#if you read the whole thing congratulations

[piastrisun]

let me go.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader.

summary: when love becomes a battleground of dreams and unfulfilled desires, sometimes letting go is the only way to find yourself.

genre: angst.

word count: 2.6k.

warning: none.

notes: inspired by s1, ep22 of how i met your mother, ‘come on’. no use of y/n or any names at all. enjoy !! (maybe you won’t).

charles is at the desk you two share in your office, casually typing on the laptop you both share from time to time, when his face tightens in confusion. his eyes scan the screen, eyebrows furrowing as he scrolls through an email. the realization hits him like a wave. your name is in the subject line, followed by the words ‘congratulations’ and ‘art program.’ his heart pounds as he reads further: three months, starting this summer, in new york.

you, unaware of the storm about to hit, stand in the kitchen. the hum of the kettle rising to a boil fills the air, and you mindlessly pour yourself a cup of coffee. your fingers absently trace the rim of the cup, lost in thought. you don’t notice him stand up, the air between you shifting with tension.

“did you apply to an art program? in new york?” his voice is controlled, but you can feel the edge to it, like he's trying to stay calm.

you freeze, the water nearly spilling over the rim of the cup. turning slowly, you meet his gaze. “i just wanted to see if i’d get in, that’s all. i wasn’t going to go.”

he shakes his head, pacing towards you. “but... in new york?” his tone is incredulous, staring straight at you.

“i wasn’t going to take it, anyway,” you respond quickly, the words rushing out, as if saying them fast enough will make them true. you set the cup down on the counter, the clink of ceramic sounding louder than it should.

he takes a step closer, voice softening. “that’s always been your dream, and you’re not taking it, mhm.”

“but there’s a lot of things i’ve wanted to do… and i haven’t done any of them, so” you reply, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if grounding yourself.

his eyes search yours, frustration laced in his next words. “and now? you decide to do it now? with everything we have lined up in the future? we’re about to get married.” his voice lowers, pausing for a moment. “no, you can’t.”

the mention of the wedding makes your chest tighten, a wave of guilt creeping in. “are you forbidding me from going?” your voice is calm, but the hurt is beginning to break through the surface.

he rubs his hand over his face, exasperation clear in his posture. “i never said that,” he mutters, pacing a little, his footsteps heavy on the floor. “but i don’t know, we have a wedding in a few weeks, and i was hoping you would be free that day."

silence stretches between you, the weight of his words sinking in. you feel the heaviness in your chest, like you're stuck between what you owe yourself and what you owe him. finally, you look up, your voice steady. “i’m not asking you to understand. or to be happy about it. i’m just asking for your support.”

his gaze sharpens, and he shakes his head again, frustration mounting. “support you? how can i support you when it feels like i’m losing you?”

your heart skips a beat, and for a second, you’re unsure of how to respond. “you’re not losing me,” you say quietly, but there’s a tremor in your voice, betraying the uncertainty you feel. “i’m still here.”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running his hands through his hair. “you’re still here? you’ve been accepted into a program in new york, for three months. that’s a whole summer. and you didn’t even tell me. you applied without saying a word.”

you bite your lip, guilt flooding through you. “i didn’t want to say anything because i told you, i wasn’t planning on taking it.”

he looks at you incredulously. “then why apply? why even put yourself through the process if you weren’t going to follow through?”

you look away, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you. “i don’t know. maybe i wanted to see if i was still good enough. if i could still be the person i used to be.”

“the person you used to be?” he repeats, his tone a little softer now, but still confused.

you rub your arms, trying to ease the tension in your muscles. “it means... i feel like i’ve built my life around you. around what we’ve built together. i haven’t chased any of the dreams i had when we first met.”

“i never stood in your way,” he counters, his voice quieter now, almost pleading for you to see things from his side.

you take a deep breath, the truth burning on your tongue. “i know. but i’ve settled for the fact that we have a home, and that i got a stable job—one that’s almost mediocre. it sucks, but that’s what i’ve been going through.”

his brow furrows, his voice strained. “i want to understand. i swear i want to understand. but i don’t.”

your throat tightens. you remember the younger version of yourself, eighteen and full of hopes. “do you remember when we met? i wanted to travel the world, study in different countries, learn everything i could. i wanted to be someone, charles. i haven’t been able to be that person anymore.”

“i love you, no matter what. you know that, right? i’ve always loved you.” his hand finds yours, holding it tightly.

you pull your hand away gently, shaking your head. “it’s not about that. i know you love me. i just— i don’t love myself. and i hate that i haven’t done anything for me.”

the silence is crushing until he speaks, his voice small, vulnerable. “but what if you decide that you want to keep pursuing art? and you realise i don’t fit into that world anymore? what if those three months turn into forever?”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “charles...”

his gaze hardens as he leans forward. “because if you can’t promise that we’ll still be us after this, then maybe we should end it now. i’m not waiting three months just to have my heart ripped out.”

you feel the sting of tears in your eyes, your breath catching. “charles, i love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking as the tears finally fall.

he’s silent for a moment, his expression softening as he watches you, but the pain is still there, clear in his eyes. “can you promise me that won’t happen?”

you freeze. everything feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. your chest tightens as the words catch in your throat. “pause,” you plead, needing to stop, needing a moment to think.

he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “no.”

“pause!” you cry out, louder this time, desperate to hold onto something, anything.

he looks at you, hurt and frustration etched in his features. “why do you want us to pause?” before you can answer, you pull him in, kissing him with all the desperation, fear, and love you’ve been holding back. for a second, he hesitates, but then his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. he kisses you back, but there’s a sadness in the way his lips move against yours—like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

as he pulls away from the kiss, your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. you don’t let go of him, your forehead resting against his. his hands stay on your waist, fingers digging in lightly. his eyes are closed, and there’s a tension in his jaw that you can feel, even in this closeness. the silence between you is heavy, filled with things neither of you know how to say.

“unpause,” he whispers, voice rough, his breath warm against your lips. “you can’t just kiss me and expect this to go away,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm, as if he’s forcing himself to break the fragile silence.

you pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the desperation in them mirrors your own, but beneath it, you see the fear too—the fear of losing what you’ve built together, the life you’ve shared, the future you’ve imagined. the moment feels unbearably fragile.

“okay.” you nod, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. “what makes this different from your job, charles? you travel every week for training, races, events. you’re gone a lot. and i’m with you almost every single time.”

he opens his mouth to respond but hesitates, the weight of your question settling heavily. “that’s different. that’s my career, i’m chasing my dreams.”

“and i’m not?” you counter, your voice rising with frustration. “you think i’m just working at a kindergarten because i want to? i love kids, yes, and i love teaching. but i have dreams too. art has always been my passion.”

his eyes flash with uncertainty, but he presses on. “but that’s a commitment. you would be living in another country for three months. we have our lives planned together. our wedding.”

“exactly,” you respond, feeling your heart pound. “you’re pursuing your career while i’m stuck here in a job that doesn’t fulfill me. i wasn’t even going to take the program, but now... it feels like i need to.”

he shakes his head, anger flaring again. “so you’re saying you would rather leave everything behind, including us?”

you take a step back, the pain of his words cutting deep. “i’m not leaving you, charles.”

he runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “and if it changes everything between us? what if you decide you want to stay in new york?”

“i wouldn’t know until i try,” you argue, desperation creeping into your voice. “you’re not giving me a chance to explore who i am outside of our life together.”

his expression hardens, and you feel the air thicken with tension. “then maybe we shouldn’t get married,” he says, his voice cold, an edge of betrayal slicing through the words.

the words strike you like a blow, and you stare at him. “maybe we shouldn’t,” you reply in a firm voice, as if you were sure of what you were saying when in reality you are not. both of you realise what you said and fall into a deep silence, staring into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds.

he clenches his jaw, anger burning in his eyes. “you want to throw everything away just like that? when i’m willing to build a life with you?”

“willing? you’re saying it like you’d do it out of pity!” your voice rises. what at first started as confusion had turned into rage. any word made them both burn inside. “you act like you’re doing me a favor, like my dreams don’t matter unless they fit into your plans.”

“it’s not pity! it’s because i fucking love you.” his fists clench at his sides, desperation flickering in his gaze as he tries to bridge the chasm forming between you.

“love shouldn’t feel like a compromise,” you snap, the heat of the moment fueling your anger. “you’re treating this like a transaction instead of what it really is—a partnership.”

“because it feels like you’re choosing this over reality!” he shouts back, the words slicing through the air. “i can’t stand by and watch you run away when we’ve fought so hard for what we have!”

“fought for what? a life where i can’t even be myself?” you retort, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. “we’ve been together for nine years, and we got together when we were eighteen. of course i don’t know anything but you!”

his eyes narrow, hurt mixed with fury. “so because of that you’d rather chase your move kilometres away than build a life with me?”

“building a life with you doesn’t mean i have to give up mine!” your voice rises, the fear and frustration spilling out. “i want both!”

silence hangs between you, charged with emotion, and the reality of your words feels like a dagger in your chest. the weight of what’s unsaid presses heavily on your shoulders. both of you just stand still there.

“you know you can’t,” he says finally, his voice trembling but full of raw intensity. he takes a step back, the hurt in his expression deepening. “and i know i can’t understand how you want to risk everything we’ve built, everything we are.”

“charles, i’m not risking it! i just wanted to reclaim myself before i lose everything, including you!” the desperation in your voice feels palpable, the stakes higher than ever.

he stares at you, pain twisting his features. “you think this is easy for me? seeing how you can’t choose me the one time i’m asking you to. you think i’m just going to accept that?”

“i didn’t choose it over you! i just want a chance to be myself again. is that so wrong?” you’re pleading now, your heart racing as you see his resolve falter.

his expression hardens again, a wall slamming down between you. “maybe you should have thought about that before you applied. you think it’s all just a game?”

the discussion was taking place in every room, until finally you reached yours. the one you cuddled in, slept in, where you told each other your dreams and talked about how wonderful your life would be when you finally got married.

“don’t you dare put this on me!” you shout, your voice breaking. “you’re the one making me feel like i have to choose! i can’t keep living for you while losing myself!”

“if you’re having these doubts, maybe you don’t really want this life with me at all.” he snaps, each word dripping with anger and betrayal.

the words hang in the air, a finality that feels suffocating. your heart shatters at the thought, and you can feel the walls closing in around you. “i didn’t have any trouble with this engagement until now,” you whisper, the weight of the decision crushing you.

he shakes his head, disappointment etched on his face. “i won’t pretend everything will be okay when you’re clearly not sure about us.”

without thinking, you start to gather your things—clothes, sketches, the remnants of a life shared. each item feels heavier in your hands, a tangible reminder of everything you’re about to leave behind.

tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grasp the reality of the situation. “i love you, charles. but come on.” but even as you say it, you know the truth: you need to find out who you are without him. the realization makes each movement feel like a betrayal, yet you can’t stop packing, each item a piece of your heart that you’re reluctantly setting aside.

“i love you, but—” his expression hardens, anger and hurt merging. “but if you walk out of that door, and we’re done. no second chances. you’ll have everything, but not me.”

“then this is where we end.” you nod slowly, feeling the gravity of his words. “i just needed to figure out who i am outside of our relationship. i’m really sorry you couldn’t even bother to understand it.” you add, voice steady but filled with pain.

as you zip up your suitcase, you turn to take one last look at your flat, your gaze lingering on the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls. smiling faces frozen in time serve as bittersweet reminders of what had just a couple of hours ago.

he doesn’t look at you, unable to meet your gaze, the silence between you heavy with unspoken feelings. you open the door, the cool air rushing in to meet you, a stark contrast to the warmth of what you’re leaving behind. with one last look at the man you thought you’d spend your life with, you step outside, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoes in your heart. as you walk away, the emptiness he leaves behind feels like a gaping wound. you stand in the hallway, your heart heavy, knowing everything has changed in a heartbeat. the future you once envisioned together now hangs by a thread, and all you can do is hope that, in time, both of you will find your way back to each other—or at least to the pieces of yourselves that have been lost along the way.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[feroluce]

Not to make everything about my ship, but if I don't do it no one will, so today we are making meta analysis of Boothill's faceoff match about henghill, because the differences between Boothill's stand off with Luka and his one with Dan Heng- and what you can infer about Boothill himself and what catches his eye in a person- makes me chew concrete.

JUST. I loved the scene between Luka and Boothill so much. I love how wildly unrestrained Boothill is. He really just shoved the barrel of his gun in his opponent's face and put the fear of death into him as a way to test Luka's resolve. I utterly adore him. I hope he does it again. Anyway.

When confronted with all this, Luka freezes. His stress-induced hallucinations were already bad, but you can see how they really ramp up in this match, because before, they were always something familiar. Previous enemies became Silvermanes, or Belobogian automatons, or even Cocolia. Luka is far from home for the first time in his life, and he's so terribly homesick his brain is making everything familiar, because that is what he's desperately craving right now.

But Boothill.

Boothill is something so new, and unique, and horrific and terrifying, that he becomes something entirely unknown to Luka. His hallucination manifests as Something Unto Death, as the very fear of death itself.

And this stand off (which I love so much that this is how this match progressed, because like that's literally just Boothill's in-game skill; he locks the enemy into a one-on-one duel, so this was extremely in character for him) lasts long enough that Owlbert starts having to fill in the silence over the loudspeaker,

and even Boothill himself starts trying to push Luka into making a decision one way or the other.

Given that Boothill is a hunter by trade and is proven to have all the patience to track his prey and then some, this was more for Luka's sake than any impatience on his part, to try to shove him out of his freeze reaction.

And Boothill isn't really hard to read throughout this whole exchange, he all but says outright what he's looking for.

Boothill wants to see him surpass this test and come at him! You can see it in his face when Luka finally takes a step! And in how he congratulates him!

And then he fucking shot him snxhsjksjsn

Boothill admires courage, and bravery, and decisiveness. He admires a person's ability to put their life on the line and still fight in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. Those are the things that catch his eye.

And Luka does kind of get there eventually, but it is a stalling, halting motion that gets him there, and he fell to pieces immediately afterwards. This is his first time with this, and he's still figuring it out.

Dan Heng, on the other hand.

Boothill's stand off with Dan Heng from 2.2 is so fucking far in the total opposite direction that it is HILARIOUS.

Boothill literally breaks into the Astral Express, ambushes Dan Heng, and Dan Heng still has the balls to not only demand info out of Boothill- like doesn't even ask nicely, demands it- he also just straight up calls Boothill a liar. Right to his face! And he still isn't nice about it!!

By the way, that entire conversation? This is how it takes place.

Boothill, phrasing!!

Boothill has him at gunpoint! Dan Heng does not have his weapon with him! He does not flinch, and even stands there with his arms crossed seeming simultaneously pissed and utterly unimpressed. He looks like he should be irritably tapping his foot and looking down his nose at him. Dan Heng could not give less of a shit.

For that matter, Dan Heng even turns his back and walks away from Boothill- right in the middle of him talking, too! Not a single attempt to be considerate of the man who could decide any moment he feels like decorating the wall with Dan Heng's brains.

Dan Heng is brave and courageous and completely unflappable in the face of danger. He is ruthless and decisive in how he conducts himself, even when staring down the barrel of a gun. And through his efforts in Penacony, he shows the ability to put his life on the line and fight through overwhelming odds to save his once-in-a-lifetime companions.

No wonder Dan Heng caught Boothill's eye the way he did, no wonder the two of them were working together and bantering not even minutes after Boothill pulled a gun on him haha

[bedlamsbard]

I have been dealing with how much some people hate Gambit for TEN YEARS and one of these days (not today) I am finally going to snap and pull this story. TEN YEARS. TEN HUMAN YEARS.

[bandzboy]

putting this here just to make people see that this man is completely demented

[sorin-sunchild]

Depressing seeing blogs who claim to be 'all about loving trans people!' and 'omg totally t4t' etc reblogging and making memes claiming yet again that believing that the intersectionality of being a man and trans (or masc and trans) causes unique forms of bigotry to emerge targeted at both those things - is inherently transmisogynistic and ofc indicates that the person loves to harass and bully trans women and blame them for everything.

Instead of, you know, it being coincidental that some of the people who talk about their own oppression with their own word which just happens to be controversial (because some trans feminine and even trans masculine people have a bee in their bonnets due to critically misunderstanding the way the world works) happen to be shitty people.

Maybe it shouldn't be if everyone grew up a bit and learnt that the world is more complex than they think and nothing is black and white.

(also tagging it as transandrophobia to make sure we see how much you hate us is cruel and unusual btw)

[rebornofstars]

Silly Game Time: Who are some of your favorite alien (non-human *and* extra-terrestrial) characters? And what do you like about them?

They can be from sci-fi or fantasy, from other worlds or dimensions or realms. All that matters is that they're not from Earth and that they're not human in any traditional sense (and, most of all, that you find them interesting).

MY FAVOURITE ALIENS. i've been a little bit in love with space since i was 9.

firstly for the definitely non-human:

the doctor. of course. and literally everyone from his show. the weeping angels. the sky fish. nardole. missy. romana. the ood. the list goes on

um. bumblebee. 😅

star wars creatures

estraven from le guin's the left hand of darkness.

d'lacey's erth dragons are from the planet ki:mera

those martians in the war of the worlds. i had a h.g. wells kick halfway through high school. this wasn't my favourite of his works, but it was fun.

and for the recognisably human, but still extraterrestrial, because i really wanted to include these guys:

mara of the acoma from feist & wurts' empire trilogy. she is one of my favourite fictional women ever. in the context of her own series, she's not an alien, but in the context of the riftwar saga (which was published first and contain more elements of feist's mainline plot than the empire trilogy), she is, so. i think she counts.

the mandalorian. i'm not immune to single fathers... or general badassery...

darrow from brown's red rising. born on mars.

todd from the knife of never letting go (book) / chaos walking (movie). i have fond memories of going to see this at the drive-in with a friend when it came out.

actually, this list is shorter than i thought it would be 🥺 there's a couple of other books/movies i love about space but they're all human-focused and mostly about astronauts. if anyone has any recs pretty please drop them below?

[astro-can]

katsuki bakugou

welcome back to *my incredibly controversial opinions on shit*

now i see a lot of comments from people in the MHA fandom going "oh bakugou was ab*sed by his mom when he was younger" and stuff like that and lemme tell you i had a good laugh at that

like i fully respect your opinion IF you think bakugou was 'ab*sed' by his mother, but here's my opinion that you didn't ask for:

first off, yes, bakugou takes after his mom's explosive personality. both are extremely hotheaded, stubborn, violent, and impatient. this is shown when with bakugou, mistuki resorts to smacking him on the head or screaming at him loudly (and bakugou retaliates with the same methods)

but this isn't 'ab*se'. my theory is that mitsuki treated bakugou any way a normal mother would treat their child when he was younger. she would call him sweetie and honey and stuff and be like "ok honey i'm going to take a picture of you, ok? stand still and smile!" and shit like that. i mean she literally has a full book called "katsuki's memories" that she reads (this is canon btw).

however, when bakugou started to grow up and his resentment for deku started to grow as well, he started going through his 'rebellious teenager phase'. when people go through this, they become more ignornant, especially of their parents. and yeah, i think thats when mitsuki and bakugou started fighting.

since mitsuki and bakugou have the same personality, they often clash a lot. for example, they are both stubborn, so if they were fighting over an opinion, they would STICK to THEIR OWN opinion, and one thing would lead to another. my own mother and older brother are like this. my brother gets his personality from my mom, so they find it hard to agree with each other on stuff and they fight a lot.

also, mitsuki would fight back because she only wants the best for her son. "respect your son, dammit!" if bakugou said that, mitsuki would probably reply, "only if you respect your mother first!!" like i said. rebellious teenager arc. mitsuki has the full right to get angry. if i had a son like bakugou, we would be screaming our heads off at each other 24/7, 365.

ALSO, mitsuki's calls her son 'weak' and 'helpless' because he got captured by the LOV, and people are like "gasp omg aB*sE" like no mitsuki's simply being harshly honest. she knows how big bakugou's attitude, pride, and envy can be, and she's calling him out for that. people are literally overanalyzing it like "oh i bet they didn't even care when he got captured" bitch it literally says his parents were worried sick when he got captured. someone said "whErE wErE tHeY wHeN hE gOt cApTuReD?" like what you want some non-heroes to burst in on some destructive, evil villains and somehow save their son without any experience?? bffr all they can do is provide the police and actual heroes info on their son and stay at home and be concerned.

so yeah thats my opinion. bakugou was not ab*sed.

todoroki on the other hand--

[bulbtooth]

IM FREE

[theliterarygnat]

THE SHADOW OF THE GODS BY JOHN GWYNNE

2.5-3/5 stars | Major Spoilers Should have been three decent books instead of one that's kinda shit

____________________________________

This is a long review, full of spoilers, and it is more a way to vent than something meant to help readers decide whether they want to pick up this book or not. I am of the very unpopular opinion that while this book has some solid concepts behind it, their implementation and execution is not really that good. However, this novel still resonated with many people, and so I do not think that my dislike/lack of enjoyment should be a discouragement to those interested.

There are things worth enjoying in this book. The Shadow of the Gods (henceforth TSOTG) features a world inspired by the old North of the viking ages, and this Norse aesthetic is extremely strong throughout. If you liked The Witcher by Andrzej Sapkowski for its mood, its cynical realist setting, and the melancholy tone throughout (especially in the short story collections), then I think you will find the world and setting of TSOTG to be very compelling. John Gwynne is a reenactor and it shows, both in the enthusiasm and detail with which he writes, and the incredible amount of research and inspiration that has been packed into this book. Every page seems to have been a labor of love and joy. Daniel Greene of BookTube fame has described TSOTG as “an author’s baby” (pos.), “something that the author has wanted to put out for so long” and I do agree with this assessment!

However. Unlike Greene, who came to this conclusion because he enjoyed the book, I had the very same thought because I was questioning whether this book or not was Gwynne’s debut. I never read Gwynne, this being my first book from him, and I knew nothing about him before I picked up the book solely based on the cover and the blurb. While reading the story I did actually look up whether Gwynne was established as an author or had published anything, because there were many things on a conceptual or a executive level that felt somewhat juvenile and maybe even inept; they just seemed to me to be hallmarks of a beginner author. He did publish many works before this, but like Greene said, it feels like Gwynne has worked on this book for so long I wonder if the concept predates the books that predate this one.

My closing thoughts for this non-spoiler introduction is this: go to your local library or pirate a copy of this online, and if you can get through like 100 or so pages, consider buying it (if you pirated a copy). The build-up is slow, but I think if you accept it and can get through that 100 pages, you might find at least some nuggets to enjoy here.

Now, on to the spoilers, and the vent proper:

This book is SO frustrating. Whilst reading I so often thought to myself that this could have been good had these stories and characters been explored in standalone novels in a much bigger series rather than a trilogy. Much of the weakness of this story comes from the lack of pagetime and space to build things up proper and give them a satisfying pay-off. The stories of the characters also do not connect in such big ways that the multi-POV gimmick is useful in any way; there is little to no overlap in characters, locations, events, or themes, and especially in the beginning there is a drastic difference in the pace of the three stories, which messes with the pacing of TSOTG as a whole. This lack of interconnectedness makes the multi-POV structure extremely tiring. I find it unnecessary and, as my rating and previous words imply, I think it detracts from what Gwynne could have achieved.

The characters we follow are: Orka, a mother and warrior; Varg, an escaped thrall (slave); and Elvar, a mercenary slaver. I think that Orka’s story should have been told first, Varg’s second, and Elvar should have just been removed and replaced wholesale, or at the very least overhauled as a character in her entirety. I will talk about each POV character on their own first, with general notes and criticisms included in each section as they become relevant, with more prose and world-building-related thoughts afterwards.

ORKA

Orka is the first POV character. Her story is slow to start, but it goes through three stages: living the normal life, the inciting incident, the revenge plot. This not an unusual structure, but it being interjected with Varg’s and Elvar’s POVs, all of which have started at different point sin their lives, develop at different paces, does make it feel slower than it already is. The multi-POVs distract and detract from each other rather than supporting each other, and I felt it gruesomely when it came to Orka. It is not that I disliked her chapters, but I felt like the thought put into the development and presentation of her story has suffered the most because of how little space there was to explore it.

With Orka, I think that laying the groundwork pre-inciting incident is important. Mostly because it’s almost necessary for the revenge plot to be enjoyable. Orka has built for herself a life as peaceful as this world has to offer with her husband, Thorkel, and her son, Breca. We learn throughout her POV that Orka and Thorkel both have at some point been thralls and warriors, bloodied and brutal and violent, and they have left that life behind. Thorkel with more success than Orka. She is still haunted by her past, and it actually affects her ability to be a good mother. She is emtoionally stunted and prone to lashing out, either in words or in actions, such as slapping Brace, because she was worried and angry that he’d run off in the night to tend to an injured monster-critter when they know they are child-abductors around. Thorkel is actually the one with emotional intelligence, who shows the greatest range of emotions and care and gentle affection. It’s an interesting dynamic, especially because Orka appreciates this fact about her husband. Respects and desires it for herself even. While I didn’t find their relationship to be particularly romantic or appealing, I did like that Orka was the one that was struggling to be a good parent.

Exploring her in her time of peace and as a parent is very important, because the revenge-plot is not about her growth, it is about her regression. And therein lies the greatest frustration: this exploration is shitty.

From the very first chapter, the reader knows exactly where the story is going. Gwynne is very heavy-handed when it comes to Orka and Varg. With Orka, it is abundantly clear that her inciting incident, what will set her off to join Varg and Elvar at some point, is the death of her husband and the abduction of her child. Gwynne then tries very hard to get you to care about Thorkel the husband and Breca the son, and it so clear that he needs you to care about them, that he is going out of his way to make them appealing. He makes Thorkel a whipped husband and a caring, gentle father; Breca an inquisitive child too kind and soft for this world. Because I already knew where Orka’s story was going and what would happen to these characters, I found myself growing frustrated that it was taking us so long to actually get to the point, and I actually disliked the characters because of how hamfisted they felt.

The inciting incident of Orka’s story is also the main reason why I thought this had been Gwynne’s first novel ever written. It hinges on the existence of Froa; a tree spirit that guards Orka’s family and home, whom Orka respects enough to seek advice from when territorial tensions rise and war seems imminent. Because Orka goes to get that advice, she leaves her steading and family for a little while, and during that little while, her home gets raided, Thorkel killed, and Breca is abducted.

Froa is introduced in the very same chapter her existence leads to the biggest turning point in Orka’s story, and we don’t even get to see her; she’s dead. Froa is literally nothing but her supposed existence has a massive impact. She comes out of fucking nowhere and feels like something Gwynne pulled out of his ass to get Orka out of her home. The fact he couldn’t find something more organic or relevant to what was going on in Orka’s story so far was honestly mindboggling and made me stop reading for some time. It is such a beginner’s mistake. I can understand that the concept might have been “the most horrible things can happen for the most insignificant reasons”, but this was not the best execution.

After Orka’s inciting incident, Orka quickly starts to regress. It is obvious that she is returning to her old ways. It gets extremely cheesy and even outright campy sometimes, because you will get lines of Orka thinking “I am death. I am vengeance”, and it reads like a meme. It’s just… not really that good? But at least it seems kind of in character for her, which cannot be said for some other things that I will explore more indepth in a different section. The main saving grace of Orka’s story is that she has two sidekicks, Mord and Lif, who play off of her quite decently. They showcase her as something of a grouchy old aunt, which gives her more dimension than if she had been left alone. However, I see many readers say she becomes very flat, and yeah; her reactions are predictable, her brash nature can get boring, and her regression isn’t the most compelling or even terrifying because of how shallow the exploration of her character had been in the build-up to the vengeance. Still, Orka is one of the more enjoyable POV characters. She and her story would have made for a good standalone book, if Gwynne took the time to develop and pace and plan the story out better, changing the order of events and injecting some more life and thought into the early story.

VARG

My beloved. He would have been a wonderful 2nd installment if TSOTG got split into three distinct books; his story ties into Orka’s in the very last chapter in such a way that we actually meet her again, and there are some small bridges connecting his tale with both Orka or Elvar’s stories, making him a good mid-point between the two. He is honestly the best thing about this book.

While the stakes in Orka’s story were foreshadowed in a very heavy-handed way, Varg keeps nothing secret; the reader knows immediately what his deal is (runaway slave looking for a way to learn who killed his sister so he can avenge her) and what the stakes are (getting caught and forced back into slavery if he fails). That isn’t to say that his story isn’t weak or that it is exceptionally strong. I just have a preference for his archetype, and I found him extremely compelling and sympathetic due to his circumstances. I was enamoured enough that his sister’s death didn’t register to me as fridging, even though I wouldn’t deny that it can fit into that trope commonly found in men’s stories.

The thing about Varg is this; his vengeance is his driving motivation, but it is not really the point of his story. Varg quickly falls in with the Bloodsworn, a warband of warriors who protect him from his potential slavers and accept him into their midst, teaching him how to fight and be a part of the team. Varg is adorably absent-minded; he forgets to put on his helmet and unsheathe his spear in his first big fight, but he still has the guts to try unconventional attack-strategies, and this works out well for him. He has this scrappy, kicked-dog feel about him. He is also very obviously not just a human; I had theorized from the very beginning that he was one of the Tainted, and it is made almost painfully obvious to the reader. This got tiring, but not as outright frustrating as him constantly passing out at the end of his chapters. Did it happen in every single one? No. Did it happen often enough to be annoying? Yes.

But I am getting off-topic. While every single thing Varg does and goes along with is, in the end, motivated by his quest for vengeance, his story is more about him finding his way in the world, about becoming a free man and learning what that means, growing into himself while surrounded by a new family, new friends, new allies. Varg is generally very easy to root for and was the highlight of the book for me. Especially given the fact he is surrounded by some of the more enjoyable side-characters. I love Svik, Einar, Røkia, and Golnir, and pretty much everyone else in the Bloodsworn warband.

There is the downside of everything feeling a little shallow, in part because of the writing style and how little time we spend with these people. I also found myself surprised by how quickly some characters accepted Varg, but that was somewhat resolved by the “big revelation” (to Varg) that he is Tainted. I actually like how this goes down. Gwynne assumes the reader has known this, and so he doesn’t make the reveal something big; he makes Varg’s reaction to this reveal big, the main focus, and it is a choice I applaud him for. The fact that all of the Bloodsworn are Tainted is great. It also explains why Torvik would be so quick to call Varg brother; they both could have been the descendants of the same god, making them true blood-kin brothers in a way.

Varg’s story is still flawed. After he is saved from becoming a slave again, he is not exactly aimless (since he is still looking for a way to avenge his sister), but the stakes are… gone. Kind of. Varg’s story depends on the reader caring for him and just wanting to see how he deals with the life he is thrust into. Nothing horrible is really going to happen if the Bloodsworn reject him and he does not get the aid he wanted from them to learn about his sister’s murder. At worst he might die, sure, but that isn’t related to his quest wholesale; him being a warrior trainee and him seeking vengeance feel like two separate things in a way, which makes his story very slow, without really many scenes or skirmishes relevant to the larger, overarching tale of this world.

Despite this, Varg made this book significantly more enjoyable than if he wasn’t included. His chapters were the light I needed to guide and motivate me to finish this book. His is a flawed story still, but these flaws are minor compared to Orka (in the beginning at least) and Elvar. Speaking of Elvar…

ELVAR

Elvar should not have been the POV character. She doesn’t have anything actually going for her, nothing to make her interesting. With Orka, you know what’s going to happen, but you still want to see it; the violence, the brutality, the depths she will fall to as long as she gets her son back. It’s a dark pull. With Varg, you want him to heal and grow, want to see how his story will unfold. With Elvar, there’s… really nothing.

She is a warrior of the Battle-Grim, a warband of mercenary slavers. Her first chapter is them hunting down and enslaving a man, abducting his family to keep the whole lot under their thumb, and Elvar just… doesn’t have any thoughts on this. She’s completely brain empty up in here. This is frustrating because we later learn that what Elvar ran away from was a life of servitude; her father wanted to marry her off for political ties and power, but she didn’t want to be a “brood bitch”, so she ran away to make a life for herself, to gain reputation and fame on her own merits. She specifically escaped because she didn’t want to be a pawn in somebody else’s game, didn’t want to be a servant, a slave. But she has no thoughts about being a slaver? She doesn’t care about those she hunts down and collars, doesn’t feel any sympathy or empathy, any connection, any regret or conflict when she forces others into the life she escaped from?

Elvar only wants one thing in this story: fame. Well, she wants two things if you count the money too, but she speaks of “battle-fame” the most. She wants to be known, to have a legacy, to live forever in the saga-tales and songs of skalds.That’s fine to some degree. However, Elvar lacks depth, she lacks interest, she lacks any reason to root for her or be invested in her as a character. Even Greene, who I mentioned has liked the book, does not mention her once in his review, despite making the claim that Orka and Varg would become big and popular amongst those in Gwynne’s audience. Elvar does not have the makings of a protagonist; but she would be a decently interesting side/supporting character.

Speaking of side-characters; hers are not that great. Elvar’s story is actually the one that grows to be the most connected to the event that this book is supposedly building towards; the freeing of an imprisoned god. However, most of the characters are as one-note as Elvar, with nothing to characterize them besides the desire to be rich and famous. They are all, like Elvar, mercenaries and slavers, and the leaders and high-rankers within the Battle-Grim are especially shown as being unpleasant at best to their slaves. Elvar is also extremely uninterested int he slaves; she had not known the name of Ilmur, and referred to him only as “the Hundur-thrall” (demigod descendant of the dog god (and also slave)) for her whole fucking story; it is not until Biórr, a major supporting character, informs her the slave’s name is Ilmur that she realizes she didn’t even think about the slave having a name.

Elvar is also kind of just. Stupid.

Elvar’s one and only personal conflict nearly made me throw the book out. The Battle-Grim go to the highest bidder to sell their newly-captured slave, and that highest-bidder happens to be Elvar’s father. He is a jarl and the one who planned for her to become a “brood bitch” for political connections. She has never, not even once, thought about her family up until her blood-relation to the man is revealed. It is clear when she does actually think back on her relationship with her father that there is no love lost between them. Her father’s just straight up a dick; a manipulator, a liar, someone who did not care for her, someone to whom she was a pawn. Gwynne slams the reader over the head with this. Elvar’s father offers Elvar something she had once wanted in the past; her own warband of drengr, elite warriors she would lead. There a whole fucking chapter dedicated to Elvar figuring out what choice to make. Should she stay with her chosen kin, the Battle-Grim, whom helped her achieve everything she ever wanted, with whom she has bled and fought and sheltered, with whom she earned battle-fame and coin on her own merits and skill; or return to a family that she knows is prone to manipulation and lies to get… the same thing she already has, except gifted to her instead of earned. Earning something on her own merits has been her core motivation this whole time!

Wow. what a hard choice it must be. I am saying this with the utmost sarcasm. This """dilemma""" is so fucking hollow and underdeveloped and a waste of everyone's time. It's a waste of my time, a waste of Gwynne's time, a waste of the pages and words that could have been better used for something and someone else. I hate this. It's so bad. It's not compelling, it's not deep, and it makes Elvar just seem like a stupid fucking idiot for needing to BE TOLD by somebody else that HEY. THIS GUY? YOUR FATHER? HE'S KIND OF A LYING CUNT. YOU KNOW THIS. DON'T TRUST HIM.

I wish this was removed. I wish Elvar was removed. Her installment is weak and lackluster and unnecessary. Her story has two supporting characters that I think would have worked better as protagonists, would have been more compelling. There is Grend, Elvar’s taciturn protector and bodyguard oathsworn to her, who I think could offer a lot of wisdom and interesting perspective whilst running after Elvar. She could still be the star of the show (though that’s quite unnecessary), and I think that she'd genuinely be more interesting as a side-character instead of a main one. The other character I think could have replaced her is Biórr. Biórr is the only member of the Battle Grim that seems to care about the thralls on their team; he learns their names and is kind to them. He is also not actually a Battle-Grim; he infiltrated their ranks to aid a different warrior group defeat them. He has so much going for him, I wish we'd have followed him instead. Especially because he was the only one I was rooting for! Sure, I didn't give a fuck about him until he, rather angrily, informed Elvar of the fact Ilmur had a name, since she was dehumanizing and objectifying the guy to hell and back, but after that? Chef's kiss, Biórr was the highlight of the story, and I cheered when he killed the leader of the Battle-Grim. I wish Elvar the worst because maybe then she'll actually grow into someone interesting to follow. I do not plan on reading The Hunger of the Gods but the fact Biórr DOES supposedly have a POV there is tempting me.

Another thing about Elvar that doesn't work is that she's just... irrelevant. Her story ties into the Big Event of the book mostly by accident. Elvar wants to be famous, so she goes looking for fame, and accidentally gets caught up in a different group's ritual to free the god. Elvar is Just Kind of There. Her motivation is shallow, her involvement is weak, and she has nothing interesting to say or do thematically.

Elvar gets 1/5 stars from me. That one star is Biórr.

THE PLOTTING; A CONTINUATION

Like I have already pointed out, both Orka and Elvar have some scenes (or, rather, entire chapters) that make no sense or are dissatisfying; Orka’s thing with Froa feels like an asspull, and Elvar just loses braincells and any possible respect I’d have had for her. There’s not actually too many scenes like this, ones that are offensively horrible, but there are many that are just… very weak.

One is in the very beginning. It’s the first infodump in the story, and it is both a) too early, and b) irrelevant and unnecessary.

This infodump comes in the form of Breca, Orka’s son, asking his father Thorkel to tell him a story about Snaka the Snake, whose calcified bones have become a massive mountain range across the landscape. I get what Gwynne was trying to do. He was trying to justify the infodump by combining it with characterization; showing the reader that Breca is inquisitive and obsessed with the gods and heroes and their tales, and that Thorkel is a softie. But that is not enough. It is not executed well enough, it is not timed well enough, and it is simply not necessary. We could already tell Thorkel was gentler and kinder than Orka, and this characterization continues throughout Orka’s chapters, making this moment nothing special. It also doesn’t reveal any profound depths in Breca’s character. It’s too early in the story, it’s in an awkward spot, and it's entirely redundant. Breca had just missed a spearthrow during his first proper hunt. He is upset by this, which we seemingly forget just to have him ask about Snaka. But then we return to that dejection he feels when Thorkel goes out of his way to comfort him. This infodump feels out of place, like a random interjection. Breca’s obsession with saga-tales could have been explored in this moment instead; Thorkel could have told Breca some story about his favorite hero or god learning and failing at doing something they later became good or even the best at for comfort; boom! Both characters have their personalities expanded with a strong emotional undertone of a father comforting his child, with lore being dropped at the same time.

We could of course just not include any of that, and the story would be fine. It just felt like an enthusiastic and inexperienced author's attempt at worldbuilding that ended up as subtle as a piano crashing onto the pavement. It was not a bad concept (using infodumps for characterization) but the execution was lacking.

This is true for most of this novel. The execution is never really satisfactory, but I can imagine the concept Gwynne is trying to breathe life into here; but little of it works, and that’s a big shame! This is going to sound horrible, but the only time I had anything good to say about his plotting and prose was on page 436. Throughout the book, Gwynne does a lot of telling of some things I would have preferred being shown, like Elvar’s thought-process when presented with her personal conflict and Einar sharing some bread with Varg. This telling and no showing grated on my nerves, especially because the prose is, while inoffensive, not the most evocative or emotionally engaging, and thus depends on showing to create depth. On page 436, there is a callback that is in some ways similar to these mentioned tells, except it actually hearkens back to a scene that WAS depicted earlier in the story! I was so surprised that Gwynne knew what a callback is and how to implement it well… which is genuinely a rude thing to be surprised by, especially with how rudimentary that writing device is, but I truly thought he just wasn’t capable of executing it well, and so I think it’s the fact that I actually liked that scene that surprised me.

THE PROSE AND SOME OTHER STUFF

The way Norse is used honestly cheapens the story. Incredibly so.

Because of the setting, I have assumed that the characters either speak Norse or a modernized version of Norse, and that the Norse we see written on the page is either a) untranslated for the purposes of the audience to signify when magical words are being used, or b) untranslated because in-universe it's the equivalent of someone speaking Late Middle English. Gwynne never clarifies in-book what language is spoken or if multiple languages exist, as even though there is a different continent with Slavic-named characters, I cannot recall a language barrier or the mention of any accents or dialects. As such, when Gwynne writes shit like 'Gudfalla the godsfall', which to the characters would have sounded like 'Gods-fall the godsfall', I am Very Annoyed and Frustrated.

Especially because this happens all the time! Especially with the gods! Do you wanna know what the eagle god is called? Orna. Do you know what Orna means? Eagle. She-Eagle if you want to be very specific. So you have She-Eagle the Eagle, Rat the Rat (Rotta), Wolf the Wolf (Ulfrir), Hound the Hound (Hundur), etc. The only god that doesn't fit this shitass, middle-grade level naming system is Lik-Rifa, who's name means 'corpse-tearer/corpse-ripper', who is a dragon. Good for her. Except I couldn't help but have war flashbacks to Lightlark's naming system, (Wildling, Starling, Sunling, Moonling, Nightshade...>). This was just horrible. We also have two brothers literally named Murder and Life (Mord and Lif). One of Elvar's brothers is named Brodir, which literally means 'brother'. The only time this horseshittery works is with Iskalt Island, because it translates to 'Ice Cold Island' and, if nothing else, it made me cackle for five minutes straight. Granted, it was at the book, but at least that was enjoyable.

The prose itself is otherwise generally inoffensive. I noticed that the word 'rippling' got used a lot, which was distracting, but I think it's just me. There were also some moments where the prose did feel repetitive, like when Varg and Einar fought; there was the imagery of 'hammers' and 'hammer-fist' and fists hammering, and it got tired very quickly. My biggest gripes is the amount of italics and 'thought-cage'. Some words are always italicized, such as brynja and drakkar and more, and it was unnecessary and a little annoying really. Italics enforce tone and emphasis, and having these things be emphasized over and over again is just plain frustrating. They should have been emphasized once when used for the first time to clue the reader into them being special, but no more than that. And thought-cage.... for whatever reason, Gwynne decided that he would replace the word 'mind', 'head', and 'brain' with 'thought-cage', and I just do not get it, because all three of these words exist in this world. What the purpose was I don't fucking know.

See, I started reading this novel because the premise interested me, but I like to be prepared for what might work and what might not, so I watched multiple reviews on YouTube. Both good and bad. And the thing that came up over and over again was the hate of the word 'thought-cage'. I thought to myself that surely, it cannot be that bad, Gwynne is definitely trying to achieve something here that he might have overdone but that still has importance and relevance and a reason! No. I was deluding myself. I had this whole theory about it. I thought that 'thought-cage' would be either something unique to Orka and Thorkel or something very specific; something that warriors deal with, a different word for trauma perhaps, where you are paralyzed or stuck in a pattern or feeling or catastrophic thoughts, like getting triggered; or maybe it was about Orka's pessimistic and depressive and cynical thinking and how she'd get stuck in circles and 'thought-cage' was a word Thorkel invented and she'd use it often in her narration as a call-back to her lover...

No. Nope! None of that. Everyone uses it for everything. Sometimes it feels like Gwynne is purposefully writing sentences just so he can include 'thought-cage' in them. It's clunky, it's distracting, and it's unnecessary, and it's bad.

Still, despite all this, I don't think I can say that this is a badly written book. It's just... serviceable? Middling. I can neither recommend it due to my own lack of enjoyment for so much of it, but I also cannot say to stay away; there are elements with much appeal, and while I called much of the writing juvenile and inept, Gwynne can write well. It's just that he also plots shit. Overall this was just a frustrating read with a lot of squandered potential. I wish Gwynne took the plunge and dedicated himself to writing these POVs as standalone novels or novellas in a fantasy series (it could have been a whole ass 3 books to just introduce the readers to the world and its players, then multi-POV sequels following that; kind of like the Percy Jackson novels) instead of a comparatively small trilogy. If he was given more room to explore, these stories would have been much better developed, plotted, and executed. Hopefully. But this is not the reality of this book, and The Shadow of the Gods remains a dissatisfying, disappointing read.

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s

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🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈

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SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK

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They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.

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Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass

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Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes

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...i just woke up, why is my askbox full

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WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED

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guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed

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do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard

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easy website

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Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you

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Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.

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Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you

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Oh no I think she couldn't handle that

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✌ draftdodgerdyke

DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.

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You should be ashamed of yourself.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

huh??

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I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Jesus, don't flip your wig

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My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.

#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft

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in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly

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#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus

idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post

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The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.

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Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.

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help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post

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I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!

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🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287

Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!

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it literally does tho

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Another win for us hot guys

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[johnbly]

the way that getting into period dramas has made me more inclined to believe that i am actually ace is funny

[weeknd-ogoc]

AMERICAN JESUS 𐙚 LOGAN SARGEANT

SUMMARY: in which logan feels like you're the only one who believes in him.

(inspired by nessa barrett's song, american jesus)

FACE CLAIM: nailea devora

CONTAINS: spanish!reader, o'ward!reader, lando being messy, small smut scene; unprotected sex, missionary, praising & a small angst scene due to an argument.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hope you guys like it!! 💙

yn_oward

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username my NEW favorite couple!

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𐙚

"god, i don't deserve you." logan quietly whispered as he hugged your sleeping body just a bit more tighter.

every now and then he would think back to the day the two of you had met — it was really love at first sight for him but you on the other hand, it took you a good while to really notice him.

he was just a rookie and you were the younger sister of pato o'ward who was in the mclaren indycar team, zak brown had invited you to the mclaren garage every now and then so you were hanging out with people like lando and your brother's good friend, checo.

soon enough you were hanging out with oscar and he found this as an opportunity to finally introduce himself to you.

"they're good friends..." oscar told him as they ate and at the table in front of them sat lando and you. "pretty sure lando has a thing for her but she's hard to read so i'm not sure if she does."

logan was ashamed to admit that this moment was when he sort of became jealous of lando.

oscar knew him for years now so he knew how to easily read him, he had a crush on you. "just talk to y/n, she's really sweet so it's not like she's going to ignore you or something."

so when it was time to go logan held the door open for you and you smiled at him.

"such a gentlemen, thank you!" you smiled and turned back around to lando who was eyeing the whole interaction between the two of you. "you've never opened the door for me."

as time went on he saw you show up to more races — you never went into the williams garage but he still managed to bump into you and you guys even exchanged numbers at one point.

"captain america!"

alex and lily saw the little smile that appeared on logan's face when he saw you walking towards him.

they both thought you guys would be so cute together.

"congratulations on getting your first points!" they overheard, also seeing the hug you gave him and how quickly he was to wrap his arms around your waist and gently twirl you around. "i told you that you had nothing to worry about!"

𐙚

logansargeant recently added to his story

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[caption: my future wife and my son 💙]

[tagged: yn_oward]

replies to your story

username omgg are you guys engaged??

yn_oward pls i look like death 🤠

logansargeant hush! you look beautiful as ALWAYS!!

username cuties!

username break up with her

oscarpiastri wow you're a dad before me

patriciooward slow your roll brother, you haven't met me yet.

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logan sargeant was known to be quite the gentleman but all chivalry leaves his body when he had you sprawled out and trembling as his dick drilled into you at a steady pace.

his confidence in himself had gone significantly down since they chose alex to drive his car in australia this weekend and now there was rumors of a certain boy from formula 2 possibly replacing him.

"tell me again." he whispered as he pulled himself out of you, leaving his tip right at your entrance.

you whined from the loss of the feeling. "log plea-"

"tell me again." he pressed light kisses onto your cheek. "please, i need to hear it from you, always you."

aside from alex placing eleventh in his car and the rumors, lando had gushed to you about his pole position and decided to go find you after he placed p3 just to give you a hug, giving him a smirk right after letting you go.

"i love you and i believe in you."

he pushed back into you right after those words leading you to scratch down his very toned back and lock your legs behind his waist.

"god, i really don't deserve you." he said right before picking up his pace and hitting your sweet spot continuously soon leaving the both of you to see stars.

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williamsracing

liked by yn_oward, patriciooward and 30,342 others

williamsracing home soil hits different 😮‍💨 #f1

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yn_oward i pledge my allegiance to this man 🫡

logansargeant really babe yn_oward ilyyy !!

username replace him already

alex_albon my captain america 🫡

yn_oward amen logansargeant i hate you guys

username good luck in qualifying!

username 🦅🦅

patriciooward you got this!

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"i'm such a dumb fuck!" you overhead logan say as he placed nineteenth in qualifying for the sprint.

it completely broke your heart listening to him say that about himself because you knew he had what it took to get into a good position but since the team was always prioritizing alex it was making him lose his confidence.

so it left him feeling uneasy for the next two days because he really wanted to get points in and make everyone proud of him, make you proud of him.

the day of the race you made sure to give him a good peptalk and he nodded along to your words, kissing your forhead. "you're right i got this, what am i even worrying about?" and just before he could tell you that you were his good luck charm, alexandra was calling you due to the girls wanting to meet up to see the puppies together on the paddock. "go. i'll come get you before we have to go back into the garage."

after a good fifteen minutes of girl gossip and the puppies playing together — you had noticed a blue and an orange figures talking in the distance, you knew how lando was towards logan so you decided you should go stop their conversation incase it wasn't going well.

"ugh they're adorable, maybe i should tell pierre to get us one." kika said as she looked at both yours and alexandra's puppies play around.

just a few minutes before that logan had just ended his small discussion with alex and james, he was looking for you but instead bumped into lando instead.

"logan! i was looking for y/n, do you know where she is?"

"she's with the girls showing off our dog." logan emphasized the word our to him.

"oh right, oscar told me about that." he popped a chip into his mouth and patted logan's shoulder. "so when did you guys become a thing? we used to talk all the time and she never even mentioned you guys talking."

logan knew he wasn't the best liked on the grid so he knew you weren't going to get the best support through social media and you knew how protective your brother was over you that you guys decided to keep your relationship a secret for awhile.

"right, i actually asked her out during the mexican grand prix last year and we just decided to keep things quiet."

"so that's why she cancelled our date over there." lando popped another chip in his mouth and nodded. "keeping a girl like her a secret mus-"

"hey babe should we start heading to the garage?" logan felt a pair of arms wrap around him and felt his building up anger, wash away. "hey lan."

"hey, i was looking for you but we can talk later..." he smiled at you and looked back at logan. "well see you on the track and good luck out there."

he rolled his eyes as soon as lando walked off and began walking with you towards the garage to get ready before the race started — you knew that interaction probably bothered him because he was being extremely quiet which was rare for him.

he felt his hands a bit clammy after you handed him his helmet and before he could put it on he gently kissed you. "quit being nervous, you're going to do great."

he nodded kissing you once more. "see you in a bit."

once the race began, you had been watching him through the screen nervously since he was doing pretty good — you had hope he would do good so the both of you could be in high spirits to move into your new condo in new york.

"are you sure you want to move in with me? i drool sometimes." you giggled as logan twirled you around. "and your son tends to snore sometimes."

"i know, you've drooled on me a few times already." he chuckled and nodded. "i don't know i'm going to get any sleep around you guys but i'll manage."

as you focused you attention back into the race you saw kevin magnussen make logan spin out of the race and you knew it was going to be such a hard week for him.

𐙚

logansargeant

liked by sebastianvettel, alex_albon and 121,311 others

logansargeant we're new yorkers now or whatever 🤎

tagged: yn_oward

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username happy for you guys!!

patriciooward i think its rude, you guys never show off my beautiful fur nephew

yn_oward you can facetime him and see him chewing up our shoes patriciooward smh you guys always make that litte man out to be a menace 😭

username i think i bent my phone a little

alex_albon lily is asking for a sleepover

logansargeant y/n said come asap in pajamas

username im glad to see a smile on your face after sunday!

username bye you're so lucky to have her logan

logansargeant i know 🙂

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after only four days since moving in, logan and you had already had your first fight which resulted you giving him the silent treatment that afternoon.

even though logan tried to put on a happy face you knew what happened on sunday was still bothering him but he didn't want to talk about it. "quit asking, i am fine!" he didn't mean for it to come out as loud as it did and he sighed looking back up to you. "look i-"

you didn't let him finish his sentence and walked into your shared bedroom with the dog following behind you — he pretended that your silence didn't bother him but it did and with all this silence he found himself thinking about the dnf and how this was most likely the end of his career.

he remembered you wrapping your small arms around his waist as he watched the rest of the race in silence. "it wasn't your fault amor."

at least he still had you right?

"it's a landmark day for lando, lando norris wins for the first time in formula one!" he scoffed as he overheard and excused himself from everyone. "it's victory in miami for norris and mclaren!"

he couldn't help but to think about lando — i mean he had a good team an even better car than him, he had the looks, his best friend and he knew the british boy wanted you.

but then he thought lando could never have you because you had eyes on him only and he was always letting his jealousy get into his head that he kept forgetting.

so the next morning you finally decided to leave the room quietly to walk your puppy and saw logan with a pout on his face. you had expected him to come crawling into bed some point at night but he never did.

he watched as you grabbed the blue leash and usually he would tag along but he thought you wouldn't want him around at time time.

and it was his own fault for missing out on it.

"be careful baby." he called out as you start heading for the exit but you just give him a small nod which causes him to slouch a bit. "have fun?"

your silence left him pouting once more and just as you were about to open the door, he sprinted towards you. "please tal-"

“logan, i'm giving you your spa-”

he groaned before grabbing onto your hand. "no. i want you to be in my space and i'm sorry for even shouting, it was so stupid and i did not even mean for it to come out like that."

before he could continue, you had placed a soft kiss on his cheek and nodded. "i know."

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patriciooward

liked by logansargeant, alexanderrossi and 102,540 others

patriciooward our monthly family game night was hosted by our baby sister for the first time, 10/10 will be doing it again sometime. 🎲

tagged: yn_oward, elbaoward

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username my favorite trio ❤️

patriciooward p.s. if captain america tells you he's a better monopoly player than me, he's a big liar!

logansargeant p.p.s if the duck tells you he beat me in monopoly, he's a big liar! elbaoward please the both of you lost! 😭😭 yn_oward I WON!!! patriciooward yeah cause you're a cheater 🙄

username i should've been your cuñado

username you snooze you lose, get a life!

username lols why was she mad?

patriciooward she wanted to take the picture 🙂

username never thought her siblings would like logan

elbaoward 10/10 aside from her dog being a real menace it was great1

yn_oward told you guys but you guys didn't believe me

username bye i love you guys all hanging out!!

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at the beginning of your relationship with logan, he was super patient with you after telling him he had to wait before you could introduce him to your siblings because of how protective your brother was over you and your sister.

"i just don't think lando is boyfriend material, he's like a diva..." you remembered your brother showing up to your room one early morning after pictures were posted of you and lando at a club.

"first of all, we're just friends i don't like him and please get out so i can continue my beauty sleep."

you had the biggest fear that your siblings wouldn't like him as much as you did but after some time you told your sister. "he's adorable, i'm glad he makes you happy."

just a month after lando had gone to tell pato about your relationship and your brother insisted on meeting him but you kept making excuses on why it wasn't the time yet.

"y el guero?" your brother asked the next morning and you guys giggled at his morning hair. "you guys don't look any better." (and the white boy?)

you scoffed throwing a pillow at him. "he went to get us bagels and coffee."

your sister braided your hair as she did since you guys were younger. "i like him, he's really nice."

ever since you were little pato had chased off boys that got too close to you and your sister but when elba had found her now husband, he became a little less annoying about who you were hanging out with.

he even tried setting you up with his other teammate david malukas before he knew about logan and you politely declined. "fine but you are missing out cause he's really great and i would approve instantly!"

pato nodded as he rested his head onto your lap. "yeah he's cool i guess."

by the time logan got back he caught the three of you having a pillow fight — he loved how close you guys were so he should probably get used to almost always having them around from now on, not that he had a problem with that because they were actually really fun to hang around.

he even planned to go fishing with your brother next week and your sister had invited you guys over for a sleepover the following week so he could meet her husband.

"i'll tell you what i told alba's husband the day i met him..." he remembered pato drunkly tell him last night. "she's a big girl and i know she can protect herself but i promise you te mataré si la lastimas." (i'll kill you if you hurt her)

right before he could even ask what that meant elba smacked her brother's arm. "he's kidding, he won't actually kill you."

logan chuckled nodding but with the look he was giving him right now he knew he probably wasn't joking. "i would never dream of hurting her."

later that afternoon everyone decided to watch a movie so you were setting up the snacks and logan stopped you, kissing your forhead as he always did.

"you're amazing." he whispered before giving you another kiss. "you're the greatest love of my life."

you smiled and before you could kiss him, pato cleared his throat. "sorry to interrupt this little nasty moment but your dog just peed on the carpet."

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

© 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐧𝐝-𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐜 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

[pholla-jm]

Heir (2)

IMAGINE: HEIR~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. f!reader. true form sukuna. not proof read

If you haven't read the first part, here it is: Heir. ***************

As months went by, your stomach got bigger and rounder. Your back was certainly hurting, feet aching, and a constant need to go pee. 

You almost hated every second of it. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you were bringing life into the world, you would’ve hated every second of it. 

Someone that was almost more excited than you was your lover, Sukuna. He was dead set on the baby being a boy. He was so excited to raise a boy to create a future heir. 

He even already picked out a name for him. Akumu, not a common name but it was one that Sukuna liked and it was set. 

However, you had a feeling that you were having a daughter. But, Sukuna was not hearing any of that. But just in case, you picked out a name just in case it was a girl. You wanted to have a similar vibe that Sukuna wanted so you chose Yumekui. 

You were very close to your due date and you were extremely nervous. You felt like you weren’t ready. You felt the nursery wasn’t ready or that things weren’t baby proofed enough. 

That’s why you paced around the castle, trying to get things ready. You didn’t care that your feet ached and your back was crying for help. All you cared about was making sure that everything was ready and perfect for the baby.

You know who did care? Sukuna. He didn’t like how you are constantly on your feet, pacing around and just being worried in general. 

“Woman.” Sukuna calls out once he finds you wandering the halls. You turn to him, already knowing you’re about to get scolded. “You should be resting.” You pout a little, “but do you see that over there?” You say while pointing to an area where a sharp corner was protruding. 

Sukuna follows your finger, “yeah. What about it?” “What if the baby hurts themselves from that?” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “you’re being paranoid. Our son will be strong. A corner is not going to harm him.” 

There’s that word again. Son. You often thought about what his reaction would be if it was a daughter instead. Would he be mad? Would he kick the both of you out? Would he kill the child? All these negative thoughts clouded your mind daily. 

That’s why when the time came, you really didn’t want Sukuna in the room- just the midwives. However, Sukuna wanted to be in the room with you and no one was really going to defy his orders. 

Sukuna was being super supportive though during the whole process. He held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you wanted, even though it felt like a little pinch to him. He also kept a clean towel to wipe the sweat off of you. Even the sly cursing didn’t affect him. 

The process felt like hours and you were sure you looked like a hot mess. Sukuna didn’t care though. In his eyes you were still the most beautiful woman. 

You could feel the baby coming through and it was only confirmed by the midwife when she said the head was crowning and you only needed to do a couple more pushes. 

You were happy to hear that as you started to feel more tired and weak with every second that passed by. 

Finally, you heard the sound of an infant crying. Relief washed through your body. Until you heard the words you didn’t want to hear.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl.” 

You felt Sukana’s grip on your hand loosen until he completely lets go of your hand.

You could feel your heart drop and your skin paled. You wanted to grab the baby before Sukuna did. But you were too weak to sit up correctly. 

“W-wait..” Your voice only came out as a whisper as your back hit the bed. “I want..” You couldn’t speak anymore as your head lolled to the side. You could feel a midwife trending to your side. 

The last thing you saw was the midwife holding the child and Sukuna walking up to the child. You could see the subtle frown on his face as he looked down at the small baby. After that, your vision went black as you went into a peaceful slumber. 

*************

Everything felt sore. Extremely sore. It took you a minute to come to your senses. But when you remember your situation, you sit up. Hoping to find your daughter safe and sound. 

However, what you saw was the last thing you expected.

Your daughter was swaddled, in the crib sound asleep. 

What shocked you even more was Sukuna. The man who said who wanted a son, stood at the crib admiring his child. 

His large body was bent over so his arms were crossed and leaning against the edge. His head was tilted to the side and resting on his arms. You would have never guessed you would see a sight like this. He looked almost… soft. All though, you would never say that to him. 

Sukuna heard the rustling of the sheets causing him to sit up a little. 

“I’m glad you’re awake.” He says and you nod your head. 

“Are you mad?” You softly ask him. “Why would I be mad?” “You know… for having a daughter. Not a son, like you wanted.” 

Sukuna laughs, but not too loudly to wake the baby. 

Sure, he was a bit upset when he heard that it was a girl. But as soon as her eyes opened, the same red color as his, he swore he could feel his heart stop. The cries were weak and pathetic in his opinion. However, when the midwife handed her over to him, her cries stopped. The baby looked up at him with wonder and she showed him a gummy smile. 

Sukuna would never tell you that as soon as her cries stopped he started to love the child. 

“No. She’s so small. I decided that having a daughter isn’t too bad.” You chuckle at his answer and peer over the crib, getting a good look at your daughter. 

Even though she was a few hours old, you could tell that she was Sukuna’s daughter. You could only imagine what she would look like when she gets older.

“She looks just like you.” You mutter, a little upset that you carried her for so long and she came out looking like her father. 

“Of course she does. My genetics are strong.” “Hmm, we’ll see with the next baby.” 

Sukuna grins at your words, “the next baby? Already planning for another?” “Wait, wait,” you giggle while holding your hand up, “I don’t mean that just yet. I still have to heal.”  Sukuna hums, silently agreeing. “Next time, it’ll be a boy. I’ll make sure of it.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @lotuskassagi

[chuulyssa]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇳 ​​🇫​​ 🇪 ​​🇸​​ 🇸 ​​🇮 ​​🇴 ​​🇳​ ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

​ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[leascorner]

b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing:  Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”        

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

[irndad]

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections.