#but then I have to remind myself that it’s been like what

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Jealousy

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating (Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)

Bakugou was the jealous type.

Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.

Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.

"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"

"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."

"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.

"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."

"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"

That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.

Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.

But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.

One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.

"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."

You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.

Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.

"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."

That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.

"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."

"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."

"O-okay! Alright!"

You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.

[llovedletters]

𝜗𝜚 we can run away to the walls inside your house .ᐟ

currently playing ❛ sailor song ❜ in which: ❛ without much of a family of your own, you take to spending time with percy's family; sally finding a bit of her younger self in you. ❜

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pairing: ❛ percy jackson x fem!reader ❜ warnings: ❛ use of y/n, not super well written, very short, old people being nostalgic ❜

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"how do you already have flour on your face? we haven't even done anything yet." you smile to yourself as you tug on your sleeve, bringing the fabric to percy's cheek.

"when i pulled it down from the shelf it spilled a bit..." he leaned into your touch, his cheeks warm despite the cool weather.

as time passed and sally watched her son annoy the living hell out of you by messing up the recipe, she laughed to herself. paul turned his head to the woman sitting next to him. you and percy's laughs heard in the almost quiet distance. he'd give her a knowing look, prompting the 'what is it?' that left his mouth.

"she just reminds me so much of myself... that poor girl has no idea what shes getting herself into."

"are you making fun of your own son?"

sally tilted her head, her eyes meeting paul's, "no, i'm simply saying that if his father was such a handful imagine what she puts up with."

paul nodded, glancing back and forth between her and the pair throwing flour around the kitchen. "i doubt she minds, i mean look at her."

before you could get the chance to toss another fist of flour at him percy places one hand around your wrist, his eyes narrowing before letting your hand go. you regretfully place the powder back into the bag.

he places a finger through the belt loop of your jeans turning you slightly so you face him. percy wipes all the flour away from your face, trying to avoid the boring eyes of his parents. you tried hard to keep down the smile that tried to slip it's way onto your lips. you failed miserably.

"there she is..." his voice is soft, like every word he spoke was a secret just between the two of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before beginning to actually clean up.

paul looked back to his wife with a smile. "i think she'll be alright."

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. . .

A LETTER FROM LAY! guess who hit 111 followers! i've never done a follower event before but i do want to do one, so give me some time and i'll think of something!

this is super short but i fear it's been sitting unfinished in my drafts forever and i wanted it posted :)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The one who returns

(A continuation of: Humans are weird: They sing going to war)

Though my comrades laughed I continued the human tradition, and to my relief I was rewarded by what gods of theirs were listening.

On my first drop after I started to sing an anti-air shell punctured straight through my dropship. It tore a hole the size of my torso through the hull, reducing the squad mate who had been sitting their laughing at me into a red mist, and then out through the other side before detonating. The craft rocked and lurched but it held together long enough for us to reach the surface.

In my first battle I was pinned down in the ruins of a structure trading fire with a squad of enemy soldiers on the opposite street. We’d been stuck in that firefight for almost an hour trading fire; neither side daring to race across the dead land between us. I had just ducked back to slap in a fresh clip when a shredder grenade was flung through the window and landed at my feet. I had seen what they could due and knew my time had come as there was no chance for me to escape the room before it detonated. Yet as I kept my voice strong in song a stray blaster bolt struck the ceiling above me loosening a chunk of masonry. The piece came loose and fell directly on to the grenade causing the ground beneath it to crumble and continue falling into the floor below before it detonated leaving me unharmed.

What truly astounded me though is when my squad was assigned to capture a metal recycling facility on the outskirts of the city. Reports had identified the complex as a rallying point for scattered enemy squads looking to regroup so we were sent in to neutralize the threat. We arrived in good order and began investigating the factory when the machinery suddenly came to life. A metallic sheering blade the size of my body swung at me from the gloom and would have nearly chopped my head off had I not noticed the red glow it began to emit as it powered up. My comrades were not as lucky and three of them were cleaved like bloody paper. From above I saw the operator of the machinery at what had once been a foreman control post and let loose a barrage of blaster fire. He fell quickly enough and in the confusion of battle between the enemy forces now flooding onto the facility floor I made my way up to the control post. It took a minute to unravel the nature of the controls but in short order I had redirected our would-be machine adversaries to turn on their former compatriots. The facility was ours within the hour with myself once more remaining the only one untouched from harm.

As my squad began shuffling off to wait for a medvac I found myself drawn to the machinery. The giant blades now stood silent and powered down and I ran a hand against them. Even powered off they were sharper than anything I had ever come across and when on had so easily cut through armor meant to deflect raw energy discharges. I’m not sure if it was from the shellshock of battle or from my recent time spent with the human warriors, but I felt something calling to me from the blade. It took some time to dismantle but by the time the medvac transport arrived I had freed it from its housing and dragged in onboard. If my squad had anything to say about it those that could still speak kept their own council.

Back in orbit I dragged the metallic blade to the human’s section of the ship. I had found myself in their company more and more when time permitted between deployments. Their talk of ancient gods and wards of protection were what interested me at first, but they were but the first steps into the depth of my fascination of their culture. I showed them the giant blade and told them of how it had slain my comrades. Some of them spoke how it reminded them of the blade of Surtr which heralded Ragnarök, while others insisted that it was more akin Skofnung, a king’s blade imbued with the spirts of his most loyal warriors.

The debate went on from friendly disagreements into an open brawl between the opposing factions, but their engineers remained focused on the material itself and asked what I wished to do with it. I had heard many of the legends of the humans by now and knew many of them carried great weapons, so I wished them to fashion me one from this blade as well. They were hesitant at first as the work alone would be immense and they had other duties to attend to, so I offered them whatever material of the giant blade would be theirs to do with as they pleased. With such an offer made their eyes went wide and they barely had time to agree to the terms as they snatched the giant factory tool and carried it off between the still brawling throngs.

Three days passed and I heard nothing from them. My next deployment was on the fourth and just before I was to embark on the transport the engineers came before me. With great glee they presented me with my new weapon.

Now a fraction of its former size, the blade could easily be wielded with one of my hands. I took several swings of it and I could feel the very air itself around it buzzing as it sliced through it. To add to the moment the human engineers directed my attention to a bright red button on the hilt of the weapon. No sooner had I pressed it did the blade coursing with power. A soft orange glow began to emit from the blade as it once more became as powerful as the first time I saw it in the facility. As if to emphasize its keenness they had me hold the blade up then swung one of their own rifles at it like a club. The blade sliced through the body of the rifle and it fell to the floor with a loud clutter.

Impressed by their work I nodded my thanks and joined my comrades on the dropship. It would be the last time anyone on the ship would call me by my name. When I returned I would be known by other names but the one that most stuck was Ne’ya Ruel, which in my people’s tongue translated to “The one who Returns”  

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 3. - Sunburn

Sunscreen can be sexy

Author's note: This one is a little filthy, I'm sorry!

“Jeez, who ransacked your room, dude?” Oscar asks, letting out a whistle at the sight of Logan’s room.

“Oscar, please. The striped salmon top or my baby blue one? Or should I just wear a tank?” a harried Logan asks, shoving the two options into Oscar’s hands as he digs through a pile on his bed for his tank top.

“Uhhh, both?” Oscar answers unhelpfully, causing Logan to glare up at him. “I mean, if you’re wearing your white boardies, definitely salmon. It really brings out your… uh, nipples?” he finishes awkwardly.

“Seriously? You aren’t even trying. At least say eyes or tan, Oscar. Something normal. This is why people think we’re dating,” Logan says, shaking his head and abandoning his search for the tank to put on the shirt. Looking in the mirror, he begrudgingly accepts that Oscar is right—the salmon striped shirt does suit his tan (not his nipples).

Meanwhile, Oscar shudders, remembering the last time they were mistaken for a couple.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Log. At least tonight you won’t cockblock me. I’m ready to be someone’s pillow princess,” Oscar says with an exaggerated, dreamy sigh for effect.

“Oh yeah? You’ve never seen them, have you?” Logan giggles. “Osc, you’re in for a treat—international ones at that.”

“I better be. It’s been so dry, and if tonight isn’t fruitful, I’m either going to be a born-again virgin or drown myself in that lake, I swear,” Oscar says, pointing at Logan in the mirror.

Swatting Oscar as he turns away from the mirror, Logan says, “Shut up. The only thing you’re going to drown in is your own saliva. Seriously, just wait until you see. Alex is so lucky he’s only bicurious for the homies when he’s sloshed. I don’t know how else he’d handle working around all of them all day.”

Snickering, Oscar replies, “He definitely can’t kiss you tonight, but I’m ready for some homie cuddles and kisses if tonight’s a fail.”

“Always here for some homie cuddles and kisses,” Alex says seriously, hand up in a mock salute as he walks into Logan’s room, mindful of the piles littering the floor.

“Can you please tell Oscar that you work with too many hot people for him to end up in your lap?” Logan pleads with Alex, dashing around as he fills his bag with a change of clothes, towel, and other necessities.

“While my lap is always open to the homies, Osc, there are a couple in there who are definitely your type. I’d be a little more excited,” Alex tells Oscar with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Fine, I’ll be realistically optimistic,” Oscar sighs.

“I—uh, I don’t think that’s quite how it works, but there you go,” Alex responds, a little baffled.

“Anyway, how much are we betting that Logan’s going to pop a boner when he sees big Max all wet? Ooo ahh ,” Oscar asks, pitching his voice high to imitate Logan, even pulling his hands together and making his eyes go wide and sparkly.

“Oh, I kind of bet with the boys on whether Max was going to, so Logan, I need you to really pull through for me. I have $100 riding on it,” Alex says, putting his hands up in a "what can you do" motion.

With his hands on his hips, Logan says, “I don’t know whether to be mad that you’re all betting on us, or happy that you have so much faith in my game.”

Twirling his car keys, Alex smiles cheekily and asks, “So, are we ready to go, guys? Your prince awaits, Angel .” Alex drops his tone in a poor imitation of Max.

Logan smacks his shoulder as he grumbles past him and Oscar with a poorly concealed, “traitors.”

Oscar and Alex laugh as they follow him out. “Wait, Angel , come on! Don’t be like that now,” Oscar yells after him.

—---------------- 

The drive to Danny’s lake house is filled with their endless chatter. Once they arrive, Danny walks out to greet them, arms wide open. “Welcome! Welcome! Mi casa es mi casa!” 

“It’s ‘mi casa es su casa,’ buddy,” Logan quickly quips as he gives Danny a hug.

“I know what I said, Logie-Boy. Oscar! Glad you made it. Ready to represent Australia, brother?” Danny enthusiastically jostles Oscar under his arm. Oscar just looks at Alex and Logan and replies, “Err, sure?”

Danny delivers a warm slap to Oscar's back. “Good enough for me! And our man of the hour, Alex, are you excited for our day out on the water?”

“Yeah, Danny! And you promised me jet skis, remember?” Alex responds, his smile wide with excitement.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Alex. I’ve got you covered.” Danny flashes them all a bright smile. “Now, follow me. The boat’s docked out back; we’re just getting ready to pull out.” He leads them inside through the home’s large oak door.

“If you guys need anything from the fridge or the bathroom, feel free,” Danny says, vaguely gesturing as they walk through the kitchen and make their way to the deck outside.

They greet the other boys along the way, making introductions as they introduce Oscar as well. 

Once the trio reaches the dock, Alex promptly runs into Logan’s back, and Oscar collides with him. Their friend has come to a stop. “I think you should get your money back, Alex,” Logan whispers, eyes wide as he takes in Max in all his shirtless glory, untying one of the ropes. Muscles flexing, with a light sheen of sweat on his body, Max brushes his hair out of his eyes. And heavens above, his head is turning in their direction.

Max lowers his arm as he catches Logan’s gaze, sending a wave their way while his other hand remains occupied with the mooring line. 

Alex claps Logan on the shoulder. “It’s too late, Logie Bear. Just jump in the water when you feel your princess jump to attention. I have faith in you!” He gives Logan another reassuring clap and pushes him down the dock toward the boat.

The boys continue past Max after a brief hello, but Logan stays behind. “Hey, Angel, you ready for the boat today?”

“He-Hi Max, yeah, I uh, think so,” Logan replies, his nerves evident.

Max gives him a once-over, noting his unbuttoned shirt and his tiny white board shorts. His gaze flicks back to Logan’s face. “Did you bring sunscreen, sweetheart?” A trace of concern colouring his voice.

Logan digs through his tote bag until he triumphantly pulls out a bottle of Banana Boat, presenting it eagerly. “Yes! Did you need some?”

“No, Angel, just worried for your pretty little face.” With his free hand, Max’s thumb strokes Logan’s cheek. “Wouldn’t want your pretty face to burn out there.” He tilts his head, his thumb and index finger gently holding Logan’s chin, asking, “Now, would we?”

Logan shakes his head side to side, still holding Max’s gaze. “No.”

From inside the boat, they hear George shout for everyone to board now, directing Max to let the mooring line go. 

They head to its back, Logan looking at the slight jump to get on the cabin cruiser with trepidation. 

“Come on, Angel, I’ll help you up,” is all the warning Logan gets before Max’s hands are on his waist, lifting him from the dock and onto the boat.

“Max!” is all the protest Logan manages before he’s gently placed on the floor of the boat. Looking back, he sees Max's answering grin, followed by his hands on Logan’s shoulders, guiding him further inside.

They greet George at the helm, who stands with his white shirt unbuttoned, wearing navy boardies and a captain’s hat perched on his soft curls, which he tips at Logan in jest.

At Max’s side, Logan giggles at George’s antics.

Max’s hand travels from where it rests on Logan’s shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth as it reaches his waist with a squeeze. Pulling Logan into him, he asks, “Excited, Angel?” His lips brush Logan’s ear with every syllable.

Logan turns to him, their lips inches apart, eyes slightly looking up as he nods in affirmation before asking, “Mmhmm, you?”

Max answers with another squeeze to his waist as he leans against the cabin, pulling Logan between his legs. Both hands now resting lower on Logan’s waist, Max’s eyes locking onto his. “Of course. Are you swimming or just laying back and tanning, pretty?” His thumbs stroke Logan’s hip bones through his shorts.

Logan swallows as he feels Max’s hands overlap on his hips, large enough to wrap around him with ease. 

Logan brings his hands to Max’s bare chest, flattening his palms against the steady beat of his heart. Eyeing the golden brush of hair there, he grins. “Why are you trying to get me wet?” he teases, flicking his gaze back up to Max’s eyes to gauge his reaction.

Max simply squeezes Logan’s hips again, spreading his fingers as they brush the edge of Logan’s shorts. “I don’t know, Angel. Can you blame me?”

Logan’s breath hitches slightly as Max’s fingers toy with the hem of his shorts, their bodies pressed together in the gentle sway of the boat. The air between them feels thick, buzzing with the unspoken tension Logan's trying to ignore for Alex’s sake. But Max's eyes, dark with intent, make it nearly impossible.

"I’m starting to think you can’t help yourself," Logan quips softly, though the slight tremble in his voice betrays his composure. His fingers trace the cross dangling from Max’s neck, pressing it lightly into his chest.

Max chuckles low, the sound vibrating through Logan’s hands. "You might be right," he murmurs, leaning closer until their foreheads nearly touch, the teasing edge of his smile never quite leaving his face. “You’re irresistible, Angel. Wanted you for a while now, and now I can’t help myself.”

Logan’s face flushes, and he feels the warmth spread through him, almost drowning out the cool breeze coming off the water. He bites his bottom lip, his gaze darting away, unsure how much longer he can hold out before closing the distance between them.

Before he can think too much about it, Max’s hand slides up his back, fingers grazing his skin just under his shirt. Logan’s breath hitches again.

“Max,” Logan warns, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max smirks, eyes twinkling, his lips ghosting just shy of Logan’s. “You’re so wound up, Angel.” His hands are so big, Logan feels them branding his skin with their warmth.

Logan’s sharp inhale is cut short by a voice calling out from the helm.

“Oi! Lovebirds, we’re anchored!” George shouts, oblivious to the tension between them as he leans casually against the wheel. “I’m not watching this rom-com unfold all day. Get your butts in the water or I’m leaving without you!”

Logan pulls back quickly, startled, and laughs awkwardly as he breaks free from Max’s grasp. "Guess we should—"

But Max grabs his wrist, pulling him back for a brief moment, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Don’t forget your sunscreen, yeah? I’ll see you, Angel,” he says, voice low and promising, kissing the inside of Logan’s wrist before letting go with a smirk.

Logan swallows hard, feeling his heart race as he stumbles a bit toward the edge of the boat, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Logie bear, there you are!” Alex exclaims as he catches sight of him.

“We’re going on the jet skis first, Log, you wanna ride with one of us?” Oscar asks.

“No, I think I’ll just swim first, but you guys have fun,” Logan says, hoping the flush on his chest has subsided.

“Oh, swim , yes of course. I have faith in you, princess,” Alex teases, lifting a fist in solidarity as his eyes trail down to Logan’s shorts.

“You dic–” Logan isn’t even done swearing at his best friend before he turns swiftly to jump on one of the jet skis.

“It’s okay, Logan, I’ll splash him for you,” Oscar says, patting Logan’s shoulder consolingly. 

Logan spins on him with a grin. “Thanks, Osc. Anyway, wasn’t I right?”

“Yeah, who wa—” Oscar’s cut off as George puts a hand on his shoulder, asking, “Oscar, right? George. Your captain for all intents and purposes,” he introduces with a wink and a hat tilt identical to the one he gave Logan earlier.

Logan looks at his best friend, noticing how Oscar’s ears have gone bright red, cheeks slightly flushed—all tell-tale signs of his attraction.

“Uh, yeah. Th-thanks, Captain,” Oscar stammers. Logan snickers—it's always the British accents that get Oscar.

Not waiting around for George’s response, Logan unbuttons the remaining ones on his shirt and dives headfirst into the crystal-clear water, the coolness rushing over his heated skin.

As he surfaces, shaking the water from his hair, he looks up to see Max leaning over the edge of the boat, eyes fixed on him.

Charles whistles from the deck. “Think you’ve got a fan, little Logan.” His comment is followed by more catcalls from the other guys.

Logan ignores them, letting the water cool his flushed skin, though he can still feel Max’s gaze burning into him.

—--- 

Logan climbs back onto the boat, feeling the lingering coolness of the water and a soft fatigue setting in. Toweling off his hair and body, he spots all the boys whizzing across the horizon on their jet skis. Without much thought, Logan spreads his towel in the sunniest part of the deck and lays down on his stomach, ready for a nap.

He’s drifted off when he feels a gentle hand combing through his damp hair, followed by Max’s concerned voice. “Where’s your sunscreen, Angel? You’re already burning a little.”

Logan opens one eye, too tired from his swim to muster a proper response. He just shrugs and pushes his head deeper into Max’s hand, a silent invitation for him to keep playing with his hair.

Max chuckles softly. “Alright, Angel. You want me to put it on you?”

Logan gives a lazy nod, barely lifting his head. He feels Max’s thumb trace a slow line from the nape of his neck down to the base of his spine, sending a warm shiver through his body. The sensation of Max’s touch, combined with the heat of the sun, lulls him deeper into relaxation.

Max works the sunscreen down Logan’s back with smooth, steady movements, lingering at the base of his spine before moving up again to his neck. He pauses, then gently applies the lotion to the back of Logan’s ears, rubbing it into the soft skin. 

Logan shifts a little but doesn’t open his eyes, a contented sigh escaping him.

Max grins, squeezing more sunscreen onto his fingers. He traces a line down Logan’s nose, carefully smoothing it over the bridge and the tip. Then, he adds a generous amount to Logan’s cheeks, saying, “Can’t forget this,” with a soft chuckle. .

Logan scrunches his nose playfully in response, mumbling, “Tickles.”

Max laughs under his breath, finishing by running a thumb over the tips of Logan’s ears, leaving no spot unprotected. “All set Angel,” he whispers, as Logan drifts further into sleep, his face peaceful in the warm sunlight.

—---

When Logan comes to, there's a gentle hand threading through his hair, and his cheek rests against something solid and warm. Blinking against the sun, he gradually realises he's half-lying in Max’s lap. The steady rise and fall of Max’s breathing is comforting, and Logan can feel the warmth of his thigh beneath him, the rhythmic motion of Max's fingers softly caressing his scalp.

Groggy, Logan shifts slightly, turning his face up to meet Max’s gaze. “How long was I out?” he mumbles, still a bit disoriented.

Max smiles down at him, his other hand resting casually on Logan’s back. “Not too long, Angel. The others are still out on the jet skis.”

As Logan sits up and leans against Max, still in that sleepy haze, Max’s arm naturally slips around his waist, effortlessly guiding him onto his lap. Logan’s back rests comfortably against Max’s chest, and with a stifled yawn, he turns his face into the crook of Max’s neck, his breath warm against Max’s skin.

“Wait, Angel,” Max murmurs, his voice gentle but insistent. “–sunscreen on your front now.”

Logan, still half-asleep, grumbles into Max’s neck, “Who cares?”

Max’s grip tightens slightly around Logan’s waist as he chuckles softly. “I do, Angel. I love it when you flush red for me. How will I see your pretty little blush if you’re burnt?”

Logan, still foggy from his nap, only picks up on Max’s concern. With a sigh, he mutters, “Put it on me then.”

Max kisses his neck and grabs the sunscreen, smoothing it over Logan’s chest and shoulders, taking his time as his hands glide over the soft skin. Logan shivers slightly under the coolness of the lotion, feeling Max’s steady, deliberate touch as it spreads warmth in its wake.

The coolness wakes him up a little, and as he looks down, he sees Max’s long fingers and wide palm smoothing sunscreen over his lower stomach. The visual is enough to send arousal pooling in his navel, intensifying with each pass of Max’s fingers through his happy trail. Soon, Max bends his legs to apply sunscreen over them without needing to unplaster himself from Logan’s back.

Once he’s done, Logan realises just how compromising their position is if anyone were to climb back on board. With his thighs bent on either side of Max’s legs and his chest and head reclined against the older man’s body, it makes Logan’s breath hitch. He instinctively hides his face in Max’s neck.

Max picks up on it, dragging his hands from Logan’s thighs up his side before wrapping his arms around his chest, squeezing, grounding Logan briefly. “What’s wrong, Angel? Too much?” 

Still hiding his face, Logan manages a shake of his head, whispering, “No, m-more, p-please.” The request hangs in the air, making the atmosphere between them thick with unspoken tension.

Chapter 1 - Angel

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

[orange-peony]

Thanks for tagging me @pato-roldnart and @monbons!

I think I'm almost done with the first chapter of one of my CORBB collabs (hopefully?). Here's a bit of Simon's POV:

I’ve always been drawn to him like a moth to the brightest and most blinding light. I don’t get him. I don’t get him at all. The way he carries himself, as if he were superior and above everyone else. The way he still listened to me every time I poured my heart out to him, without making fun of me. He’s rich and posh, but he always looks so sad. And the way he has to look at me sometimes…

The way he somehow knows when I’m at my lowest and always buys me a drink or something to eat.

He said his mother died when he was little. That it was a car accident. That the car caught fire, but his mother managed to push him out of it before it was too late.

I wonder if he has scars. If underneath those expensive clothes he’s not as put together as he looks. I think he would look perfect with a few scars. I found myself dying to know what he looks like naked on so many occasions while I was talking to him or making him coffee. Penny says I’m obsessed with him. Shep always smiles and says there’s nothing wrong with having a healthy crush or an unhealthy obsession for someone. I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know if it’s a crush or something else. If it’s something more. I don’t even know if I fancy blokes.

All I can think of is Baz, Baz, Baz.

I want to rip off every layer of him, like old wallpaper, until I’m left with the real Baz. The one nobody gets to see.

Tags under the cut:

@pato-roldnart , @bubble-gumhead , @cutestkilla , @thewholelemon , @artsyunderstudy , @leithillustration , @iamamythologicalcreature , @mooncello , @hushed-chorus , @larkral , @letraspal , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe , @facewithoutheart , @emeryhall , @imagineacademia , @alexalexinii , @fatalfangirl , @wellbelesbian , @shrekgogurt , @skeedelvee , @blackberrysummerblog , @rimeswithpurple and anyone who fancies sharing a WIP of any kind.

[rockybloo]

Ive recently just started doing art, and i apologize in advance if you've gotten this question before frequently, do you have any tips for beginner artists and how did you find your art style? I'm constantly amazed by how you do anatomy and expressions, their so distinct and expressive!

Thank you!

And I actually don't get asked a lot of questions about myself when it comes to art. Many come to this account so I can put my OCs on the phone for questions, so this is lowkey a new question. I might have been asked it before years ago but I am better at drawing now.

HOWEVER, I have to state that I am simply a hobbyist artist and not a freelancer or professional so my tips will be kinda off brand compared to their word. ANYWAYS...

THINGS THAT I FIND HELPFUL FOR ARTING (besides practicing because I mean...we all know the only way to get better is to practice so it'd be kinda redundant say it - we all know to do it)

Practice drawing in pen. Pen can't be erased. So instead of sketching and erasing and sketching and erasing, it is nonstop sketching. It helped me a lot with speeding up my sketching, even in digital, because I got used to making little goofy mistakes. It also helps to fight perfectionism

Use references. I know that's just as redundant as saying to practice but references are genuinely underrated. Whether they be colors or poses - references are your friend. I use them whenever I am having a hard time drawing something.

Redraw things. I occasionally redraw memes or scenes from animated movies with my OCs. It's stranger really helpful, especially if there is a certain expression in the original image because it lets you play around with how to draw it to catch the correct vibes. PLUS redrawing funny stuff helps take the stress off creating art because it reminds you not every drawing has to be amazing.

Don't neglect your body when you draw. STOP DRAWING WHEN YOU ARE HUNGRY, THIRSTY, OR NEED THE BATHROOM! THE DRAWING CAN WAIT - YOU WILL HAVE A MUCH EASIER TIME CREATING ART WHEN YOU ARE NOT SUFFERING FROM THE HUMAN CONDITION.

Stretch your hands. Drawing puts strain on them and your fingers will ache and your hand may get stiff. Practically hand and finger stretches keeps your hands happy. I do them all the time just because I use my hands a lot for art AND my day job.

Numbers are the devil and the algorithm is a warlord. If you post your art online, it's easy to get into the mindset that you aren't good enough because you have low interactions on your work. THIS IS FALSE - NUMBERS DO NOT EQUAL QUALITY. It's better to draw for yourself and the enjoyment of art rather than drawing to attract a fanbase and attention

As for how I figured out my art style, what you all see is the result of me taking bits and pieces from things I like and blending it all together. An art style is really just figuring out what stuff you like from other people's styles and doing your own thing with it.

To break down some of my own style, the way I shade the underside of noses is something I got from Soul Eater since I loved how the anime marked noses with little dots.

The way I draw lips was a journey. I used to only line the top lip like how the manga for D Gray Man would. Then I saw how Steven Universe stylized fuller lips and sort of started playing with that. Over the course of me exploring - I found more online black artists and learned from how they shade and render lips.

Style is very much something that takes a long time to develop. I've been active online since 2011 and it took me until this year to finally figure out a style I really vibe with.

[sequinsmile-x]

I’d be so so keen to read something about Em coming out as bisexual to Aaron (aware you’ve had an ask for this I just want to stress the interest 🫶🏼)

It’s something I struggle with myself and the validation of being bisexual is something that’s very real. It would be lovely to read something like this as something that seems realistic for Em. The way you write is so beautiful and intricate and I know you’d do a wonderful job.

For anyone else reading this - you are valid whoever you are and whoever you choose to love <3

Happy Fridayyyyy!!!

Hi bestie <3

I've been asked to do this a few times, and as a bi girl myself it is very close to my heart. I wanted to make sure I did it justice so waited until it felt right and now really does feel like the time. It is also coming to the end of Bi Visibility week, so here we are!

This feels oddly personal, almost like I'm putting out some pages of a diary out there for people to read, so I hope this is as cathartic to read for those who wanted it as it was to write.

As always, let me know what you think, I'm nervous about this one because it feels important!

-x-

The Past is Never Far

She’d told herself for years that she’d never mention it. It was, after all, not the biggest secret she had kept.

Emily and Aaron walk into an ex of hers when they are out on a date, and it prompts her to tell him something she's not told him before.

Warnings: Coming out (mentions of past bad experiences doing so)

Words: 3.2k

Read over on Ao3, or the below the cut

Emily hums contentedly as she squeezes Aaron’s hand, her eyes catching his as she looks up at him and smiles, “This is nice.” 

He smiles back, relaxed and content and handsome in the fading light as he lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles, “It is,” he replies, kissing her knuckles again before he tucks their joint hands into his coat pocket to protect them from the chill in the air, “We’re near that ice cream place you like, we could get some on the way back to the car?” 

Date night was something they’d established early on in their relationship. They had so little time just the two of them so it was important to them both to have this one night every month where they could have just that. Jack would spend the night at Jessica’s, often pouting that he wanted to come with them too, something Emily and Aaron would salve with love and assurances they’d all have breakfast together the next day, and the two of them would go to one of their favourite restaurants. The nice weather was fading, summer disappearing into Autumn. It was Emily’s favourite time of year. Not because her birthday was coming up, or because Jack and Aaron’s were too, but because of the cool air and the sun on her face. The ever-present reminder in the wind about the beauty of change as the colour of the leaves started to fade to orange and gold. 

Aaron knew she loved this time of year, so he’d been easily convinced to go on a walk with her around the block before they returned to his car and back to their apartment. She’d moved in with him and Jack recently, the apartment that was once just theirs hers now too, and they were looking for a house. A place they could buy and call home, something they both wanted so desperately and had been denied for so long. 

She smiles, leaning in so her shoulder bumps against his, “It’s too cold for ice cream.” 

Aaron chuckles and kisses her temple. He stops them on the street, the hand not linked through hers on her hip as he guides her backwards so they don’t block the sidewalk. He leans in to kiss her, “You’re the one who told me it’s never too cold for ice cream,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her, stamping his lips against hers once more before he removes his hand from her hip and digs through his other pocket, smiling in victory as he pulls out a pair of her gloves, “Plus, I came prepared. Your hands won’t get cold and you can still have Rocky Road - the best of both worlds.” 

She beams at him and cups his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss before she rests her forehead against his, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the corner of her mouth before he pulls back and they continue walking down the street, content and happy in each other's company. 

He buys them ice cream once they make it to the store, a double scoop of Rocky Road for her in a cone and one scoop of coffee in a tub for him. He chuckles at her as a drip of ice cream falls onto her gloves and she narrows her eyes at him, making a point of maintaining eye contact as she licks the remnants of it from the ridge of the cone, her smile wide as she watches him swallow thickly. She’s about to say something, to add to the teasing, when she hears a familiar voice behind her, one she hadn’t heard in years. 

“Emily Prentiss?” 

Her eyes go wide as she turns around, uncharacteristically caught out as she clears her throat, scrambling for something to say as she comes face to face with a piece of her past she hadn’t expected to see again, “Cat.” 

Cat chuckles as she steps forward, pulling a still shell-shocked Emily into a hug, “I thought it was you, Em,” she says, squeezing her before she steps back, “It’s been a long time. 15 years maybe?” 

“Closer to 20,” Emily laughs, the shake to it grabbing Aaron’s attention as he watches the interaction between the two women. Emily looks at him and curses herself internally for getting so flustered, “Aaron, this is Catherine Thomas, Cat, we…” she swallows thickly, her lips pressed together to keep the whole truth back, “We go way back,” she smiles as she turns to Cat, sees a spark in her eyes she hadn’t thought about in years, “Cat, this is Aaron. My boyfriend.” 

Cat smiles and holds her hand out for Aaron and he shakes it, “Lovely to meet you, Aaron.” 

“You too,” he replies, looking back and forth between the two women, curious at his girlfriend’s reaction, at the way her shoulders are slightly tight as she watches them interact. 

“Anyway,” Cat says, looking back at Emily, “My wife is just getting some ice cream. I can’t believe you still come here after all these years.” 

Emily nods, “Best ice cream in the city.” 

Cat looks up at Aaron, “Emily introduced me to this place when we first met,” she says, smiling fondly at a memory that was just theirs, “And I bring my wife and kids here now too.” 

Aaron smiles, “My son loves it here too.” 

“Cat?” 

They all turn at the sound of another woman’s voice to see her standing there with two pre-teens, both of them looking relatively irritated at being forced to spend the evening out with their parents, her expression curious as she looks at her wife. Cat nods and indicates she’ll be over in a minute before she turns back to Emily and Aaron.

“Well,” she says, “I’ve been summoned. It was good to see you, Emily. You seem well,” she hugs her again, something Emily returns, careful not to drip ice cream on her back.

“Nice to see you too, Cat,” she says, smiling as she pulls back, her gaze falling on her family behind them, “Your family is beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Cat beams before she looks at Aaron, “Nice to meet you, Aaron.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he replies. They watch as Cat walks back to her family, gratefully taking her ice cream from her wife as she makes it to her side, saying something they can’t hear, “She seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, feeling out of sorts from the flashback to a past life, something from so long ago it felt like it had happened to someone else. A part of her she kept secret, even from Aaron, “She is.” 

“Shall we go home?” He offers, his gaze on her as she smiles at him, a tenseness to it that she doesn’t hide well as her eyes meet his. She nods, shaking her head to rid herself of the feeling that had settled over her the last few minutes. The strange mix of nostalgia for her past when she was young and unburdened by responsibility and everything to come, and happiness for someone she’d once loved, all whilst she stood next to the person she knew was the love of her life, the man she’d spend the rest of her life with. 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling as she presses her lips together, her focus back on her ice cream as she eats some more, “Let’s go home.” 

___

She thinks about it for a couple of days.

She’d told herself for years that she’d never mention it, her relationship with Cat and the other women she’d dated over the years, because it wasn’t relevant. Since she’d come back to DC, still on uneven ground after being Lauren Reynolds and being with Ian, she’d only dated men. It wasn’t a purposeful act, not something she’d particularly tried to do, but it had happened. So it meant telling her friends, her new family, seem unimportant. 

It was, after all, not the biggest secret she was keeping from them.

She’d never even told her mother. Sure that, at best, her reaction would be to tell her it was ‘just a phase.’ At worst, she was sure her mother’s rather selective catholicism would make itself known, and she didn’t want to put herself through it. Instead, she kept the few relationships she’d had with women from her, and the one time she’d met Cat she’d introduced her as a friend, something that she hadn’t known at the time would start to unravel their relationship. The first pull at the thread that held them together, Cat’s confidence in her sexuality so much stronger than Emily’s had been at the time. Cat had been out and proud the entire time she’d known her, and, in the long run, their difference in how they approached it would never have worked. 

There were times when Emily had considered telling the team. When she’d make eyes at a woman across a bar when they were all out together, but she’d always chicken out, even with her tongue loosened and her cheeks warmed by tequila. People, mostly ex-boyfriends, had reacted poorly before. Either telling her that bi-sexual wasn’t a real thing, dismissing something she’d always known to be true about herself, or over-sexualising it, a familiar look in their eyes as they saw how her sexuality could benefit them. 

After Paris, she decided she’d simply keep it to herself. Her friend's view of her had been changed anyway, the person they thought she was dead and gone, buried in the grave that had always been empty. She couldn’t bear to do it again, to once again change what they thought they knew about her, even for something like this, so she didn’t. Even when she started dating Aaron, sweet, kind loving, Aaron who had never been anything but supportive and unflinching whenever she told him anything she hesitated.

Ever since they’d walked into Cat, she felt the need to tell him. To uncover this last final part of herself that she’d kept hidden away. He knew everything about Ian. He knew about Rome. It was time he knew about this too. 

Even though she wants to tell him, she feels nervous. A familiar kind of anxiety settles in her chest as she snuggles up on the couch with him one night, determined to not put it off any longer. Jack was in bed, safe and asleep in his room down the hall, and the TV was on, a movie they’d watched countless times before fading into the background as she sinks into her boyfriend’s side. She presses her face against his shoulder, breathing him in, breathing in the last few moments of how things were before she changed them forever. 

“I need to tell you something,” she says, her words partially muffled by his shirt before she pulls back, her brows furrowed as she corrects herself, “Actually, I don’t need to tell you. But I want to.” 

He watches her carefully for a moment before he nods, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV, ensuring she has all of his attention. He turns so he’s facing her, his knee skimming her thigh as she turns too, her focus on the top of the couch. She tugs nervously at a loose thread, a nervous habit he’s grateful distracts her from her cuticles. He thinks of the ring he has tucked away in his sock drawer, of how he pictures her twisting it around her finger when she is nervous or worried. He reaches out for her, frowning when she jumps ever so slightly when his hand lands on her knee. He squeezes gently, smiling even though she doesn’t look up at him.

“You can tell me anything, you know that,” he assures her, and she nods, her lips pressed together as she continues to pull at the thread on the couch. 

“You…” she swallows thickly, her eyes closed as she trips over the words she’d practised in her head for days, “You remember that woman we bumped into the other day, Cat?” She asks, her eyes darting up to his face as he nods, “She…she wasn’t just a friend. She was my girlfriend. We dated for almost a year when we were both in college,” she blows out a breath, her chest shuddering with it, feeling somehow lighter and heavier at the same time with the admission, “I’m Bisexual.” 

Her words hang in the air around them and she holds her breath, waiting for his reaction, unable to bring herself to look at him, worried about what she’d find. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, his words even and calm, his softness so jarring she looks up at him fast enough it cricks her neck, a pain she barely feels as he carries on, “And thank you for trusting me - I know that can’t have been easy.” 

She chokes on a humourless laugh, “Thats…that’s it?” 

He smiles at her, his dimples carved out in his cheeks in a way she loves, and he squeezes her knee, “Did you…want a different reaction?” 

“No,” she replies, shaking her head, choking on something she can’t name - a sound between a sob and a laugh caught in her chest, “No, not at all. I’ve just never had someone react so…well before.” 

He furrows his brow, “What do you mean, sweetheart?” 

She laughs bitterly and shakes her head, wiping away a tear she hadn’t expected until she felt it on her cheek, “I once had an ex-boyfriend ask me if it meant we could have a threesome,” she says, scrunching her nose up at the memory. She looks at Aaron and smiles at the pure horror on his face, his brow furrowing in indignation for a past version of her, “I broke up with him when it became very clear he already had a list of women who’d be ‘up for it’ at the ready.” 

He clenches his jaw, “I’m sorry he reacted like that,” he replies, “You deserved better than that. You deserve better.” 

She presses her lips together and shakes her head lovingly as more tears slip past her lash line, “Well, I have better now,” she says, playing her hand over his on her knee, linking their fingers together, “Do you have any questions?” 

“Have you dated any other women?” He asks softly, curious more than anything, and she nods, running her thumb back and forth over his hand. 

“Yeah, a couple of others but none as serious as my relationship with Cat. And I’ve had a few dates and drunken hook-ups,” she replies, her cheeks burning with embarrassment she knows she shouldn't feel. 

“Have you always known?”

She nods, “Since I was pretty young,” she smiles her lips pressed together at the memory, “Let’s just say, The Dukes of Hazzard was a bit of an awakening. Luke Duke was hot…and so was Daisy Duke.” 

He smiles and squeezes her hand, lifting it to kiss her knuckles, “What made you tell me now?” 

She blows out a slow breath, “After we walked into Cat, I realised I didn’t want to hide it from you anymore. All the reasons I had for doing so suddenly didn’t make any sense.” 

He pulls her into a hug, his arm tight around her as he kisses her cheek, “I’m glad you told me,” he says, smiling as she turns her head to kiss him.

“I’m glad I did too,” she replies, nudging her nose against his, “I…I was so worried it would change how you looked at me.” 

He frowns and pulls back to look at her, shaking his head as he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “Never,” he assures her, “Nothing ever could. Especially this.” 

She furrows her brow and tilts her head at him, “What do you mean?” 

He sighs as he chooses his words carefully, “You’ve always been bi, sweetheart, right? It’s been part of who you are as long as I’ve known you, and it’s been part of you as long as I’ve loved you,” he smiles as he reaches out to wipe away a tear from her cheek, “So it doesn’t change anything because it’s always been who you are, even if you hadn’t told me.” 

She leans forward, her forehead against his neck as she breathes him in again, the world the same as it had been before she’d told him, but somehow different too. His understanding of her deeper but everything else unchanged. She takes a moment to hold him close, and she plays everything he’d said back in her head. A conversation she’d remember again and again as a reminder of how much he loved her, how well he loved her. Something she thinks that, after everything, she might just deserve. She furrows her brow as she thinks about it, the way he’d said part of all those wonderful things catching in her chest. Aaron was purposeful in everything. Not calculated, but purposeful. He never said anything he didn’t mean, and she narrows her eyes at him as she pulls back. 

“Wait…you said ‘even if I hadn’t told you…” she tilts her head as he clears his throat, avoiding her eye contact, “Oh my god - you knew?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head with the hand not tangled up in hers, “Sweetheart-”

She scoffs and lightly hits his chest, her cheeks burning at the thought that she’d got herself so worked up over something he apparently already knew, “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He smiles at her indignation, catching her hand before she slaps his chest again for laughing at her. He kisses her knuckles and smiles fondly at her, disarming her ability to be annoyed at him so easily she’s annoyed at herself. 

“It wasn’t my place to, Em,” he says, “It’s your story to tell.” 

She knows he’s right and she huffs out a breath, her cheek against his shoulder as she pouts in a way she’d deny if he brought it up, “How the hell did you know?” 

“As someone who has been in love with you for much longer than I care to admit, I paid close attention to your interactions with anyone I thought might be flirting with you,” he smiles as she tilts her head to look at him, “It didn’t take long to realise you have chemistry with literally every person you ever meet.” 

She suppresses a laugh, her lips pressed together as one more wave of anxiety rolls through her, “And you don’t mind?” 

He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss her, his hand on her cheek to hold her in place, “If anything, it just makes me feel even more lucky that out of everyone you could be with you chose to be with me.” 

She sighs but it catches in her chest, love for him filling her lungs so fast she can’t catch her breath, “Oh, no honey,” she says, placing her hand over his on her cheek, shaking her head as he catches a tear the moment it slips free from her lashes, “I’m the lucky one.” 

[scarfacemarston]

Hey! I saw your post asking for Bucky requests so I have one:

I was thinking maybe a Bucky x Gender Neutral Reader where he asks his partner to shave his face and trim his hair for him? Nothing smutty or anything, just some nice fluff of Bucky being taken care of and treated gently by the person he loves 💜 thank you in advanced!!!!

Sorry this is so late, but I FINALLY did it. There is a reference to make up in the post, but I firmly believe that's a gender neutral thing.

You shut the door to the apartment, placing the keys in the key basket.

"Darling? I'm home. Are you here?" You called.

"Yeah, in here," Bucky called back. You took off your jacket, threw it on the couch, and followed his voice. There, you saw Bucky, his hands on the counter, gazing at himself in the mirror, looking contemplative.

Usually, you allowed Bucky to speak on his own time, but sometimes, you gently encouraged him to communicate his feelings.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked, slipping an arm around his waist, your head resting on his back.

Bucky let out the quietest of chuckles.

"Don't have any of those. Thoughts or pennies." He muttered. The air was thick with apprehension.

"Fine. I think it's time for a change. I'm tired of seeing him in the mirror. It's a constant reminder of those days and I'm tired of it. I know everyone wants me to move on. It's easier on them than having this…half human cyborg old man people think is on the verge of snapping."

You squeezed him tight.

"You're not  a half-human cyborg. Yes, you're old, but you're still human. And one of the strongest men I know." You sushed him.

Bucky grunted in response before turning to face you.

"I think it's time I cleaned up a bit. I won't ever be the old me. That man doesn't exist. He died in '45. That's who people want me to be, but it's not going to happen. I don't want to look exactly like tht. It feels like I'm being mocked. Maybe….something similar with a modern twist. I don't know. I used to know what suited me. I don't anymore." He sighed.

"Maybe I can help? I've cut my hair a few times and I know how to shave if you want that as well."

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

'You'd do that for me? Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't, handsome. This is only if you want it, though. Don't do it for me, or for Steve or to make others feel a certain way."

"Right, I know. That's what I was saying…But I think I'm ready." Bucky confirmed, giving your hand a squeeze. You nodded as the both of you gathered the supplies needed in the bathroom.

You pulled a dining room chair in, set a washbasin to create a makeshift workstation, and grabbed hair supplies. Bucky gathered towels and shaving supplies before pulling out a small grooming kit. He smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, I bought it myself. I've been trying to psyche myself up for a while, but I just haven't been able to do it." he shrugged.

"Stop worrying and come sit down. Relax. Everything will be okay. You're in control, Bucky. It's 100% you. If you only want a few centimeters off or even decide to change your mind, you can do that. This is your choice." You stressed.

"I know. Thank you." he muttered quietly as he sat down.

"So, shaving first or hair?" you asked as Bucky took a seat, resting his head back.

"Hm, I'm thinking a shave," he answered

"A trim?" you asked

"No, a full shave." he clarified.

You paused.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Yes. Absolutely. It will grow back in a few days if I hate it." he confirmed/

You nodded.

"Of course. That should actually make things a little easier.. I'm a raid I don't have those long razors that open up on a hinge."

"Well, no. I wouldn't expect you to," he laughed.

"This isn't 1850 either. But, hey, even if you did, I'd trust you with a knife against my throat anyway!" He said with a lopsided grin.

"True. Now, let me pamper you." You said playfully, patting his cheek. You turned on the warm water, wetting his face before placing shaving gel on his lower face and jaw and gently rubbing the product in as it sudded up. You smiled at Bucky as you leaned over and pecked his forehead.

"You ready, big guy?" You murmured.

"Baby, we're doing a haircut and a shave, not about to jump out of a window in a burning building," Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

You held up your hands in defense.

"Alright, alright, just making sure!" you said as you gently began to shave, going methodically slow, careful not to nick Bucky. It was far easier than you thought it would be. It was no different than shaving in most other places…well, except for a nick, it could be more serious here, but who's asking?

The actual shaving took little time. You admired your handy work. The shave took years off of Bucky's appearance. You grinned as you rinsed Bucky's chin and neck. 

"Looking good, handsome! Not that you didn't look handsome before," You amended.

"Now, your hair. I'll wash it first but for the cutting? That shouldn't take too long, but I want to be careful, " you said.

You started to hum absent-mindedly as you set to work. Bucky closed his eyes in bliss as you shampooed his hair, massaging the soap into it. Bucky grinned, sighing happily.

"You have magic fingers," he murmured with a happy groan. You spent extra time massaging his head, knowing that Bucky had frequent headaches. However, cutting his hair took longer than you expected, but Bucky was still. You checked on Bucky every few minutes before hearing Bucky sigh in annoyance.

"I'm fine! Just keep working!" Bucky finally chastised.

You smiled to yourself,

"Just checking, darling. I'll stop," you replied, quietly returning once more. Soon, you stopped, proud of your work. You withheld a gasp as you reached for the hair dryer. Bucky was always beautiful to you, regardless of his appearance, but this haircut was a different sort of beauty. You had studied the fashion, hair, and makeup of the 40s once you started to date him to plan a potential date night with materials from the era. That, and you had seen a few photos of Bucky's time before and during the war.

While he did not look identical to his time in the 1940s, there was still an element of the 1940s with a touch of modernity. Truth be told, you were quite proud of yourself. You couldn't wait to see how Bucky styled it.

Bucky's eyes widened as he saw your smile.

"Alirght, let me see, let me see, " he said, sitting up. He stared at his reflection, his expression blank, before he narrowed his eyes, the silence filling the room. You swallowed your anxiety.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair before flitting his eyes to yours.

"It……..looks good." He finally answered. That didn't seem optimistic.

"I messed up, didn't I?" You said, trying to keep the defeat out of your voice.

"No. You didn't." He answered sharply before softening his features.

"It's just different, is all. I haven't seen me look like this since the early 90s when I was expected to complete an assassination  undercover." he explained.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything except 'Oh.'

"But it still looks like my former self. It was risky for Hydra to do really, considering this is bringing back memories. Turns out, Hydra couldn't shut everything out."

"I'm sorry." You began.

"I promise you, I'm fine. I won't break. I told you that earlier, didn't I? No. I'm just surprised is all because I do see bits of who I was before, but it's still different enough that I'm not identical." Bucky explained. Bucky sighed before taking your chin into his hands.

"Don't worry about me. You did a wonderful job." He murmured as he kissed you gently.

"Besides, I saw your expression when you finished. Clearly you liked it, which makes it all worth it…and no, you're not making me be someone I don't want to be. You accept me as I am and that's the difference." He enunciated.

He got up, brushing the hair off of him.

"Uh, I'll get a broom. I insist." He offered. He grinned at you, making you lose your breath.

"Let's get dinner out. You can show me off." he winked.

"Sounds like a plan." You said, returning his grin.

[cxndiedvi0lets]

To the American Horror Story Community. Please Read this.

Hello, you may know me as Violet or CxndiedVi0lets, but I think I'm gonna have to drop the Violet Harmon stuff.

I don't want to associate to her any longer with my Violet content. I want to address that I'm not trying to imitate the events of my life, and it's better if you guys could stop it.

The community has always been toxic that I'm aware of because of the idolisation.

Violet has only been my comfort character, and I want to establish that because I find these rumours rubbish. I chose Violet because she was the closest character that I've felt comfort in due to the correlation of the events in my life with her and I feel a sense of connection towards her that felt empowering for atleast awhile but, since life has took a toll on me, I begin to feel triggered by the concept and accusations of my correlation to the fictional character being a 'copy'. I will admit to establishing imitations for my comfort towards her, but I no longer want to correlate to her because it triggers me, especially the ongoing competition, and it makes me feel like people are assuming my life events to a similar fictional character are being taken as a joke or unserious and has become completely problematic because I've been viewed more as a "copycat" or "wannabe" rather than a person who just feels a direct connection to a fictional character.

With that said, I'd like people to remind them that these "copy cats, " "wannabes," or "imitations" may just find comfort in the character and not wanting to establish themselves AS the actual character and that you should be mindful with the things you say to others before creating that assumption.

Some people may be just expressing themselves and finding the imitation of finding a comfort character that could express for them.

I will admit, I haven't been the saint in the past either and have gone through childish conflicts, and no one does want to admit it. We all want to be Violet Harmon as some point to be empowered and viewed for being brave despite the challenges they face that may seem scary and shows an aspect of Violet, that it is okay to feel weak sometimes and that other peoples views shouldn't bother you because no matter what information people hold on you or your expression and actions are not yourself.

People have layers and flaws, and that's alright. What isn't alright is reacting to extremes. It's okay to be afraid or frustrated with events and it is normal to talk behind people but that doesn't make it right.

It's disappointing to see how this community had become a competition rather than people just connecting to each other and creating relationships of deeper expressions with unspoken words.

Sometimes 'imitations' can become extreme and don't make it right, but always be mindful that this could be a sense of expression, and it doesn't give anyone the right to comment on others and reflect them as if they are trying to be the character themselves but rather finding the character as an alter-ego of empowerment or a reflection of themself.

As for my situation, the reason I no longer want to associate with her is the events I've had associated with this community, and I'll admit. It took me some time and reflection that these are harmful and painful even if I seem strongheaded or ignorant towards the previous asks I've received. It made me feel as if no one was taking me seriously and rather displaying myself as a competitor towards an in real life imitation of a character, and it's extremely painful and just washes me to seeing the character in darker light or matter. You don't know me, and my actions do not reflect me as a person, but one thing I can assure you is. I am a person who means no harm and just wanting to express myself and had been built over paranoia from cyberbullying, and although people have told me to ignore it. It doesn't change the fact that it has and took a toll for me.

I've seen people on this community that I've cared about that has faced this challenge as well and I'm asking you all to be kind.

If you see something you don't like, talk to them or talk to a friend for advice or even so ignore it.

I have seen and heard things that have completely shattered me and my trust but, I continue to interact because im a hopeful person and I know people can change and will change but, It doesn't change the fact that the actions they have committed will be erased in my memory that may make me cautious and wary. I want to express myself as a caring individual and will set arays and boundaries if needed even if I do act to my extremes due to being mentally challenges.

As for people who think they're being copied, isn't it better to maybe talk to them and get to know them or even be closer to them?

You never know, as for @irl-violetharmon and as for @ciggiestash , I want to publicly apologise for our conflicts before even if it has passed. I want to commend her for her kindness, and as for the girls who think they're imitating others, try to push that thought away.

Because some girls just take inspiration from others, and it should be flattering to you that you have become a display as someone to look up to or idolise. That isn't something that happens to everyones lifetime.

Just because my association to Violet has ended doesn't mean I won't continuously try to express myself to the comfort of this fandom, and I have found friends and even perhaps a family. Admist the toxicity, I dislike social media for this, but besides that. I've created a foundation of friends who have helped me and freely express myself without judgement. Thank you, @jazz-berry @yandereunsolved @heartz4peter @0rfielvamp @mooniehoneyrey @fear-is-truth @hauntedrose555 and many others that I haven't tagged.

Please be a better community and better people. You have all been a part of my journey and my life despite all of it being online.

[zxoaii]

Touch

fem! reader x bodyguard Choso

Summary: After the being sent to attend an event, Y/n and Choso find themselves more caught up with each other.

SMUT

WC: 2k

Wattpad: _Bolter

[ Y/n ]

"You look good in a suit." Choso looks at me while I adjust his tie. "You are stunning. No one is going to notice me with you right next to me." He's always so sweet.

"Thank you."

The elevator door rings out and the doors open. Choso offers me his arm. I take it as we walk into the foyer of the ballroom.

"Good evening." The host draws our attention to him. My bag clicks open as I retrieve the invitation. "He's my plus one." Of course, if he knows who I am he'd know that.

Money and Jujutsu Sorcery don't usually meet but somewhere, they did. I wouldn't say my clan is completely good but we are a force to be reckoned with.

My mother is the current head of the clan and because of my apparent lack of cursed energy, I was assigned a bodyguard.

I've had several throughout my life but this one is my favorite. Choso is a gentleman. He's caring and friendly. Not to mention, he is not bad-looking at all.

He isn't even a Jujutsu Sorcerer. He's a half-curse.

We walk into the crowded ballroom together. I love parties. They're a nightmare for him. He wouldn't ever say it out loud though.

Choso instinctively takes his arm away from me and falls two paces behind me. Technically we're supposed to act like he isn't here.

Still, it saddens me to lose his touch.

"Ms. Y/l/n, you look incredible. The last time I saw you, you were only a teenager. It's been so long!" I'm thrown into a conversation before I can tell Choso he should stand with me.

The night starts to drag on with insignificant conversations one after another. Being polite is exhausting. Especially when it's spent being polite to people who can't help but be self-obsessed.

As soon as I get a chance I excuse myself to go get a drink. I take Choso's arm and lead us to the drink table. "Do you want some?"

Choso shakes his head. Oh well. I take a glass of champagne for myself. It's a shame this is all they choose to serve. Still, it's better than nothing.

"How long have we been here?"

"45 minutes."

I want to spit my drink out. Only 45 minutes? It feels like we've been here for hours. I've been talking for hours. It's impossible.

"Seriously?"

Choso nods and scans the room. "Come on, there's not actually anyone here who's going to do anything to me." He gives me an unsure glance. "How long do we have to stay for?" My feet ache already. It's freezing in here. I would rather be anywhere else and I'd rather it just be him and I.

"You're supposed to stay for an hour and a half at least."

"What if I say I'm sick?"

Choso takes my empty glass from me and returns it to the table. "We came all this way just for this." He reminds me.

He looks so good in his suit. If I could have a picture of him dressed up like this I'd keep it in a locket.

"Y/n!" A voice calls out excitedly from behind me.

I really hate parties.

.  .  .

Choso sits in the front seat of the car as we're driven to our hotel. I can't stop admiring him. My cheeks flush when he looks at me through the rearview.

We hold eye contact until I look away.

The driver eventually stops in front of our hotel and opens my door for me. "Thank you." I step out of the car. Warm humid air wraps itself around my bare skin.

Choso follows behind me as I make my way inside. I can't come up with any valid reasons as to why I'd need to go to his room.

The walk through the lobby, then the elevator ride, and finally the walk to my room are all too short. I don't have enough time to think of something.

I stop at my door to give myself a second to think.

"Are you ok?"

My hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment before falling to my side. "Choso, you should come in with me."

I turn to look at him after I ask. "What?" This is the first time I've seen him so caught off guard. Maybe that's because he usually stands behind me.

"I want you to come in with me."

"We have our own rooms." Despite his now hardened reaction, his cheeks are red with blush. "Ok." I stop pushing and unlock my door.

"Goodni-"

Choso's hand lands on the door to stop it from shutting. He looks down at me from his place in the doorway. I step out of his way and he walks into the room. The door shuts behind him, leaving us in darkness. Some of the city lights illuminate parts of the room.

Just enough so I can see him.

My heart beats heavily in my chest as I reach out to touch him. Choso steps closer to me and allows me to start undoing his tie.

It falls to the floor but my hands remain on his chest. I have to stand on my toes to reach his lips. Choso leans in and meets me in a kiss.

My hands grip his shirt in fistfuls. Our kiss becomes increasingly desperate. My back meets the wall with a thud. One of his hands lands on the wall next to my head. The other finds its way onto my back.

Choso follows my spine with his fingers. He reaches the nape of my neck and takes the zipper of my dress. The straps fall from my shoulders as the zipper is drawn lower and lower.

When the entire thing is unzipped I let it pool around my ankles. Choso lifts me and carries me across the room. He handles me so gently. I'm laid carefully onto the bed.

My heels are slipped off my feet and then tossed across the room. Choso's lips start at my ankles and trail upwards. Each kiss leaves me more and more entranced by his touch.

As his lips meet my thighs he starts to linger longer. My fingers reach out and grab his hair. He continues up to my hips and for a moment I think he might keep going until our lips meet again.

Instead, he hooks my underwear with his fingers and gives himself more access to me. His touch runs hot across my skin as he pulls my underwear down completely.

"Is this ok?"

"You don't have to ask."

My hands encourage his movements. Choso's lips meet my core in a heated kiss. The kiss feels starved like he needs me to live. He shifts my left leg over his shoulder to give himself better access.

"Oh my god..." I sit up, resting on my elbows to look at him. Choso is still completely dressed. Despite how good-looking he is in his suit, I want it off.

"Take your shirt off."

Choso doesn't falter or stop. Instead, he works his jacket off and lets it fall to the floor. He starts working on the buttons down his shirt until he can take that off too.

His back is painted with scars that remind me of where he came from. My eyes are drawn down by his. Choso watches me through lustful hooded eyes.

His tongue presses against my clit causing my legs to bend instinctively. The dim lights from the window draw harsh shadows across his body.

Choso's hair is a mess from my hands. It falls into his face and tickles the inside of my thighs. Still, he deepens his movements.

The graze of his teeth against sensitive flesh causes a gasp. My hips grind against his mouth as he presses his tongue flat against me. Choso lets out a deep moan that vibrates through my body.

Pleasure starts to build up within me overwhelmingly quickly. "Don't stop." My pleas are answered by Choso's quickened kissing.

He moans once more. My eyes fall lower, following his arm. Choso masturbates as he eats me out. "Shit." The sigh drags on with my orgasm.

Choso doesn't stop until I fall back onto the bed. He pulls away breathlessly and fully removed his pants. His toned chest is also littered with scars that only continue to turn me on.

"Can you continue?" He licks his lips and runs his hand along my thigh. "Yes." Choso nods and reaches up to remove my bra. "You're fucking beautiful." His hands run along my body as if to memorize the feeling.

I shift to the edge of the bed, sitting on my knees so I can kiss him. This kiss is soft. Choso's hand carefully holds my chin. I follow him blindly as he sits down on the bed.

We pull away for a moment. Gentle hands guide me onto his lap. Choso holds my back as I fit him inside of me. The pain turns to pleasure within a minute.

Our eyes stay locked as I roll my hips. My nails dig into his back as I move against him. "Y/n." My name comes out as a plead more than a statement.

My desperate movements become quicker at his unsaid request. Choso peppers kisses along my neck and shoulders. He finds a spot and begins to suck on it to leave a mark.

I tilt my head to the side to give him more access. "Ah- Choso!" He bites down on my neck. I don't know if he drew blood or not but his tongue traces the bite mark several times before he moves on.

Choso's hands grip my ass. He guides me vertically in addition to my horizontal movements. Our moans grow louder together as I follow his movement.

"You're so fucking perfect." Choso catches my lips after his comment, only for a moment. He watches me with such loving eyes my heart flutters in my chest.

Has he always looked at me like this?

The buildup of my second orgasm comes along with his. His grip on me tightens, I feel the twitch of his cock inside me, and his head falls forward onto my shoulder.

Choso mumbles words I can't hear over the sound of my own moans. My orgasm washes over me so intensely that my legs twitch at his side.

We hold each other for a minute before I shift off of his lap to lie down. Choso collapses down next to me. My hand finds his, intertwining our fingers.

"You're... Unbelievable."

The smile on my face feels like it might never go away again. "Do you like me, Choso?" I look over at him from my spot.

"Like you? Of course I like you." He meets my eyes for a moment before shyly looking away. "Do you have deeper feelings for me?"

If the lighting was better I think I'd be able to see that bright red blush all across his face. "I do." His eyes search the ceiling for anything to look at other than me.

"I have deeper feelings for you too." I sit up so he can't avoid looking at me. "You do?" I brush his sweaty hair from his face. "Of course." Choso doesn't return my happy grin.

Instead, he sits up and meets my lips in another passionate kiss. My arms lock around his shoulders to hold him closer. I'd stay like this forever if I had the choice.

Choso pauses for a moment then pulls away. He rubs my thigh as his eyes trail along my neck. He stops at the spot I assume he had bitten. My fingers feel across the skin for a moment before finding the mark.

"I'm sorry. You just tasted so good."

"Don't talk."

I lean back in and happily take another kiss from him. The bite mark will be hard to hide, especially since nothing I packed covers my neck.

Still, if he wanted to bite me again he could.

We could do this all over again as many times as he wants.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Have you ever had a Harveston apple before? They’re some mighty fine eatin’. Um I mean they’re pretty good. My meemaw just sent me a whole crate and I can’t finish it all myself so I’m passing them out. Want one? I heard from Ace you like apples.” - 🍎

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The boy held out an apple. He was smallish and delicate looking, with lilac locks and long lashes framing big, sparkling blue eyes. The collar of his uniform was gathered lace crowned with a necktie done up as a ribbon.

If Fellow didn’t know any better, he would have easily mistaken the boy for a living doll. He thought the idea laughable—a bitter reminder of his last gig.

Whoever he was, he was no nobleman’s son. No, he had opened with an accent Fellow recognized from somewhere rural and humble. Here was a common man, squished into a suit and thrown to the wolves to fend for himself. His eyes were not mistaken.

“Don’t mind if I do! Thanks for the grub, kid.”

Fellow accepted the apple with a broad grin. He could see his reflection in its shiny red exterior, even before he polished the fruit on his jacket.

Crunch.

His teeth cut into the apple, slicing its skin and revealing the crisp white flesh underneath. Sweet juice--sweeter than he'd ever tasted, almost candy-like--burst spilled his tongue. He hummed in satisfaction.

“Whoa, you weren’t pullin’ my leg. This stuff’s premium!” He hungrily eyed the crate of unclaimed apples in the boy's arms.

“Heheh. Harveston’s real proud of its produce." The first year glanced down, patting the top of his crate. "I should hand the rest of these out now."

"Hold on a second!" Fellow blocked his path--sights still set on the apples. It would be nice to bring some back for Giddie.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Why the rush? We've barely gotten to know each other! What's your name, champ?"

"It's, er... Epel."

"Epel!" He slipped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And you're from Harveston, you say? I've been there myself during my worldly travels! Nice folks you got there. So warm, so hospitable!!"

(Fellow neglected to mention that the story started with he and Gidel sneaking onto someone's farm and liberating them of a chunk of their crops. It had been a particularly bad day and the vegetables had just been lying out there. A recipe of convenience, a risk worth taking.

They had been caught red-handed, been accosted by a flurry of frying pans and angry locals. It had taken plenty of groveling and sniveling to sort things out. When the locals' rage had simmered down, he and Gidel had been invited in to stay a while, given that they promised not to steal anymore. Some food and a bed, and they were all set for that night.)

Epel bristled, pulling away from Fellow. "Ah, no ya don't! Ace warned me that you're sneaky and to not fall for anything you'd try to pull."

He faltered. “What else has he said about me?! Fellow Honest-sama's got a reputation to keep."

It's going to be harder to scam these students if word about me gets around.

"Uh... Well..." Epel hesitated. "That you were kinda pathetic?"

"PATHETIC?! I'm not pathetic!!" Disbelief rattled Fellow's voice. He gritted his teeth, fingers digging into his half-finished apple.

Y-You're being pretty pathetic right now though...? Epel stayed tight-lipped for his own good.

Fellow released the Pomefiore student and stomped off, waving his cane in the air as if spearing an invisible man with it. Spit flew out as he cursed the boy with the heart over one eye.

"Why, that smarmy little...! MARK MY WORDS!! The next time I see that guy, he'll get what's comin' to him!!" Fellow swore loudly.

Epel awkwardly stared after him. "Wh-What just happened?"

[lyssak09]

Hello. Can you write yandere The Governor ( Philip Blake) ? Please

Yandere Philip Blake (The Governor)

So I've been rewatching his season to get some ideas for this and to refresh myself on his character, and god damn I forgot what a fucking psycho this man can be. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Happy reading

The governor could have met you in many ways, finding you during a recon mission, you and your small group finding Woodbury, or maybe he saw you injured while you were doing a scavenge run for the prison, and by god, you’re just so pretty, so how could he not help a pretty little thing like you.

Either way, he’ll fabricate elaborate lies about the fate of your loved ones/group, making you believe they are either dead or have abandoned you. This will isolate you emotionally and make you more reliant on him.

He collects mementos of your time together, ranging from innocent tokens to more disturbing trophies that remind him of you and your bond. These items are kept hidden, serving as a reminder of his ‘love’ for you.

When his control over you is threatened or challenged, The Governor’s demeanor can quickly shift from charming to violently possessive. He may resort to extreme measures to eliminate perceived threats to your relationship or his authority.

 In his mind, The Governor truly believes he is acting out of love and protection for you. He justifies his actions as necessary sacrifices for your happiness and survival in the harsh world they live in.

His love for you is twisted with manipulation. He showers you with gifts and affection one moment, only to use guilt or emotional blackmail to keep you from leaving his side when you express any desire for independence or doubts about his methods.

The Governor uses emotional blackmail, often threatening to harm himself or others if you try to leave or disobey him. He manipulates your guilt and compassion to keep you compliant.

I also wouldn’t put it past him to manipulate your health. If you ever fall ill or get injured, The Governor ensures you receive the best care, but he also uses your vulnerability to further establish your dependence on him. He might even exaggerate or fabricate medical conditions to keep you close.

The Governor often gives you gifts, each a reminder of how much he loves you. These gifts are sometimes eerily personal, like a necklace made from something you once mentioned liking in passing, showing just how closely he pays attention to you.

Any sign of rebellion or disobedience from you is met with stern reprimands or punishments. He uses psychological tactics, like silent treatment or feigned disappointment, to guilt you into compliance.

He constantly checks on you, bringing you gifts and necessities, ensuring you have everything you need. He uses these gestures to remind you how much he cares and how dangerous the world is outside his protection.

He uses his charm and authority to manipulate you into believing that everyone outside of Woodbury is a threat. He often exaggerates or fabricates stories of violence and betrayal to make you dependent on him.

The Governor often goes out of his way to personally inspect any new people who come into contact with you, ensuring they are no threat to you or his control over you.

To you and others, The Governor appears charismatic and caring, often offering a helping hand and creating an image of a benevolent leader. However, on the inside, his possessiveness and manipulation are prominent.

In public, The Governor often displays exaggerated affection towards you, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him. This also serves to remind you of his power and influence over your life.

The Governor keeps a journal where he obsessively documents everything about you – your likes, dislikes, daily routines, and any conversations you two have. This helps him tailor his behavior to be the perfect partner in your eyes.

He has a secret room filled with photographs and memorabilia of you. This is his sanctuary where he indulges in his obsession, convincing himself that everything he does is for your own good.

In his mind, your relationship is destined and he often speaks to you about a future where they rule over Woodbury together, framing it as a utopian dream while ignoring your discomfort.

The Governor involves you in personal projects or missions, making you feel important and valued. These projects are often designed to keep you busy and distracted from thoughts of leaving.

He frequently uses emotional manipulation to keep you dependent on him, going between showing you affection and then subtly reminding you of the horrors outside Woodbury’s walls.

He fabricates stories of people trying to harm you, using these lies to justify his controlling behavior and making you believe you are safer with him.

"Baby girl you don't understand! That man was saying some of the most awful things about you behind your back. There were rumors of him planning to help some bandits raid us! He wasn't right for Woodbury.” Phillip lies right through his teeth to you, you wouldn’t understand the truth, that man was getting in between you too. He also was starting to alert people about Phillip's weird behavior towards you. So, he needed to be eliminated.

The Governor plants false allies in your life, people who pretend to support you but are loyal to him. These spies report back on your thoughts and actions, ensuring he always knows what you’re planning.

He controls the flow of information to you, censoring news and updates about the outside world. This keeps you unaware of potential opportunities for escape or allies that might help you.

He insists on knowing your whereabouts at all times. If you’re late or out of his sight for too long, he becomes furious and demands an explanation, using his anger as a way to guilt/scare you into compliance.

"Where have you been Darlin'? You were supposed to meet us for dinner 15 minutes ago. Someone keeping you chattin'?" He says with a charming grin but if you look close enough you could see his eye twitching ever so slightly. He had planned a romantic dinner for just the two of you and with every minute of you not joining him was driving him crazy. If he had to wait even just five more minutes for you then he might have put out an alert to his security team and started hunting for you.

He manipulates situations to make you see him as your savior. For instance, he might stage a walker attack and “rescue” you just in time to reinforce your gratitude and reliance on him.

The Governor believes that his actions are justified because of the dangerous world they live in. He convinces himself and tries to convince you that his extreme measures are acts of love and necessity.

Despite his controlling behavior, he shows moments of vulnerability, sharing his past traumas to elicit sympathy from you and bind you to him emotionally.

Whenever you tries to escape or express a desire to leave, The Governor stages elaborate scenarios to prove how dangerous the outside world is, reinforcing your fear of leaving the community.

Phillip was breathing heavily, one arm wrapped around you and the other out, gripping a machete tightly. He had just secretly cut open a hole in the fence, allowing walkers to trickle in, just close enough to scare you as he rushes to be your knight in shining armor. Once he’s killed most of the walkers and gotten back up he drags you to a private spot as he investigates to see if you’re hurt at all, enjoying the feeling of you clutching onto him. “This is why you have to stay here baby, with me. Who knows what could have happened if I wasn’t here to save you.” Phillip proclaimed, having to bite back a pleased smirk as you nodded your head yes, still trying to catch your breath. Maybe this’ll stop your talks of leaving for a while.

If you continues to try and escape The Governor quietly sabotages any of your attempts to leave the community. He'll tamper with vehicles, hide supplies, or create barriers that force you to stay. But if that doesn’t deter you then he’ll become a bit more aggressive in keeping you with him and from escaping.

The Governor constantly seeks validation from you, fishing for compliments and gratitude

I 100% believe he’s an attention whore for you. All he wants is for you to focus on him 24/7. He’ll definitely have his attention on you 24/7 as well, even when he’s not with you.

He installs hidden cameras and bugs in your living quarters, ensuring he knows your every move and conversation. He often uses this information to confront you about perceived disloyalty or to manipulate your emotions.

He will become extremely violent if any harm comes to you or if anyone tries to take you from him.

The number of people he has secretly killed many for you, people who threatened you, got too close to you, got in his way, and even people who just didn’t like you. 

Phillip loves you more than anything, meaning he’d do anything for you. So good luck trying to escape him. Maybe if you’re lucky the group (Rick’s group) will manage to save you. 

Keyword maybe

[talonabraxas]

I trow I hung on that windy Tree nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given, high on that Tree of which none hath heard from what roots it rises to heaven. — Hávamál (Line 137)

The Wild Hunt of Odin Talon Abraxas

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, one of the earliest and foremost histories of the Anglo-Saxons, who were descended from the same Germanic tribes as the Norse and broadly shared the same body of religious lore, records the following event as having happened in CE 1127:

Let no one be surprised at what we are about to relate, for it was common gossip up and down the countryside that after February 6th many people both saw and heard a whole pack of huntsmen in full cry. They straddled black horses and black bucks while their hounds were pitch black with staring hideous eyes. This was seen in the very deer park of Peterborough town, and in all the woods stretching from that same spot as far as Stamford. All through the night monks heard them sounding and winding their horns. Reliable witnesses who kept watch in the night declared that there might well have been twenty or even thirty of them in this wild tantivy as near as they could tell.

This spectral, nocturnal horde was the “Wild Hunt,” which was recorded in folklore all throughout ancient, medieval, and even early modern Europe, but was especially concentrated in the Germanic lands of northern Europe. In Scandinavia, it was called Oskoreia, “Terrifying Ride,”[2] or Odensjakt, “Odin’s Hunt.” In Middle High German, it was called Wuotanes Her, “Odin’s Army,” and in modern German Wütende Heer, “Furious/Inspired Army,” or Wilde Jagd, “Wild Hunt.”

It swept through the forests in midwinter, the coldest, darkest part of the year, when ferocious winds and storms howled over the land. Anyone who found him- or herself out of doors at night during this time might spot this ghostly procession – or be spotted by it, which might involve being carried away and dropped miles from where the unfortunate person had been taken up, or worse.[6] Others, practitioners of various forms of magic, joined in it voluntarily, as an intangible part of them (a “soul,” if you like) flew with the cavalcade while their bodies lay in their beds as if sleeping normally. Sometimes, the members of the Hunt entered towns and houses, causing havoc and stealing food and drink.

The Leader of the Wild Hunt

When accounts of the Wild Hunt mention a leader, the figure who filled this role varied greatly. In Germany, the leader could have been “Perchta, Berhta, Berta, Holt, Holle, Hulda, Foste, Selga, Selda, Heme, Herla, Berchtold [or] Berhtolt.”

However, as the Wild Hunt’s various names across the Germanic lands attest, one figure was especially closely associated with it: Odin, the god of the dead, inspiration, ecstatic trance, battle frenzy, knowledge, the ruling class, and creative and intellectual pursuits in general. Two of Odin’s hundreds of names further demonstrate his association with midwinter, the time of the year in which the holiday Yule (Old Norse Jól) falls: Jólnir and Jauloherra, both of which mean something like “Master of Yule.” The myths describe him frequently riding throughout the Nine Worlds on his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, on quests of a shamanic nature, another theme that connects him to the Wild Hunt. As H.R. Ellis Davidson put it, speaking of the manifestations of the Wild Hunt that continued well into the Christian era, “it was natural that the ancient god of the dead who rode through the air should keep a place in this way in the memory of the people, and it reminds us of the terror which his name must once have inspired.”

Conclusion

In the body of lore surrounding the Wild Hunt, we find a number of themes that connect it powerfully with the dead and the underworld. For one thing, there’s the ghostly character of the hunters or warriors themselves. Dogs and horses, animals that were closely associated with death (amongst a great many other things), were almost invariably present. In some accounts of the Hunt, the riders can hardly, if at all, be distinguished from land spirits, who were themselves often conflated with the dead, as if the two were thought of as being in some sense one and the same. Finally, for the ancient Germanic peoples, the worlds of the living and the dead were especially permeable during midwinter, which goes a long way toward explaining why this troop of apparitions haunted the land during that particular part of the year. In the words of Claude Lecouteux, “[T]he Wild Hunt fell into the vast complex of ancestor worship, the cult of the dead, who are the go-betweens between men and the gods.”

It was as if the very elements of midwinter – the menacing cold, the almost unrelenting darkness, the eerie, desolate silence broken only by the baying winds and galloping storms – manifested the restless dead, and the ancient northern Europeans, whose ways of life and worldviews predisposed them to sense spiritual qualities in the world around them, recorded the sometimes terrifying fruits of such an engagement with the enchanted world in their accounts of the Wild Hunt.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

22: All Things End

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: the ending.

a/n: HIIIIIIII NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!! I have to say that this one was so emotive to write because I went through the same :)

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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The crowd's roar watching Lando getting out of the car echoed in the distance, but I barely heard it. The weight of the result sat heavy on my chest as I walked through the pit lane after I weighed myself, helmet in hand. Fourth. So close to a podium, but close meant nothing in this sport. I’d given everything, fought until the last lap, but it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough. Half a second away is not enough.

I knew they were all watching me, the engineers, the mechanics, the team principal.. They didn’t need to say anything. I could feel their disappointment as much as my own. But more than that, I could feel their sympathy, which somehow felt  even worse.

I shook my head, trying to clear it as I unzipped my suit. I could feel the sweat clinging to my skin, the heat still radiating from my body. The car had been a beast out there, so close to perfection but betraying me when it mattered most. I glanced down at the Ferrari emblem on my chest, my fingers brushing over it. We should’ve had it today. It slipped away, and My jaw tightened, and I could feel my grip on the helmet hardening. A dull heat settled in my chest, like embers smoldering, waiting to ignite. 

“Charles, you did your best” someone said, an engineer, I think. I nodded, forcing a small smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I couldn’t even fake it right now.

My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Dafne. And there she was, walking toward me. She looked different now, not just because of the obvious, with her round belly that made my heart swell every time I saw it, but because she wasn’t the one in the suit, and wasn't stepping out of the car. She was on the other side of the barrier now, watching instead of driving. 

I still saw it sometimes, the longuing  in her eyes when she watched the cars line up on the grid. She never said it, but I knew it weighed on her, the thrill of racing just out of reach now. But seeing her here, waiting for me, with our son growing inside her, I felt a different kind of pull. Something deeper. She had sacrificed so much, and I hadn’t even brought home a win for her today.

When she reached me, she didn’t say a word, just wrapped her arms around me. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on her head, feeling the warmth of her body, the rhythm of her breathing. For a second, it was just us. No team, no podium, no race. Just Dafne and me. 

“I’m sorry” I muttered into her hair. 

I hated that I’d let her down.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Charles. You drove brilliantly.” she smiled, looking into my eyes.

Her voice was soft, full of that reassurance that I’d come to depend on. But I couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at me. I wanted to be more than just brilliant. I wanted to win. For her, for our baby, for the team, for myself.

I sighed, feeling my frustration boiling under the surface. My hand instinctively rested on her belly, where our baby kicked gently. That always helped, always reminded me of the bigger picture, but today, the sting of losing was hard to push away.

“For you and the baby” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I hated how it sounded, like an apology for something I couldn’t control.

 “We’re both so proud of you. There’ll be other races. You’ll get your win” her fingers caressed my cheek, soft but firm, and she smiled up at me, her eyes full of warmth.

I wanted to believe her, I really did. I nodded, but the smile didn’t feel right, as if it cracked on my lips. My stomach churned, twisting in ways no one could see. I’d been saying that to myself for years now. There’ll be other races. And there always were. But somehow, something always went wrong. Strategy. Tires. An unlucky safety car. And now, with the championship in mind, a fourth-place finish felt like a punch to the gut.

But Dafne…She never stopped believing. Even when I was down, when I couldn’t see the way forward, she did. She always had, even before we were together, back when we were just competitors and we hated the other, fighting for every tenth on the track.

I kissed her gently, just on the corner of her mouth, needing that small connection, rubbing soft circles over her belly.

 “I hope so” I said, but it sounded fake to my own ears.

The paddock noise began to filter back in, the debrief looming ahead. I’d have to face the team, go through every lap, every corner, every tire strategy. It was the part I hated most after a tough race: the arguments, the what-ifs, the “if only we had…” moments that I knew would haunt me for the next few days.

I turned to walk toward the garage again, Dafne’s hand still in mine. I could feel the sweat starting to dry on my skin, the exhaustion creeping in, but there was no time to process it yet. The media would want their interviews, the engineers would want to go over the data, and I’d have to relive every second of the race.

But Dafne tugged on my hand, pulling me to a stop just before we reached the engineers waiting for me. I turned to look at her, and there was something in her eyes, something different. A fierceness, maybe. Determination.

“Charles” she said, her voice firm but gentle, smiling weakly at me. “You have to stop beating yourself up for things you can’t control.”

I blinked, taken aback by her words. It was like she had read my mind, peeled back the layers of frustration that were suffocating me.

“You drove your heart out today” she continued, her hand resting on my chest now, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. “And it’s okay to be disappointed. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. I didn’t know what to say. She knew me so well, better than anyone. She knew how hard I was on myself, how I replayed every mistake, every missed opportunity over and over again in my head.

“I just… I wanted to win for you” I finally admitted, my voice cracking just a little, making me smile weakly while keeping her hand on my chest.

“For me?” She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Charles, I don’t need you to win for me. I need you to keep being the man you are, the one who never stops fighting, no matter what. That’s what matters.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, a wave of emotion rolling through me. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, pressing my forehead to hers. The sounds of the paddock faded once more, the pressure lifting just slightly.

“I love you” I whispered, the words coming easier now, settling deep in my chest.

“I love you too” she whispered back, her breath warm against my skin. 

For a moment, we just stood there, holding each other as if the rest of the world had fallen away. The weight of the race, the disappointment, the frustration, it all seemed to fade away when I was with her.

But I couldn’t hide from the rest of the world forever. As much as I wanted to stay in that quiet moment with her, I knew I had to face the team.

“I have to go” I said quietly, nodding toward the garage after taking a deep breath.

“I know. I’ll wait around, I want to talk with Susie” she gave me a small smile, her fingers tightening around mine before letting go.

Those words meant everything. Knowing she’d be there waiting, that I wasn’t facing all of this alone. It gave me the strength to turn and walk toward the team of engineers and media waiting for me, the usual post-race chaos already waiting for me. 

I moved my shoulders in circles, pushing the disappointment aside as much as I could, ready to face whatever came next.

The debrief was a blur of numbers, data, and what-ifs, just how I predicted. The strategy team was already analyzing every moment, trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. 

The logical part of my brain understood everything they were saying, but the emotional part was still screaming that I should have found a way to make it work, no matter what.

I tried to stay focused, answering questions the interviewers made after the debrief session, offering my perspective, but my mind kept drifting back to Dafne. To her words.

After what felt like hours, the interviews finally came to an end. The engineers packed up their laptops, the garage started to empty, and the noise of the paddock began to quiet down. 

I let out a long breath, running a hand through my sweaty hair. My body felt drained, my muscles aching from the tension of the race. All I wanted now was to get out of here, to leave the track behind for the night.

I walked through the door of the garage that led to the paddock, immediately finding Dafne sitting in one of the tables outside the Ferrari hospitality with her laptop in front of her and a hand rubbing her belly. When she saw me, her face lit up with that smile that made everything else seem like background noise.

I walked over to her, my pace slowing as I got closer. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to see her until this moment. She stood up when I reached her, and without thinking, I pulled her into my arms again, holding her tight.

“You okay?” she whispered against my ear.

“I will be” I whispered back, nodding against her neck.

“Let's get out of here” she smiled, holding my hand.

Waking up next to her always felt like a dream. Looking back in time, I can't believe that now it's normal for us to be in the same bed.

Six months ago I woke up next to her, but the aftermath of it was being shouted at by her and the heel of her shoe hitting the back of my head. But now, that moment was left in the past, and now Dafne is my girlfriend, the mother of my son.

I shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating through the sheets. My hand slid over her belly, feeling the gentle flutter of kicks beneath her skin.

“Are you awake, Dorian?” I chuckled softly, closing my eyes.

“He's been awake for hours” Dafne groaned, placing her hand on top of mine, making me chuckle.

“Really?” I sighed, moving close to her belly and kissing it softly. “You should let your mom sleep, little one”

She chuckled, moving her hand to my hair and brushing it with her fingers. I looked up at her, pressing kisses on her belly and smiling.

“I already accept that this last trimester I will barely sleep” she sighed. “There are many things we have to do…”

 didn’t need to say anything; I just held her, feeling Dorian’s tiny kicks against my palm, reminding me that everything was about to change.

She sighed and let me place my arm around her, pressing my chest against her back and my chin on her shoulder. This was like a ritual for us, holding each other before the day starts.

“I talked with Susie” she smiled. “We will have a meeting in a few weeks”

“That's amazing, love” I smiled, kissing her neck. 

She smiled and played with the fingers of my hand, taking a deep breath.

“And… Well… The new house subject” she sighed. 

“You want to talk about it?” I whisper. 

“I think we have to talk about it, yeah” she sighed. “We can't wait until the last minute, Charles. At least… We should buy one and have everything ready for when Dorian comes… Right?”

I took a deep breath and sighed. I could see it in her eyes, she was clinging to every last moment with Athena, as if holding on could delay the inevitable. A part of me wished we could move forward, find the house  and prepare for Dorian’s arrival. But how could I ask her to let go, when I wasn’t sure I could do the same if it were me? The veterinarian that sent us the results of the study said that it would happen anytime, because Athena was older than what Dafne thought.

“Okay” I whisper. “Where should we look, hm?”

“Near Maranello?” she whispered, looking back at me. “Somewhere that is close to your job, so you can be close home too”

“Yeah, I was going to say that too… I don't want to be away from home all the time, only when it is inevitable because of the races” I sighed. “But… What if in the future I leave Ferrari?”

“Would you?” She said surprised, making me chuckle and nod.

“I want to win a championship, Dafne” I whisper. “And if I can't do it with Ferrari, then I have to find a better team”

Somehow, saying those words didn't hurt. It felt right. Now this is the future, Dafne and Dorian are my future. I don't have to be loyal to Ferrari anymore, only to myself and my family.

“I will support you with any color you wear” she said. “No matter the team. I'll always wear number sixteen”

“God, I don't know what I did to deserve you” I smiled softly, kissing her shoulder multiple times. “I don't know what I did to deserve your forgiveness and then have your love… Really…”

“Easy, you knocked me up” she joked, making me laugh. “No, Charles… I… We always loved each other , that's all we need to know. And we were too childish to confront the reality”

“Yeah” I nodded. 

She took a deep breath and turned around, slowly as lately, and I helped her. Dafne looked at me with her sleepy smile, placing her hand on my chest. I smiled looking down at her hand, watching the ring she never took off.

“Athena won't make it, you know?” she whispered, breaking the silence. “Last night Erica sent me a text”

“What?” I frowned, worried. “Dafne, why didn't you tell me…”

“I didn't want to worry you, Charles” she sighed. “And somehow, I accepted it already”

“What is happening with her?” I said, holding her hand.

“Erica said Athena stopped eating” she sighed. “And I'm sure she's searching for places to hide…”

“Oh, love” I sighed, hugging her tightly. “Do you want to go back home? And be with her?”

“I… Yeah” she nodded. “I wouldn't forgive myself if I'm not there for her”

“Okay” I sighed, kissing her forehead. “Then we should get ready, okay? Go take a shower while I reserve the jet and pack what's left on our suitcases”

“Thank you, Charlie” she whispered, sitting on the bed and getting out of it and going to the bathroom.

I sighed, biting my lip and grabbing my phone, immediately texting Erica.

Charles: Any news about Athena?

Erica: She told you?

Erica: She's… well, not eating. 

Erica: I'm trying to give her wet food with a spoon, but she refuses to eat

Charles: Fuck… We are going to leave on a few hours 

Erica: Okay, I'll text Soleil so she can go pick you two up 

Charles: Thank you, Eri

Charles: But… What's should I do? For her?

Erica: Just be there for her, please. She might be smiling, but I'm sure she will be crying if you let her be alone for some seconds 

“Fuck” I sighed, leaving the phone on the bed and looking at the bathroom door.

I got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly. My heart broke immediately when I saw her sitting on the toilet, with her phone in her hands while she looked at pictures in her phone.

“Oh, baby” I sighed, opening the door and walking in, kneeling in front of her.

“I’ll miss her,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She’ll never meet Dorian, Charles.”

“I know, Dafne” I sighed. “I feel bad about it too, but… There's nothing we can do. We tried everything, right? The medicines are not working anymore and we can't keep sending her to the veterinarian, it's too expensive and she's suffering a lot of stress because of it. And I'm not complaining about the money, we have a lot of it, but…”

“But we are spending a lot, I know” she sighed, resting her head against mine. “I just… I wanted to try to make her life a little longer…”

“And we tried, but she's tired, Dafne” I whisper. 

She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around me, hiding her face on my neck. I smiled weakly, rubbing her back with my hand, trying to calm her.

“We’ll be there,” I whispered. “For Athena. For everything. Together.”

When we landed that day, Soleil came to pick us up at the airport, but she wasn't smiling. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was yawning all the time.

I knew there was something wrong, and the moment Dafne squeezed my hand tight, I understood what was happening.

As soon as the car rolled to a stop inside the gates, Dafne was already halfway out, her movements rushed and unsteady. She barely waited for the car to be turned off completely before running toward the house, with her breath catching in the air. I followed her close, feeling my heartbeat drumming in my ears. Erica was in the living room, holding a cup of coffee between her hands, warming her palms.

“Where?” Dafne mumbled. 

“This morning she went to the garden” Soleil said behind us. 

I watched as Dafne took a deep, shaky breath, the hand that held her trembling as she placed it on the couch and the other one holding her belly . Her usual strength seemed to come down as she realized what’s coming next. I wanted to comfort her, to follow, but I knew she needed this moment alone, her last moments with Athena.

“How are you?” I asked Erica, sitting next to her.

“Tired… Sad” she sighed. “Athena is so important for Dafne, I don't even want to know how she's feeling right now”

“She's sad too” I sighed. “She wanted her to meet Dorian, that's the only thing she wanted”

“I know” Erica sighed. 

“I think no one was ready for this” I smiled weakly. “I wanted Athena to meet Dorian too. I wanted my son to grow up with her and wanted to take many pictures of them cuddling. I never had a cat while growing up, and I never thought I ever wanted one… But when I met Athena, I loved her immediately”

“Everyone goes through that” Soleil sighed. “I'm glad Dafne brought her home, that she came home with a cat”

“Yeah…” I nodded.

I took a deep breath, looking at the backyard door and sighed, placing my hands on my knees to impulse myself to get up. I walked out towards the garden, finding Dafne sitting on the grass, looking at the flowers that grew there.

“Dafne” I said softly, standing behind her.

“She's…” she mumbled. “Sit next to me, please…”

I sighed, blinking hard to stop the tears from falling. Dafne was holding her cat in her lap, with the crochet jacket she was wearing wrapped around the small weak body of her cat.

“She's still breathing…” she sighed, leaning on me when I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

“She was waiting for you” I whisper, pressing my lips on her temple. 

“Yeah…”

We sat in silence, the garden air still and heavy, as Athena’s tiny body rose and fell slower with each breath. The scent of earth and flowers lingered, but the world felt distant, as if time was standing still.Her once bright blue eyes were looking at us, somehow telling us that everything was going to be okay.

“I think she knew we were waiting for her” she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the pink nose of Athena. “That we were waiting to find a home for us. I think… I think she knew it was her time to leave, huh?”

“Athena was more than amazing, wasn’t she?” I whispered. “She was with you through everything, your shadow, your comfort, your constant. And somehow, I think she knew it was time to let go… she knew you had a new life to care for, but she helped guide you here. Guide you to us…”

“You think so?”

“I do” I whispered. “You took care of her during all this time, taking her to the vet whenever she was sick. I think pets are with us for a reason. I think something, a God or whatever you want to call it, put her in your way to lead you to this moment. To lead you to us, to our baby”

She gasped softly as Athena’s breathing slowed, then stopped. I held her close to me, feeling how her body started to shake with her soft cries while she hugged the cat between us. The tears came, hot and heavy, as I held Dafne close. Athena had been with her for so long, a bridge between the past and this new life we were stepping into. Now, as her breath stopped, it felt like one chapter closed, and another quietly began.

dafnemorelli 

liked by charles_leclerc, ericamorelli, soleil_morelli and 792.579 others

dafnemorelli Ten years ago I was doing voluntary service in a shelter near Florence with the Prema team while recording a challenge. In that place, I met many dogs and cats, but only one of them stole my heart. 

Athena came to my life when I needed her, right after my grandma passed away, and she has been with me since then. She cuddled me when I felt down and always welcomed me home whenever I came home after a race. She was like a daughter to me, and I thank her for everything she did.

People say that pets come and go into our life for a reason. Athena came to my life to help me go through the loss of someone important to me and stayed with me to teach me how to be a mother, how to take care of someone else, animal or human. When Charles came into my life as my lover and we knew about the existence of our son, Athena knew that it was her time to leave, because she knew that I wasn't alone anymore.

My little baby left this world yesterday's evening, and now she's  sleeping finally in peace between the flowers of my garden, her favorite spot in the world. Charles and I are immensely sad because of this, but we know that she will be with us, taking care of us and our baby.

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charles_leclerc

liked by dafnemorelli, arthur_lecler, violetsinclair and 829.461 others

charles_leclerc This morning, after what happened yesterday, we made a small grave in the backyard for the most amazing cat I ever met. After that, I went to the city because I wanted to give Dafne a small gift.

I told Dafne I was going to a meeting in Maranello, and since her sisters were at home too, I knew she would be in good hands. So, with that, I grabbed the keys of my car and drove to Florence. At night, I was searching for a place to get the gift, and when I found it, I knew I had to go.

I cut some hairs from Athena and saved them in a little bag, keeping it in my wallet. And now those hairs are inside of the necklace I bought her, to keep Athena close to Dafne's heart.

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[listleven]

Simple guide on manifesting ✨

Choosing what you want to manifest. This is genuinely the hardest part. Especially if you are a beginner and you think you choose something a bit out of reach for you.... no. Anything is possible. This is classic but even the word impossible has Im possible in it. The thing with this is if you are trying for the first time and have had bad experiences or are expecting bad you are going to try and go for something more attainable or completely over consume. AND THATS OK. Practice is great. Go for what you think is smaller if it helps you ease. But you can manifest even with doubts bc despite the misinformation you don't need to "feel" like you have it. What happens a lot is people give up and stop persisting when they don't see it in the 3d. So they have "backup options". And then they create this cycle of fear that if they didn't manifest this, will this work?? RELAX!! It will.

Persisting. Of course you've heard a dozen times before but why do you think its so popular. Now here you're going to persist until your desires materialize in the 3d. AKA when your subconscious mind has been impressed. Even in doubt you will persist bc it does not make a difference. You will THINK like the person who has it not feel if you can't. Thats literally it.

TIPS:

In order to think like the person living in the end you can write a story from that POV, affirm, meditate, guided meditations to help you relax, I use subs that use present tense, affirmation tapes, SATs, and sm more.

A little tidbit of my own is affirming that the 3d is no more real than a dream. Im going to make a separate posts in all the ways dreaming and the 3d are so similar. That way you can say stuff like "ah this doesn't matter its just a dream in the true reality I have everything I want." This can also induce lucid dreams because I do reality checks and confirm to myself that im dreaming and immediately start meditating to "ground myself" for 5 seconds by doing this Ive done it in my dreams.

Refocus to the 4d if you're ever in doubt. Everything right now, isn't real not time, or physical objects. Go back to the imagination. Its kind of funny right how everyone gaslighted us into believing imagination is not the reality and we had to "come back to the real world" LMOA its literally vice versa

If you are persisting and don't see it in the 3d, don't you dare give up to manifest something more "attainable" this creates a loop where you go back to number 1 over and over. Remember you already have it. How do you know? Because this is no more real than a dream and you are the validation.

Accept the 4d as the only real reality

If you have had "failed attempts" Revise. Bc in the 4d no you didn't??? Ex. all those failed pure conscious attempts are not real , you actually have induced them in the 4d. If you keep persisting and accept that all those "attempts" worked, the 3d will conform.

Reminding yourself you have something and reality checks are the same thing. The most biggest similarity in the 3d and dreaming is you can control both using the 4d. We all know how reality checks work right. Persisting works the same way. I mentioned this in a previous tip above. I’ll do many reality checks confirming the 3d is a dream (bc it’s not real and stuff) and I’ll “ground myself” this allows me to trigger lucid dreams when I sleep AND I’ll add in something like “ofc I’m dreaming in the true reality I have —-“. That’s literally how manifestation works. If something “ fails” NO IT DIDNT. If you got a bad grade after manifesting in a good one, what? But you did get a good grade. In your 4d the real reality. Remember. Remind yourself that none of this is real. You did get that A. You are dreaming. None of this is real.

There are no such things as failed attempts. That did happen. You did shift. Let’s do a “which reality am I in” check right now. Oh and would u look at that you are in your dr.

I’m definitely going to post more about the last two bullet points to give more clarification.

~ with love, Jyspire