#thank god i've almost finished

[random-autie-fangirl]

A question to be solved before I go insane...

Okay, due to Reaching Out happening on Monday 22nd August 2023, I have a timeline mostly figured out but I'm fairly sure the events of eclipse lake, yesterday's lie and follies at the coven day parade all happen on three consecutive days because Luz wouldn't wait to visit her mum once she has the titan's blood, and fatcdp definitely seems to be the first time Luz has talked to her friends since she visited her mum. And follies at the coven day parade happens on a school day so I have to ask...

Do eclipse lake and yesterday's lie happen on the weekend, making the huge isles-wide festival happen on a monday night (when everyone has to get up for work and school the next day)?

Or is that Eclipse Lake and Yesterday's Lie happen on a Wednesday and Thursday (putting fatcdp on Friday), and Willow, Gus and Amity all managed to get out of school somehow to look after Luz when she's sick

(Maybe they said they'd had a sleepover at Luz's house and all caught the common mold off each other and Bump...just let it slide, though there is the issue of everyone's parents, especially Odalia)

(Also, it's much easier for Luz to get off school in Yesterday's Lie because she's just one person and was sick the day before so it's much less suspicious)

[iniziare]

Me working on a totally unrelated character's page, and this comes on (I assume the Solas folk already know of how numerous of his big scenes are written to/built on Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah', and how agonizingly painful that is as added weight) and all I'm doing out loud is singing/humming along to the bit (2:25) of: "I sought to set my people free, from slavery to would-be gods, I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen'harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil, and banished them forever.' And I just, want to extend a personal thank you to Weekes for writing such a monumental character. There are many that I love very dearly, but Solas hits my heart in a way that's different.

God, the fact that a spirit of Wisdom, as he was twisting slowly away from himself, turned into Pride, but manifested that into such a way that it was pride of the Elven people (and Mythal in kind, who wanted 'best' for them), and it turned into saving them from those that threatened them, because 'Solas' doesn't mean 'prideful', it means 'pride'. But that, all of that has me feral. That is absolutely exquisite writing, and it makes me fully believe in the existence of that little '20 years old lore book'. I can't believe how incredible this arc is, from start to finish. Magnificent choice of trait, of name(s), of evolution— I don't know how Weekes could put him down, ever, because he's not even mine and I don't think I could ever love this character, and literally everything he encompasses, any less than I do.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: epilogue

see my masterpost for what came before this. thank you for going on this journey with me. i hope it's been a good one.

Things begin to move very quickly. Keyleth remains stoic through her father's funeral, a joyous affair of music and flowers and colors befitting a man of his temperament. She saves the falling apart for when she is back in the cottage, with only her husband and her daughter to witness her shattered pieces. Vax holds her as she weeps into the night, for her father, for her mother, for her child, for her people. She sleeps when she can, though often the sorrow pulls her from her slumber, awakening her in the darkest hours with tears already streaming down her cheeks.

During the days, a new government is born. From sunrise to sunset, what was once the Ashari Council meets to establish what the new city-state of Zephrah will look like, how it will run, by what method its citizens will elect their representatives. Within the first week, the leaders of the other Ashari cities arrive—including Duchess Uvenda, who, as it turns out, made a full recovery once her worm of a grandson left and a skilled cleric arrived—and they, too, begin to see the vision of what their cities' futures might look like. Keyleth, who occupies the role of sovereign until a formal declaration can be made, urges the Archdukes and Archduchess to follow her lead in allowing the citizens to decide their own futures, but she sees reluctance in particular in Duchess Uvenda and Duke Patisse's eyes, which, she supposes, is their business. She is no longer in control of their destinies.

It takes about a month, but Zephrah decides on a High Council with five elected positions—Development, Commerce, Arcana, Divinity, and Defense—with elections to be held every three years, the first to be held in one year's time. Also on this High Council will sit four appointed positions, one ambassador from each of the other city-states in the newly founded Ashari Confederacy. Keyleth is to serve on this council as well in an advisory capacity for the next five years, long enough to transition Zephrah into its new future, and then she and her little family will be citizens, no more or less than any of their neighbors.

Keyleth makes the announcement on a frigid winter morning, bundled up against the icy winds in the center of town. She is surrounded by the new High Council and the visiting nobles, as well as her husband, who stands just behind her, looking every inch the valiant guard she fell in love with. The people of Zephrah react with confusion, uproar, anger, unrest, but after they are given some time to converse among themselves, to gather as neighbors and dream of what their futures might look like, Keyleth is unsurprised to learn that the Zephrans come to look forward to what they might do with the newfound power placed in their hands.

Despite this dawning era of hope and change, a nasty, twisted gnawing at her stomach rarely lets her know peace. She keeps it to herself, not even divulging her worries to Vax, because if anyone knew of her doubts, her fears, her uncertainty, she knows that this unprecedented thing they are trying to do will collapse. Even though her each and every quiet moment is deafened by peppering questions—is this the right thing, what if it doesn't work, has the nation been made more vulnerable, what would Korrin say—she must not let them spill out, lest her plan be foiled by her own insecurities.

So on a spring morning, when Vax sleeps in with the baby and the morning fog has yet to roll off of the hills, Keyleth goes to the place she's been avoiding since her return to Zephrah: her father's chambers. Percy locked the doors and gave her the key, and it has taken her this long to summon the courage to go in. Her hand trembles on the key as she unlocks it.

The first thing that nearly sends her to her knees is how much the room still smells like him. Her father always had a woodsy, smoky scent, given his proclivity for staying up late into the evening reading by firelight, and thought it has been several months now, that scent still lingers. She forces her legs to continue in, closing the door behind her. His dressing gown is still draped over the back of the chaise by the hearth, as if at any moment he might stride in and throw it on. There is a writing desk near the window, smaller than the one in his study yet still littered with all the accoutrements of the station he'd held. The bed, never turned down for the night again, has a fine layer of dust atop the duvet. Keyleth presses her hand onto the mattress. If she closes her eyes, she can feel the early sunlight of mornings in this bed as a child, climbing up between her parents and giggling as they pretended not to notice her less than stealthy arrival.

She goes to the desk and begins to sort through his many papers and ledgers. She should have done this earlier; she's sure there is information in here that is crucial to any number of projects the Ashari Nation had been working on before its grand transformation.

Half-tucked under a report from Pyrah regarding the near-completed reconstruction efforts, she finds a page covered in her father's familiar looping script. She pulls it out, her breath escaping in a quiet gasp when she begins to read.

My darling daughter,

I wish I had the words to attest to the depths of the despair I feel as I write. Your mother was always the wordsmith, not I. Like you, she was far more fit to rule this nation than I will ever be. But let me make myself clear: my despair derives not from your absence, but from my granddaughter's. I failed you, Keyleth, by not ensuring that the home I gifted you was impervious to any and all harm. I see now that I left you and your family vulnerable, and for that, I beg for your forgiveness.

I know all too well about parental imperfection, because I know that I spent your childhood so preoccupied with the welfare of our people that I neglected the welfare of the one person I cared for most in this great world. I imagine that your days were often long and lonely, my dearest, and all I can say is that my gratitude for those who remedied my mistake—Vax'ildan, Percival, Pike—will forever be as ceaseless as the stars above. I doubt nothing less than whether you will be a better parent to Vilya than I was to you. I only hope that I can be there for her in all the ways that I was not there for you, that under your guidance, the family that was shattered the day your mother died might once again be made whole.

I do not begrudge you a single decision you make in pursuit of returning your child home. Having just led our great nation through a terrible war, I know that dreadful decisions must be made to achieve peace, and know that you have my support in whatever decisions you make in your quest. You inherited your mother's wit, wisdom, and grace, but I like to think you inherited my unwavering devotion to the things that matter to me, and I know that will serve you in your aims.

I will be awaiting your successful return with bated breath, my darling daughter. Know that my nights will be sleepless and my days long until my family is together again. I love you, Keyleth, and I hope

By the time she gets to the point the unfinished letter ends, she can hardly read through the wall of tears. She holds in her hands her father's unwitting last words to her, and each one of them breaks her heart more than the last. She collapses into a heap on the stone floor, sobbing into her hands; her father did not die thinking her a disappointment. He loved her, fiercely, unequivocally, imperfectly. There will be so many years without him now, so many moments where his absence will loom in the background, a specter always in the corner of her eye. He will miss spring days beneath the flowering cherry tree and winter nights before the fire, huddled close and warm with wine. The years will press on, obstinate and heartless, and she wishes she didn't already know how the ache will dull over time, how the pain will become something she learns to live with, the one villain she will never vanquish.

It takes an hour, maybe longer, but she scrapes herself up off the floor and makes her way back to the cottage, where Vax is awake now and clearly trying not to worry. He has always seen through each and every veneer she has attempted to put between herself and the world, so she doesn't even make the attempt. She takes the baby from her cradle and feeds her as Vax reads the letter, and when he is done, his own eyes red and swollen, he curls over top her, presses an endless procession of kisses into her hair, and whispers his love for her, over and over and over.

Keyleth had hoped that the abrogation of the Ashari Nation would result in fewer decisions on her part, but at least in this short term, as new laws are written and new agreements between the constituent city-states organized, it seems all she does these days is make choices. Luckily, she rarely has to make them alone, relying on the newly-established High Council more than ever, but there is one that everyone, frustratingly, has left in her hands and her hands alone: the fate of Duke Vallen. Keyleth begged Duchess Uvenda to take responsibility for him, to drag him back to Vesrah and dole out whatever punishment she saw fit, but the Archduchess refused, claiming that Vallen's greatest crime was regicide, the punishment for which must be decided by the would-be next sovereign.

So Keyleth lays awake, night after night, imagining the face of the man who killed her parents, who arranged for the abduction of her daughter, who murdered his own family to achieve a throne that no longer exists. She thinks of all the ways she could have him dealt with—hanged from the branches of her mother's tree, beheaded in sight of the Seat of the Ashari that would never be his, drawn and quartered under the judgmental eyes of the citizens he betrayed for his own selfish gain, locked up forever in a cell the size of his shriveled heart, lower than the rats who would come to feast upon his flesh. None of them feel right, satisfactory, just. There is no suffering she can heap upon him that will ever equate to the torment that she will carry with her for the rest of her days.

The solution comes to her slowly, then all at once, a long-simmering ember stoked into a raging inferno in her belly. On a cold night, with the hope of spring just around the corner, Vallen is dragged from his cell, half-starved and filthy, and brought out deep into the wood surrounding Zephrah, far from prying eyes. There is a little clearing, one that, come spring, will likely be beautiful, serene, but now is barren and dull. A wooden post has been spiked into the hard earth, thanks to Grog's inimitable strength, and Vallen is lashed to it, gasping and panicked.

Keyleth arrives when the moon is high, Vax never more than an inch or two from her side. She pulls back the hood of her cloak to look Vallen in his bruised, swollen, fearful eyes. His mouth is gagged, and he struggles to plead for his life through it, but all the honeyed, desperate words in the world couldn't make Keyleth regret this choice. She steps as close to Vallen as she dares, feeling the nervous tension of Vax just behind her—she does not need to see him to know that one hand grips a dagger, the other halfway up to snatch her cloak and drag her back—and whispers, "The world will know the atrocities you committed. They will know my parents were murdered, that the Vesran noble line was betrayed by one of its own." She draws herself up to her full height, her circlet gleaming in the silvery moonlight. "But no one will ever know it was you. When I am gone, when all those who currently know of your crimes have been returned to the earth, there will be no one alive to remember you, to speak your name with scorn or disgust. You will be forgotten, not even a footnote in your own family's story. I do not know what awaits you in the next life, but in this one?" She lifts one hand, summoning the mysterious tongues of flame that do not burn her, and from the sides, two of the guards tasked with bringing Vallen here douse the man in oil. "In this one, you will never be anything more than ash." She gently brings her finger to touch his forehead, and he instantly bursts into flames, the oil catching quick and hot. Keyleth takes a step back, and, after shaking her hand to dispel the fire, laces her fingers with Vax's. She does not blink, though her eyes burn from the smoke and light, as she watches this man crackle and burn, his choked screams eventually fading as the life is torched from his body.

It is a new dawn for Zephrah, for the Ashari people, for Keyleth and her family, but this is still night, and the moon is high and the dark of winter has not yet given way to the light of spring. Whether this is justice or vengeance is of little concern to her; there is one less great evil in this world, this world that is now a shade safer for her daughter.

When Vallen has gasped his last breath, when the flames shrink from the blackened corpse, Keyleth turns to leave, but she is stopped when Vax instead steps forward toward the pyre. He bows his head, just inches from the cracked, charred flesh, and murmurs, "May the Matron usher you swiftly into the afterlife you have earned." He then returns to Keyleth's side, and for the first time that night, tears spring to her eyes. She lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders, just now realizing how cold she is, and guide her back to the cottage where Nel waits with their sleeping daughter, whom Keyleth will lift gently from her cradle so as not to wake her and, kissing her closed eyelids, one then the other, hold until the sun breaks, warm and hopeful, over the snowy horizon.

.

These days, it feels as though Percy's attention is constantly being drawn in a thousand directions at once. His days are largely dominated by the construction of a new government, his largest development project to date, and any free moment he has is spent in correspondence with Chancellor Desnay and other resistance leaders remaining in Whitestone. Legally, the title of Lord of Whitestone belongs to him, has done so since the night his parents and siblings were slaughtered in cold blood, and now all of the choices that must be made for the betterment of the city that the Briarwoods let fall to ruin rest on his shoulders.

The one person who would be his greatest ally in this time, unfortunately, is also the one person he has most trouble speaking to on the matter. Cassandra has become something of a phantom in the castle in Zephrah, appearing and disappearing as randomly and silently as a ghoul haunting the halls. She hardly speaks, hardly eats, hardly sleeps, if the fact that she keeps being found wandering the grounds in the middle of the night is any indication, and Percy is at a loss for how to help. He has not known her since she was four years old, though he has missed her keenly every day in the intervening years. They are, for all intents and purposes, strangers.

So Percy goes to Keyleth, who dealt with a very similar specter all those years ago, when he, too, arrived suddenly in Zephrah, shaken and silent. Keyleth has been extraordinarily kind to open her home to yet another Whitestone refugee, and with all the grief and responsibility she wields these days, he is loath to add another concern to her plate, but he is at his wit's end with his own inability to help his little sister.

Keyleth, being Keyleth, rolls her eyes at his emotional ineptitude. She reminds him of just how long it took her to crack open the shell in which he'd encased himself, how many days of sitting in silence beside him in the library or in the gardens or in the small spaces he'd managed to find away from the others at court. Keyleth points out that his failure to find a way to speak to her likely stems from his attempts to speak at all.

So he finds Cassandra on a chilly morning, sitting on the floor in the empty music room between the harpsichord and the dulcimer, knees tucked to her chest. He smiles apologetically when she startles at his entrance, but instead of asking her if she is alright, as is his wont, he takes a seat just a few feet in front of her, his back resting against one of the legs of the harpsichord. They sit in silence, brother and sister, for an indeterminable amount of time, no sound except their asynchronous breathing and vague footfalls from the hall outside, until Cassandra murmurs, almost too low for him to hear, "Did you know I thought you were the lucky one?"

Percy tips his head to the side, giving her the space to continue.

"All these years...I thought you got to die outside, in the fresh air, under the stars. Not like the rest of them. Not like me."

Percy nods. The anguish threatens to choke him, to suck the air from his lungs until he gasps his last breath. "Sometimes it felt like I did."

And so, day by day, week by week, the de Rolos who should have died over a decade ago begin to build a life together, breakfasts and walks through the garden and quiet words whispered in grand halls. Cassandra makes it clear that she has no intention of returning Whitestone, that she has little love left for the place that kept her in the care of the monsters who butchered her family.

Which is how Percy gets the idea. He cannot hope to serve his home of Whitestone and the newly formed High Council at the same time, not with a child on the way. And Cassandra, though still reserved and apprehensive, clearly has a de Rolo's head on her shoulders, given her newfound proclivity for offering suggestions to his dilemmas whenever he shares them with her. She may not possess any desire to live in Whitestone again, but she is still of Whitestone, and is, in Percy's mind, the only logical choice to be the city-state's ambassador to the High Council.

Cassandra balks, of course, at the audacity of the suggestion, and Percy has to admit that, yes, placing a sixteen-year-old into an extremely important position of a fledgling government is perhaps not the wisest choice, so instead he asks her to stay in Zephrah and serve as an apprentice to Chancellor—now Ambassador—Desnay.

"You are too smart to let your brilliant ideas go to waste," he tells her, "and too opinionated to keep them to yourself."

The bruising pinch she gives him is worth her dubious agreement to his proposal.

There is another proposal that Percy must also make, one that somehow terrifies him far more than suggesting the baby sister he is only now getting know become the mouthpiece for the city he once fled from as a boy. It is not his request for Vex's hand in marriage; that question is asked a mere two weeks after Sovereign Korrin's funeral, which Percy endures through a clenched jaw and sheer force of will. He takes her on an early morning horse ride through the fields on the outskirts of Zephrah, and when the pink sky starts to give way to icy blue, he asks her, no ring, no knee, just a question for her and the wind and the songbirds. She asks if he only wishes to marry her for the child's sake, and he can only hope she believes him when he says that he has thought about marrying her every day since the attack in Syngorn, when all he could think about was how he was about to die without her knowing just how precious and revered she was to him.

No, the proposal Percy dreads making is one he fears she will reject outright. He asks her on a night when he slinks into bed long after dark, when she should be asleep and not waiting for him to finish whatever work has kept him from her for so long. He pulls her in close, palm pressed to the negligible swell of her belly, and rests his forehead to her ear. "Would you come to Whitestone with me?"

The question is quiet, timorous, because the only thing he fears more than letting his people down is disappointing her. She turns her head to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "Darling...where else would we be going?"

Oh, he loves her. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her. He captures her lips, relishing in the sound of her laugh, and then he spends what little energy remains in him reminding her of all the ways he hopes to worship her in their many years to come.

.

Vex is used to keeping secrets. Protection of sensitive information is par for the course when one is Captain of the Royal Guard, to say nothing of the silence she held when her brother decided to take up a romance with a literal princess. Her adolescence was pockmarked with little secrets kept from her father, more to irritate him than for any other reason. She herself has never been particularly adept at letting people in, at pulling back the curtain of confidence and cheek she has long set between herself and the world—the obvious exception to this, of course, being her brother, with whom she has always shared her innermost thoughts freely, easily, even when perhaps she shouldn't.

But this secret, this hidden truth, belongs to her and Percy, and that delicate fact feels so very precious. In the first weeks after the group's return from Whitestone, after the death of the sovereign, after Keyleth has announced the end of a nation, Vex returns to her duties, her condition kept from everyone except the tight-lipped Mistress of Divinity. She trains the guards and maintains their schedules and confers with the new High Council about what security will look like in this new age for Zephrah, and when she is done for the day she goes back to the chambers she shares with Percy, who she can tell is cracking under the pressure. Like Vex, he has grown up sharing so much of himself with Keyleth, and she knows that keeping such a large secret from her is killing him.

So she relents in the spring, when her uniform is fitting more snugly than she'd like and Keyleth's grief is not so overwhelming as to be visibly drowning her. Vex and Percy go to the cottage beside the cherry tree and once Vex has swept her baby niece, babbling and joyous, into her arms, she says bluntly, "I'm pregnant."

Unfortunately, at the exact same time, Percy bursts out with, "We're going to Whitestone," so there is quite a long series of confused clarifications before Keyleth is shrieking, throwing her arms around Percy's neck and congratulating and admonishing him at the same time. She's mostly crying, so it is difficult for Vex to make out the specific words, but she comes to understand that Keyleth is more or less happy for them.

Vax, who had been frying up sausages for dinner, sets the skillet aside and bounds across the cottage to scoop Vex and Vilya up in a hug. "Are you happy, Stubby?" he whispers in her ear, and she merely nods, her throat too thick for her to speak.

When he sets her down, he turns on Percy, who, despite having half a head on Vax, shrinks a bit at the scrutinizing glare Vax gives him. There is a beat of tension, and then Vax cracks a grin, wrapping his arms around him, too. Vex grins as her oldest friend and her greatest love embrace, and for the first time since they left Byroden, she realizes that she's managed to build for herself the family she never thought she would achieve.

The night is spent reminiscing and planning for the future. Keyleth laments needing to find a new Master of Development, though Percy points out that the predicament is the perfect opportunity for Zephrah to test its new democratic elections. Keyleth begins scribbling a list of all kinds of tonics and tinctures she wants to send with Vex, for the nausea and the food aversion and the stretching skin and all the other ailments that Vex dreads about the next few months. Percy asks Keyleth to watch out for Cassandra the way her father did for him, and Keyleth swears that, if Cassandra would like, she will be family, just as Percy became all those years ago. When Vex yawns and Percy insists he get her to bed, Vax first pulls her aside as Keyleth and Percy peek in on the baby in her cradle.

"You know how proud I am of you, Stubby?" he says quietly, the shadows cast by the fireplace dancing across his face.

"Big changes for us both," she replies with a nervous laugh. "Will you survive here without me?"

He kisses her forehead. "I wish I didn't have to. But Whitestone deserves the wisdom and guidance that you and Percy will bring, and I am so glad to watch you build a home of your own, a family of your own."

Curse these tears, sudden and hot. "You'll always be my family, brother. You and Keyleth and Vilya. Our being in Whitestone doesn't change that."

"Oh, Vex'ahlia..." He pulls her into his arms. "Nothing ever could. You're not getting rid of me, sister, even if you move halfway across the continent to try."

She laughs. "And you'll come visit? With Keyleth's strange tree powers?"

"As often as you like. You couldn't keep Keyleth from the birth with the strength of a thousand men. And the gods themselves couldn't keep me from my niece or nephew, you know that."

Within a week, Vex and Percy have said their goodbyes and packed their belongings, the bulk of which they send via road toward Whitestone. As for them, they gather at the cherry tree, where they exchange teary farewells with their family and friends before Keyleth tears open a door in the trunk that spills them out into the center of Whitestone, which is mercifully free of shambling undead. The city is still piecing itself back together after its lengthy occupation, and as Percy steps into the role of caretaker of his ancestral home, Vex devotes herself to scrubbing the castle of any and all remnants of the monsters who lived there for so many years. Along with a team of volunteers from the city, those who survived under the Briarwoods' oppression and wish to see their beloved home returned to its former glory, Vex slowly begins to rid Whitestone of the lingering reminders of its tormentors, and after some time, the gloomy cloud of misery that hung about the castle and the town starts to dissipate.

She is blessed with a pregnancy that progresses much more smoothly than Keyleth's had, and even though it is strange for a little life to be quickening inside of her, she finds herself anticipating her child's arrival with anxious fervor. After the nightmare that Vilya endured, Vex sets up a corner of their chambers as the child's nursery, not willing to have their baby sleep so far as another room. Percy obliges her, filling the space with all of the things that remind them of their families: cherry blossoms from Zephrah, raven feathers from Vax, Ludwig's stuffed wolf, the picture books Cassandra loved as a child, a blanket Vex's mother knitted in Byroden, one of the only things Vex brought with her to Syngorn and beyond.

Keyleth and Vax pull away from their important work in Zephrah just a week before Vex goes into labor. Little Vilya toddles around with her father as Percy, Keyleth, and a midwife from town help bring a healthy, screaming baby girl into the world. They name her Vesper Elaina, and Vax cries as he kisses his niece's forehead for the first time.

They wait for the wedding. Repairing Whitestone requires so much of Percy's time and energy, and Vex's days are spent in awe with the new life the two of them have brought into the world. When they do wed, they do so in the center of Whitestone, beneath the infinite branches of the Sun Tree. The ceremony is not merely a union between two souls, but a rebirth, a return of the de Rolo name to the world stage. Each and every citizen of Whitestone is invited, as are leaders and representatives from across the continent, including Devana and Velora, who offer their unsurprising regrets at Syldor's last-minute scheduling conflict. Cassandra still cannot set foot in the castle, not after her lifetime of misery in it, but she holds her niece at Percy's side with Keyleth, Vax and Vilya standing beside Vex, as Pike guides them through their vows. They are short and sweet, neither one particularly fond of grand public declarations of love, though they are fond of grand public declarations of merriment, which is why the center of Whitestone is quickly transformed from a place of ceremony into something of a festival, with music and food and dancing and much revelry and hope for the future of Whitestone and the happy couple.

And that night, when they have retired to their chambers and are happily sore and spent, Percy leaves their bed just long enough to bring their sleeping daughter into it. Vex curls herself into his side, watches the slow rise and fall of her chest in his arms. After a minute, Percy murmurs, "Are you happy, my love?"

Vax was always the one with the silver tongue. Vex lacks the poetry her heart yearns to give him, so she must settle for a quiet, "No one, darling, has ever been happier." And it's true, her happiness, and it is a secret she no longer must keep from anyone.

.

As Keyleth throws herself into the exhausting work of creating a new government from scratch, Vax devotes all his days to his daughter. He does his best to keep his little family together, following Keyleth from meeting to meeting with Vilya in his arms, on his hip, strapped to his back. He won't admit it, but when they are not both in his immediate eyeline, he feels an itch, a nervous rippling under his skin that makes sitting still difficult. He is aware that his presence is often questioned, particularly by the delegates from the other Ashari cities, but he doesn't care; how many times must his family be taken from him before he learns his lesson?

Keyleth, for her part, encourages him to resume his studies with Pike, to take time for himself during the day, to leave the baby with Nel and the veritable battalion of guards that now accompanies Vilya wherever she goes, but he waves her off. He trusts Nel, trusts his sister's guards to prevent Vilya from being taken again, of course he does. It's just the itch.

The nights are their own struggle. It takes Vilya weeks to sleep through the night again, and Vax can only imagine what dreams haunt his baby girl in the dark. So he holds her, pacing large circles around the cottage so Keyleth can sleep, whispering his endless apologies and promises for the future in the dark and quiet. Vax sleeps only a few hours each night, which results in long, exhausted days, days in which Keyleth begs him to go rest, but he only does so during the increasingly brief windows of Vilya's own naps.

So he redoubles his efforts, tries harder to keep his neuroses from Keyleth, who is busy enough with her own work. She is writing laws and establishing norms and conveying power into the hands of her people; she doesn't need to add worries about him onto her plate. He stretches himself thin, flattens himself out until he is invisible, until his every waking moment is spent with his daughter or wife or both, and he can be so consumed with their needs that his own fade away, thunder in the distance.

But the thunder heralds a storm, and the storm must eventually break. On a night, when Vilya begins to stir and Vax scoops her from her bed before she can wake her mother, he takes her out into the dark common room, where he sits before the cold hearth and bounces her, now sitting up all on her own, on his knee. He looks at her, her mother's hair and her mother's eyes and her grandmother's nose and her five-tooth smile, and he sees all that he nearly lost, all of the precious things his carelessness nearly stole from him. Her small, chubby hands reach up for his face, and when her fingers brush against his cheek, the dam he'd constructed for himself crumbles to dust. He begins to sob, quietly at first, then louder as his control over his own faculties ebbs away. He watches his daughter's face twist in infantile confusion, and he brings her to his chest, hugs her tight as he falls apart around her.

As if she can feel the lightning in the air, Keyleth stirs in the bedroom. He hears her get up, open the door, listen for a moment before calling, "Vax?"

There is no pretending, not anymore. He holds their child and weeps as Keyleth comes over to wrap her arms around him. He sobs into her shoulder, weeks of tension and guilt and anger draining from his muscles. Vilya's little fists are curled into his sleepshirt, one right above his heart, and he can only hope that she can feel its beating, that she knows its thundering is for her.

After some time, when he is exhausted and thirsty, he sits up, lets Keyleth dry his tears with the sleeve of her nightdress. "I'm sorry." The words are hoarse, hollow.

"Please don't," Keyleth begs, taking his face in her hands. "I don't ever want your apologies for this."

"No, I mean..." He shifts Vilya, who has since fallen back asleep against his chest, and looks down at her. "I'm sorry for not protecting her better. For not protecting our family. The most important thing in this wide world, and I couldn't keep it safe."

"Vax." She forces his head up to meet her eyes. "Is this what you've been hiding from me all these weeks? Why you've been running yourself ragged, never sleeping? Do you truly imagine there is a world in which I hold you responsible for what we have endured, all of us, as a family? I told you in Whitestone—"

"I know what you said," he whispers. "I know that you meant it. But it doesn't change the fact that I failed in my duty to protect you both."

"No." She stands, fists balled at her side, and Vax is once again reminded that whatever government Zephrah finds itself under today, he married a queen. She keeps her voice low enough not to wake the baby, but he hears the force behind it, how it would echo among the mountains if she shouted. "I will not allow you to take responsibility for the actions of evil men. I will not permit the waiving of their guilt so that you may sit in your own. All of us failed to properly secure this home—you, me, your sister, Derrig, the guards, my...my father." Her jaw clenches tight. "But choices were made outside these walls by villains with blackened hearts. They have answered for those choices, and they alone must bear the eternal weight of their sins. You do not get to alleviate that burden from their souls, wherever they may be rotting."

She stares at him, unblinking, waiting for a response. He stands, presses a kiss to the crown of Vilya's head. "I don't know how to trust myself," he murmurs, "to be what my family needs."

She carefully pries Vilya from him, mindful not to rouse her, and carries her into the nursery, where Vilya has not slept since her return. Her cradle has been replaced with a larger crib, as soon Vilya will have grown too big for the gift from Syngorn. Vax watches through the door as Keyleth lays her down inside, tucks a blanket all around her sleeping form, and returns, shutting the door behind her. She then takes Vax by the hand and leads him back into their bedroom. She pushes him to sit on the edge of the bed and stands before him, running her fingers through his hair.

"There has not been a minute, since you came to me in the dark and kissed away my nightmares, in which my trust in you has wavered, even for a moment." She rests her hand on his cheek, and she is so warm, so soft, here in this darkest hour. "I cannot repair your broken faith in yourself. But I can show you that my faith in you, the only divinity to which I have ever pledged myself, heathen that I am, remains intact."

With that, she gently shoves his shoulders back onto the mattress, and until the inky black of the sky gives way to the pinks and oranges of day, she reminds him that every minute he has spent loving her these past few years, she has loved him just as fiercely.

Vax struggles with the darkness he carries with him wherever he goes, but light, tenacious and inevitable, always finds its way in. He is to be an uncle. His sister is to have a home of her own, in a castle, no less. His daughter, who has had so much taken from her before she even knew she had it, is to have a family, people other than her parents who will watch her grow and remind her every day that she is loved, that she is never alone in this world.

It is difficult, to be sure, to have his sister so far from him, even though he and Keyleth steal away with Vilya as often as they can, using the cherry tree as easily as one might step through a door into the forest surrounding Castle Whitestone. It takes a few visits for Vax to be there without his hackles raised, to be able to allow Vilya to toddle around the grounds and the marbled halls without his hand always hovering just a few inches away. But when his sister brings his squalling, exquisite niece into the world, when Percy shifts her gently into his arms, he knows what it looks like for something beautiful to be built on the bones of ruins. Soon, these grand halls will once more echo with the delighted shrieks of children, and this family, where once there was just a brother and a sister, will sprawl out, fingers of hope reaching far into the future.

As time wears on, and a new normal is forged for Zephrah and for the little family in the cottage on the edge of the castle that now serves as a hall of government, two surprises yet await Vax. The first comes shortly before the inaugural elections of the High Council, in which all of the previous Masters are expected to win their seats with ease, facing little challenge from the generally content populace of Zephrah—that is, until Pike comes to him on a cold winter's morning and tells him that she and Scanlan have decided to take a break from public service, to travel the world and see what other adventures might await them.

Vax, who has grown even more fond of the Mistress of Divinity in her time helping him develop his relationship with the Matron of Ravens, says, "Well, I'll miss you, Pickle, but...why are you telling just me, and not Keyleth and I together?"

She sips from the tea he'd made when she arrived at the cottage. "Because I want you to take my place on the Council."

Vax chokes on his own breath. "I—certainly you don't—what?"

Pike shrugs, as if her suggestion were the most obvious one in the world. "The people know you, they trust you, they know you command respect within the castle and without. You have learned enough in our studies for me to be confident that you can lead Zephrah forward on its path of divinity, at least until I get bored and drag Scanlan back from his debaucherous exploits." She grins conspiratorially.

Vax spins his teacup round and round between his fingers. "Surely I would not be elected over any of the holy people from the temples in town."

"None have yet to throw their names into the ring, though of course, perhaps they believe themselves incapable of beating me, which, fair enough."

"You are well-loved, Pickle."

"I am. Which is why I am confident that an endorsement from me will seal the deal for you."

Keyleth, Pike, Vex, Percy—they all have such steadfast faith in him. Perhaps it is time that he believed them. "Alright. I'll do it."

The second surprise comes a few weeks later, after he has won his election, after the home he chose has chosen him back, when he returns to the little cottage after a long day of meetings with the High Council. Keyleth, who now only attends those meetings when specifically requested, is just opening the door when he arrives, saying her goodbyes to one of the new Mistress of Development's secretaries. When they are inside and alone, Vax, watching Vilya tumble about with her favorite stuffed bear, a gift from her auntie Vex, asks, "What was that all about? With the Development secretary?"

Keyleth is at the kitchen counter, peeling potatoes and carrots for dinner, but he can see by the uneven rise and fall of her shoulders that there is something great weighing on her mind. "Oh. Yes. That. Well." She attempts to peel a potato, misses, then misses again, then sighs, tossing the vegetable and knife onto the cutting board. She turns to face him with a curious look on her face. "We were discussing...modifications to the cottage."

Vax is confused. The cottage is perfect, no leaks, no cracked floorboards, just exactly what their little family needs. "What sort of modifications?"

"Well..." She chews on her lip, fighting a burgeoning smile. "I rather think it will be too small for us as is, soon enough."

The realization comes faster this time. He shoves himself off of the floor, snatches Vilya up in one arm—"Papa up!"—and bounds over to Keyleth to wrap her in the other. He kisses her, hard, grinning, ignoring his daughter's delighted rapping of her fist against his face, before murmuring against her lips, "Are you sure?"

She nods. "Nel confirmed it this morning. She's already working on the proper preparations to make sure things a bit easier this time." She scrunches her nose and kisses Vilya's chubby cheek.

Vax rests his hand along the column of her throat, inspects her face closely. "How do you feel? Not just physically, but..."

She brings her hand atop his. "Happy. A little nauseated. Scared. Sad, that my father won't be here." She tilts her head forward slightly, an invitation for him to knock his forehead against hers, which he obliges happily. "Hopeful. More than anything, I have hope."

Vax pulls his family in tight, smiling at Vilya's grumbled, "Papa, down!" He acquiesces, allowing her to toddle off while he kisses his wife once more.

"Only you," he whispers, breathing in the scent of her hair and the warming vegetables and the winter air. "No one else in this world I'd rather be on this adventure with."

She folds into him, this queen who gave up her crown for a quiet life with him, this miracle for which the gods can never be properly thanked. He does not know what awaits them around this next bend in the road, but he knows that they walk this path together, and that comfort, her hand in his and her shoulder beside him, is more than a thief and bastard could ever have imagined in his wildest dreams.

.

Time moves differently for the cherry tree, which marks its passage through seasons, the growing and shedding of its leaves, the falling of snow and the melting of it, hot days and cold nights. As the seasons come, one after the next, the tree watches the little family grow, entering a new season of its own. The woman spends her time mostly in the gardens, her belly swelling with the lengthening days, her chattering toddler stumbling after her or exploring the small hill she has always called home. The man comes back each evening, tired and happy, peppers each of their faces with kisses, and then presses one final one to his wife's stretching stomach. Spring brings excitement, summer joy, and autumn impatient anticipation.

The tree does not so much mind being used as a door, these many visits between the little family here and the little one in a city far, far away. It is a magic the tree does not pretend to understand, just as it does not understand the magic of the two now buried beneath its twisting roots, the two who, though dead to this world, live on in the next, whatever that may look like. On occasion, people will spill through its cracked bark, and the cottage, now slightly bigger than it had been previously, will house guests, its walls full to bursting with laughter and cheer—or, alternatively, the little family will disappear through the tree, and it will stand a lone sentinel for some time, guarding the house on the hill as best it can until they return, happy but eager for home.

When the nights grow longer and the cherry tree's branches are nearly bare, the midwife is summoned, and the wind seems to hang silent as the world awaits its newest arrival. Pained cries give way to cacophonous squalls, and the tree must wait through the long night for the little family, no longer quite so little, to come outside in the morning, the young girl running to the base of the tree while the man and the woman each carry a small bundle in the cradles of their arms. They are tired, these parents, but each wears a contented smile that makes this autumn feel like high summer.

They approach the tree, and the woman speaks up to the branches, "Mama, Papa, we'd like to introduce our twins. This is Korrin." She smiles down at the tiny boy in her arms.

"And this is Elaina." The man grins, a devilish light in his eye as he regards his new daughter. "My sister will accuse me of thievery, but it's fine. She never was good at sharing."

"I wish you could meet them," she says quietly. The little girl runs up to cling onto her mother's leg. "I wish my children could grow under your watchful eyes. But...I'm happy." The man kisses her cheek. "We all are. And I rest easy knowing that, wherever you are, you have found peace with each other, as I have found here with Vax."

The winds shift, and the little boy she holds gurgles. The man balances the girl in one arm as he reaches a knuckle over to stroke his rounded cheek. "We cannot escape the horrors of our past, the things we have done and the things that have been done to us. But know that we will do everything in our power to make a better, more just world for our children, and for theirs, and so on, so that each new day is brighter than the last."

She rests her head on his shoulder, the autumn breeze tossing her hair as the little girl scrambles about, a stuffed bear in her hands, and the final blossoms remaining on the tree fall, all at once, a brief shower of white in a world of golds and reds. The woman smiles, and closes her eyes, and for a moment, the early morning sun behind her head could be a crown.

[princekirijo]

I BEAT THE FINAL BOSS AND ALL REMEMBRANCES IN THE DLC LETS FUCKING GOOOOO

[xx-vergil-xx]

first lines/last fics x 10

the most wonderful @pellaaearien tagged me <3 

Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. 

im gonna cheat a little –– at the moment I only have four published fics/ WIPs (at least, four that survived the Great Purge when my hs deleted my school-affiliated google drive acct >:( ), so I'm gonna quietly count hounds’ latest chapter as a new thing (it may as well be with how goddamn long it’s taking me) and throw in a few starter lines from non-fandom poems/prose I’ve worked up lately :)

hounds ch. I –– There are parts of his life Hob Gadling sometimes wishes to forget.

hounds ch. XLII –– It feels too lonely, he decides, to be itinerant for the holidays –– and there is a new bounty of flora blooming between his ribs, a richness of petal-soft, fine-veined feeling, that makes him less jittery, less inclined to running.

sanctus dentes/canem dei –– “You don’t love me.”

l’enfer, le ciel –– April in Paris, 1934.

tidings of comfort and joy –– ��Perfect weather for a ride,” says Squire Teleute de Morte Endelēas.

and here’s the non-fandom stuff <3

our lady of august –– August of ‘92 is like living in the mouth of a dog.

the saint of the mouth and the 32 teeth –– And on the 1st day, my Lord-God furnished his mouth-saint / with the fruit-cutters, the castanets and rabbit-chatterers, / and he speaketh thus ––

hagiography of st. mawr –– Arise, you cant’ring colt –– you foam-mouthed maw, / bedecked in jockey’s blood.

james dean –– You Speedster slugger, ye of turned-up collar, eyes / retaining stares all soft and swoony –– pass the crown / –– or sanguine jacket –– like a sainted relic down / for us, not quite so suave (misangled grins) our guise / a touch disjoint.

shame and country hunting –– Oh my chosen pillar, I loved and love you like a dog, / all fine incisors. 

tagging the homies, the loves, the lights of souls!!  as ever, not a jot of obligation –– we are neighbors in an indie coming-of-age film where our bedroom windows face each other and this is a wave from my window to yours @fishfingersandscarves, @dancinbutterfly, @wordsinhaled, @menthol-drops, @wizardofgoodfortune, @ghostboyjules, @moorishflower, @aberfaeth, @teejaystumbles, @mandolinearts <3 <3 <3

[alltimefail-sims]

Screaming into the void because I've been putting this sim dump together all freaking day and I wanted it up before I went to bed, but that's clearly not happening!!!

Anyway Quinta and her parents will be available for DL tomorrow 👍

[musical-chick-13]

Somehow, in a very roundabout, kind of twisted way, this became Wife Guy: The Fic.

[ourceliumnetwork]

taking a break from cleaning because i need to 1) pace myself and 2) spread this out over 2 days so that it doesn't get a chance to get too dirty again before i gotta do final tidying and pickup before the chaos ensues, but i've gotten a surprising amount done for like 20 minutes of clean and 10 minutes of Silly Shit.

[endlessdreamworld]

My Sinful Little Angel

a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader

"Thank you again, Mr. Oak," you said as Sunday, the town's resident tailor finished repairing the frayed hem of your apron. "Here," you offer him a half dozen of today's special treat, powdered sugar shortbread cookies filled with raspberry jam.

"Thank you," he gave you a soft smile that made your heart melt. "Here," he offered you up some coins, more than he should but still a paltry amount the judgmental villagers would consider good and proper.

It was part of your little arrangement. You showed up one day out of nowhere, and the town's bakery took you in. You had a roof over your head and a belly full of food, but they paid you next to nothing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be maki--" a knock interrupted your sweet little announcement. It was the baker's son. Sunday didn't miss how your gaze fell to your hands clutching your newly repaired apron, how you seemed so very bashful in the presence of your peer. Oh God in heaven, please smite this wicked fool who dare intrude upon your shared sacred peace and tempt you so.

You gave him a small wave as you headed for the door, "I have to go Mr. Oak, duty calls." You were always so polite and sweet to him, so diligent, always doing more than you should. Sunday noticed the powdered sugar you had graced him with when he paid you for your work and brought it to his unworthy tongue. An ambrosia he didn't earn, one he didn't deserve. You were an angel made flesh, and far too good for a backwater place like this. One day, he swore, he'd do something about it.

As the sun set, he flipped the sign in the window from open to closed before heading off to his second job. Every flock needed a shepherd, and who better to play the role as he? And so the town's church offered a confessional booth service where he served as the confessor.

He settled in behind the screen and prepared his heart for the service. People always had such ridiculous things plaguing them so, but who was he to deny them salvation?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It was the sound of your voice. He held his breath. He couldn't help but hear how nervous and deflated you sounded. What heresy could you have committed to feel so low? "Speak freely, child," he spoke in an unrecognizable drawl. Sunday preferred anonymity. It was better when people didn't know who they were speaking to.

You sigh inwardly and steel your resolve, "I've been having sinful thoughts about another. One of my fellow peers."

Sunday has heard those very words before, and he didn't like where this was going. He was quite fortunate to be able to steer you away from such an unholy sin. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He listened to the sound of fabric brushing against the confessional screen, the sound of you squirming from discomfort. "Carnal ones I'm afraid. Whenever I'm with him, I pray his hands linger more than they should. Every night, I dream of clandestine meetings -- of the perverted sort."

Sunday hears how very affected you are, and he isn't going to allow some degenerate sully your pure soul and infect your mind. He was almost certain it was that baker boy with the way you could scarcely look at him, but if he were to do anything about it, he would need to be sure. "Those are quite heavy sins, my dear, but the lord forgives all who wish to repent."

"Thank you Father." He can hear the smile in your voice and he has you right where he needs you.

"To repent, it would be best to disclose the name of this wolf in sheep's clothing that assaults your thoughts and faithful heart."

Yes, give me a name. This whisper campaign to your excommunication will be as delicious as it'll be unsurprising. It'll be my revenge for whoever dares touch you so frivolously, my sweet angel.

You got quiet, the sound of conflict. Sunday's chest tightened, anguished by your misplaced sense of guilt. You were trying to shield whoever this dastard was by the kindness of your soul. He knew you needed one final push. "The lord forgives all who sin, even the serpent who tempts you so."

"Well," you swallowed thickly. Agony permeated your words as you work up the courage to oust the blasphemer, "it's Sunday Oak."

[pressureplus]

Not sure if you have done it or if anyone have already requested it.. but I do like to see a headcanons (NSFW?) on the ovipositor of Sebastian. Like if reader finally agrees to let him pregnant them with his eggs. Kinda stuff like how would it feel like during/after breeding? does it will hurt? How long long does it take? How those eggs/babies develop? And how does the giving birth would be and feel like? Anything like that.

Btw, I love your headcanons and oneshots! <3

So glad you asked! I've been dealing with pain lately so Ive needed consistent care. As per usual we are writing, this one just happened to be finished first. Also, thank you for the compliment <3

♡Sebastian Solace Ovipositor Headcannons♡

Warnings: Describing this Non-Erotically, Implied Sex, Oviposition/Ovipositor, AFAB and AMAB Cannons (God Im Sorry), Pregnancy/Birth Vaguely Mentioned, M!Preg Mentioned

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜

Starting off strong, the moment you agree to have that mans babies he is all over you

Excited, yes, and at the mention of his Ovipositor being put to use he’ll be a little shy but happy to oblige! How can he not be? The idea of having a family almost makes him feel…normal. Happy and normal.

As his tendril is always sheathed, it stays very slick, which makes insertion easier. Despite his absurdly large length (he is well over twice your size) he doesn't need to be all the way inside your body to use said Ovipositor

During the process of actually putting those eggs in your body, it feels…odd. The best way I can describe this is like swallowing those Boba Pearls in drinks? But like…obviously not with your mouth

Doesn't hurt! The eggs arent too large, about an inch in length and diameter, but still not painful! You’d think they would be, right?

This is due to both the slightly muscle relaxant features of said slick, and the flexible nature of his eggs

Despite their size they can easily compress to be smaller if pressure is applied…too much pressure will pop them and make them no longer viable but yes they can get a bit smaller

They're like little jelly balls with a turquoise color

After the fact, you'll really just feel oddly full for the next day or two. These things are decently sticky and almost parasitic in nature so those that are going to continue to develop will be burying themselves into your body

Not a painful process either, by the way

Those that don't end up attaching to anything are not particularly viable as they can't take any of your DNA to make anything. So those really just have to be removed. This can be done decently easily with some pressure applied to your stomach and a bit of pushing

Produces 6-12 eggs on average, but may produce more or less, so you never really know how many actually stuck

The way these eggs develop is rather unnatural to say the least.

If you're AFAB then they'll attempt to fill your uterus much like a normal baby would. They also take as much ‘code’ from your DNA as possible, feeding off your blood for minerals similar to how Anglerfish pairs function

If you're AMAB things get a bit..sticky for you. They'll hollow out their own space inside you, kind of like a very small faux womb. This is NOT painful, but does leave a sort of dull ache like you've just worked out for a while. This small little wound will close behind the eggs as well so they won't be disturbed. They feed off you the same way as they do for those who are AFAB

This pregnancy can last anywhere from 6-9 months depending on how large the batch of eggs is. They do technically ‘share’ their meals so they'll all be ready to hatch at the same time. Think of it like an evolutionary trait for a better chance at survival.

Doesn't entirely feel like pregnancy, you'll feel weaker, bloaty, and maybe a bit sick mostly due to lower mineral/vitamin counts. But as long as you take some kind of supplements or eat healthy you'll be fine

You don't get particularly round or anything either, just a small bump that could easily be passed off as weight gain

On the Plus side for the AFABS, your body does not continue to have its menstrual cycle during these months. They release their own chemicals into your body/bloodstream for a better latch and less chances to be ‘rejected’

As for having these babies? There's conractions/cramping for sure and a bit of blood from where those eggs detach. I wouldn't call them particularly bad contractions, as they're slower and a lot less painful than normal child birth

The body doesn't have to prep as much since they're not normal sized human babies.

If you're AFAB, they'll come out the natural way. If you're AMAB, you're going to need surgery

Surgery is of course an option for both if preferred.

They pop their eggs and are ready to go the second they break, now for the most part the body can just absorb the nutrients in these empty ‘shells’ but they can also be removed. It won't cause additional harm either way

These babies aren't very big when they're taken out

In fact, they're all about palms sized. They're warm to the touch, covered in a bit of blood and whatever liquid is inside those eggs, so they're a bit sticky. But just fine to wipe clean

They’ll be oddly…blue and pale for the first while as they learn to breathe oxygen with their very small lungs. Don't worry, they'll figure it out. They look almost like normal babies aside from this, well, not including those that look more like Sebastian

They’ll develop faster than normal babies as well. Some may even be born with sharp teeth, others will get their set within the first two months.

They're already up and ready to go in about a year or less, as if they're made for survival like wild animals. However this will come at a cost. Your sanity mostly when your 1 year old is chewing through the casings of wires and chair legs.

By the time they're around 5-6 they'll be just a little smaller than the size of a normal human child.

As teenagers getting their growth spurts? Many of your children may end up BIGGER than average humans!

Overall your children will be different, as was the process of having them, but they're still perfectly healthy

[hannyoontify]

seventeen '97 line as things that have made my heart flutter

warnings | smidge of academic stress in hao's, jealousy [reader's end] in mingyu's, reader is light enough to be moved? in mingyu's, implications of alcohol consumption in dokyeoms (oh my god what happened to 'none :3'), dokyeom calls reader 'pretty'

notes | learned today that extremely fast and aggressive jazz stimulates my brain in a way i've never experienced before so i decided to make the best of it LMFAO

p.s. i recommend reading these as situationships/pre-relationships

95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

the8 - facetiming at 3 in the morning

“hao? are you asleep?”

you heard muffled shuffling on the other side of the line and minghao’s camera, which was turned on and was currently facing the ceiling, moved around until you saw his eyes peek over the edge of the screen.

“no, i was reading. how’s the homework coming along?” his voice was impossibly soft and soothing, like a gentle lullaby sung to an infant to lull it to sleep. the question made you groan loudly and you dragged a hand through your tired face.

“i hate this. i have two questions left.”

minghao hummed over the line. “mmm… you got this, i believe in you. do you want my help?”

you shook your head. “no, i know how to do it, it’s just…” you let out a strangled yell and wrapped your blanket closer around your body. “i just don’t want to do it.”

“hmm… poor baby. c’mon. you can do it. if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you.” minghao’s gentle words seemed to reach into your ribcage and grab your heart, gently squeezing until you felt something warm and familiar crawling up your spine. you observed the way his eyes curved into crescent shaped moons when he smiled. the bright green frog headband on his head that made his jet black hair stick out in unnatural directions. 

“… you didn’t have to stay up with me, you know.” you mumbled. while you were thankful for minghao’s adamant attitude to stay on call with you until you finished your ap chemistry homework, even if it meant staying up until the most ungodly hours of the night, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought of him losing sleep because of you. 

“and leave you to crash out all on your own? what kind of friend would i be if i missed out on that?” minghao snorted on the other end of the line but when you gave no response, his voice softened. “you don’t need to worry about me, [name]. now get back to work, those FRQ’s aren’t going to solve themselves.”

when you warbled out another series of exasperated ‘don’t wanna’s’ and ‘i hate my life’s, minghao puffed over the line. “what do you want, [name].”

shifting your weight to rest your head on your desk, your eyes drifted to your phone propped up in the corner of your desk, where minghao’s screen remained facing the ceiling. there was an occasional crinkle on the other side of the line, where he was tossing and turning in his bed, no doubt. the blank, white canvas of his ceiling was the last thing you wanted to see right now.

“wanna see you, hao.” you mumbled. it was barely above a whisper and you doubted your crappy phone mic would’ve picked up the sound. but of course, it did.

you could almost hear the cocky smile in his voice as he spoke. “oh, i see how it is. you wanna see my face, huh?”

“shut up. forget i said anything.” pursing your lips, you pretended to turn back to your neglected ap chemistry homework so he wouldn’t see the way your face was beginning to flush.

minghao laughed loudly, clearly enjoying your pain and misery as you wallowed in your embarrassment. “it’s okay to ask for what you want, [name]. it’s natural.”

“whatever! shush, i’m trying to focus.” biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you tried your best to conceal the smile that was threatening to spill. minghao had that kind of effect on you. like an infectious disease that had your heart constantly racing, your palms sweaty, and your face a bright shade of red.

mingyu - grabbing the leg of your chair and pulling you closer towards his direction

mingyu was a force to be reckoned with. you recognized that the minute he introduced himself to you back in freshman year. the way he greeted you with a bright smile before turning around to greet all four other tables surrounding your shared table. before you knew it, the smiley boy had managed to befriend one entire side of the classroom, all within 15 minutes of class starting.

sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you knew it was more than that. it was the sparkle in his eye. the mischievous smile that seemed to announce that he was up to no good. it was the way he genuinely made an effort to connect and hear everything the other person had to say. he was a good person.

you, on the other hand, were not.

of course, mingyu would scoff and roll his eyes at that. he didn’t think you were a bad person, you were simply not as… friendly as he was. it wasn’t that you were rude, but you liked to keep to yourself. you liked to keep conversations, especially with people you were less than friends with, to a minimum. talking was exhausting, and making small talk was the absolute worst. silence was your best friend.

well, besides for mingyu.

or should you say ex-best friend. 

(you were joking. kinda.)

you silently huffed to yourself as mingyu flashed another friendly smile to the girl sitting across the aisle from him. his hands were busy enough, but it seemed to you that mingyu was too busy flirting with the girl to actually pay attention to the lab he was supposed to be doing. with you.

“gyu…” you called out quietly. “gyu…!” you called out again, a tad louder in volume.

mingyu whipped his head and smiled. “yeah?”

you felt a pang of guilt shoot through you at his innocent smile.

“we should get started on the lab.” waving the instruction sheet in your hand, you motioned to the microscope on the table before you.

“okay! one sec. lemme finish explaining this vanessa real quick and–“ mingyu faltered when he felt you gently tug on the sleeve of his lab coat. he looked at you with a confused look in his eyes, but his confusion soon changed into one of mischief once he recognized the slight scowl on your face. “ohhh, i see what it is. are you jealous right now?”

“no! as if…” you mumbled. “you’re supposed to be my lab partner, you know.”

mingyu let out a quiet chuckle and tousled your hair with his hand affectionately. “you’re cute.”

“shut up. i’m going to do the lab without you.”

with a dramatic sigh, mingyu leaned over, his face now inches away from yours. you could feel his hot breath on your cheek and it was like the world went momentarily still. there was a familiar tightening in your chest as your face began to warm. 

you felt a gentle tug beneath you, followed by a gentle rumble as mingyu dragged your chair closer to where he was. you thanked your lucky stars for mingyu’s baggy lab coat, or else, you were more than positive that you would’ve been able to see his muscles bulging through his shirt and god knows what that would do to you.

once mingyu felt satisfied with your seating arrangement, he leaned back in his chair with a proud smile. “there. shall we get started now?”

dokyeom - taking off your glasses when (he thinks) you’re asleep

you feel like dead weight. all four limbs attached to your body don’t feel like yours and you were 99% positive that soonyoung’s homemade fruit punch was laced with something, despite his claims of it being ‘family-friendly’. you groaned quietly. there was a pulsating headache slowly forming and you turned over onto your side, curling into a fetal position in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

to be honest, you weren’t entirely sure where you were. after having your social battery getting absolutely drained in a matter of 30 minutes at soonyoung’s halloween party, you stumbled upstairs and climbed into the first bed you saw. surely, soonyoung, or whoever this room belonged to, wouldn’t mind. 

the thud of the bass could be felt through the walls, which really wasn’t helping your case of what seemed to be a growing migraine. as you began to silently pray to any greater deity to stop the incoming migraine, you heard the door creak open slowly and you braced yourself to curse out whatever poor and innocent soul decided to walk in on you trying to take a nap. 

“[name]? are you in here?” the gentle and quiet words hung in the air, and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment, suspending time.

it was seokmin.

your eyes remained shut but could hear him shuffling over to the side of bed where you remained in a fetal position. he held a cold hand against your forehead, sending a slight chill down your back. 

“no fever…” seokmin mumbled to himself. “[name]? are you awake?”

you really wished you could open your eyes and smile at the sweet boy who was in front of you, but you couldn’t muster the strength in your body to do anything. it was like you lost control of your body.

seokmin tsked under his breath as he muttered something about falling victim to soonyoung’s devil’s juice and something else about reporting to poison control. he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his soft hand gently grazing your cheek as he did.

“here, let’s…” there was a gentle tug on the metal frames of your glasses that rested somewhat crookedly on your face, before it was pulled entirely. you heard two small clinks of metal as seokmin folded the arms and set down on the bedside table. “don’t want them to break again, do we?”

he chuckled gently, as if reminded by that one time you accidentally broke the frame of your favorite glasses after walking into a pole. you were deadly embarrassed, but seokmin thought it was the funniest thing in the world. 

there was a gentle dip at the edge of the mattress. you would estimate that it was a few inches away from your face and you tried your best to will your heart to steady itself.

“so pretty…” seokmin mumbled to himself. was he talking about you? oh, god. 

“i’ll let you sleep some more. good night, [name].” the mattress shifted again, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. there were another pair of footsteps however, that you felt drawing near to your heart.

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐩 ! ♡. | xiao, kaveh, gorou, lyney, wriothesley x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/grimruu on twitter... i added the boops :> .. fluff, established relationship. dw its an actual fic ( just trsut me )

" boop ! "

— 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

he's startled, that's something certain. xiao's not used to random actions like this; shouldn't one move with purpose...?

blinking at you, his round eyes are more so filled with surprise than disdain. "what... what did you just-" yet... well, you've just tapped your finger to his nose, and now you're grinning like an idiot... truly, the hearts of mortals were something he'd never quite understand.

"it's fun!" yet again, you move forwards, and while xiao is expecting another "boop" from your finger, he's caught off guard when you give him a small kiss on the nose instead.

"boop."

xiao's voice is uncharacteristically faint, quiet. "ah..."

he hides his face behind a hand, trying to evade his clear embarrassment before it catches your eyes. "you're so... stupid."

... and you'd almost believe it, if it weren't for the evident flush dusted across the tips of his ears.

" boop ! "

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

he's well into his third drink by the time you boop his nose, and it takes him another few seconds and a lethargic blink or two before he even registers the action.

when he does, a silly smile spreads across his face, his already drunkenly flushed cheeks warming further. "booop?" the word slurs together, and a slow finger moves to boop you on your nose as well.

too bad, it misses the mark, and he ends up poking your upper lip, frowning when he does so. "ah, oops... lemme try again..." this time, he manages to find your nose. a smugly proud smile appears on his features thanks to the success.

god, he was so pathetic. you loved him for it.

cupping his cheek, you sneakily lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. his skin is warm to the touch. "boop." before he can strike back, you hit him with a double combo, this time kissing him on the lips.

"whuh.. no fair," his eyebrows furrow as he pouts childishly. "i wan..na... too..."

he falls asleep before he can finish his sentence, slumping onto the table and conking out immediately. as expected. you tuck his messy hair behind his ear with a fond smile. he'd have a hell of a headache in the morning. ah, but... tolerating his whines would be worth it — you'd gotten to kiss him, after all.

... his lips tasted like wine.

" boop ! "

— 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔

he jolts like he's been shocked, and you have to suppress a laugh at the sight. "e-eh, what was-?" one of his ears twitches subconsciously, and you can tell he's trying to maintain eye contact to the best of his abilities. hey, it wasn't everyday your lover swung by camp just to tap you on the nose... were you teasing him??

"it's a boop." you state it, matter-of-fact, and gorou only grows more helplessly confused. "boop." just like that, you poke him again. his eyes widen in realization (though he's far off the mark). agh, could it be that more rumors had spread of his "good luck", except this time, instead of rubbing his ears for good fortune, it's tapping his nose instead..?

you watch his eyes swirl with perplexion — really, what was the point in watching those highly-acclaimed entertainment films from fontaine when an entire life's worth of entertainment was right in front of you? "c'mon, don't tell me you've fallen for it too?"

...what was he even talking about? no matter, it was cute seeing him panic (though he'd disagree). you smile at him cheekily, "fallen? why, gorou, the only thing i've fallen for is you ~"

silence.

then the sound of someone choking. gorou upright sputters, his face hopelessly red, before springing forward and getting his revenge; that is, kissing you on the tip of your nose, too embarrassed to keep his eyes open while doing so.

"ugh, you're such a tease..."

... how could you not be, when he was so adorable?

" boop ! "

— 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘

he smiles, his eyes twinkling as they become upturned crescents. "oh? a tap to the nose..." he seems oddly delighted in the action, and perks up not long after, with a strange, mischievous shine in his eyes.

he shuffles through his signature deck of cards with a grin. "love, why don't you pick a card? any card from the deck, whichever one you want~"

you eye him suspiciously.

he has the demeanor of a cunning cat, one that if you turn your gaze away from for a mere second, is sure to cause trouble. well... he was your lover, so you should have some faith in him. drawing a card from the ones he's presented in his hands, you receive the two of hearts.

before you can even properly glance up from your cards, you're met with a faceful of brilliant red roses, each delicate petal perfectly curving in place and green, glistening leaves healthy and lush. lyney's the one behind it all, a smug smile on his lips, and before you can even open your mouth to speak, he leaps forward and swiftly kisses your nose.

"boop."

and he sticks his tongue out, smoothly tucking a rose (without thorns, mind you) into your hair.

hell, he was so smooth. your brain wasn't even able to register half his actions until half a minute after, and when you did, your face burned.

"haha~ what's wrong, love?"

... this guy was seriously dangerous for your heart.

" boop ! "

— 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

he stares you dead in the eyes, in a sort of, "did you really just do that?" kind of way. it's not that he's disappointed, per say, but more so shocked; even siegewinnie wouldn't dare do such a thing like pokingg the duke's nose, (on second thought, maybe she would)... either way, he sits there in a sort of shell-shocked manner, the cup of tea he had begun to lift to his lips long forgotten. "you..."

"boop." you say it like it's all the explanation he needs. in case he doesn't understand, you'll be so generous as to say it a second time, nodding your head for extra confirmation. "boop."

he lets out a lighthearted sigh, one that makes it easy to tell he's on the edge of releasing a chuckle. crossing his arms over his desk and leaning over it, he grabs your chin with his fingers, gently lifting it to raise your gaze to his level.

"boop." this time, he's the one booping you, and he seems all too amused about it, a sly smile on his lips as he does it moves to do it once more. "boop."

hey, was he copying you-? the thought isn't able to completely form before your brain utterly short circuits; the reason? none other than the duke of the fortress of meropide kissing your nose, of course.

wriothesley's enjoying this way too much... yet he seems so utterly unaffected when he pulls away, settling back into his chair and taking a serene sip of his tea, like he hadn't just committed several war crimes against your heart.

... fuck, if it skipped too many beats, would you die??

(a/n) happy boop- i mean april fools dayyy !! mwah mwah watch me pull some "im quitting" shii next year :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

[intoanotherworld23]

Sweet As Peach Cobbler

Warnings: explicit sexual content, mature themes, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex, slightly dom Tyler, submissive reader, implied sex, praise kink, dirty talk

Summary: Tyler loves his desserts, and you just happen to be his favorite

A/N: Hey y’all it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted anything on here, but I’ve just been going through some personal stuff, and needed some time to myself. I am back though and ready now more than ever to keep writing for you guys! I wanted to dabble in writing for someone new, and since Glen Powell has become so popular I knew I had to write some things for him! Let me know if I should write some more for him, and if you would like to be added to the tag list! Don’t forget to comment and reblog it would be greatly appreciated! Love you guys thanks so much for being amazing! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Feeling absolutely reduced to a hot and sweaty mess as you laid underneath Tyler. Who was staring at your disheveled face. A look of pride written across his face as your body trembled around him.

"I've never seen you cum so much sweetheart." Praising you as a hand covers your eyes in embarrassment. "You did so good for me baby."

That powerful and mind blowing release had you almost in tears. Trying with all your might not to just cry in front of him. Feeling like that might weird him out a little bit. Since he could take tears as being in pain or discomfort, and then he would stop, and you didn't want him to stop. Your body was feeling overwhelmed as it continued to shake underneath his fingertips.

"Let me see those pretty eyes of yours." His deep voice persuades you as your hands slowly moved away from your face to look up at his smirking one.

"Tyler." Whining his name as he snickers keeping his cock still absolutely still inside of you.

"Whadda you need pretty girl?" He teases feeling your cunt clenching around you making him groan.

Tyler knew exactly what you wanted, but was still too shy to say anything to him. He always helped you ease your way into expressing what you wanted with him. Giving you a little bit without asking him, and then getting you to finally speak up. Carefully pulling out from your raw cunt your body jolting at the sensitivity from the sudden loss of him. Feeling his cum ooze out of your body his hand massaging your inner thigh soothingly.

"Fuck me baby girl look at you." Watching as his liquid spilled out of you and trailed down between your cheeks. He was licking his lips wanting nothing more than to lick it all up, and taste how delicious you both were mixed. That's exactly what he did too.

His hot mouth attaching to your puffy and still wet cunt. Hands reaching out to grip onto his hair as his tongue flicked back and forth on your clit. Back arching off the bed as he slurped away, hands gripping your inner knees as he kept them pushed apart so he had full and complete access to you. Body feeling like it was on fire as he thrusted his thick tongue inside of you. Rotating your hips around to feel more as his nose brushed against your clit.

"Oh god." Crying out as your orgasm was already swiftly approaching still extremely sensitive from your previous release. Tyler looking up at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control feeling like he held all the power in your pleasure, and it made him feel like a god.

Reaching a hand over to your pelvis as his thumb started to rub circles on your nub. Your senses heightened and overwhelmed not knowing how much longer you were gonna be able to last. Tyler could tell that you were fighting to keep going, and he knew what would help you reach the finish line.

"Tastes like peach cobbler baby girl." His low voice sends you over the edge as your body starts to crumble. Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused over and over again.

Tyler’s favorite dessert was in fact peach cobbler, and the fact he said you tasted like it made your head spin. It would make sense since he could never get enough of you.

Feeling a pair of soft lips gently caressing your thighs and inner knees a trail of saliva being left behind. Sex was always amazing with Tyler, but the one thing you loved just as much was the aftercare. His touch was always so gentle and comforting as he would help ease you through each orgasm.

"Fucked that pretty cunt so good, didn't I?" His crude language had your thighs twitch, and you loved it all the same. Tyler already knew the answer to the question, but he loved the reactions you would give him just for saying certain words.

"So proud of you my sweet peach." His nickname had you smiling as Tyler pulled you into his arms and laid you on top of his warm body. Listening to the sound of his heart beating, and the rise and fall of his chest was easing you into a slumber like state. "Oh I’m not done with you yet sweets."

[vivwritesfics]

Can you write a max verstappen x fem reader where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a championship or a race please

I made this goofy because... i can and i love goofy max

Mornings: Smut, foreplay, fingering, use of good girl, anal, mention of handcuffs

March 1st, 2023

"You know how we pulled out the handcuffs when I won the championship last year, what do I get this time?" Max asked his girlfriend as they laid in bed together.

They were days away from the season opener. Max didn't need any motivation other than to get the win, but he wanted something else.

Y/N thought on it. "Something kinkier than handcuffs, right?" She asked and Max nodded his head. "Okay, how about... anal?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me." She wasn't going to repeat it.

Max didn't agree, not right away. "I've got one better," he said. "Anal, but whenever I get a win. Then we do something properly crazy when I win the championship." He wore a smirk as he said it.

She thought about it. There was no way Max was gonna win almost every race, right? She held her hand towards him. "Alright, deal."

March 5th 2023, Bahrain

"Shit," she whispered as she watched Max finish his final lap twelve seconds ahead of his teammate. Thank God nobody had heard her. Thank God Jos Verstappen hadn't heard her.

No, she was genuinely happy for her boyfriend. She ran to the barrier to great him, throwing her arms around him. She wasn't going to kiss him, not when he was wearing his helmet after a race (those things get diiirty).

He did what he had to, held his trophy up on the podium, sprayed the champagne, conducted the interviews. As soon as he was done he walked out of the paddock, holding his girlfriends hand. "Excited for tonight?" He whispered in her ear, his arm slipping around her body. For once he didn't care about the cameras on him.

"Max, I'm so proud of you, but my ass already hurts."

Max waited until they got into the car. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to," he said gently, his hand on her knee.

She shook her head. "I made a promise. We bought the lube for a reason."

Max pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "That's my girl," he whispered and they set off to the hotel.

Normally she and Max would by flying straight back to Monaco, not staying in the country of the Grand Prix. But tonight? Max couldn't wait to get her back into the bed. "Any time you want to stop, we can," he said as they parked up.

Taking her hand, he led her up to the hotel room. In the elevator he held her hips, squeezing. He kissed her neck, her head thrown back against his shoulder, until the elevator doors opened.

They walked down the hall, his lips still on her neck, with her giggling as she struggled to open the hotel room door. She just about got it open when Max lifted her up and it closed one again. "Maxy," she whispered, her forehead against his. "The door."

Using one hand (while still holding her up) he struggled to get the keycard into the door and push it open. It took several attempts, but eventually they were in the room.

"Fuck yeah," he whispered, dropping her onto the bed. She erupted into laughs and giggles.

He was going to make this fun for her, make it enjoyable for her. As long as she was having a good time, he was happy.

She rolled onto her stomach and Max immediately pulled down her jeans. He slapped her ass and then squeezed. "Fuck, I love your ass," he said. He squeezed both cheeks at the same time. "I'm gonna win every race this season."

"Oh, I have no doubt you are," she responded.

Max pulled down her panties. He felt her, lightly touched her folds. Even just his fingers barely touching her had her shivering. "Hurry up and touch me," she whispered, pushing against his hand.

"Alright, needy," he said and gripped her ass again.

He pushed her folds apart, caught a glance of how wet she was. "Holy shit," he whispered.

In the years they had been together, Max had become an expert. He knew just how to touch her body in a way that had her trembling beneath him. He knew just what he wanted to do, knew how he wanted to treat her.

"Just one orgasm first, yeah?"

She nodded, unable to bring the words to her lips. "That's it, that's my girl," he said, pumping his fingers in and out of her.

She quivered below him. "Max, fuuuuck!" She cried out, clenching around his fingers.

He slapped her ass. "Shit!" She squeaked, eyes shut as she came.

"Now to the fun stuff," Max said. He pinched her thigh and got up, wandering over to his bag.

Buried beneath everything was a great big bottle of lube. She just turned her head, watching as Max pulled it out and walked it over. "I didn't realise we bought such a big bottle," she said, somewhat astounded.

Max took his time with her. He dropped a good amount of lube onto her ass and worked her open. It was a slow process, painful at first. But she relaxed, trusted Max to take care of her. "That's it, my good girl," Max whispered. He squeezed the flesh of her ass, trying to relax her.

When she was nice and loose, Max leaned forward and kissed her shoulder blade. "You're nice and loose now, Mijn liefje," he whispered. "Are you ready for me?"

She nodded her head.

"Words, baby."

"I... I'm ready Max," she stuttered out.

Max still took his time. He pulled her apart and pushed himself forward. When his tip met her hole she gasped, and Max slowed himself down. "You're doing so good," Max whispered, pulling himself back.

Each time he pushed into her, he went just a little bit further. No amount of preparation could have made this any easier. But Max was so soft, so sweet, so gentle with her.

He thrust himself into her, his pace slow. Her squeezed him gasping every time he pushed his head inside of her. "Holy shit, Max," she whimpered.

There was no feeling like this. Max was hitting spots she didn't know existed. With some more work from his expert fingers on her pussy she came, body shaking. Two orgasms and the new sensations Max was providing her with, it was all too much. She couldn't quite take it.

He suddenly pulled out, spilling his seed over her back. Gasping, Max fell down beside her. "You did so good for me, Schat," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her.

Her body twitched as Max chased his high. "All... most... there...

Mijn liefje," he grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

Max took a moment to catch his breath. As soon as he did he ran the too small hotel bath and carried her to it.

March 19th 2023, Saudi Arabia

Y/N watched, biting her nails. "C'mon," she whispered under her breath. "C'mon, Maxy." It was embarrassing, how excited she was for his next win. More importantly, how excited she was for the aftermath of his next win.

But Max didn't win, Sergio Perez won the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. "Fuck," she hissed under her breath. Beside her, Jos Verstappen lost his mind. She didn't. She stayed calm, because she knew that was what Max was going to need.

After the podium, Y/N held Max close. "Well done, Maxy," she whispered, kissing him.

Max said nothing. He just held her close for a minute, his head pressed into her shoulder. But then he spoke up. "I know I didn't win, but..."

"No, Max. We said if you win, remember?"

"Next race. Your ass is mine."

[talaok]

Imagine no outbreak Joel seeing you doing a million steps nightly skin care routine and just laying under the covers and waiting for you to be done and come to bed already and slowly getting frustrated

Maybe a little toddler cuddling in bed with him and Joel fake complaining to them about you

“Mommy is taking a long time huh?”

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

a/n: this request is so so so cute, anon you're a genius

he was being a drama queen, 

as always.

You'd been in the bathroom a total of five minutes and already he was groaning and calling out to you as if you'd been in there an hour.

"I've just finished washing my face baby, I'm not even half way done" you laughed, patting your skin with a towel 

Another groan sounded from the bedroom and you just smiled, as you reached for the fist of the many products that were gonna go on your face.

This was part of your routine now.

Him moaning and complaining because you were taking too long and wanting nothing more than to just have you there in bed with him into his arms, while you laughed in front of the mirror at how much of an unpatient man you had married.

"I don't even understand why you do that stuff" he sighed, loud enough for you to hear, turning again in frustration under the blanket "You're already gorgeous, darlin'"

You rolled your eyes, your mouth betraying you with a smile

The amount of times you'd heard him say that...

Doing your skincare, makeup, putting on lotion... all tasks that to him did nothing but lessen the amount of time you could be in his arms.

"nice try miller" you chuckled, peering out of the bathroom door to talk to him "but flattery ain't gonna work"

Just as his eyes narrowed, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, a little goblin jumped on the bed, having sneaked in without either of you hearing.

Said Goblin, being Emma, your beautiful, smart, nosy daughter.

"daddy!" she giggled, jumping literally on top of him, earning a painful groan from Joel, before he smiled, feigning an attack on her by wrapping his arms around her and bringing her down to him.

"whatcha doing here peach?"

"'m not tired" she explained, hiding her face in his neck

"aw babygirl, you can stay with us for a while, but you have to sleep in your own bed ok?" he murmured, stroking her hair "You're a big girl now"

"mh-mh" she nodded

Your heart warmed as you watched the scene before you, but before you lost precious moments where Joel was too preoccupied with your daughter to realize you still hadn't finished, you went back to your skincare.

But of course, it was all in vain.

Not even a minute passed that you heard him murmur "Mommy's taking a long time huh?" to Emma, who gasped as she answered

"where is she?"

"she's in the bathroom, putting all sorts of stuff on her face"

"what stuff?" She frowned, confused

"stuff she doesn't need" he explained 

You huffed a laugh as you popped your head out of the bathroom, still massaging some serum onto your cheeks "I'm almost done I swear"

"mommy!" Emma smiled wide as she saw you

"Hi pumpkin" You blew her a kiss in return

You watched as Joel murmured something in her ear, something you could very well hear

"tell mommy she doesn't need all that stuff, that she's already beautiful"

Emma didn't waste a second before complying

"You're pretty, mommy!"

You rolled your eyes at him, although the smile on your lips didn't fade one bit

"thank you baby" you stifled a chuckle "but you should explain to daddy that the reason I am so beautiful as he keeps saying, is because of this stuff"

"daddy!" Emma scolded him, turning back to him "You didn't tell me that! You should listen to mommy, she's smart"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, 

God if she wasn't right

"You're right" he grinned "she is smart, and I should listen to her" he said "But you know what would be better? If while she was explaining all that smart stuff she's always saying, she was right here beside us, so we could cuddle with her, wouldn't it?"

Emma considered what he said for a moment before agreeing

"yes" she nodded "it would"

You sighed, exasperatedly, as you finally exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind you

"there, I'm done" you said, climbing into bed "happy now?"

They almost answered in unison, but while Emma yelled her "yes!" as she jumped between you two, Joel's "yes" was much calmer... only a hell of a lot more smug.

He brought you closer with his strong arms, sandwiching your daughter between you and him in a tight hug.

"You're the least patient person I've ever met Miller" you murmured, turning to him with a glare

"And you, sweetheart, are the most perfect one I've ever met."

You rolled your eyes, your mouth once again betraying you

"I better be" you bit down a smirk, watching him grin

"I love you" he murmured, ghosting your lips 

"I love you too assh-" your eyes lowered to where your daughter held onto you, forcing you to censure yourself "I love you too" you said, before he kissed you softly, his hand drawing gentle circles on your waist,

You leaned away when quiet snores sounded through the room, and once you lowered your gaze, you found out why.

"just this time" Joel immediately suggested, giving you his best puppy eyes

"You said that last time too" you reminded him

The pout on him persisted, as he tried harder to convince you

"please?" he begged,

You let out another exasperated sigh, before inevitably, as always, agreeing

"fine" you breathed "but this is the last time"

He kissed you again, and when he let go... you swore your daughter had a smile matching his on her lips.

You would have bet a fortune that this was their plan all along.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ Thank you for the idea @imsodonewiththissite !! It almost got angsty but i controlled myself!!! }

"What in God's name is that?" Dustin’s voice goes almost shrill as he walks behind Steve, looks down at his pumpkin. Eddie's head shoots up from where he's carving his own pumpkin, his legs shot out in front of him, his feet hitting Steve's across from him. Steve flushes, tells Dustin to shut up, and shoves at his legs to get him to move on.

"Alright alright jeez! It's just... I've never seen a pumpkin like that. Did you even try?" Dustin huffs as he settles back into his own carving area between Lucas and Will.

"Yes. I did try. Thank you very much. Henderson." Steve huffs, wipes at his pumpkin, then wipes his hand in the grass to get the bits of guts off. Eddie sits up taller, making a show of trying to see Steve's carving, but not really trying to see, they'd agreed to show each other at the same time.

Steve hadn't really had any idea what to do, so he'd just done something silly. But he could see Will and Dustin’s and theirs were detailed, and spooky. And his just looked... stupid, now. Steve sighed and put the top back on his, waiting for Eddie to finish.

He was staring, he knew he was. He couldn't help it. He loved when Eddie was in full concentration mode, his tongue poking out between his lips, his brows crinkled. Steve would never tell him that. But he could look. No harm in that.

Eddie looked up and met his eyes, smiled brightly, and dusted of his own pumpkin before popping the top back on. He tilted his head, this way and that, a few times and then looked at Steve again.

"Okay. You ready?" He asked, drumming his fingers on the gourd resting under his hands. Steve scrunched his nose.

"I'm having second thoughts." He said quietly, the kids were all yelling, in their own little world, but he still didn't want them to hear.

"Aww. But I'm excited to see it! Especially with the way Dusty Buns reacted." Eddie drooped, his eyes going wide and sad, the way Steve was weak agaisnt. He sighed, his own body drooping.

"Ugh. Fine. On three?" He tilted his head. Eddie nodded.

"On three."

"One."

"Twosie." Eddie wiggled his fingers, Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"Three!" They both said it together and turned their pumpkins toward each other.

Steve's eyes shot open, Eddie's was... good. Like really good. Everything a spooky jack-o-lantern should be. Creepy eyes, sharp teeth, what looked like a skull nose.

"Holy shit Eds. That's... holy shit. Mine is so shit compared to- why are you making that face? What's happening?" Steve changed directions mid sentence because Eddie's mouth had dropped open as he stared at Steve hideous excuse for a carving.

"Oh my god you hate it." Steve grabbed at his pumpkin, about to turn it back toward him and hide it forever but he froze when a sound started coming out of Eddie's open mouth.

It took a moment to really form, but once it got going, Steve could hear it. Manical giggles were bubbling up out of Eddie's mouth. He slapped his hands over his face to stop them but they just kept coming.

Steve wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. He frowned though, his brows dropping on his head and Eddie immediately shook his head.

"Oh my god he's ADORABLE!" Eddie cackled the words, shoved his own pumpkin genlty aside and crawled toward Steve's, his hands outstreched and grabbing.

"I know it's- wait what?" Steve was so confused.

"Steve I love him. Look at his stupid little face." He'd devolved into baby talk and was scratching at the pumkin like you would a babies chin. Steve felt himself smiling.

"Wait you actually like it?" Dustin guffawed from behind him. Eddie spun around fast, guarding Steve's pumpkin from sight.

"Excuse me?! 'It'? Don't you ever speak like that about my son- our son!" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Steve. Dustin rolled his eyes.

"It's not even scary! It's just a big mouth!" Dustin’s hands flailed. Eddie screamed at him dramatically, clutching his chest.

"He has a tooth! And two adorable teeny tiny eyes!" Eddie moved, pointed at the face Steve had made. El and Will both aw-d, Max and Lucas smiled, Mike just rolled his eyes.

"He's not- it's just-" Dustin stammered a bit.

"What? Dustin. He's what?!" Eddie asked, his hands still clutching at his chest.

"He's ugly! Okay? It's an ugly pumpkin!" Dustin yelled, Steve didn't even have time to feel hurt, because Eddie shrieked again, his voice going impossibly high.

"Dustin Henderson! I can't believe you just called your brother ugly. You heathen!" Eddie practically hissed the last word before he hopped to his feet and bundled Steve's pumpkin into his arms.

"Unbelievable. We don't need them Steve. Let's go." He popped his nose into the air and looked to Steve. He knew he had to look like a deer in headlights, not sure exactly where they were meant to be going.

"Kitchen." Eddie whispered, giving Steve a wink.

"Oh right. Okay yeah." Steve stumbled toward the door, opening it for Eddie as he stomped after him.

"Oh what you're going inside? Just leaving us out here?" Dustin called, Will and El booing him as he kept taunting Steve and Eddie. Eddie spun, looked at Dustin, propped the pumpkin on his hip like a toddler and pointed his finger accusingly.

"Yes. And we are leaving... in a huff!" Eddie's accent sounded slightly French at the end as he spun around again and stomped into the house.

"Slam the door Steven. Show them we mean it." Eddie said with an air finality. Steve grinned, fighting back laughter, and slammed the door. He tugged the blind closed too, for good measure. He turned to find Eddie wiping at the pumpkin with a wet washrag, getting all the little shavings off.

"You didn't have to do that." Steve said, moving to stand next to him. But not too close.

"Do what?" Eddie asked, grabbing the dish towel off the little hook and drying the pumpkin now. Steve sighed, leaned his butt against the counter and looked at the floor.

"Play it up liked you love the pumpkin. To make me feel better about my complete lack of skill." Steve laughed a little, shrugged, and looked up to find Eddie staring at him. He tossed the towel down and took a step forward.

"Oh no. Unfortunately for you, Steven. That was a genuine reaction. I fucking love this thing." He patted at the side of the pumpkin and grinned at Steve. Steve frowned.

"Really? It's not... I mean it's nothing special. Did you see Will's, I swear there was a castle on it." Steve shook his head. Dismissive.

"Oh I saw it. Still like yours more." Eddie said, matter of fact.

"Why?" Steve was still frowning. Eddie sighed, walked over and stood next to Steve, his arm pressed agaisnt him, warm.

"Me and my mom used to buy four pumpkins. Every Halloween. Always four. Two for her. And two for me." Eddie's voice was soft, the way it always was when he talked about his mother. Steve found himself trying not to breathe to loudly, he wanted to hear everything Eddie had to say.

"We'd each do a classic, spooky guy. But the other one. The other one we used to make just... the most ridiculous faces. Or the dumbest ones. Anything cute and silly." He looked at Steve for a moment, a soft smile on his lips at the memory.

"It very quickly became a contest of who could make who laugh the most. Just by carving some silly face." Eddie shook his head and laughed gently.

"I haven't made a funny one since she died. And you turned that pumpkin around and it took me back. To all those stupid pumpkins and how we used to laugh. And I mean really laugh." Eddie's voice was getting tight as he spoke, a little wobbly, and Steve wanted to hug him, wasn't sure if he could.

"She had the best laugh Steve. She'd have loved this." He moved his hand over the pumpkin again, gently stroked down it's side.

"And you."

It was almost too quiet. Steve almost didn't hear it. Wasn't sure he had until he looked up and saw the way Eddie was looking at him. Steve is so sure that it's the same way he'd been looking at Eddie for months now.

"It's the perfect pumpkin Steve. The best one I've seen in years." He's so serious, when he says it. Steve feels like he might cry. Feels a bit reckless, with Eddie looking at him like that. So he leans toward Eddie, his heart fluttering as Eddie smiles, just a barely thing, and leans toward him too.

The kiss is soft, Eddie makes a little sound in the back of his throat when Steve's hand moves to his neck and pulls him closer. They kiss until they're both smiling so much it's just their teeth clicking together and Eddie dissolves into manic giggles again and buries his face in Steve's neck as he holds him close.

"You have a good laugh too Ed's. " Steve sighs, pulling Eddie closer as he hums and nuzzles into his neck, his fingers pressing into Steve's back as he cuddles closer. Steve breathes deeply, his nose buried in Eddie's hair, and feels Eddie smile against the soft skin of his neck.

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( below is an approximation of their pumpkin faces. I fucked up the eddie one's mouth dont looookk at meeeee )