping slightly, you were trying to find the switch to turn on the lights. As you were reaching out, in the exact moment someone grabbed you by your wrist and swung you around so you felt someone behind your back. It was a hard landing. Being pressed to someone's torso behind you.

Ma che cazzo?! He jerked you with such force that you hissed in pain. I'm so DONE with your SWEARING at me. - deep and harsh tone of his startled you. Charles! as you screamed when he tossed you on the couch. As you turned around to lay on your back, he switched on the little lamp on the side of the conference table. Take your skirt off. You furrowed your eyebrows on him. Do as I say YN or you will suffer more. - he glared at you. As you were trembling to take your skirt off, you looked rather mad. And don't give me that look. Or I will tie you up to the bed for one week straight without you able to do anything rather then taking my cock. Begging me to stop. As you opened your mouth at his rude words, he shoved his point and middle finger to your mouth. You gagged immediately. He pressed his two fingers inside your mouth and his thumb under your chin to squeeze his hold on you and putting so much pressure you had to obey to his movements. He got you to your knees in front of the couch.

Bring the ice, now. As you were trying to bring some oxygen again to your lungs, you stumbled and got up to your legs. He grabbed you by your arm and put you to your knees again. This man had incredible strength. Did I tell you to stand up? As you were looking to his eyes, you saw pure rage. You got so afraid to do anything. Afraid to talk. So you just shook your head. Words…. he exhaled as If he was done with you any second. No… No what? No Charles, you did not. I'm not Charles anymore. - giving you the glance again. You felt tears welling up in your eyes.

You knew what he meant by that. It happened just once when he took control over you so much you thought it is impossible to be this dominant over anyone. It was just once because it was so intense for you you cried so much and begged for not doing it ever again. But Charles was not playing with you anymore, not today. You fucked up bad.

No, Monsieur. He just nodded - Now get the ice. As you were going on all fours to the kitchen, getting the ice from the freezer, tears running down your face, sobbing quietly so he doesn't hear you. When you got back, tottering from side to side, you stopped at his feet. Crying more loudly than you indented to. You crying now? - he chuckled - Should have thought about that earlier when shouting and swearing at me. He took the ice from your hands and placed it somewhere, since you were still looking on the ground. Bend over the couch. Qui, Monsieur.

As you grabbed yourself from the floor, you carefully walked to the couch and laid down, hearing nothing around you. It was so quiet. The only thing you've heard were your sobs. And your fearful thoughts loud and clear in your head - you awaited the worst. As you were lost in your thoughts, he got you snapped back in the moment by slapping your bare cheeks. He left his rings on his fingers, a high possibility he will tear your skin since it happened once already. His spanks were rough and hard as his soul right now. You squeezed your eyes as you processed the pain. Trying not to scream. You think you can raise your voice at me? or swear at me? SLAP You were moving up and down since you wanted to make friction elsewhere to not feel the pain. You will pay for that, cherie. He slapped you five times in a row making you scream and shout Please stop-p - making it hard for you to even speak since all you felt were tears and frog in your throat. Shhhh, don't be loud cherie. Neighbors don't need to know you were a bad girlfriend right? Slapping you again for six times. You buried you face so hard into the couch, you could hardly breath. You wanted to disappear so bad in that moment.

You hissed when suddenly you felt the ice on your skin. Shh, don't move. - he put his big hands on your hips to hold you still. Grabbing your skin roughly you felt the skin was already bruised. C-Charles *sob* - he slapped you right away, grabbed you by your hair and spoke directly to your ear. I'm N.O.T. your Charles anymore. I'm sorry monsiuer, - crying so much you were surprised you could talk - I'm s-sorry. You better be. As he continued to cold your cheeks, you stopped moving and shivering. Thinking you are done with the punishment, which made you slightly happy again. But Charles thought different. As you were staring blankly to the floor around the couch, thinking you paid for your previous behavior, you heard a belt clinking. As you moved your face to its direction, you saw Charles standing above you with the belt in his right hand. Your eyes almost fell out, stopped breathing as well…

Ma cherie, you will be a good girl won't you? - smiling at you like a devil itself. You started crying again, but nodding at the same time. Qui, Monsieur. As you put your head back, tears running down your cheeks, you awaited the pain. One, two, three… you grabbed the couch with your hands. The pain was unbearable. More painful since your skin was cold and heating up at the same time, making it extremely painful. How would you rate your previous behavior? Che? - you asked since it was so hard to concentrate on anything else but pain. Three hard smacks with the belt. D.o.n.'t. make me r.e.p.e.a.t. myself. I don't know! - sobbing so hard. - Five, five…. - you hoped your prayers will be heard. Five? - he chuckled loud. - I'd say at least sixteen. As he started his count, you screamed desperately, taking your hands to hide your cheeks. His movements stopped for a sec. T.a.k.e. your hands away RIGHT NOW or I will slap them with the belt as well. You suffered but obeyed. Sobbing and crying on the couch as you slowly put them beside your laying body again.

When he got to the number sixteen, you were just crying with your eyes open, no facial expression whatsover. Awaiting the end. Si jolie fille. Look at the color cherie. - you heard a camera shot sound. As he was walking to where your face was, grabbing you by the hair and showing you the photo. This is you. You get this for mistreating me. You saw how badly red your ass was, seeing the scarred skin - devastated Que c'est beau. He grabbed you under your armpits, putting you in the air as if you weighted nothing and tossing you next to the the kitchen counter. Your hips bumped to the edge. Take off your shirt. - you did as he said, your whole body trembled right now. He went for your nipples, squeezing them harsh between his fingers, making you put your head back to his shoulder and moaned. Now he was aiming for your neck, sucking harshly and making hickeys all over your skin. You were a moaning mess right now. He chuckled at such condition of yours. You won't ever disobey me again, If I say you don't go to talk to anyone, you just won't. Or else I will make out of your neck a hickey graveyard it will be so embarrassing for you to go anywhere in the public… silence and sobbing.

He grabbed you by your hips and pushed you towards the table in front of the window in the living room. You yelped as your hips hit the edge of the table. Before you could stand up he was already right behind you. Spread your legs for me. - you cried out out loud since you knew what will come next. You felt his fingers running down your folds, humming as he liked what he saw. What a beautiful view ma cherie. You are so wet for me. - shoving his finger inside you making you moan embarrassingly. - Your pussy is so needy. - he chuckled - Let me take care of her. He shoved inside you so deeply you felt the pain in your lower stomach. You gasped for air and gripped the edges of the table frantically. - he chuckled all of a sudden. Ah, you finding comfort in it? Let me change that for you. As he grabbed you by the neck, he put you higher so he could grab your wrists and lock them together with his belt. You deserve nothing but comfort.- He spitted in your right ear. Putting pressure on your back now, you laid back again with your arms held together in a fit. He started to fuck you again, not letting you to adjust to his size. Making it even harder for you. He went for a faster pace, making you scream once again. Merde, cherie. Your pussy is so good. Much better than you are to me - You sobbed. I'm-m sorry, I'm sorry. Please. You don't deserve it. He grabbed you harder by your hips, pressing his nails into your skin to make sure to leave marks on you. You are all mine cherie. Do. - thrush - you - thrust - understand - thrust? Qui, qui Monsieour. As you sobbed and moaned out loud at the same time. He chuckled at your messing state. He went with this thumb to your tight hole and shoved it inside - again not giving you time. AHHH Charles ! - *slap*. Shut up you whore. He was attacking both of your holes making you squirm under his touch and seeking your pleasure peak. As you moaned even more and more he went for even a faster pace. You like this cherie? Qui, qui. As you moaned. And since Charles knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew when to stop. NO! - you cried out loud. - P-please, pleas-se…you breathed loudly and deeply, still sobbing since it hasn't left you. He laughed at you cruelly now. He took his other hand and touched your clit so lightly you started moving towards the friction. He slapped your ass, making you a hiss sound. D.o.n.t. move. - you nodded slightly. He continued brushing your clit slightly, teasing you so much you thought your on the verge of breaking out. He got yourself right where he wanted you. You were moving from side to side from the so close orgasm you needed release immediately. You were a writhing mess under him. You are such a whore ma cherie. Please. I'm begging you, You think you deserve it now? Qui. - he laughed at you. No, not yet.

He grabbed you by your hips and tossed you to ground. Making you hit your face since your wrists were still tied together. Sit up. You did, hardly but did. Now listen to me, it will never ever happen again, you understand? You will never talk to me that way ever again. And I will make sure to do whatever it takes to make yourself seen off limits, and if you just cannot listen to me, I make your skin look so miserable that guys will be afraid to even touch you from such sight. Do you understand? Qui. - you meant it as you lowered your eyes. You never wanted to see this Charles again. You wanted the soft one, the loving one. The one you were used to. As he was looking at you, he smiled a little. Last lesson. Open your beautiful mouth. You did as he said. He shoved his big thick cock in your mouth, making you gag around him. So good for me cherie. So good. - your eyes teary once again, breathing harder for him. I bet your pussy likes this. I bet it's a mess beneath you. You moaned loudly at that. Because he was telling the truth.

As he was thrusting his cock in your mouth, the more he groaned out loud, you knew he was getting close. He thrusted in your mouth one last time and put him out. Jerking himself off and squirting on you. As he was panting and finding his steady breath again, you felt his cum dripping down on your skin. If it means to put my cum on you and letting you go like this to public, I will do it. I won't disobey you again, Monsieur. Good. - as he exhaled, he took you by your wrists and let you stand up.

You've learnt your lesson cherie. - he kissed the inside of your wrists, he let the belt loose. Grabbing you under your knees and the backside of your shoulder blades. Taking you to the bedroom. Laying you down on your stomach. Put your hips a little bit higher for me mon amour. - and you did. Loving your old Charles is back again. He sneaked his right hand to your clit, rubbing it softly and his dick once again entered your hot pussy. Making you moan immediately. Be a good girl and come for me. As he was moving in and out of you, rubbing your clit, focusing on your pleasure, you didn't last long. Moaning so hard and calling his name, he groaned to himself and supported you to come for him. He knew your body so well, putting light kisses on your neck since he knew you love it. You had the most intense orgasm so far being with him, moaning and saying his name on repeat. Breathing loudly and coming from your high, he slowly and gently started massaging your back. Making you hum a little at his soft touch. You like this cherie? - you just hummed and smiled to yourself. Good. He continued for a little bit, starting at your back, going down your legs and up once again. And then turned you around, so you were on your back. Facing him. Seeing his beautiful face telling you, he adores completely what he sees beneath him. He used his knee to spread your legs, and you let him. Smiling at him you didn't know. You're so good for me right now ma cherie. - as he shoved himself inside of you. Making you arch your back. Y-yes. He moved slowly and lovingly. Putting his hands over your face, so you were forced to look into his eyes. His eyes were no longer dark, but soft. His green eyes were speaking to you, safety and intimacy. You were lost in his eyes as he were lost in yours. Te amo Charles. J'taime YN. He kissed you on the forehead and went a little faster with his thrusts. I want you to come once again, when I have my tongue down your throat. You started kissing each other, him invading your space inside your mouth. As you started to shiver, he hold your hips steadily and went faster. You were a moaning mess, losing your breath as he was stealing it from you. You came again, seeing stars, feeling his touch and his warm embrace. He groaned loudly to your ear as he came again, right after you…

As you both found your breath again, he looked at you, his eyes lazy. I'm gonna prepare a bath for you. I'd like that - you smiled at him. He kissed you on the cheek, stood up and went to the bathroom. You wanted to go after him but your legs were weak, so you just sat down on the bed again waiting for him. What is wrong mon amour? - he looked concerned. I cannot walk. - looking at him under your lashes. Smiling a little. He took you in his arms and took you to the bathroom. Putting you inside the warm water with bubbles and candles around. I will make dinner meanwhile you rest, it will be ready once you're finished. - he kissed you on the forehead, ready to leave. Charles? Yes? I am so sorry. I will never behave that way again. - you looking down into the water. I know - he rested his hand on your right cheek and kissed you on the forehead again, before disappearing to the kitchen.

[auclairedetoru]

Hi bestie!! I’m not sure if this is where I request things since I’ve never done this before😓🙏

But could you perhaps rights something about Levi?? And reader who were engaged and moved in together but ultimately ended up breaking up their engagement due to spending less time together because of work (Levi) and school( med school reader)???? But then after a few years they run into each other???

I’m jot sure if this makes sense, but If you consider thank you you’re amazing and I LOVE your writing 🥰🫶

Hi noonie~ Timeline might not make sense because I'm too lazy to create an understandable and logical one but this is fiction and in the words of Barbie, anything is possible.

Also, Levi has both parents in this fic because he's already suffered enough in his original story, he deserves a stable home life in this.

Levi prides himself on living with no regrets. No matter what happens, what he chooses to do, he considers it all part of his development and growth. Have some of the choices resulted in situations he didn't want to be in? Of course, but he still won't regret them, because he learned from them and changed.

But he does regret one thing.

See, back in his early 20s, Levi was in a relationship, which comes to a shock to many of the people he met later in life because he's always been single and not interested, but yes, he was not only dating but engaged to a beauty girl named y/n.

They started dating in college after a mutual friend set them up. Levi didn't want to date anyone at first, but then he saw her and immediately was drawn to her. She was so pretty, so kind, and so gentle, so he wasn't surprised when he learned that she was a med student hoping to become a pediatrician.

Things developed quickly between them. She moved in after 4 months and on their first anniversary, Levi proposed to her and of course she said yes. His mother was worried for them when he broke the news to her, everything happened too fast and she warned him that it might lead to problems in the future, and that's the only thing he regrets.

He should've listened to his mother.

Being older and not studying the same thing, Levi got to graduate earlier than her, and because of his qualifications he was quick to find a job that paid him well enough to live comfortably with his fiancée. The first couple of months were perfect, they were both happy and content with their lives, but slowly and without realising it, they started to drift apart, too busy focusing on work and school.

At one point, the only time they were together was in bed while sleeping. They were barely seeing each other, let alone talking. She eventually confronted him about it, but with the exhaustion and lack of communication, their conversation quickly turned into an argument, and instead of solving the problem they went to bed angry at each other. One night turned into two, two into three, three into a week, a week into a month... They weren't surprised when they finally sat down to talk again and it resulted in a break up.

They were each other's first stable relationship and couldn't imagine a life without the other so the fact they did not want to end it is understandable, but they both knew it was not healthy for them to stay together. Levi cried when she handed him her engagement ring and he refused to take it, telling her that it will always be hers no matter what. Her final wish as she was about to leave their once shared apartment was to have one last kiss, so he planted a small one on her forehead and told her that he'll find her again, if not in this life then he'll look for her in the next one.

Fast forward to now, Levi left his first job. After working there for a year, he realised they were using him to do work outside of his requirements knowing he was a newbie who's too afraid to say no, that's why he was working overtime and even at home. His current job is much better, they pay him more than the previous one and he already got a promotion. He made new friends and feels like he's in a better place in life now.

Well, except his relationship status.

He tried to go on dates, to meet new people, but he always found himself comparing them to y/n which wasn't fair at all, especially since in his eyes everything she did was nothing less than perfect. So for now, he has settled on being single, hoping he'll meet the one eventually.

He thinks about y/n a lot. She must be graduating soon. He hopes she went through with becoming a pediatrician, it's always been her dream and he couldn't think of a better person to take care of tiny and vulnerable humans than her. He wants to check on her, and he tried before, but she must've changed her phone number because an old man picked up last time he tried (and he unfortunately got an earful of cuss words that he didn't even know existed).

Levi remembers promising her the best graduation party to celebrate the successful end of years of hard work, the memory is still very vivid in his brain.

“... I'll fill the whole place with all your favourite foods. All your family and friends will be there-”

“Your parents need to be there too!”

“You want to invite them?”

“Of course! I love them more than you!”

“hey-”

He really regrets not listening to his mother when she told him not to rush things. He wonders how things would've turned out if they didn't move in together and got engaged in a matter of a year. Would they have been okay with not talking often with each other? Would they have argued the way they did? Would their relationship have lasted longer than it did?

Sigh... He misses her so much. To the point he started seeing things and they somehow remind him of her. Whether it's food, clothes, and even decor, he finds himself thinking about how she would've reacted to them.

He wishes he could see and talk to her again. He was so privileged when they were together and he didn't even realise that. Getting to look at her beautiful face everyday, hear her voice, hear her laugh, watch her do normal every day things, they all seemed so simple at the moment, but they went on to become things he's wishing to have around again.

... And somehow his wishes are heard.

“Levi ?”

He thinks he's hallucinating at first. He's missed her so much his brain has started making him hear things to cope. But then he turns around and there she is, looking as beautiful as the day he last saw her.

“Oh my god, it's been so long,” she smiles as she slowly approaches him. Levi could cry at the simple sight of her, and he's the type of person who's always in control when it comes to his emotions, but not when it comes to her, though.

“Y/n... Hi, how's it going?”

“Oh, you know, just preparing for last minute things before graduation next week.”

The sweet sound of her nonchalant laugh is like drinking a nice cold cup of water on a hot summer day. He wishes he could have a recording of it and listen to it whenever he needs to.

“Right, congratulations in advance.”

“Thank you! Here, actually,” she reaches inside her bag and pulls out an envelope of sorts, “an invitation to attend the ceremony and everything. I was supposed to give it to a friend but they unfortunately can't make it, I'd love for you to come, though.”

A small, nearly invisible smile is drawn on his lips, one that he knows only she can spot. He gently takes the envelope from her hands and that's when he sees it, her engagement ring wrapped so beautifully around her right ring finger instead of her left. The sight of it makes his heart skip several beats. Does that mean she still thinks about him? About their relationship? Does she miss him the way he misses? Does she wish things would've been different? He wants to ask her all those questions, but he feels like they're too inappropriate. After all, this is the first time they've seen each other in years.

“I'll make sure to be there for you.”

She smiles back at him, her cheeks burning at his choice of words as she looks down shyly and Levi is satisfied knowing he still has that effect on her, “bring your parents as well, you know how much I've wanted them to attend such an important day.”

Levi chuckles lightly but nods, “of course, they wouldn't miss it for the world.”

After saying goodbye (which they honestly both didn't want to do), he looks back down at the invite to her graduation on top of the forgotten bottle of shampoo he was reading, and he feels very happy when he sees that she did in fact go through with becoming a pediatrician. He'll definitely attend, and he'll bring his parents too, just as it always has been planned.

A laugh escapes his lips as he remembers the day they broke up when he promised her he'll find her again.

“Not if I find you first.”

She was right... She did find him first.

Struggled a lot with this one, had to rewrite it multiple times because for some reason it wouldn't save 😭

[volturiprincess]

Háblame De Ti

:tell me about you:

Demetri Volturi x Fem human reader

Summary: The way he looks at you when you talk A/N: This one was inspired by the song "Hablame de ti" by Banda MS. I connected two and two when I was driving to the beach and this song went on and I was like "Omg this is giving Demetri vibes, write it down Mj (me)". I swear this happens to me to often, ideas for one-shots just randomly come to mind and I quickly pull out "notes" on my phone if I'm not on my computer and later transfer that idea do my doc and write out a whole brainstorm or just start writing right away. Anyways......Enjoy💙 (Ps. I might or might of now of added my other fictional lovers on here🤭)

Word Count: 1k+

(What a lovely man. I love his little smile here🥰)

“Your not going to believe who Kelsey ended up with”

“Tell me”

I crossed my legs to get more comfy. Me and Demetri are in the outskirts of Volterra in a small clearing of grass that we go to when the weather is nice. With it already being  summer, and the sun beating down on us, Demetri’s gorgeous sparkle comes through. Oh how I can stare at him all day long and try to count every individual little diamond that seems to be on his face. To just admire his beauty and not be interrupted by others, to not have to worry about anything but him alone. His state right is laying on his stomach with his head resting on his head, and his feet basically kicked up, swaying side to side. He seems so relaxed and he’s giving me his undivided attention at the same time.

“She ended up with Ren”

“No way”

“Exactly, and poor Kishan was left behind, can you believe how devastated I was how he was just left behind in time. I so wanted to reach into the book and pull him out”

“And what would you do with him if that were possible”

“Well give him his happily ever after of course my man has suffered to much”

“Your man? What am I some side chick now?”

“Demetri you will always be my main, Kishan would be my side I guess”

“No I don't like that, no side chicks or whatever you just have me”

“Fine, so I can't even have Moony or Padfoot either?”

“Nope”

“What about Nanami, please let me at least have him”

“I'll think about it, but tell me more about what happened after they left Kishan”

I continued with my ramble of the book I finished. When I talk about books with him he lets me go off and does not interrupt unless he has a question. Even when I fear I have talked to much or I bored him, I look at him and he’s still looking at me with anticipation for me to continue 

Third Person

A thing that y/n didn't realize about Demetri was how he looks at her. When they are out in their spot at this time of the year, Demetri sees a whole new side of her. He just sits or lays there looking at her like she is the only breathing soul on this earth. If it were possible his pupils would form into little hearts because that is all he sees when he looks at her, hearts. He has the purest of adoration for her; if someone were to watch them for a distance, they would assume Demetri is under a love spell from how he watches her. He's so smitten with her it's almost as if it's too good to be true, it seems too much like a fairytale. And to them it does feel like it, their alone time is their little bubble of paradise. Just them against the world, no vampire or human in sight, even the animals seem to leave them alone. 

Demetri and y/n or y/n or Demetri, bounded for eternity, how it should be according to them. Just them two, even if currently one is immortal and another is mortal, they just click. The minute they meet, life just makes sense for them at that moment. When he moves, she moves, she wanders and he follows her around. Or he will gently guide her back to their initial journey since his lovely mate tends to get distracted with little things.

Oooo what a pretty flower, oh my what an interesting looking tree, how is that possible for it to bend like that? Demetri look a family of little bunnies, can I take them home?

Those are just superficial questions and thoughts she will have when she wanders but Demetri loves every little quirk she carries, even the one where sometimes she hides herself from him when he catches her moving with the wind. 

“You were not supposed to see that”

“Well i'm glad I did because now I can join you, care to share a dance cariño?” 

Demetri’s POV

What a beauty of a human she is. She’s a rare jewel that can never be dared to be duplicated or even have the audacity to be recreated. No one will even come close to being like her because she is one in a million. The way she can talk to me for hours without stopping warms my heart for it being she trusts me enough to say whatever is on her mind. Her voice, the voice of an angel indeed. How can someone like her even exist? I sometimes fear I'm in a dream with her, I just can never fully believe she is my mate. She was made for me, she’s everything I have ever wanted but at the same time something I never knew I needed. If I were to sketch out what I believe my mate would have looked like, it would have looked like her. 

I never pictured myself finding my mate in this lifetime or ever, but when she came into my life, I was enamored of the idea of her. All of the heartache I harbored within the past vanished to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of devotion and infatuation dedicated just for her. 

I deeply value my alone time with her, it's our time to be with each other without any interruption or worry of some duty I need to do. Even if my mind is racing with a million thoughts revolving around her, I catch every single word that comes from her pretty little mouth. At last I think I might have gotten a bit too deep in my love for her because she is staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I said why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Well your looking at me all weird”

“Can’t a vampire stare at his mate with love?”

And my oh my, that lovely blush of her’s starts to bloom on her lovely face. It saddens me to think what when the day comes for her to become like me, her blush will be no more. I will miss it but it excites me that we will officially have forever. 

Still blushing she responds with a small stutter “W-well you can, n-no judgment, but were you paying attention?”

“Of course my angel, you just said that Ren and Kelsey got married”

She nodded and proceeded to keep talking about the book. So adorable when she doubts me, I am always listening to her. There are times where she sleep talks sometimes and I manage to her say that she loves me so much. It gave me a warm feeling within to think she loves me as much as I love her, well actually I think I love her more. But why tell her that? When I have to be away from her due to missions or training, I am aching to be in her arms as soon as I leave. To be in her warm embrace, to have my face filled with her lips giving me multiple small kisses, to seeing her smile when she sees me. 

If only she knew the deep effect she has on me, I only mentioned slight things but soon enough she will know. If I were to tell her my deeper feelings, I don't think her mind would be able to comprehend it, my love for her is intense, so strong and raw. Sometimes it does scare me in how much I love her. 

Y/N POV

“I'm still mad about it, you know? Like you have no idea how much I cried”

“I know cariño, I was there wiping your tears away all night”

“That you were, I'm so lucky to have you my love”

“I know i'm just the best you know”

I slap his shoulder playfully at his exaggerated cockiness. He can be such a goofball sometimes and I love that about him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

Cariño: Dear

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hello! So sorry if this is a useless request. Just gathered the courage to give my first ask. Can you please do one similar to a show called the ghost and Molly McGee, where the genderbent us accidentally cursed ourselves to stay with them for life 🥺❤️

HEY NOW Never call your request useless, if I can't do a request I'll will tell you privately, but in other news...I LOVE THE GHOST AND MOLLY MCGEE🤩🤩🤩

(Lmk) I can't believe your all mine🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🤩

(M/n) What?🤨

(Lmk) you and me for all time🎶🎵🎶🎵🥰

(Lmk Wukong) You met her during her journey to the west, and her dumba** master and the pilgrims decided to stay at your abandoned house. You spent nights terrorizing those guys, but frustradingly, Wukong is the only one not scare of you, infact she giggled in your face. The final straw was when you tried to jump scare her, but instead, she kissed you, you swear that you would torture her for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, you put that vow in a spell form, and when they finally left, you found yourself being dragged around and following Wukong. You both were confused until you remembered what you said earlier, and before you knew it, Wukong was so stoked, and it was too late for you😨

(M/N) ugh🙄😒

(NR) I'm never ever ever gonna be alone again🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🥳

(M/n) Oh man😨

(NR) Lovebirds you and me😍

(NR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh god this a extremely hellish situation, that women did nothing but chirp and flirt with you in a club you would often hang out in. You would use your ghost abilities to try and scare her off but it did nothing but make her purr at your sharp teeth and claws. Wukong would never leave you be despite your best efforts, so you decided you want me so bad how about you deal with me scaring you for the rest of your life! Unfortunately you dug your second gave when you found that you bounded yourself to her like a freaking noob and now your stuck with her flirting and making moves on you🤦‍♂️

(M/n) For all eternity??😰

(MKR) FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!!!!!👿

(MKR Wukong) She's just as pissed about this as you are about this whole situation. She yelled at you for hours on end and you would argue back at her. This all started when that woman and her friends crashed at your house, unknowing to them that you lived there and wasted no time scaring pigsy and sandy right out the house but the monk was annoying and Wukong in not scared of you but you did make her angry. You both would get into huge fights until you got so upset that you vowed to make her suffer in fear forever and unfortunately for both of you, the vow was a curse and now you really are stuck together for all eternity 😰

(Both) it's the ghost, it's the ghost and the monkey queen 🎶🎵🎶🤦‍♀️🤦‍♂️

(M/N) We've been cursed its the worst😫

(HIB Wukong) Oh jeez, well, this is annoying. You thought you could scare her, but you're apparently the least scariest demon she's ever met. This pissed you off and when out of your way to find different things to scare her with, but most of her looks and reactions are like are you done yet??😐🤨 The final straw was her brushing you off and humiliated you, so you created a spell to make you become Wukong's worse nightmare but unfortunately for both of you. You had cursed you both to be together forever.

(Netflix) Now your stuck with me🥰

(Both) We're never gonna be a part😊😮‍💨

(Netflix Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh man. She's way too happy about this, a cute guy she can brag and flaunt her achievements and skills to. Well that is if you cared about anything she was saying to you, she's annoying, vain, and never shuts up at all. So the next best thing you did was try to scare her away from you, but unfortunately it seems she's to dumb to be scared of you and you finally had it. You finally had enough and vowed to scare Wukong and make her life miserable. Well that was until your vow turned into a curse and Now your both technically Married to each other forever now.

(M/n) is their a way to hit restart?🎶🎶🎵🎶😓

(BMW) Nope😃

(Both) We're the ghost, ghost and the monkey Queen🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶😮‍💨😄

(BMW Wukong) OH GOD DAMN IT YOU HAVE A BETTER CHANCE OF SCARYING ERLANG THEN YOU DO WITH HER. She's so irritating and loud and never wants to leave you alone, she's always boasting and flirting. Worse of all no matter how many times you turned around and roar at her with your unhinged jaw and all, all she did was just purr and kiss your face. That's when in a fit of anger, embarrassment and frustration you had cursed yourself to stay with her forever, which you really wish you can take back. Though she seems to be really, really into it😳

(D.O) that's me🙂

(M/n) Well that's she🙃

(Destined one) You are no more than an annoying chittering voice on the side of her head. She and Bajie met you when she made camp by your old abandoned manner, and ever since then, you made bajie have at least 3 heart attacks and have 5 strokes but the destined one certainly been a fair challenge. So until you have finally made the destined one scream, you have vowed to be by her side and make her suffer for all eternity. Well, that was the goal, but had two little booboos. First you had accidentally curse yourself to be stuck with her forever, and the second being, you actually started to like her.

The Ghost Husband and the monkey Queen🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶👻👸😅🥰

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[ghostfaceprincess]

How They Would React If You Fell Asleep On Them (First Time):

-

TW: Language.

-

Michael Myers:

• Uh… what do I-

• Maybe if I just… *lays on his back and pulls you onto his chest*

• Rubbing your back.

• Thinking to himself how small you still are compared to him.

-

Freddy Krueger:

• “Should I… go into their dream and be an as- no, no, no, Freddy, no!”

• Turns you so he can spoon you.

• Humming softly to you.

• Can’t help but wonder about your dream.

-

Jason Voorhees:

• NO ONE MAKE ANY NOISE ITS FINALLY HAPPENING

• Is very pleased to cuddle you and hold you.

• Will 100% hold your hand.

• Will eventually fall alseep holding your hand. (Y’all- my bf and I do this sometimes and I love it sm 🥰 I’m down so bad for my lil pook 😤)

-

Billy Loomis:

• If anyone makes any noise, he’s throwing a book at them; just happens to have a thick ass horror book next to his couch where you’re both laying.

• Hissing at Stu to be quiet when he walks in.

• Trying to make sure you’re warm.

• Can’t help but play with your hair/rub your head.

-

Stu Macher:

• Happily waves at Billy as he walks in and then points down at you, who is on his chest, as he smiles very happily.

• Rubbing your back gently and tracing shapes.

• Can’t help but wonder if he should order a pizza for when you wake up.

• Using his free hand to flick through movies.

-

Charles Lee Ray:

• Ah… and great, now his arm is asleep.

• But you look so peaceful, he doesn’t wanna move.

• Will suffer a tingly arm, just for you.

• Is wishing he could reach the TV remote though.

-

Tiffany Valentine:

• O M G, she was head over heels!

• Snuggling you close and even rocking you.

• Singing softly and sweetly to you.

• She never wants the moment to end.

-

Bubba Sawyer:

• Smiling happily as he holds you on his chest.

• Is trying not to breathe too heavy but y’know… flesh mask.

• Will play with your hair/rub your head.

• Making sure you aren’t too hot or too cold.

-

Thomas Hewitt:

• Everyone better be quiet and he means that.

• He doesn’t want anyone or anything to disturb you.

• Rocking you in his strong arms.

• Will you be hungry when you wake up?

-

Art the Clown:

• Are you… are you serious?

• Slowly smiles sweetly to himself, his eyes changing in a soft way for a split second, as he rubs your back.

• Really hoping nothing wakes you up.

• He’s enjoying your weight on him, it’s soothing.

-

The Creeper:

• Oh god, he fucking loves it!

• Rocking you and humming to you.

• Kissing your head.

• He feels… good, for once.

-

Thanks for reading! Send in requests! 🖤

[dootznbootz]

I don't know about you, but I'm a bit mixed about Calypso in EPC. I mean, her songs are good, her singer's quite talented, so I don't have a problem... musically, at least.

But, story-wise, Calypso seems a bit too victim-like in my taste. "I'm not sorry for loving you" seems like it wants to make us sympathize with her and to consider her as Odysseus' friend.

While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her.

On the plus side, "Love in paradise" affirms she's the powerful one and Odysseus later confirms he doesn't love her romantically (plus Athena's 'he never cheated on his wife' line in "God games")

So it won't be detrimental for OdyPen 🥰.

What do you think ?

Oh, I'm definitely mixed about Calypso in Epic. As just like you said:

"While making her nuanced is interesting, the Epic fandom could be inclined to forget what she did to him in the Odyssey. And how miserable he was alongside her."

The Epic Fandom already DOES forget what happens in the Odyssey or think that they are the same thing. :/ I see stuff talking about Scylla in how Odysseus lights the torches and yet, it's tagged as "Odyssey". I love "light up six torches" as it's very dark but also very painful for Epic!Odysseus and that's really fun!

But I get saddened when people think that happened in the Odyssey ;~; as it's one of my favorite parts where Odysseus, knowing that Circe warned him, still goes to put on his armor to try and fight Scylla himself. He tried so fucking hard to save them. And they all grieved later on together. Eurylochus does mutiny in both but in the Odyssey, it isn't because of Scylla or anything. They were all just...Hungry ;~;

That's not even talking about how the Epic Fandom was when we only got the snippet of "There are other ways" ;~;

I still remember when there were jokes about how Odysseus is just like Hamilton and "Couldn't say No to this." Also Circe never did that to "protect her nymphs" in the Odyssey. She did it for funsies as she's a goddess and can do what she wants. That doesn't mean he was happy though.

I DO trust Jay to do well with Calypso's island. While I really am nervous about "I'm not Sorry for Loving you." like very nervous. I think HE'LL also make it clear that Odysseus isn't well or happy. As he has that cut song with the lyrics of:

"Is this some kind of trick? Pretending I can go Because if so, you're sick My heart's already broken"

So even though he cut that song because the beat and the music did NOT fit the situation, I'm very sure he'll have another like it showing Odysseus' despair and suffering.

I just... sighs I'm in a funky situation where I love Epic. I love it a lot. I think it's a genuinely good and fun retelling. I think while some spots are inaccurate, some are still really neat. I just get sad about this almost...disdain towards the actual Odyssey?

"Oh, Odysseus doesn't mention Penelope and Telemachus as much as he does in Epic-" Yes, he does. It's in so many of the metaphors and there's so many moments where he's clearly thinking about them. I love singing Penelope's name longingly too but an ancient epic poem is gonna be a lil different xD

"Oh Polites isn't really in it-" ...And?? That's okay. You enjoy Jay's character he created who really isn't in the Odyssey as much.

"Odysseus is such a manwhore in the Odyssey-" I am beating you over the head with a fucking rock.

Jay is clearly so fucking passionate and cares about this story so so much (he had a MENELAUS SONG (I grieve it's loss every day ;~; THEY CAN BOTH SIMP FOR THEIR HOT AF WIVES)) He had other characters planned!

But yeah ;~; I get so fucking sad every time someone talks about Epic being better than the Odyssey. Like even JAY wanted to clear that up that "hey, the Odyssey is really cool! I mean I wrote this because I love it so much." and yet... people don't wanna know or even TRY to understand what happens in the actual Epics.

I have hope. I just hope the FANDOM follows through.

[pupyuj]

dom yujin likes to put you on a leash and pull you into her whenever she feels like you are misbehaving and I won't elaborate on that... it is what it is

eehhehuehe let ME elaborate for yew 😋😋😋😋

[cw: petplay, humiliation]

this rlly is the kind of shit mean dom yujin would pull 🤤 leashing you up and pulling you around to follow her.. or forcibly tugging on the leash to pull you away from her pussy while you’re eating her out bcs she wants you to beg for permission to make her cum 🥺🥺 but she’d willingly delay her own orgasm if it means she could mess around with you and make you suffer 🤤 yujinnie telling you so many mean and hurtful (but not too hurtful bcs you’re still her baby) things while you’re trying your hardest to work magic on her cunt with your fingers 😵‍💫 her asking you to go faster, do it her harder, pulling on your hair and saying “fuck me properly or else” 😵‍💫😵‍💫 and you know what! even if you do give yujin the best fucking orgasm of her life, she’s too petty to assure you that you did well and plus, it did feel so fucking good that she wants more.. so she’d definitely sit on your face and use your mouth as she pleases 😩 and ofc being yujinnie’s obedient, pussy-drunk little pet, you use your mouth ‘for the one thing it’s good for’ (yujin’s words 😣) and make her see the stars..

yujin would definitely find it amusing how far you’re willing to look like an idiot for her 🤭 she’d ask you to do all the things you hate (only the things you hate less than others ofc and she would have talked about it with you beforehand! 🥺 not so mean is she..? 🥰)… since you were her sweet little kitten, she’d definitely entertain the idea of you eating on the floor with your hands and laughing when you actually do it?? 😣 if you disobey you know you’ll get punished really really bad so you didn’t have a choice :(( it would eat away at your confidence and all you can do is NOT look at yujin but she’d force you to ☹️ squatting down to your eye level and wondering if her sweet kitten wants her to be nicer 😣😣 she’d make up a petty reason as to why she’s treating you like she is just to make you beg for forgiveness 💔

yujin just loves seeing you so powerless so she likes to keep you kneeled on the ground, looking up at her w teary eyes and a small pout ☹️ she’d feel bad.. but you’d use your safewords if you had enough and you haven’t said anything.. so yujin knew you were enjoying this somehow 😋 she’d absolutely make you ride her shoe while pleading and begging her to fuck you so you can be relieve 😩 she’d like it better if you were to ride her thigh instead! nails digging on her shoulder while you chased after your climax untouched 😣😣 but it was so hard without yujin’s help… she’d just stare at you, making fun of you from time to time, and spanks you for being such a whore for her 😩 the sight of you so desperate was priceless 😵‍💫

being true to her meanie act, she’d edge and egde you until you’re crying!! whether it’s with her fingers or some toys, yujin would just laugh while you’re crying and sobbing ☹️ if she was feeling mean enough, she wouldn’t even let you cum! this would prompt you to try and use her while you think she’s asleep.. grabbing her hand and pushing her fingers inside of you and grinding… all that just for her to wake up and call you a bad kitty 😣😣 you really messed up this time.. and oh the things yujinnie would do to punish you.. 😵‍💫