#totally never would marry them if they wanted to marry me because I don’t like them like that

[buuuuuuuu3]

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 05:56 P.M 」

this has been rotting in my drafts for like months :'D based on a suggestion idea a while back—how gojo will definitely land himself in a police station, and since i have no better fic to share yet, i'll just post this :')

a part of gojo's love entries

everyone—or particularly, nanami—has warned you that marrying gojo satoru is going to be far from easy.

and true, less than a month since the two of you were married, he had landed himself in a police station. police station! of all places!

still, you were worried when you got the call, but when you rushed inside the place, all your worries—

“i’m telling you! i’m innocent!”

“sir, please don’t raise your voice here!”

“YOU are raising your voice against me!”

—evaporated. because… what the hell?

satoru, looking cross as if he owned the whole precinct, sat with his legs crossed high. he wore all black and his eyes was covered by that stupid blindfold. and with that haughty attitude, if someone accused him of being a suspicious person, now you would totally understand.

you were fuming as you stomped to where he was. “satoru!”

“oh?!” he turned to you with a wide grin, then to the officer in front of him, pointing at you. “look! i’ve been telling you. i have a wife— and there she is!”

the officer eyed you suspiciously as if he wanted to confirm your identity, and you huffed. “it pains me to admit that i’m his wife—”

“wha?! it ‘pains’ you?! i’m hurt!”

“—but yes, i am. officer, what do i have to do to get him out here?”

you could’ve sworn the officer gave you a look of pity. “ma’am, so we received a report that your… err, husband, was publicly harassing two students—”

you widened your eyes, turning to him accusingly. “you—!”

“i was not!” satoru fiercely interrupted, eyeing the police with clear disdain. “if i want to harass girls, shouldn’t i harass my wife first?!”

you were speechless as you shot him a look of disbelief.

“but sir, the girls said that you have been ‘leering’ at them—”

“i was just passing by! i didn’t even look at them! and when i have a wife this hot—” satoru wildly gestured at you with both hands. “what use is anything else?!”

dear lord. please give me strength. you felt like losing your head over this as you clutched your temple.

“sir, you’re being too loud!”

“i’m telling you, you’re slandering me! that’s crime too!”

this was utter chaos and you finally had enough. “both of you, just...” you breathed out— “shut up!”

both the police and your husband looked at you in surprise as you glared at them with so much ire they would have never expected out of you.

in the end, to settle this fiasco, you ended up paying the fine.

“wifey... forgive me, please?”

satoru dejectedly followed you from behind like a sad puppy as you entered your home. “please? don’t be mad at me...”

you suddenly stopped in your tracks, before whirling to face him, squinting one eye. “you got arrested, made a fool out of yourself, and i bailed you out. so, give me three good reasons why i shouldn’t be mad at you.”

“uh, w-wait...”

“three, two—”

“i-i’m a good kisser! i let you have my body!” he blurted in panic. “and oh—while at it, i also satisfy you sooo well in bed!”

how did you end up with a clown for a husband? despite yourself, you almost laughed at his response, and satoru obviously saw it as a sign of him succeeding. and before you knew it, he leaned and pecked you in the lips.

“look at you, you just smiled!” he giddily grinned as he pulled away. “i’m right, aren’t i!?”

“ha ha...” you let out an exasperated sigh, suppressing your laugh and faint heat in your face at the same time. “satoru...”

his eyes were practically shining. “yes?!”

“you and couch. tonight.”

[pomegranatesarchive]

Hello, can please request something Charles Leclerc and dating a very successful actress like an Emmy winner kind of actress, and him being the perfect trophy husband, and everyone's obsessed with them

trophy husband | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x horror actress!reader

summary: charles leclerc is the perfect trophy husband, even if he can’t quite bring himself to watch your movies.

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 693,928 others!

charles_leclerc: some of my favorite posters so far 😍 make sure to go watch MaXXXine July 3rd, staring my beautiful wife!! ❤️

view comments below!

user1: i still can’t believe they are married 😭

user2: HERE BEFORE MAX!! I MADE IT 😫😫

maxverstappen1: are you going to be able to make it through the whole movie this time?

charles_leclerc: probably not!

user3: LMAO CHARLES JUST ACCEPTED IT 😭😭

user4: i remember there was a time when charles used to swear up and down that he could sit through yns movies..he’s grown 🥹

user5: to be FAIR; i can’t really sit through a y/n movie either. they are always so fucking terrifying, i have to take like 30 minute breaks each minute 

user6: the queen of horror will do that to you 😭

user7: charles supporting y/n even though he’s too scared to watch any of her movies is so funny

user8: i just looked at my bf and sighed

pierregasly: so excited 😁

user9: do you think they’ll do another y/n movie, movie night without charles 😂

user10: don’t make it sound like they didn’t invite him?? he CHOSE not to go because he was too scared to watch the movie 😭

yourusername: thank you for the support love 💚

charles_lecerc: HEHEHE ☺️ of course my love anything for you!! ❤️

user11: did this mf just giggle through comments

user12: sometimes i question my high standards, but then i see charles acting like this with y/n and i remind myself i should NEVER settle for less

landonorris: i stand with you Charles. her movies are way to scary. i will be streaming without watching tho 👏

charles_leclerc: thank you Lando 😁

yourusername: my two favorite scaredy cats 🫶

charles_leclerc: i should be your ONLY favorite scaredy cat 😕

landonorris: don’t be jealous Charles, we all know you two only want each other 🙄

user13: HELP LANDO 😭😭

user14: get yourself a man who supports you as much as charles support y/n 👏👏

liked by charles_leclerc, and 53,829 others!

ynupdates: y/n at the MaXXXine premiere today! she had on a total of three different dresses tonight and she looks gorgeous!

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: 😍😍

charles_leclerc: WOW 🤩

charles_leclerc: 🤤🤤🤤🤤

charles_leclerc: beautiful☺️☺️

charles_leclerc: 👏👏

charles_leclerc: holy 😘😘

charles_leclerc: obsessed 🥰🥰

charles_leclerc: MY wife 😻😻😻

charles_leclerc: gorgeous😘

charles_leclerc: stunning ☺️

user15: oh this? nothing just charles showing everyone that he is IN FACT the standard!

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, and 729,038 others!

yourusername: so excited for you all to see MaXXXine, i’m really proud of it 🥹

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: you should be proud gorgeous ❤️ it was an amazing movie!

maxverstappen1: you didn’t even watch it?

charles_leclerc: I HAD HER DESCRIBE IT TO ME.

charles_leclerc: you looks stunning! 😍

yourusername: thank you cutie ☺️

charles_leclerc: you think i’m cute? ☺️☺️☺️☺️

user16: is charles aware y/n is already his wife??

charles_leclerc: of course i’m aware! i would never forget the day y/n said yes 😡

user17: bad move think just because they’re married charles would stop acting like he’s trying to get at her

user18: i think it’s so crazy to see a man ACTUALLY love and appreciate his partner; like it’s shouldn’t BE crazy. it should be the standard, but yet.,.

lewishamilton: great movie as always! 🔥

yourusername: thank you lew 🫶

user19: “lew” 🥹🥹

landonorris: someone put y/n in a romcom please.

user20: lando does NOT fuck with the horror

user21: NO BUT PLS YNS AMAZING IN HORROR BUT IS IT A CRIME TO WANT TO SEE HER HAPPY IN A MOVIE FOR ONCE

user22: charles x y/n romcom when??

oscarpiastri: amazing movie! 10/10 loved it 🤩

landonorris: if course you like horror you muppet.

oscarpiastri: not everyone sticks to comedy’s because their scared of a little blood…

user23: READ HIM TO FILTH

user24: i’m so excited to shit my pants watching this movie!! (i hate horror but will watch anything yns in)

. . .

notes: can i just say how much i hate summary’s?? like i hate WRITING THEM, love when fics have them tho, but i feel like my summaries never make sense and they take me FOREVERRR

[dante-mightdie]

butcher!simon is also weirdo simon, socially awkward simon, slightly reclusive simon.

has questionable game. fumbled his way through courting reader.

once forgot to change his shirt before showing up for their date, has her opening her door to a blood splattered work shirt and a bouquet of flowers (atleast one or two of them are crushed) instead of his carefully planned carrhart and jeans combo. (poor things spent so long figuring out his outfit, even asked his linecook friend soap for help (like that was the best idea… he don’t know no better😔))

“did you just.. did you just kill somebody?”

“sumn’ like tha’, yea.”

it’s not until he sees the way readers eyes widen that he realizes he never really explained his job and exclaims,

“shit- no! no dove, i’m just joking-“

- ☕️

yes absolutely zero game simon is my favourite

he spent your entire first date just staring at you with a furrowed brow, listening intently to every word you said. his hand would flex on his thigh, like he was itching to snatch you up like a cut of meat

tells you ‘funny’ stories about his work and his ‘friends’ but the stories aren’t funny at all, they’re weird and unsettling and his friends sound like total lowlifes. lets out a little deep chuckle before realising you aren’t laughing, then he does completely stoic on you again

all you knew when you finished that date was that you had to have this absolute specimen of a man. he had to be yours. no one else could handle him

even now as a married couple, he’s still an oddball but he’s yours and he’s good to you. gets out of bed at night when you hear strange noises and you know you’re safe. has a steady income and a flat big enough for you both even if it is humble. you don’t mind that he wants you to he a homemaker because you know he can he a provider

I know this is gonna be a miss for some of you but there’s something about simon heavy, deep, mouth breathing in my ear. like he’s drooling over me 🤭

[luveline]

Hi!!

Could a please request Peter Parker x reader where they’ve been together for a while and discuss family planning? Like they want to start a family together but both have anxieties for different reasons with Peter being Spider-Man and just general nerves at this being a big step and they comfort one another?

If you get round to this then thank you!!!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

“But you’re Spider-Man.” 

Peter doesn’t know how you ended up like this, his face at your feet, his feet past your head in his pillows. Your toes wiggle in your socks unthinkingly. 

“I’m Spider-Man.” 

“How are we s’posed to have a baby if you’re a superhero?” 

You ask it without malice; you aren’t telling him to do one thing or another, you’re just posing a simple question. Or, not so simple. Thinking about it provokes a hundred different questions, and he gets your point. How can he be a father if he’s a superhero, half the time? How can he expect you to sign on to motherhood while he risks his life? 

He has to prove that he can do it without getting hurt. Without getting anyone hurt. 

“I’ve been Spider-Man for a long time,” he says softly. 

You pretend to drop your foot on his face. He laughs and curls into you, an arm around your leg like a wonky cuddle. “And it gets more dangerous every year.” 

“I would… being Spider-Man is…” Peter noses at your leg. Your pyjama pants are hiked up near your knee, leaving a calf open for his mouth to brush against. “I’m Spider-Man,” he says again. That’s the simplest explanation. He just is Spider-Man. “But I would change things. I already have, I mean, I have you to think about now.” 

“I just don’t know if I’d be okay with having a baby, if you might die.” 

Peter sits up. He frowns. “I’m not going to die.” 

You just nibble your lip. 

“Is that something you worry about?” 

You sit up to meet him. “Of course I do.” 

He’s thankful you’re close. He takes your hand, turning your wedding ring to see the stone laid at the apex. You used to worry so much it would make you sick, and he changed to make that easier on you, because he loves you. What was the point in getting married if he was gonna leave you in agony every time he left the house? Newspapers scorned a more careful Spider-Man, and Peter has had to make some hard calls. He can’t be selfless anymore —he thinks about you every time he throws a new web. 

He didn’t realise you were still worried. “When was the last time I got hurt?” 

“Last night.” 

He winces. “Alright, when was the last time I got hurt enough to need medical attention?”

“Last Tuesday.” 

“Bub, that was one finger, it healed in two hours.” 

“But if you were a normal guy, it would’ve been weeks.” You aren’t out to torture him, or argue, your lips puckered for a quick kiss as he pulls you toward him. “I’m just saying,” you murmur, tapping his nose, your eyebrow pressed against his, “if you want a baby with me? You’re gonna have to give up even more. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he says immediately. 

Okay. Because he’s Spider-Man, and it means everything to him, but he’s your husband. This is your life together. 

“I want a baby with you,” he says, a murmur to match your own as his hands wrap around your waist. He drags you forward, your faces still smushed together. “I want kids, and you want them too, and I want you to have everything. So if you need me to change, I can change. I can’t stop, but I can make it work.” 

“You’d have to stop sometimes–”

He leans away and cups your shoulder. “I know. I’m not gonna get you pregnant and go out every night.” 

“Just every other.” 

“No, no,” he insists softly. “Bub, listen to me. If you’re ready, then I’m ready. No messing around. I’m your partner, right? I’m your husband before I’m Spider-Man.” 

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

Peter’s not mad, but he’s a little upset you’d think so. He’s not trying to make you feel this way. He wants you to have total confidence in him, and your potential future family.

“You need me to tell you that? I’ve never been more sure about anything.” 

He doesn’t need you to agree to a baby tonight or anything, he just wants you to be happy with him. So he tells you emphatically that you’re his world. You already know why he’s Spider-Man, the responsibility that drives him, but there’s responsibility in being with you and making you happy. At the end of the day, you come first. He wishes you knew that, but he doesn’t mind telling you. 

It’s a little later with his arms around you, right side up this time, that he confesses, “I don’t even know if I’d be a good dad.” 

You aren’t worried. “That’s silly. As long as you don’t get killed by a giant radioactive reptile, you’ll be amazing.”

“How do you know?” 

“Same way you know I’ll be a good mom.” 

“You will be.”

You kiss his neck. “I knew you’d say that. I don’t know if I’ll be a good mom, I just know you believe in me.” 

“I do.”

“You’ll be a good dad,” you further, pressed as far into his neck as you can be, lavished by his hands running up and down your back. “I know parenting is a lot of things, but I really think it’s the same as being a good boyfriend. You’re kind. You’re so patient. You’re funny. I can’t wait to have a little baby that looks like you n…” You sigh. He loves that touch of wistfulness behind it. “I can’t wait to be a family with you.” 

“Are you tired?” he asks. 

You mumble. “Mm. Just a bit.” 

He strokes your neck. “I can’t wait to be a family, either… maybe it can wait until tomorrow, though.” 

You smile into his jaw, dragging yourself up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Peter Parker.” 

[riordanness]

lover — [w.wonka]

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none

requested: yes!! anon <3

You’d think that working for the greatest chocolate maker in the world would be awesome, right?

You’d be correct. However… some parts were not quite so awesome. Especially when you’re head over heels in love with said chocolate maker.

“Noodle!” I scold, laughing as she tosses yet another chocolate in her mouth, rather than stacking them as we’re supposed to be doing.

She shrugs, and gives me a wicked grin. “Sorry, not sorry.”

I roll my eyes, taking a bite out of my own selected piece of chocolate. Willy always says that we should eat whatever and whenever we like. He just cares that much for us.

“What do you want to do when you’re older, y/n?” Noodle asks me suddenly.

I frown at the question. “I am older.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re like eighteen. I mean older, older.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m pretty content just working at this shop right now. But I’d like to fall in love, get married, and have a family. That would be nice, I guess. It’s not likely, though.”

“Why not? That’s totally likely.”

I smile a little. “Because, Noodle-dee, I’m not that kind of girl. Guys don’t just go and fall in love with me.”

She smirks a little, and pops another chocolate in her mouth. “You never know, y/n-doo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s a smile in my voice.

Noodle doesn’t reply, so I let it go, going back to stacking Willy’s gorgeous chocolates in their pretty display cases for the shop. This is honestly probably my favourite job in the entire store. Making it look pretty.

It’s the end of the day, all the customers are gone, and just Noodle, Willy, and I are left, all doing our individual closing duties.

Noodle cleans the floors, I count the till money, and Willy, well, I’m still not exactly sure what he does, but he walks through every single room in the entire building, checking something.

Probably some big important, owner-of-the-chocolate-factory job I don’t know about.

Noodle and her bucket of soapy water makes it way over to me. “Hey y/n,” she sing-songs.

“Mm?” I glance up from counting silver sovereigns.

“You know how you were saying you wanted to fall in love?”

“Someday, yeah.”

Noodle looks amused about something. “Are you already in love? Do you at least have someone in mind?”

My brain immediately, unhelpfully, offers up an image of Willy, with his smiling face and unruly dark curls. I suddenly get very flustered. “Uh—no. Of course not, Noodle.”

“Really.” She raises an eyebrow, deadpanning at me.

I shake my head. “I don’t have anyone, uh, in mind, no. I’m not in love. That’s ridiculous.”

At that moment, without either me or Noodle noticing, Willy reenters the main shop room where we both are. But I’m so engrossed in trying to convince Noodle to drop this topic that I don’t even see him.

“What about Willy?” Noodle suddenly asks.

I drop my stack of sovereigns. “What do you mean?”

Noodle has her hands on her hips. “You like him. It’s so obvious.”

I fumble with the coins, trying desperately to keep my hands from shaking. “No—? I don’t—um. No. I don’t like him. I mean I do, like him. But not, uh, like, like him.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem sure.”

I groan, slamming the sovereigns onto the counter. “Fine. You win, Noodle-dee. I like Willy. A lot. In fact, I’m desperately in love with him and I think about him almost constantly. Now can you please drop it?” I don’t even realise I have tears in my eyes, but my emotions suddenly come to a swirling head, and I hiccup, and brush a tear away.

“I’m sorry,” Noodle whispers, but she sounds more triumphant than sorry. “I won’t ask you about it again.”

She grabs up her bucket and leaves abruptly.

I blink a few times, let out a sigh, and finish up with the till money. Then I flick off all the lights, lock up the inner doors, and get ready to leave for the day.

Noodle has already signed out, so I guess it’s only Willy left in the shop somewhere. “Willy?” I call, “I’m heading off now!”

Willy appears, hurrying over to me. “Thanks, y/n.” He has a weird look on his face, and he won’t look at me.

“Everything okay?” I ask uncertainly. “You look strange.”

He shakes his head. “Fine, fine. I’m okay.”

“Alright.” I shrug. “I’m heading home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say this every day. It’s like clockwork.

Willy usually echoes it back, tells me to get home safely, and gives me a smile. But today, it’s different.

“Y/n, wait,” he says, just as my fingers are on the doorknob.

I glance at him. “Yeah?”

He licks his lips, glancing everywhere but me. “I heard you and Noodle earlier.”

I freeze, unsure of what to say or do. “You did?”

He nods. “Is it true? You’re in love with me?”

I don’t answer right away. I look at him for a moment, breathe, and then nod my head once. “Ever since I met you,” I say, and try to laugh. But it’s not really that funny. It’s kind of pathetic, actually. Because I am just y/n, and he is Willy Wonka.

“Me too, you know.”

It takes me way too many heartbeats to understand what he means. “What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, silly.” He chuckles, playing with his fingers.

I stare at him. “You… you, what?”

He laughs again, more forcefully this time. “Y/n, just come here.” He reaches for me, hands cupping my face, and when he pulls me into him, and kisses me, I can’t even breathe. It’s surreal, like a dream, but it’s real, and it’s happening, and it’s him, and it’s everything.

[kkalimarii]

Do you have any Leech parent hcs you wanna share?👀👀🤭

my god, yes i do

thoughts below 💬

i feel like its a known fact from the community that jade and floyd’s parents are very much influential, and definitely shady. like the self defense courses, signing a contract to give birthday gifts in ‘good faith’, y’know, the works. all signs point to fish mafia.

but at the same time, they appear to be very loving and affectionate parents, which leads me to my interpretation of them:

headcanons! (sorry, its long. i have a lot of thoughts)

-i believe that leech mom and dad stand on equal ground. leech mom ain’t just a stay at home mom, her and her husband are equally apart of the ‘business’.

-continuing that thought, i think they would have a really similar dynamic as jade and floyd. mama appears with a kind smile and gentle voice, unassuming at first (in comparison to first impressions with her husband). in contrast, her husband definitely scares people off (he’s not scared to show his teeth off from the get go), but also has a sort of charm to him that makes him really alluring. but when you get to know the two… well, you’ve seen the twins, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

-mama is scary. like, in that way floyd is, where she’s straight up laughing at your pathetic state with her eyes wide and mouth wide open, sharp teeth all on display. the minute she gets irritated with a client she’ll be very close to clawing out their insides.

-papa is…still scary, but not as unhinged his wife. he usually handles communications and relations, because he surprisingly, is more reasonable. don’t get it wrong - if someone tries to cross him and his family, he will easily tear their throat out.

-and no, they’re not always just going ballistic on normal people. they’re pretty cordial. if you met them for the first time because jade and floyd wanted to introduce their friend (or whatever you guys are), mama would think you’re totally adorable and immediately spoil you, and papa would come right in with snacks and treats for you to try (and a new pair of shoes!)

-they are, again as the game implies, very doting parents. they spoil their kids rotten, and actually have very healthy parenting habits with their sons.

-papa is a fashion diva. can’t catch him in the same outfit twice. always is buying more dresses for his wife because he is never not completely infatuated with her.

-which is funny, because my personal hc of them is that they were rivals/enemies when they were younger. their families had a lot of beef over territory, and everytime they met up it would just be snarky comments and LOTS of bickering. eventually, who knows what happened, but they just started making out like crazy during a fight and fell in love, got married, and united their families together (by force)

-they go on fishing trips with each other when they’re in the human form. i’m talking dingy boat, dad caps, cargo pants. they’re also competitive with each other about it (mama has a heavy lead). don’t ask me why, i just feel like they do

-mama leech actually hangs out with azul’s mom a ton, they’re very close

-sometimes, when papa looks at his kids, even he’s surprised at how weak his gene game is. his kids look like they were only made by their mother

-i also changed my mind, i think i want leech mom to be 6’0 💀 i’m always changing my mind though

sorry for the long blurb, i had a lot for thoughts that have been in my head about the two because designing characters also means trying to understand them as people 🤣

[draconic-desire]

your yan!neuvi series got me on a chokehold !! I feel so bad for darling but it got me thinking, would neuvillette ever allow them to i dont know, go visit mondt to look at their parents’ grave (?).

Neuvillette meets his (dead) in-laws edition 😂

Ok this idea is simultaneously kinda funny but also makes me cry a bit because I totally think Neuvillette would have ensured your family’s wellbeing in your absence. Despite his flaws, he still maintains his overwhelming sense of duty and justice.

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

(A Dance with the Dragon Interlude)

Talking about your life four centuries ago has become a bit of a taboo in the household you share with Neuvillette.

Mostly, it only serves to incite an argument, one you are always predestined to lose. The other times, it only reminds you of painful memories. So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue, to keep your past held tightly to your heart. Neuvillette doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you believe he might prefer if your history were to be wiped from your mind completely, leaving a blank slate for him to carve his essence into.

Which is why you’re so shocked when, on a particularly storming evening, the Chief Justice himself requests, “Tell me about what your parents were like.”

Jolting, you nearly drop the book in your hands. He’s not looking at you—usually, having his gaze on you translates to irritation, concern, or lust. When he’s looking away from you, as he is now, irises trained on the waves battering the cliffs below your home, you know that means he is instead thinking, pondering.

But thinking about what? Your eyes narrow, and your heart accelerates. What is he getting at?

A hand clenches around your heart when you try to picture your mother and father in your head—and fail. Four hundred years without a visit or simple image…of course their features have faded over time. But you’ll never forget the warmth, the knowledge that they loved you until the end and supported your lifelong wish of pursuing marine biology, even when it took you away from them.

You only shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about that, Neuvillette.”

He turns to you, now, eyes filled with calculation. A judge presiding over his court. “I had no parents. I simply…came to exist. Born of the water, the waves, the sea foam, and bestowed with this primordial power.” He glances down at his gloved hand, palm squeezing into a fist. “So the idea of parents is…foreign to me. Though I have a sense of the kind of ceaseless, unconditional love that defines a family.” You know he’s talking about his feelings for you, and your tattoo burns. “Experiencing a loss of that magnitude would be incomprehensible.”

For the life of you, you cannot figure out his endgame here. Why acknowledge your loss? Why equate his adoration and obsession with you for parental love? Your eyes burn, your breath quickens, you feel the tattoo pulse with energy as you—

“Do you ever wonder about how they lived the rest of their lives?”

Yes. No. Everyday. Somehow, you find your voice, a quiet thing filled with warning. Your skin feels so hot, like your veins are laced with lightning. “And how would you know anything about that?”

Neuvillette’s sharp eyes cut to your frame. “I…made sure that they were fully provided for. They lived happy lives, believing you to be living out your dreams in Fontaine. They are now buried together, in the cathedral cemetery overlooking the Brightcrown Mountains.”

Your breath hitches, and that power in your blood begins to settle. Their favorite place. The Brightcrown Mountains, where your father proposed to your mother. The Favonius Cathedral, where they were married. And the cemetery behind the church, where your grandparents had been entombed, too.

Something falls onto your lap. It’s only when you touch your hands to your face that you realize you’re crying. Neuvillette watches you with concern, one hand raised and poised to reach out to you, but he keeps his distance as he lets you process.

You release a shaky sigh. Was it true? Did they pass with no fear for your safety, in ignorant bliss of your extended life? The thought, although morbid in some ways, actually brings you a sense of peace. Your parents never had to endure the loss of you in the same way you had for them.

You swallow thickly, your voice hoarse with emotion. “Can we…visit them?”

That sets Neuvillette’s back ramrod straight as he blinks. You’ve only been out of the house a handful of times, and he was the one to bring this topic to light, but to venture out of Fontaine entirely? His protective and possessive instincts flare immediately, screaming at him to shut this idea down, to grab you and sink his teeth into your neck, dominant, claiming. But as his silver eyes flick across your face, taking in your tears, the tremble in your hands, the pit of mixed despair and relief in your eyes, he relents.

Slowly, he blinks, taking in a deep breath. You’re expecting an excuse, a verbal slap on this wrist disguised as concern for your safety. Which is why, for the second time tonight, you’re stunned when Neuvillette, rising to his feet, extends his hand. “I’ll take you there.”

~*~

The trip is easy, thanks to the Hydro Dragon’s teleportation abilities. The two of you arrive at the large square in front of the cathedral, the statue of Barbados towering above you. Briefly, you wonder what the Archon of Freedom thinks about your situation, or if he even deigns to care.

Not much has changed about Mondstadt in four hundred years. The streets still possess an older feel, cobblestone streets and stone walls surrounding the city. After seeing the drastic change in Fontaine, the fact envelopes you in a sense of comfort, knowing that at least one aspect of the world has aged alongside you, long-lived but unchanged.

It’s long grown dark, and the heavy downpour persists. Neither of you brought an umbrella as you ascend the stairs and wrap around to the cemetery behind the church. The rain, however, seems to dissolve into your skin rather than chilling you or soaking your clothes, no doubt another consequence of Neuvillette’s magic coursing through your veins.

The Hydro Dragon leads you to a small plot towards the back. Two tombstones are erected side by side, and you fall to your knees as you read: (Mother’s name) and (Father’s name) (L/n). Lives entwined to their last breath, they soar high above the clouds.

You hear a rustle of fabric, and soon Neuvillette has joined you, kneeling by your side. He raises his arm, and tendrils of blue light pool from his palm, forming the shape of beautiful flowers. They surround the graves, a sea of blues to celebrate your loved ones.

The two of you sit there for what could have been minutes or hours. All you know is that this is the most at peace you’ve felt in four hundred years.

[itsabouttimex2]

Eclipse Kings

Part Three: Wild Dawn

(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: You Are Here)

(Extra One)

For almost all his life, Sun Wukong had never really known “want”, not for more than the few moments it took to decide he was going to pursue some fleeting and new desire.

The land itself seemed to conspire to his favor- he was borne to a thriving mountain of surplus and luxury, sparkling stream racing down each hill, bountiful orchards with boughs so heavy they dipper near to the earth. Even the horizon was generous, spanning sunrises to color his every lavish breakfast and hosting a banner of glittering stars to lull him to sleep.

He wanted for nothing, because when the world would not bend to his whims, he simply bent it himself- to the end result of power, luxury, and adoration.

His life was fraught with the inevitable turning of blades, stuffed full of motion, conflict, and inevitable triumph. His troop grew by the year, Flower Fruit Mountain knew nothing of suffering, and his treasury was brimming with relics.

A demon crowned eternal king of a flourishing mountain, untouchable and immovable.

What more could a monkey want?

Company, as it turned out. The varied little simians scattered all through the trees and bushes of his mountain were wonderful, of course- he cherished them all like his own children, and doted on each and every one of the little menaces.

But he still wanted more.

—-——————————————————————

“That, little mortal, is when I joined my Sworn Brotherhood!”

The Great Sage Equal to Heaven smiles warmly at his recited memories, claws lightly sifting through a large collection of traditional clothing.

“We were going to lead a siege on that stuck-up realm of Celestials, but my darling moonbeam had an even better idea- why not start our own kingdoms? Instead of teaching those stuffy old fools how to respect us, we could just show them up and take all their little worshipping mortals away!”

You don’t say a word in turn, still bundled up in a fluffy towel, sitting on the nearest chair, idly watching through blank eyes. Since you hadn’t been willing to walk or respond, Wukong had scooped you up with a sigh and hurried off to his and Macaque’s shared changing room, given permission to pick out some old clothes of theirs to give you.

“Of course, all of the stuff that was supposed to be boring was, uh… a total mess. Y’know, like deciding on territories, drawing borders, figuring out taxes—ugh. Mortals do not like taxes. Sure like ‘em better than being eaten by demons, though.” He chuckles at his own words, shaking his head as if to dismiss the unpleasant memories of bureaucracy. Wukong pulls out a black ceremonial robe embroidered with purple thread and holds it up against you, squinting as if he’s considering how it might look.

“…no. My sweet moon wouldn’t like you wearing this.”

“…s’it “too nice” for me?”

“…you mortals really aren’t the best with self-esteem, are you? No, little villager- it’s because he wore something like this when we were married. After that, he started commissioning seamstresses to make him more clothes like that robe… the actual thing is framed in a glass box over our bed. I don’t understand why Mac wanted that, but I can’t ever say no to him…”

Wukong’s voice trails off, tone softening as his gaze drifted to the ceiling. A smile plays on his lips, barely restrained, as he’s replaying his dearest memory of Macaque on repeat. You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond, the weight of his affection for his moonlit partner pressing against the silence.

He breaks it himself, but only after walking across the room and popping open lacquered wood chest, breaking the preserving sigil printed across it .

“You know,” says the king, his claws tapping the gleaming pauldron of gold within, “I wore this when we got married.”

He turns to the side, catches the fact that you’ve perked up even a little, and continues.

“It was the nicest thing I owned at the time- most of my outfits were skinned animals and stolen rags. This is something my brothers had given me, so it was the nicest thing I had that wasn’t my staff.”

Wukong’s fingers linger on the golden armor, tone rich with an ancient nostalgia. “I wasn’t one for fancy clothes back then- still coming around to it now- but I was even worse with it back then. I wanted to go in my tiger skirt and my old boots! But my brothers? Oh, they insisted: “You’re getting married- you can’t just show up looking like a bandit on your wedding day!” So they gave me this, and a nice red robe with a ton of silly characters embroidered into it- it’s framed right next to my mate’s robe, now.”

Say something. You need to say something. You can’t just mumble and mutter if you want to stay in a king’s good graces, can you?

“…do you… remember your vows?”

He perks with a smile, intrigued by the random question, entirely missing how dangerously close you are to cracking.

“Well, if that’s want you want to know, how about I tell you about the whole ceremony? Here, I’ll lay out how it went…”

——————————————————————

Macaque shuffles in place for a moment, old meekness returning to him- his hands twitch, and the notes smoothly inked onto the sleeve of his silk robe catch in the light, drawing his aureate eyes downwards. The crowd all around is nervous mortals and drunk demons, dressed in red or black or gold, held at peace mostly by his eager “brothers”. On Azure’s lap and shoulders are several children, more interested in his blade and snout than the ceremony. He’s smiling, more at ease than any other here.

The others for the most part are doing alright. Peng is preoccupied with their drink, casually allowing themselves to be marveled at by a blacksmith and a jeweler- though neither are allowed to touch, both mortals are fervently etching the gilded designs into their paper scrolls. The avian flaps those glimmering wings on occasion, causing streaks of light to flash over the modest venue, catching across the polished tiles.

Yellowtusk sits on a carved stone chair, marking the attendants in a neat ledger, made oversized to fit his hands. Several troops of Long-Tailed and Crab-Eating Macaques play on his trunk and tusks, their little fingers deftly taking hold in the cracks of his thick skin to ascend it. They don’t ever distract him for more than a few seconds, even when the youngest cubs forget their manners and start chirping in his ears.

The largest of their Brotherhood stands at attention in the doorway, toying with the straps of his battle axe. His face is painted with a rarely seen apprehension, looking back and forth over the room on occasion. Sometimes his gaze stills on a veil-shrouded woman with painted lips, and then he smiles for a moment.

The Demon Bull King is not nearly as subtle of a man as he thinks.

Not that it matters- when, for all that (which is very much) his Sworn Brothers know he’s courting a Celestial Maiden, they’ve chosen to keep an oath of silence on the matter.

(“He’s our big guy,” as Wukong had put it during one meeting months ago. “And we want that goofball to be happy.”)

(All of them- even Peng- had toasted to that notion, in the general direction of the bull’s empty chair.)

The mortals are safe. His brothers are content. He can do this.

Once more the dried notes on his sleeve catch Macaque’s attention, snapping him from the venue and to his golden love.

One last time he goes over them, dedicating those practiced words to memory.

He takes a breath, and turns to the audience.

“My mate-to-be is… molten gold, kissed by the rising sun. Beautiful is a shallow word to describe him- he is a masterpiece, a divine work of art carved by the heavens themselves. His eyes hold the all the world’s fire within them, blazing with the brilliance of a thousand sunsets. His laughter is a hymn to freedom itself, a melody I pray to hear every day for the rest of my life. When I look at him, I don’t just see a king, but the very heart of my existence, the axis upon which my world turns. He is my sun, my storm, my sanctuary, my everything.”

Several of the softer mortals are touched by his speech, lifting their cotton sleeves to the very corners of their eyes. Others only lightly clap, still uncomfortable at being called to the union.

Macaque does not have time to look away from before Wukong’s ginger-furred paws clasp onto his shoulders, holding tight.

There are no notes, no hours of reciting, no time spent with helpful Sworn Brothers to listen and offer advice, no matter how snarky- Sun Wukong simply turns from the crowd and offers himself.

“Macaque… I love you. I want you to be my mate forever. Until the sun goes dark.” Wukong's tail flicks behind him, expression softening with a rare blush. "Because... you're part of my story, bud. You’ve always been a part of it. And I'm tired of pretending like I can write the rest of it without you. Be mine forever and let’s be mates.”

The world is blurry, at least to Macaque. Nine and a half seconds prior he had thought there’d be some disappointment to push through, delivered an insincere joke or a vow written by another’s hand.

But there was only been Sun Wukong, love of his life, smiling at him.

“I will be your mate,” he chokes out, “forever. Until the sun goes dark.”

——————————————————————

“We’ve never been apart since then,” he purrs, dragging one claw over a hanfu the color of a sky on a gentle morning, toying with the white sash to untie it. “Not even for a day.”

Before you have a chance to respond, he plucks up the garment and holds it out to you. The size difference between him and the outfit is comical, and you wonder why these two demon kings have it in the first place.

“This should fit you, bud! Here, let’s get that towel off-“

You scream.

It’s not particularly loud or long, or even desperate- but it’s a scream all the same.

Worse still for yourself, you take this hysteric moment to lay on some shaky remand.

“NO! No more! Just stop touching me! I don’t- I d-don’t like it! You’re- you’re twice my size and you keep- you and him are always getting in my face and- a-and putting your hands on me, and I- I’m am so, so sick of it! I am not an o-object! I am a person! I am a person! I-“

“Quiet. Now.”

Wukong’s golden eyes narrow as he stands there, the weight of his presence pressing down on the room like a thundercloud ready to burst. His tail flicks sharply, but his voice remains measured.

…there are tears rolling down your eyes now, lost in the fluffy expanse of the towel around your body, sopping uselessly away as the king takes two footsteps to your form, frowning.

Not that it does anything to settle the rapid beat of your heart, crushed by the newly oppressive atmosphere.

“…you’re scared. I understand that. And maybe my moonbeam and I, we’ve been a little too hands on. That’s on us. But this my pagoda, and I did not build it by hand so that a little guest could yell at me. You know that you’re not a prisoner here. The doors aren’t locked, and there aren’t guards stationed outside them… now. I’ll let you get dressed- alone- and then you can eat. And…

“And no more touching without your permission. Okay?”

“…m’sorry. F-for yelling.”

“…I’m not mad,” he lies, one hand shifting to condescendingly pat you on the head. “I forget- my brothers, and my mate, too- we yaoguai just aren’t the same as mortals. You little things are scared too easily, and break so quickly.”

Something about hearing that is humiliating, but you don’t dare argue with him. Instead, you hunch your shoulders and cling to the towel, sniveling down at the floor.

Wukong’s frown softens the longer he watches you cry, all the sharpest edges of his irritation melting away into something closer to pity.

“I’ll leave it here. Call if you get lost looking for the kitchen.”

His words are painfully curt, and then the king is gone, golden beads and silk robes swishing behind him with each step.

You were never close, and only ever tangentially in the “good graces” of these kings. It’s not like you’ve shattered some precious bond.

But you still feel bad.

You wouldn’t, not usually. But as you unwrap the towel and begin to dress yourself in the lovely hanfu left draped over the chair nearest to you, the aches and pains of yesterday’s chase down the mountain weigh on you, just as MK’s new identity and newer happiness strike a deep point of insecurity- that you simply weren’t good enough to take care of him.

You weren’t good enough to provide for him anymore.

You wanted to believe you were more than them- strong enough to survive on your own, to fight your way through the world with MK in tow. But the truth was harder to face: Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque were meteoric gods, and you were just a mortal caught in the tides of their myth.

And where MK was thriving in this ecliptic chaos, you instead were already cracking under pressure after only a day spent before the kings.

…there’s a lovely silk pouch, dyed the color of new lavender blooms, hanging from the hanfu- you only notice it after tying the sash into a decent bow. The soft texture grounds your tumultuous thoughts, and a powerful aroma steadily drifts from within.

You fiddle with the tie and open the sash, revealing a dried bundle of orange blossoms tightly tied together, each stem marked with a glittering mystic sigil- 提高.

Whatever scent they would’ve had already was amplified by the marking, causing a heavy flow of fresh floral scent to ooze from the little purse.

You lift it and take a deep breath from the bag, allowing the veil of citrus aroma to utterly cloud your mind, providing it a much needed fog to rest under.

The soothing haze is slow to fade, even after you’ve pulled away and sealed the bag, but eventually you are left with only your steadied thoughts in the ornate chamber, amongst fine silks and polished wood, treasures of centuries past hung casually about It’s beautiful—almost too much so.

A reminder that this world of theirs is not the same of yours.

But you would not stop trying to survive in it.

You couldn’t.

[gilverrwrites]

Hi friend!

Would you be interested in doing a NSFW alphabet for Bruce? Just read your black mask one and damn heheh

Bruce Wayne: NSFW Alphabet

AN: Thank your so much, glad you enjoyed! And yes I would be interested.

As always readers; please take whatever you vibe with and leave what you don’t. It’s all in good fun.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It really depends on your existing relationship, and its level of intimacy.

A hook-up is getting the bare minimum to keep his image where he wants it to be. He’ll help you get clean, offer you his bathroom, and if he can, he’ll help you redress and get you out asap. If you decide to stay, he’ll be cordial; he’ll do the pillow talk, let you wear his shirt, make sure you’re fed and watered or whatever but he won’t hold you, and he won’t be there when you wake up. He will however leave a note with some half-truth about having to leave for business, and money/gift cards for a coffee and an Uber.

If you’re more than that (dating/married/so on) then it depends on how well you’ve voiced your needs to him, and how much time he has. Let’s be real Bruce is a hypocrite, he wants you to tell him in explicit detail how you need to be cared for, and if you don’t he’s profiling you until he gets it right, but he ain’t saying anything about himself.

So provided he doesn’t have to run off to save the day, or your escapades haven’t coincided with a routine patrol, Bruce is excellent at aftercare.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Him: Bruce is highly critical of himself. He’s not blind, he knows he’s physically fit, widely intelligent, and highly attractive, but there’s also always room for improvement.

But if he had to choose, it would be his brain. He enjoys being able to look at you and knowing in an instant that you want him. Knowing if it’s a right here right now, or a tease me till I’m begging kind of want. Knowing exactly what you need to hear or where you need to be touched. Being able to predict and acclimatise to your desires is such a big thing for him.

As for you: It’s all in your eyes. You may or may not think you’re quite stony-faced, but not to Bruce. He just loves how expressive your eyes are. Yes, when he’s analysing you; looking for those dilated pupils and heavy lids. But also just the delight when he surprises you with sneaky kisses, when the skin around them grows crinkly as he growls something totally scandalous, or how they grow wide and doe-like as he’s stretching you out, or when they twitch and roll when he’s fucking you just right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not particularly vocal about it unless he’s really lost in the heat of the moment but; breeding kink. He wants his cum buried as deep inside of you as your body will allow. He wants you so full it’s spilling out and leaking down your thighs, soaking into the bedsheets. And then he’s gonna scoop all those stray drops up and push it all right back in.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

At his age, he doesn’t really get the terms that people use in sex nowadays. That information wasn’t easily obtained in his prime but if he had to identify with something he’d claim soft/dom and/or a brat-tamer, and he’d be right.

But sometimes he likes to switch roles.

He’d never admit it, because he’s a goddamn control freak, he considers (his own) submission as weak and at best he’d be a power bottom but damn it’s so comforting and so hot to be at your mercy or just taken care of sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ooh ho ho. Brucie has been around many blocks, and back again.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I have no explanation for this, I just feel it in my bones but he’s so into doggy. Especially when it’s a hook-up and/or a quickie. By extension, the flatiron because it offers that really deep penetration that has him cumming right against your cervix.

Also the eagle and the leg lock/missionary, specifically with a pillow under your hips and one of his hands pushing on your stomach so that he can keep you in place as he punishes your g spot.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very rarely goofy, at least not until he’s at a level of familiarity and intimacy that would allow him to let those walls down. He’s not without a sense of humour, it helps if you’re goofy first.

Blow a raspberry on him, and he’s pinning you down and giving you 10 back. Give him a ridiculous nickname and he’ll start testing new ones out on you. “Ohh Brucie boo boo, that feels so good.” “You like it when I bend you over and fuck you like this honey bunny?”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s thick and dark, but well-trimmed. In his younger years, he waxes off his happy trail and chest hair, but from his mid-late 30s, he starts letting it grow.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This again is widely dependent on your relationship.

If you’re a hook-up it’s just about fun really. It’s sensual, borderline pornographic but ultimately impersonal.

But if you’re more than that, then sex is very intimate for him, and he’s surprisingly passionate.

He struggles with voicing his emotions so this is how he shows you his appreciation for all that you do. It’s how he apologises for being gone so much, for making you worry. Your body is where he takes out his frustrations but also where finds respite and comfort.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not something he particularly enjoys, but it is a necessity. He’d rather the real thing, but if that’s not accessible when he needs to let off some steam then so be it.

There have been many, long frustrating nights that have ended with him beating it in front of the batcomputer, unable to focus, and wishing it were you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As previously mentioned, breeding kink. (See c for cum)

Bondage: I’m specifically talking about him being the rope bunny here. Nothing extreme, soft ropes holding his wrists to a chair or a bed frame while you grind on him. Yes he could break out at any minute, but he doesn’t, that’s part of the submission, the fun.

This can be flipped, he’ll tie you up if that’s what you want but he prefers to pin you down with nothing but his own strength and body weight.

Roleplay/primal play: His interest in the whole cat and mouse (or bat and cat) has never been subtle really. He likes being the predator, catching the prey and taking his reward. Ties in closely with the brat taming too if you’re a fighter or mouther.

Extending on prev, I think he’d also like interrogation play: again both ways but primarily he likes to be the interrogator. To hold you down, tease, and question about whatever subject matter, probably what you want to have done with you, until you beg him to make good on all your confessions.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He’s boring in this regard; the bed. It’s a comfortable, safe environment where he can let loose.

If you wanted to do it in the cave or the Batmobile he’d comply, but explicitly when off duty with low risk.

But if it was up to him, he’d keep you all locked up in his chambers, squirming in his sheets, eyes rolling back to look at his ceiling. It’s like he’s claiming you, inside and out, full and scented by him and his bedsheets.

Maybe, with the certainty that nobody will be home, he’ll find other places to fuck you; the marble stairs, the hot tub, in front of the fireplace.

But be prepared for the unmitigated guilt and humiliation of traumatising at least one of his kids when they inevitably stop by unannounced.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He often comes home in the early hours of the morning still full of adrenaline and looking for relief.

Outside of that, he’s highly receptive to teasing and shameless levels of flirting. Clothing too; he likes skimpy, short skirts low cut tops but that’s not always necessary. Just knowing you’ve got nothing on under that flowy outfit, or that he bought you those shoes, or that’s his button-up will do it for him.

And then there’s domesticity. When you bring him food during a long and intense research session. Seeing you be really good with Damian, or helping Cass with her ballet hair, or scheduling dinner for the two of you with Babs and Dick.

Just you clicking so perfectly into his life, predicting and meeting his needs without being asked, makes him want to show you just how much he appreciates it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you want to call him daddy that’s fine, he can be your baby daddy, but you are not his baby.

You can be his baby momma though. He wants to fuck a child into you, not fuck a child, even in a fantasy capacity.

If he wanted a child he’d be adopting you, not sleeping with you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

50/50

He rarely gives oral when hooking up, because he’s a fucking beast at it. Wet and sloppy, just going to town, which affords him a lot of women wanting to ride again. But in that same vein, he doesn’t expect these people to give him anything. If they’re gasping for it, he’ll oblige but otherwise, he just avoids the whole oral thing.

But when it’s his love, there’s no stopping him from spending an afternoon worshipping those perfect hot, wet folds. Drinking you up until your fluids are dripping down his neck, until his scalp aches from your grip and you’re seeing stars.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies of course but preferentially 70/30 rough/sensual with a lot of crossover.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As mentioned in J for Jack-off, if he needs to release some tension quickly, and you’re available then he’ll take you. Bend you over the nearest surface, bruising you with his vice grip, no sound but for his grunting and the salacious slap of your skin against his until he’s got everything out of his system and can get back to the job at hand.

But otherwise, he’d rather take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If you’re an adrenaline junkie, then sure he’ll take risks for you.

That said, the risks he takes are calculated, and he is good at maths. He won’t bore you with the statistics, just know that he’ll always find a way to give you what you want.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No average human can keep up with Bruce Wayne’s stamina, let’s be real. But that’s okay, when you’re all spend and cock drunk and too weak to move, he’ll make sure you don’t miss out on anything. He’s strong and fit enough to do all the work for the both of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Holy utility belts Batman!

For all his gadgets and tech, I want to say he has sex toys galore but honestly I really don’t think he does.

He probably has the classics: retrains, cock ring, remote control vibe, plug, dildo and/or strap.

And some more out there things: electro collars/low impact tasers, clamps, a swing.

Heaven knows he can afford anything and everything. But beyond that, I don’t think he reaches for them often, nor does he seek out or experiment with new ones. Not unless something sparks it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Are you kidding? The moment he sees his opportunity he’s laying the teasing on thick. Sneaking touches when nobody is looking, speaking to you in that voice, calling you while you’re busy to tell in explicit detail what he’s been thinking about doing to you since he saw you in those pants this morning.

And when he finally gets you alone, he’s 100x worse.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Noisy but not loud. He has such a low, deep voice. So when he groans and coos in your ear it’s certainly clamorous to you. All the filthy things he says bellows.

But nobody outside the room you’re in will hear him, not unless he wants to be heard anyway.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

With time and experimentation, Bruce knows what turns you on better than you do. Kinks you’ve never thought of. Subtle touches you barely notice, getting just close enough for you to smell his natural musk. He moves his body in precise ways, and uses really specific words that have your mind racing.

He’ll play you like a fiddle and have you thinking it was your idea.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s packing, and we all know I don’t mean guns.

And that's when it’s soft and in the cold. At full glory, I’d say at least 8 inches, above average girth. Cut, with some very prominent veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fair to moderate, adrenaline heightens the senses and emotions and can be an aphrodisiac which is where a lot of his drive comes from.

But removing that from the equation, he’s trained himself not to think about you or anything that turns him on when he needs to focus. So when he gets to relax or when he sees you again, all that pent-up denial comes running back to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on his mindset. More often than not, by the time post-climax hits, after an already long night, he’s out like a light the moment you’ve signalled that you don’t need him any more. Sometimes sooner.

But if something’s on his mind, a series of clues that aren’t adding up, a villain that shouldn’t have gotten away, when he’ll be up all night thinking about it. In this scenario, it’s not uncommon to find his side of the bed empty within an hour or two.

[hazbinwhoree]

Okay so I’m violently obsessed w this man and your writings so… can I request something way too self indulgent and specific ? If this is too much feel free to ignore this ask but an Adam x fallen angel!reader who before she fell was his third wife in heaven for like a few hundred years unaware of the exterminations and when she finds out she and Adam argue and it results in her wings being ripped off and her cast to hell… and once in hell she keeps a low profile and her identity a secret. But sees about the hazbin hotel on TV and goes to offer her help to Charlie because even tho she knows she can’t go back to heaven, it’d be nice to help some sinners if possible. Not expecting things to ramp up so much and involve Adam. But like… if the angelic dagger nifty stabbed him with didn’t kill him, say charlie and reader take him into the newly built hotel and reader tries to nurse him back to health and there’s angst bc it’s been 20 years since he basically cast his own wife, his angel to rot in hell??

Sorry if you hate this idea n don’t wanna do it I totally don’t blame you I’m just on Adam brain rot and have a handful of self inserts/ocs to ship a him in different AUs but this is my favorite despite how cheesy it probably is

Twenty Years in Eternity

“What do you mean exterminate them?” (Name) asks, appalled. “Exactly what it fuckin’ sounds like, babe,” Adam laughed. “It’s population control!” “Population control!? It’s murder!” “I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about this,” Adam scoffed.

“Because not every sinner in Hell deserves to be there!”

Silence. (Name) had just proclaimed blasphemy. Adam’s eyes moved to something behind her and his face dropped. “(Name).” (Name) turned around to find Sera, looking down at her in disapproval. “Such blasphemy is not tolerated in Heaven,” Sera said coldly.

Adam couldn’t do anything as Sera knocked (Name) to the ground, and abruptly tore off her wings. (Name) screamed. Sera opened a portal overlooking Hell, and grabbed (Name). “Adam help!” (Name) cried, struggling. Adam could only stand and watch. Neither of them were any match for Sera, who threw (Name) into the portal and shut it behind her.

And that was the last Adam saw of his wife for twenty years.

In Hell, (Name) found her way as a Fallen, until she heard about the Princess of Hell’s endeavor to rehab sinners to go to Heaven. Intrigued, (Name) made her way to the Hotel one day. She knew Heaven would never accept this plan, but she didn’t want to kill Charlie’s spirits.

(Name) quickly became a permanent fixture of the hotel, befriending the inhabitants. She got particularly close to Angel Dust.

Every year, during the extermination, she would hide, not out of fear for her life, the exorcists didn’t kill the Fallen, but so that she didn’t have to deal with the pain of seeing the angels and run the risk of seeing Adam.

Unbeknownst to her, Adam searched for her during every extermination.

(Name) was shocked when Charlie giddily announced that she had secured a meeting with Heaven. She hadn’t been expecting Heaven to let her get this far.

But further she did not get, coming back from the meeting absolutely fuming.

“What happened?” (Name) asked. “The guy was such a… such a… prick!” “Shot down the hotel idea?” “Adam didn’t even let me finish my presentation. He said Hell is forever whether we like it or not. And he cut the extermination time in half, they’re coming back in six months!”

(Name)’s blood ran cold. “Adam?”

“Yeah, like the first man, Adam. He was such an asshole.”

“Yeah that sounds like him,” (Name) muttered.

Charlie looked at her funny. “Did you know him when you were an angel?”

“Know him? I was married to him.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “You’re his third wife!?” (Name) nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“He talked about you,” Charlie said. “It was the only time he actually sounded genuine.” “What did he say?” (Name) couldn’t help her curiosity.

“He said that Hell is forever, and if someone like his wife could end up there with no chance out, sinners were certainly not leaving.”

(Name) hummed. “He sounded kind of sad,” Charlie said. “I think he misses you.” “Yeah, well, it’s been twenty years. He’ll get over it. He sure didn’t do anything to stop me from ending up here. We were fighting over the extermination.”

“That’s what got you sent here?” Charlie asked. (Name) nodded. “I’m sorry,” is all Charlie could say.

Weeks passed and she managed to get another meeting with Heaven, this time going past Adam and straight to the Seraphim. (Name) had no idea how she did it, but knew the results would be the same in the end.

When Charlie and Vaggie came tumbling through the portal, Charlie more upset than (Name) had ever seen her, she knew she had been right.

“He said he’s attacking the hotel first!” Charlie cried, throwing herself into Angel’s arms. “Who, Adam?” (Name) asked, feeling nauseous. “Yes!” “It’s okay, Charlie, we’ll stand our ground and defend the hotel. Remember, angels can die. We just need to get our hands on some angelic metal,” Vaggie soothed.

The next month was spent preparing for battle. (Name) was going to stay out of it, and Charlie understood. (Name) figured there wasn’t much she could contribute anyway. So when the extermination came, she locked herself in her room.

She could hear the battle raging outside, and it sounded like her side was losing. She almost went out to help, until she heard Adam’s sadistic laugh outside her window. She remembered why she wasn’t involving herself. She couldn’t face Adam.

(Name) was content staying put, until she no longer had a choice, the hotel splitting in half. She very nearly got crushed in the rubble, but somehow made it out unharmed. As she lay on the ground catching her breath, she heard a familiar, angry voice. “I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these nuts!”

(Name) looked up to see Adam’s back as he screamed at Lucifer and Charlie. She also saw Nifty, running up behind Adam with a knife. “NO!” (Name) cried out, but it was too late. Nifty plunged the blade through Adam’s back. Adam choked, body freezing for a moment before he fell on his stomach.

Nifty raised the blade to keep stabbing him, but (Name) ran over as fast as she could and pushed Nifty off of him.

“No, no no no.” (Name) gently turned Adam onto his back. He opened his eyes, and when he saw her, he smiled. “(Name),” he croaked. His eyes fluttered shut but the soft smile never left his face. “Adam, no, stay with me, please,” (Name) begged. She looked up at Charlie. “Please, help me!”

Adam was the last person Charlie wanted to save, but her belief in mercy and hatred of seeing (Name) so upset won over, and she knelt down beside Adam, putting pressure on his wound. “Dad, there has to be something you can do.”

Lucifer sighed. He walked over and held a hand over the stab wound, concentrating. It began to heal, just enough to stem the bleeding before Lucifer stopped. “There. He won’t bleed out, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

Adam had fallen unconscious.

Lucifer refocused his efforts on repairing the hotel. When it was back together, Charlie helped (Name) drag Adam inside. They got to (Name)’s room and deposited Adam on her bed. Adam didn’t stir. Charlie left (Name) to have her privacy with him.

When Charlie left, (Name) unzipped and pulled off Adam’s robe, lifting up his shirt underneath to reveal the stab wound. With a wet washcloth she began to clean the wound and blood off his body. When she was done, she grabbed gauze (Charlie left her with a first-aid kit) and wrapped Adam’s torso.

Content, she finally situated him into the bed comfortably, pulling the covers up to his chest. As she knelt next to the bed, stroking Adam’s hair back gently, Adam’s eyes fluttered open. He looked panicked until (Name)’s face came into view.

“(Name).” “Adam.”

(Name) forgot all her previous anger towards Adam and hugged him in relief. “You’re okay,” she cried. Adam looked taken aback before smiling and wrapping his arms around her. “Thanks to you.” “Thanks to Lucifer, really–” “Never say his name in front of me again.”

(Name) blinked. “Right, of course. But he did kind of save your life.” “Only because of you,” Adam retorted. (Name) was silent. He had a point.

The silence consumed them as they stared at one another, waiting for the other to speak. “You abandoned me,” they said at the same time. “What?” “What the fuck do you mean–”

(Name) took a deep breath. “You abandoned me in Heaven, when Sera tore off my fucking wings and threw me down here. You abandoned me as a Fallen. How did I abandon you?”

“You abandoned me by questioning the extermination, and speaking blasphemy. You knew what happened to angels who speak blasphemy. And you still did it. There was nothing I could fucking do. Sera is like, a million times stronger than me. And for the record, I searched for you. Every extermination. I looked for you. You abandoned me, to be alone, again.”

(Name) was silent. She hadn’t realized that was how he felt about the situation.

“I love you, and I fuckin’ miss you. Alright?” Adam confessed. (Name)’s eyes began to well with tears. “I love you and miss you too.” She leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. Adam kissed back with fervor, reaching up to cup her face in one large hand. They fit together like missing puzzle pieces.

Two separated soulmates finally reunited.

[bloop-bl00p]

When you forget there’s sin in Seven Deadly Sins

[I guess this could be treated as part two of my rant about Hell’s ruling class.]

The Seven Sins are the embodiment of their vice, in a modern setting, they will probably be seeking to indulge in harmful activities themselves since they are immortal and can’t face consequences and influence others into falling into dangerous lifestyles. I can even see a scenario when each of them tries to make propaganda through the internet with platforms like Instagram or TikTok, like Beelzebub promoting Bezzle Juice except that it’s purposely made to be extremely addictive and one shot of it gets you hooked forever.

We’re gonna start with Lucifer, the only angel of the Seven. He’s a dreamer quirky cutie patootie with dePwezIOn that just wanted to give humanity Fwee Wil🥺.

What were Lucifer’s plans/dreams for humankind in the first place? He was dismissed as a troublemaker, okay…? What portrayed him as such? He’s a socially awkward silly guy but honestly, that’s all there is to his character. But I won’t get too deep with these questions maybe we’ll get more answers in Hazbin. However, what I can ask is…

How did Lucifer manage to find himself so close to The Garden of Eden? If I’m making something important I ain’t letting the petulant kid get close to it because… you know he might ruin it.

Elder or not Lucifer is still a Seraphim, did he not know that giving Free Will to humans would mess up everything? Even if HE didn't know what about the others? Were the angels even aware of Evil as a whole? If yes, why didn't they warn Lucifer before giving him access to Eden? Like “Hey dude the glowing red Tree in the middle of the Garden is bad news don’t let the mortals near it.” was it that hard?

Can someone explain to me how is this the embodiment of Pride? I personally don't see anything prideful in his attitude at all. Pride is the belief that you don’t need God in your spiritual journey, in a worst-case scenario, you think yourself above him. In the Bible, Lucifer was too Proud to bow before mankind and tried to overthrow God which led to his banishment. But since Viv totally changed the story and forgot to add the Pride elements, there’s nothing justifying Lucifer’s title as Pride incarnate.

TW: Mention of sexual assault/rape and a brief mention of other sexual practices.

Following with Asmodeus, why is he like this? Don't get me wrong, I can understand why he isn't a fan of rape as a whole, rape is rarely, dare I say never, about sexual craving, it’s about control. Val doesn't rape Angel Dust, and his employees because he feels needy, he assaults them because he knows that’ll break them psychologically and physically which makes them vulnerable to manipulation. Sexual assault as a whole is never about lust.

It makes sense if we drop out of the fact that Lust isn’t just physical but religiously speaking just an intense craving for something, like power or control. Viv took the easy way and reduced it to a physical craving so Asmodeus could be anti-rape I can’t blame her for that, it’s her ✨interpretation.✨

So Asmodeus is Pro Concent and it kinda makes sense. Since he’s the Prince of Lust, he technically should have influence over the culture in the Lust Ring and other species like Succubus should at least be weirded out by innuendo of non-consensual sex.

Well, shit.

“OooOoooOOH But Tiz is Not Rape!”

Compare the succubus’ abilities to aphrodisiacs and it all makes sense. Increasing someone’s libido without their consent alone is sexual misconduct proceeding to have sex with them later is rape. And it’s not the only instance of succubus assaulting people.

[Context: Ep3 S1, Verosika’s crew basically made condescending comments on how Moxie was cute and how they wanted to kiss him despite his discomfort and the fact that he mentioned being married. They still eventually kissed him by force and it was treated as a joke. “I care about male victims.” Sure we believe you.]

So Asmodeus is a hypocrite for giving succubus and incubus a way to get to Earth while knowing they are raping as many humans as possible.

“D3mOn @re BAAAAAAD Pweple So |t makse sense.☝️🤓”

I know, I wouldn’t complain that much if Asmodeus wasn’t painted as this cutie patootie lovely doe who is so in love with his lovely cute good boy partner.

Talking about partners, why does the Prince, no… why does LUST INCARNATE have ONE partner? The dude’s sex drive should be higher than the Olympus Mons and you’re telling me he doesn’t have a harem at disposition and he’s FAITHFUL?!! No free relationship, no hookups, no polyamorous relationship, and no mention of orgies he organizes to test the efficiency of his toys! Hell, we’re talking about Lust shouldn’t he be more inclined to have exhibitionist behavior (In recent episodes Lust’s citizens were desensitized about voyeurism so showing a bit of skin shouldn't be a problem)? Or, I don’t know, the ability to change his appearance and sex to appeal to a larger audience. Maybe the smoke secreted by his fire can serve as an aphrodisiac he only uses to put his partners in the mood (With their consent if she’s so attached to that idea.)

Viv, with two shows whose humor is mostly based on sex you certainly lack representations in terms of positive sexual activities, every time sex is mentioned in both of her projects it’s either a joke or diabolized. I’ve seen teens on Wattpad and AO3 writing foul smut with sexual practice so taboo it’ll make you gasp out loud! Take an example! (This was obliviously a joke but seriously, smut’s writers scare me with their tags.)

This leads us to Beelzebub, she’s supposed to be…. an animal tamer? She did not give off this vibe at all, she’s a party girl at best, stop saying things on Twitter Viv, and show it in your shows!

Is there a reason for her to be so nice? What do you mean you don’t want Bliztø to lose himself in alcohol and sex, you’re all about overindulgence. If anything she should actively invite people who are mentally distressed as they’ll be more willing to drink excessively in a “forget my life’s issues” type of way. This could also explain why so many people in her parties are minorities, Hellhounds and Imps are treated like shit by Hell’s society so being invited to one of Queen Bee’s parties will be a great honor and a way for them to forget how difficult their life is.

“E3RmS Actoualli, Bee ite the Viiiibe! S0 ze kant let Peple b3 s@d or ze will be sad too. ☝️🤓”

Ah… okay, still don't explain why she can’t be a bitch about it. Since she “eats the vibe” and feels for her people she could be affected by Blizt's destructive behavior and be absolutely furious someone is ruining her parties for her! Then she could have gotten to Loona and been like “Look your dad doesn't have the vibe I’m looking for so get him out unless you wanna learn what happen to party pooper.” implying that she will most likely kill him (or eat him) and that this isn't the first time she offed someone for that. But I guess we can make another EMBODIMENT OF SINS a decent girl, it’s Viv ✨interpretation.✨

Going forward with Mammon, Viv humanized the Sins mentioned up there, so you would think Mammon would also get the humanization treatment?

“T3re Is NOO g0od s|de to GrEed!!!!! 😡”

Okay.

What’s Greed, it’s a selfish desire for more than what you already have (money, fame, etc...) The mention of selfishness doesn’t give Greed a positive connotation but you forgot…. This is Viv ✨interpretation✨ she reduced Lust to craving sexual intimacy just so she could make Asmodeus Pro Concent. Beelzebub doesn't need food she eats the Viiiiibe so she can’t let people self-destruct! Here she’ll politely ask you to go away because she caaaaaares. And Lucifer isn’t Prideful at all.

She removed part of the definition of each Sins so she could make them good people and you’re telling me that she couldn't do the same for Mammon?!

“But H0w can ze posibli m@ke Greed Pozitif?”

If you remove the selfish aspect, Greed is wanting something more. There’s nothing wrong with that, like wanting more recognition, and more money when you’re poor. Mammon could have been this guy who worked himself at the top and his money could have been the fruit of his hard work.

So why, of all the Sins that got turned down was Greed the only one who got the “I’m pure Evil” treatment?

The Seven Deadly Sins aren't supposed to be decent beings. They represent the worst of what humanity can do and they are embodied by equally bad entities. With a setup as shitty as the Hellaverse, where there are little to no rules, slavery, classism, and drugs available everywhere I was expecting them to be a tad bit vicious, purposely making the life of everyone worse for their benefit. Mammon could have been the reason for this capitalist society as it’s the perfect environment to develop other sins and his. Yet, Beelzebub is friendly to the Hellhounds while letting them be treated like lesser than how we treat dogs. There’s even rehabs in Hell, Verosika and Barbie were in the same one.

Asmodeus will sue you if you rape someone unless you’re a succubus. Ironically he said that he’s against love potions when that’s literally what the succubus do with their abilities, get you in the mood without you knowing.

Lucifer is the number one silly guy and he even has an attraction parc for others to have fun.

I know it’s Viv ✨ interpretation✨ but you have to make it make sense. You can’t have demons this high-ranked being nice portray them as good people in the narrative when they are responsible for Hell being so unfair to the lower class.

As for the other sins…

Traditionally speaking Wrath isn't just unjustified violence but hatred and a desire for revenge. I think that’s one of the main reasons Satan and Lucifer are treated as the same person as Lucifer is both prideful, hates God, and seeks revenge. I don't see how Viv’s Satan could be vengeful as they were no war with Heaven to begin with.

Envy isn’t wanting something that someone else has (it’s jealousy), it’s hating someone because they have something that you don’t. Which often results in trying to make the life of this person worse but that’s another thing. I didn't see anything about Sloth and judging by the Sloth Ring, Beelphagor is going to be medical-themed, we know he makes drugs and has a brand of anti-depressant named “Happy Pills.” (Nothing to do with the circus aesthetic she was going for.)

I don’t know if Viv really has a good grasp of what these Sin are traditionally as she claims but we have to see in future episodes. My guess is no.

[writemekpop]

Last Chance | Huang Renjun

Summary: When your boyfriend Renjun is feeling low and needy, he does something totally unexpected. 

Genre: Established relationship AU

Word Count: 1k

Renjun stormed into the apartment, shoving straight past you like you weren’t even there. There was a splash as he poured an old bottle of Malibu into a mug. 

“Too bad, baby. You deserved it,” you cooed, placing your hand on his shoulder. 

Renjun glared at you. “Why d’you always say that? Why don’t you ever ask how did the audition go?” 

You nod. “Sorry. How did the audition go?”

Renjun took a gulp of alcohol. “I didn’t get it.” 

You opened your arms, and Renjun collapsed into them. “What am I doing with my life? I haven’t got an acting job in three years. Maybe it’s time I… gave up.”

“Junnie,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You know what you always say! It’s all about sticking it out. Paying your dues.” “I made that stuff up, Y/n!” Renjun moaned. “I- I’ve failed at life.” 

You pulled back, and wiped a tear from Renjun’s cheek. “You haven’t failed, baby. You’ve got me.”

Renjun cocked his head and looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I should make good decisions.” 

To your utter shock, he dropped down on one knee. Renjun took your hand in his. 

“Let’s get married, Y/n. You’re the only good decision I’ve ever made.”

You had dreamt about this moment from three months into meeting Renjun. You wanted it all – the baby girl, the tyre swing in the back garden, sparkly Father’s Day cards – but Renjun had never seemed to want the same thing. It had been four years now, and with each passing day, marriage seemed further and further away. 

But a little voice in your head was saying that something was not right. 

“I don’t want to be your ‘good decision’, Renjun,” you said quietly. “You make it sound like I’m a- a- plate of vegetables, or orthopaedic walking shoes.” 

Renjun frowned. You urged Renjun to stand up. “To me, Renjun, you’re my fantasy. My rollercoaster. My everything. I don’t want to be just a ‘good decision’.” Renjun shook his head. “That’s not what I meant! I love you, and I want to marry you.” You hugged yourself. “You’re just drunk, and feeling low… you feel like your life is spiralling.” Renjun shrugged. “That may be true. But – I know I’m right about you.” Renjun stroked your cheek. “I haven’t proposed because… I know that if I marry you, it won’t be enough. I’ll want it all – the house, the kids, the grandkids, for god’s sake.” He chuckled. “I’ll want you forever. And that terrifies me.” You could feel tears welling in your eyes. “Do you really mean it?” Renjun nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “You are so much more than ‘a good decision’ for me. You’re the only decision. Marry me, Y/n.” Those were the words you’d been yearning to hear all this time. 

“Yes,” you said. Then you pulled Renjun in for a long, beautiful kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tight like you would never let go. 

“You taste like shitty Malibu,” you said, through the tears. 

“So do you – for some reason,” Renjun replied, making you both chuckle. 

“So,” you said, sitting him down on the couch next to you. “I’m going to ‘ask’ you to choose between two wedding venues, but I want you to remember that there is only one right answer…” 

This might not have been the proposal you had dreamt about, but none of that mattered. Because it came from Renjun. And he was the only person you would ever want. 

—

MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[charlottesbookclub]

ser gwayne hightower fluff alphabet 💚💚

Summary: just what it says on the tin: fluff alphabet for my boy gwayne (do people still do these anymore? idc I'm doing it bc I love reading them and I thought I'd try writing one myself 😌😌)

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; spouse!reader; established relationship (marriage); we are all going to have fluff-induced cavities after this, I fear (it's more absolute tooth-rotting fluff, y'all!); let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2985

Author’s Note: I'm meeting with my phd advisor today which is going to be totally fine (she is so super sweet) but my brain decided we were going to have major anxiety about it, and what better way to distract myself than by writing fluff for gwayne!! 🥰💚 I've never done one of these before, but I always enjoyed reading them, so I thought I'd try it myself! ☺️ I like that it lets me explore his character without having the pressure of a plot lol

as always, I hope y'all enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!! ☺️💕

template by: magical-warlock

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Honestly anything. I feel like if it was something you enjoyed, Gwayne would find himself enjoying it too, just because you were happy. But I think like he would really like going on leisurely walks or horse rides together. It’s an activity that allows you to talk and get to know one another, but where you can also explore the beauty of a garden or forest together. I could totally see him bringing a book along and reading it aloud to you under a tree.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Everything lmao. But your eyes stand out to him, especially when he can read all the things you don’t say out loud in them. I feel like he would also appreciate intellect, common sense, and wit. He is clearly sooooo done with Criston’s weird dumb bullshit, and I think someone who was rational and level-headed but not afraid to crack a joke or two (especially at Criston’s expense lmaooooo) would be really appealing to him.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

My mans would not be much help at first because he’s freaking out too. He wouldn’t want to see you in any kind of distress, especially if he’s not sure where it came from or what’s causing it. I think if it happened more than once and you talked about it and expressed what you needed, he would be more than willing to do whatever you needed from him. My sense is that his first reaction (after the initial freak out) would just be to hold you really tightly and whisper reassurances to you until you were feeling better.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Given the society that Gwayne lives in, his expectations have kind of been set for him in the sense that his future is pretty much expected to involve marriage and children. And honestly, I get the sense that this isn’t something he’s necessarily opposed to. Especially since he found you and realizes he gets to marry someone he actually loves, he’d be pretty thrilled about the whole prospect. It just doesn’t seem like life on miliary campaign is something he’s super jazzed about, so his ideal future would likely be just settling down with you in Oldtown. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I think it’s pretty mixed, especially depending on the context. Again, given the societal expectations placed on him, I do think he might tend to be a little more dominant (especially if he thinks/knows that he’s right about something) but I also don’t think he would ever force you to do something you didn’t want to. He’d also back off on just about any subject if he noticed you were getting upset about it. I also think it really depends on your temperament, since I think he could really go either way depending on what energy you brought to the relationship.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

It would be really hard for him to stay mad at you (and vice versa). Unless it was something truly awful, I just don’t think he could stay upset with you for very long. As we’ve already established, he’s a pretty rational person who seems to value clear communication, so I think “fights” with him would be more like difficult discussions about hard issues rather than an actual fight. This is really nice because then you both get to speak your mind and actually come out with a better understanding of the other person and a stronger relationship because of it.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

I do tend to think that he’s a pretty grateful person, but I think he’s better at showing it than saying it sometimes. Not that he can’t verbalize his gratitude – he totally can – I just think that gestures come more naturally to him (like winning a tourney in your honor, buying you something extravagant, taking you on a nice trip, etc.)

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Yes and no. If there was something he knew that would put you in danger if you knew it, he would not tell you. He would never forgive himself if something happened as a result. Pretty much anything else though, he’ll tell you. He won’t always offer everything, but I think he would have a hard time lying to you or keeping things from you if you asked about them. Depending on what it was, he might tell you a sanitized version of the story because he doesn’t want you to worry, but he’d be as honest as he felt he could be in the moment.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

I think in any good relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) people change each other for the better. Gwayne is no exception to this, and I think it’s likely that he picks up habits from you (just as you do from him). I can definitely see that if he had you as a confidante to rant about Criston or just to express his worries and doubts about politics, his family, etc. that he might be a little less overtly antagonistic and instead might just smile and nod a little more but internally be like “wait til my s/o hears about this fucking bullshit.” He’d definitely still give Critston attitude tho

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes and no. Gwayne is a fairly confident person, and I think he feels pretty comfortable with himself and with his relationship with you for the most part. However, I don’t think he’s immune to jealously, especially if it were to seem like another person was paying you a bit too much attention. In that scenario, I’m sure he’d have some quip at that person’s expense and whisk you away or be very obvious about using your title as his spouse. The one thing that might make him feel truly insecure is if it seemed like you were becoming interested in someone else. But let’s be real, if you get to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower, that’s not fucking happening 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Oh, he’s definitely a good kisser. I don’t think he was one to have a lot of trysts prior to meeting you (despite his bravado, I think he really values an emotional or intellectual connection to the person he’s with, meaning I don’t think many of the flings he might have had made it all the way to the hook-up stage). But he’s a handsome man who likely had a lot of admirers, and I do think he got a bit of practice with kissing in his youth. He’s absolutely very attentive to what you like, so I think he’s only gotten to be an even better kisser over the course of your relationship. In terms of your first kiss with him, these lyrics from “All My Love” by Noah Kahan are very applicable here: “I leaned in for a kiss thirty feet from where your parents slept / and I looked so confident, babe / I swear, I was scared to death.” Especially early on, I think he really wanted to project this confident and suave vibe that he totally knew what he was doing, but as soon as he realized he was in love with you, he was actually a nervous wreck and desperately did not want to mess it up. 

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

re: Gwayne’s penchant for gestures, I have a feeling he had a whole well-written speech planned out (he based it on the dramatic love confessions he read in old ballads). However, despite all his preparation, I think the confession actually ended up just slipping out one time when you were together and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He probably stumbled over his words and was very embarrassed about it and his face turned bright pink, but it was so adorable and endearing that you actually preferred it to whatever speech he might have had planned.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the wedding be like?

As I mentioned above, I think that marriage is pretty much a given for Gwayne considering the realities of the culture in which he lives. He also probably didn’t propose in the traditional sense, since the marriage was likely arranged, but I can absolutely envision him proposing to you privately after the betrothal has been officially announced and after he’s spent enough time with you to realize that he is genuinely in love with you. It would be sort of a love confession/proposal where he basically says “I know you were chosen by others to be my spouse, but I also personally choose you because I love you.” The wedding would be fairly large and befitting of his rank and station, and it’s likely that neither of you would have much choice in how it was conducted. Gwayne definitely likes the idea of a large and fairly public wedding because it’s a way for him to show his pride for both his house and his betrothed.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Very sweet things! Mostly “my dear,” “my love,” and “dearheart,” with a sprinkle of “my darling” mixed in on occasion.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

He gets very love-struck, especially when he’s with you. Spending time with you is like spending time in another world for him, and I do think he becomes a little more uninhibited when he’s around you. If people watch the two of you together, his lovesickness is pretty obvious to anyone who knows him. Even if they speak to just him, they might notice slight changes, like the fact that he talks about you a lot and always finds a way to bring you into the conversation. He’s careful though, and would never reveal the depths of his affection for you to someone who might you it against him or hurt you to get back at him. In terms of expressing feelings, as I mentioned above, I get the sense that he’s one for gestures that demonstrate his feelings. He gets nervous and stumbles over his words more than usual when he tries to verbalize things to you, and that’s an unusual and uncomfortable experience for him at first. The longer you’re together though, the better he gets at it.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Because your betrothal and marriage are pretty much public knowledge, Gwayne definitely feels comfortable being upfront about the relationship. And oh he totally brags. He’s very proud to call you his spouse and is not afraid to make sure everyone knows about it. Based on societal and cultural expectations, I don’t think there would be a lot of open PDA (like hugs, kisses on the lips, etc.). But hand kisses?????????? All the fucking time babeyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! So many kisses on the knuckles wherever and whenever – it’s his favorite little gesture of affection

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Mans is a killer shit talker. We know this. He can and will throw shade with the best of them. He wants to know all the drama in your friend circle and will happily judge everyone with you for hours. That one “friend” of yours who turned out to be wildly toxic and conniving? Well he never liked them anyway and he’s got a bulletpointed list of reasons why. You start a conversation with “can I be mean for a moment?” or “you know I love this person, but…” and he is SAT. He’s always on your side and ready to talk absolute shit about anyone who caused you even a minor inconvenience. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

At the end of the day, he’s something of a hopeless romantic and would do whatever he could to make you happy. There are a lot of times when the cultural and societal realities of the world he lives in prevent him from doing everything he might want, but if it came down to it, he would do almost anything for you. A lot of his romantic gestures are a little cliché, but in the best, most endearing way possible. As he gets to know you though, and as your relationship matures, he’ll probably get a little more creative and do things that are more specific to the two of you.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Believes in you and supports you 100000% no question. Again though, I think this impulse can be a bit hampered by the social structures in which he lives. He’ll do whatever he can to help you achieve your goals, but there are limits based on birth, status, etc. that you are both cognizant of and which might influence what those goals look like and how far either of you would go to achieve them.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

We’re talking about Ser “I’d rather stay at a comfy inn than camp out” Gwayne Hightower here – I think he appreciates a level of routine and comfort. There’s so much in his world that is chaotic and out of his control that I think he would really relish having that consistency and stability in his relationship. Not that he would never try anything new – especially if you asked him to – I just think his natural inclination would be to have a comforting routine that works for both of you.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Considering he picked up on Alicent and Criston’s weird vibes in like 5 seconds, I’d say he’s pretty good at reading people. He definitely makes an effort to get to know you, and can confidently say that he knows you very well at this point. Especially since you’re someone he cares about and spends a lot of time with, he’s quite good at reading your moods and guessing how you’re feeling.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Very important. Again though, there are cultural expectations placed on both of you that may necessitate you and Gwayne placing your relationship further down your list of priorities than you normally would choose to. If it were completely up to him though, his relationship with you would be right up there at the top with his loyalty to his house and his family.

W ild Card - A random fluff headcanon

I talked about this much more extensively in this fic, but the necklace you gave him? He. Does. Not. Take. It. Off. EVER. It’s his little piece of you that he gets to carry everywhere, and he could never ever bear to part with it.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, abso-fucking-lutely! As I mentioned in the PDA section, he’s more retrained in public, but still likes to demonstrate his affection for you via hand kisses. In private though, he loves to cuddle. And honestly, he doesn’t really care where or in what position – curled up in bed, sprawled on a couch, his head in your lap, you tucked against his chest – he just likes to be touching you and knowing that you’re right there next to him, that you’re safe, and that you love him.

Y earning - How do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

It’s a reality he has to face more than he would like, given the exterior expectations placed on him. If he had his way, he would live quietly with you at his family’s property near Oldtown forever. When he has to leave though, he always asks for your favor to take with him, regardless of how long you’ve been together or how many times you’ve bestowed it. As mentioned above, he also always wears the necklace you gave him. Definitely a top tier professional yearner though – he misses you and thinks of you the whole time he’s gone.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

This answer will be pretty similar to the answer for “V” – yes he is, but he also has to be cognizant of outside pressures that might cause him to act in ways that don’t always align with his personal inclinations. He would both die and kill for you though, not that you’re asking him to do either. In fact, you’re usually telling him not to do either of those things.

[theemporium]

Congrats on 10k! I absolutely love your writing! It always makes me feel warm and fuzzy 💕

I was wondering if I could request violet fluff 💜 prompt #31 with James Potter? Thanks so much, hope you’re having a great day 🥰

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

31. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met."

.

James Potter honestly thought he was losing his mind.

He liked to pride himself over the fact he was good with people: talking to them, understanding them, observing them. He was a social butterfly and fairly empathetic, and he could talk to a brick wall and somehow still make it one of the most entertaining conversations people have ever witnessed. 

He tended to thrive in social situations, basking in the attention when the spotlight was on him. He was never made for the shadows or outskirts. He was made to be the person someone could always rely on in public, the one who could change the conversation when needed or keep things from becoming stagnant and awkward. 

But all of those skills felt redundant and useless when it came to you. 

Because, here’s the thing—James is, like, ninety-nine percent sure that you aren’t doing it on purpose which honestly makes the whole thing worse.

James Potter is not a subtle man. Far from it, if anyone is concerned. He is open with his feelings and wants and desires and dreams. He wears his heart on his sleeve and he wears it proudly. And he has been flirting with you since day one. 

And you flirt back. He swears you flirt back. Hell, despite the way they mocked how lovesick and besotted he was, even his friends were sure you flirted back because that was the only way to describe your banter. It was flirty and teasing and, on some occasions, mimicked that of an old married couple.

But just when James thinks he is finally getting somewhere with you, you pull a total one-eighty on him and he is left thinking that you are unaware of it all. That maybe—just fucking maybe—you are oblivious to James’ obvious and unsubtle attempts. 

He is also pretty sure you don’t realise that half of your hangouts with the boy were his attempts at asking you on a date. 

And he was losing his goddamn mind. 

It’s almost ironic that all it would take was a potions assignment for things to come together.

“It’s a simple potion, there really shouldn’t be any mistakes or problems,” Slughorn announced as he wandered through the room, his robes swishing behind him with each step. “If you have any problems, just ask but this potion should be easy for your age.”

And the thing was, yeah, it was pretty easy. James looked at the instructions and it was something he could have done with his eyes closed if he really wanted to. 

But Remus wasn’t in class today, instead deciding to take the day off with the full moon having just passed. And your usual partner wasn’t in either. And now you were partners together and you were really pretty and, honestly, James couldn’t be blamed for being a little distracted. 

He also didn’t know that fucking up the potion would turn it into an accidental truth serum. 

In fact, he didn’t even realise until the two of you were too busy laughing at Slughorn demanding the two of you go to the bathrooms to clean up, halfway down the corridor when he turned to look at you and just blurted out the words before he could stop himself.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

You paused, shoes squeaking against the floor as you looked at him with wide eyes. “What did you say?” 

And before he could even try to come up with an excuse, he was talking again. “I said you’re pretty. Because you are. I always think you’re pretty but you’re prettier when you laugh.”

You blinked. “You really think that?”

“Of course I do,” James retorted, almost snorting a little at the incredulous tone of your voice. “I think you’re one of the most gorgeous girls in this world. It’s why I flirt with you, like, every day.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Oh.”

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” James continued because he couldn’t really bring himself to stop. “And I really want to kiss you all the time. I just don’t know if you like me back or not.”

“I do,” you blurted out, but there was a smile on your face—even if it was a little shy. “I do like you back. And I want to kiss you too.” 

“Sweet,” James grinned and then, because he was a man of action and promises, he closed the distance between the two of you. 

His warm palms cupped your cheek, his body pressed against every inch of your own before he kissed you. It was dizzying and slightly surreal. It made your head spin when his tongue swiped over your lips before exploring your mouth. It made your knees buckle when a low groan sounded from the back of his throat.

But it was everything the two of you wanted and more. 

And yeah, maybe James Potter was going to lose his mind if this was how good it felt to kiss you.

.