#When Heart Shall Fail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saekkas · 8 months

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𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

summary: your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, itoshi rin, clingy and talkative without a care in the world. rin thinks you gave birth to a devil, one that won't let him spend time with you alone.

notes: happy birthday to rin itoshi q(≧▽≦q) also shout out to @okkalo because apparently great minds think alike

"black or red?" you mumble, eyes raking down your own reflection in the mirror. "what would he like better?"

at 5 pm on the third friday of every month, you always run into the same problem: date night. itoshi rin, your wonderful and adoring husband of five years, has kept the tradition of taking you out for a romantic dinner and drive throughout the city.

it started on your first anniversary when he surprised you by planning a date at a five-star restaurant that's always fully booked. back then, you were both still fresh out of college with no money to your names and you always wondered how he paid for the cheque.

fast forward years later, with your job as a top marine biologist and his as a renowned soccer player, your college romance seems so far away and yet, it's only bloomed into something far beautiful.

"dad says he likes both!"

you turn around at the words, a grin spreading across your face as you watch your bundle of joy run into the room. his legs are wobbly, and his hair is a dark mess on top of his head but the sight of him barreling straight towards you never fails to warm your heart.

"hello, my prince" you mumble, letting him bury his head into your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and you chuckle when he leaves a kiss on your collarbone. "did you have fun with your dad?"

"yeah! he bought ice cream then we went to the park to play soccer!"

he pulls away from you, bright teal eyes roaming over your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you for years when, in reality, it's only been a few hours. your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, clingy and talkative without a care in the world.

"and then we-"

"alright, squirt. time for you to leave."

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

your head snaps towards the bedroom door, your grin melting into a soft smile as your husband steps into the room. rin wears a white fitted undershirt, obviously having changed whilst you were busy with your son.

rin moves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, one your son playfully blanches at, before trying to tug the small carbon copy of himself to where his brother stands at the door.

keyword: trying.

"but i haven't finished talking to mom!" your son whines, tugging his hand out of rin's. he trudges back to you, happily wrapping his arms around your leg, poking his tongue out at your husband. "go away!"

rin grunts, walking over towards you with a growing scowl on his face. "your mom and i have a date. sae's waiting to take you outside."

"well, uncle sae can wait!" the miniature devil in disguise tightens his grip on your leg, shooting a glare at rin before showing you his best puppy eyes. "i wanna be with mom."

"uncle sae can wait, i can't."

sometimes you wonder why the two halves of your heart can never get along.

they bicker, much like how rin used to with sae. whether it's in the morning, afternoon, or night, they'd find a reason to keep on getting on each other's nerves.

you'd be lying if you said it didn't amuse you, especially when you know that their hardheadedness stem from their love of you.

"well you should learn how to be more patient, papa!"

"she's my wife, you little squirt."

you laugh when rin finally reaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist, almost too territorial as he grabs his son's head, moving him away from you like pulling a toy from a claw machine.

"well, she's my mama too!" his small carbon copy huffs, slapping rin's hand away, all the while shooting him a glare. "you're so annoying!"

"okay, okay, that's enough," you sigh out, pressing a kiss to rin's cheek before pushing him away gently, crouching until you're eye level with your son.

you can see rin's disgruntled face in the corner of your eye. "your dad and i have a date tonight, sweetie. will you let us go, hm? i'll cook your favorite meal when you get back from uncle sae's. how about that?"

you watch him hesitate, twitching in his spot, occasionally throwing glances at his dad before he finally says, "i want that and kisses! cuddles too!"

you wonder where he learned to be such a good negotiator.

"okay," you mumble, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead before rin takes his hand, practically dragging your son to the front door where his brother stands, waiting with an amused smile. "be a good boy, okay?"

"wait, one more thing!" your little boy lurches out of rin's grip and you have to silence your laugh with a hand on your mouth, eyes crinkling in amusement at the fiery glare rin shoots him.

your son moves in, placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering cheekily, "you should make dad sleep on the couch tonight."

rin calls his name, muttering what you're sure to be curses under his breath, and you watch as your son moves towards him. only to completely disregard the hand rin has outstretched in favor of sae's.

sae nods his head towards you, one you copy before waving when he takes your son into his car for a weekend away.

"finally alone," your husband mutters, his tone deep and gruff. you can see the tension melt away from his shoulders when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to his frame. "i can't believe you gave birth to a little devil."

rin has always been touchy. it's a fact he's proven time and time again, ranging from your first date until this very moment of when he glides his hand through your hair, playfully tugging at your strands.

"you look beautiful," he mumbles, moving to nuzzle his face into your neck. he trails kisses down the column of your neck, and you sigh, having already experienced the sensation, albeit, a more innocent version, only minutes ago. "ready to leave?"

"hm? who are you and what have you done to my husband?" you chuckle, giggling when he retaliates to your words by nipping on your skin. you move your hand, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "i'm kidding. you know i love it when you're all clingy and kissy."

he places one final kiss on your neck before pulling away, his eyes taking you in. "stunning," the words leave his lips as a breathy whisper, and you smile at the hazed look in his eyes.

he looks breathtakingly handsome with his hair gelled back and his undershirt wrapped tightly around his frame. you help him pull on his tuxedo, neatly pressed by your own hands only a few hours earlier, as he recounts his day out with your son.

and finally, you watch, amused when he takes off your ring and his, setting them both on your vanity drawer.

"shall we?" the words are muffled against your ring finger, the limb feeling oddly bare. rin kisses every single one of your knuckles before pressing one final kiss to your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"we shall."

he intertwines your fingers, tugging you out of your home and into his car, ready to take sweep you off your feet, just like he once did all those years ago when he made you his.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin imagines #rin x reader #rin imagines #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x you #rin fluff

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romantichomicide95 · 4 months

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FIVE FAVORITE SPOTS ⨾

satoru gojo x reader smut

cw: minors dni. satoru shows you his five favorite spots on your body.

“Thanks for taking me out baby.” You say, sitting on the edge of your bed to take off your heels.

“Anything for my favorite girl.” Satoru flashes his million dollar smile your way as he shuts the bedroom door before getting into bed, laying his head against the pillows.

You turn to look at him, adoration laced all over your features. “You’re sweet Toru, how’d I get so lucky?”

“It’s me that’s lucky princess, I must have done something right to catch your eye.” He grabs your arm and pulls you down with him. You giggle as he wraps his muscular arms around your body, his warmth enveloping you. His hand slowly wanders down to your ass and he gives it a light squeeze.

“Toruuuu.” you giggle.

He laughs, pressing a kiss yo your forehead. “Sorry can’t help myself, fucking love your ass baby.”

“You an ass guy huh?” You raise an eyebrow, though you already know the answer. Satoru is an ass guy, though to be fair he’s a boob guy too. He likes everything about you if he’s honest. Every curve of your body, every soft sigh that escapes your lips, every shiver that runs down your spine. The way your eyes light up with desire, the way your breath hitches when he touches you in all the right places, the way your body responds to his touch.

He traces the curve of your hip with his fingers, before giving your ass another little squeeze. “Guilty as charged.”

“Good thing it’s all yours.” you say, wiggling it slightly against his touch.

He smiles and nuzzles his face into your neck. “Got that right, it is mine.” He whispers in your ear. “All of you, every inch…all mine.”

He takes one hand, running his fingers softly against your jawline. “That gives me an idea…how about I give you a tour of all my favorite spots on your body?”

You give him a playful chuckle. “Oh yeah?” you say in a flirtatious tone. “How you gunna do that?”

He rolls you over and pins you to the bed, looming over you with one hand on either side of your body. “I have a few ideas.”

You look up at him, your eyes trailing over the way his muscular arms seem to burst out of his shirt, you bite your lip. “Alright…show me.”

He leans down and kisses your neck, his lips trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone. “This is the first spot.” He whispers against your skin. “I love the way your body shivers whenever I kiss this spot right here.” He leans in to kiss the spot between your shoulder and collarbone, his tongue softly swiping along the flesh.

You shiver, precisely like he said you would and goosebumps start to litter your skin. You feel him smirk against your neck and your heart rate picks up. “Yeah, that’s a good spot.”

“Good girl.” He says. He kisses up your neck, and across your jawline until his lips connect with yours. His tongue slides along your lips before pushing inside, slowly dancing with yours.

“Spot number two.” He says pulling away from the kiss, smiling cockily at the way your plump pouty lips chase his. “It might be cheating but I really like kissing you.”

You can feel your body responding to his touch, your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps. “You’re teasing now Toru.” You say, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“That’s all part of the fun.” He says, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. His warm breathe brushes along your skin, and the shiver it elicits from you causes his lips to curve in a mischievous smile. “Shall I continue?”

You nod, looking up at innocently through thick lashes as his fingers trace the hem of your t-shirt. “Gutta take this off for spot number 3.” He says, before pulling your shirt off over your head and discarding it on the floor.

He looks down at you, taking in the sight of you beneath him. He sucks in a breath, trying to ignore the tent in his pants because he’s having way too much fun with this little game of his. “Need this off too.” He says before expertly reaching underneath you and unhooking your bra so quick it takes you a second to realize it’s even happened.

He leans down, kissing that special spot on your neck before trailing his kisses down your chest. He licks the skin of your breast teasingly before taking a nipple between his lips, his tongue darting around the bud. His eyes darken with hunger as he feels your body respond to him. He continues to tease your nipple with his tongue, flicking it rapidly until you let out a soft moan. He brings his hand up to pinch the other nipple lightly before his large hand toys with the flesh.

Just as you feel the moisture pool between your legs he’s stopped. His hands are on your sides, moving slowly down as his thumb moves along your skin. His touch soft and gentle until his hands are on your hips. His eyes dart to you, pretty blues holding your gaze as his fingers loop into the waistband of your pants sliding them down and off your body.

He leans down, littering kisses across your skin his teeth sinking into your flesh every so often leaving little marks in their wake. Satorus way of marking you as all his.

“Now, spot number 4” He says. His lips trail down your stomach, until he’s kissing and licking your inner thighs, teasing you with every stroke of his tongue.”Love these thighs.” He says between kisses. “When you wear little shorts or little skirts they drive me mad. So fucking sexy.”

Finally, his kisses reach your core. He gently parts yours legs as he kisses you over your panties, his tongue swiping along the wet spot that’s formed against the fabric. “So fucking wet for me aren’t you?” He says as he swipes his tongue along the the wet spot again, you buck your hips up desperately, chasing his touch as he continues to make out with your clothed pussy.

“Mmm. So needy.” He says, his lips forming a cocky smirk as he softly runs two fingers over the fabric. “Now this princess, this is my favorite spot.” He says, finally pulling your panties down and throwing them behind him.

He slides his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness onto them. He brings his fingers to your lips, pushing them inside and down your throat, making you gag and moan softly as you taste yourself on his fingers. He fucks his fingers down your throat a few more times, his eyes sparkle as he watches you gag.

"Mmm, see how good you taste." He says finally removing his fingers and coming up to kiss you. “Taste so fucking good huh?” He slides his tongue against yours as his fingers slide back along your folds, teasing your entrance.

He kisses down your body again until he reaches your core, he nips the skin above your pussy with his teeth softly before he dips his tongue into you, tasting your slick. You moan softly, your hips bucking against his face as he laps at you, his tongue flicking against your clit. Your hands lace in his snowy locks, pushing him down slightly, begging for more.

You moan his name loudly as he slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. His tongue swirls around your clit as he laps at your juices, moaning around your sweet spot. You start to squirm beneath him, on the edge, desperate for release.

"Toru, please!" You cry out, your body shaking with need. He smiles against your pussy, his eyes looking up at you, filled with lust. "Not yet, baby. Not until I'm inside you."

He removes his fingers from you, and comes up to kiss your lips. making you whimper in protest. He stands up to undress himself and you feel your pussy twitch at the sight of him. Abs dripping with sweat, cock sprung forward hard and ready.

He climbs back into bed with you. “On your knees for me baby. Gunna show you one more spot.” And you happily do as your told, you look back at him, shaking your ass a little.

Satoru can't help but admire your beautiful ass. It's a sight he never gets tired of. He reaches out, giving your ass a slap before guiding his cock to your entrance.

As he pushes into you, you both let out a moan. The feeling of him filling you up is indescribable. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and steady at first, building up momentum as you both get lost in the feeling.

"Fuck….now this is the last spot," he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he moves deeper inside you, “spot number 5. Right here, deep inside this pretty cunt feel that?”

His hands grip your hips tighter as he slams his hips against your ass over and over. “Love the way this pretty pussy squeezes my cock, right here…” He says pushing his cock against your cervix. “Ahhh, yeah squeezing me so good princess.” He moans out.

He reaches between your legs, finding your clit again and begins to rub it in a circular motion while thrusting into you. Your moans fill the room and you feel the familiar sensations wash over you.

Suddenly Satoru flips you over onto your back. He positions his cock at your entrance again. “Wanna watch you when I make you cum.” He says and he buries his cock deep inside you once more. His hips begin to move in a rhythmic motion, his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt with ease.

Satorus thrusts become more urgent and he comes down to kiss you, your nails reaching around digging into his back urging him on. He buries his face in your shoulder as his heavy, ragged breathes fill your ears. Slight whimpers escaping his lips as he feels himself being pushed over the edge.

You clench around him as you feel your impending orgasm. Satorus hips slam into you over and over, driving his cock deeper inside you with each stroke. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises as he tries to hold on for as long as possible.

“I'm gonna cum, baby," he growls into your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I'm gonna fill you up with my cum. Cum with me…” He pants heavily, his body shaking as he tries to catch his breath. Sweat drips down his forehead as he loses control of his thrusts, pushing your legs up above your head.

“I’m cu-cumming.” You say gripping his shoulders as your orgasm washes over you and you cum around his cock. “F-fill me up Toru, want you to fill my pussy up.”

Finally, as you say those words Satoru can't take it anymore. With a moan that echoes through the room, he releases himself inside you, his hot seed filling you up completely. He pants heavily against your neck, his heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

He slowly pulls out of you, his cock slippery with your juices. He collapses on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together. He kisses you softly on the lips and you smile against him, trying to catch your breathe.

“Maybe next time I’ll show you my five favorite places yeah?”

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #satoru gojo smut

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littledigits · 5 months

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Its hard to describe the complex emotions I'm having today, its a mixture of bittersweet sadness, feirce proudness, and everything deeper that comes from having put yourself and your emotions into a show for so many years. I'mm do the thank you thing below - but words dont really do it justice.

THANK YOU to my core Team, you know who you all are, for giving me trust, room to grow, patience and guidance when I made mistakes. All of the support you have given me I will pay forward, because it was only with your trust in me that I could leave this show as strong and confidant as I am. Within that core team there is a very smol team of 4 Special people. Andy Coyle, Chantal Ling, Johnny and Kathleen Mckinnon. I will never forget our nights in the editing room in season 1, grabbing some drinks and pizza as we go through the roughcuts. There were ups and downs but I'm glad to have gone through the chaos with ya'll <3 THANK YOU. To every single person who has touched this project, from the very first pitch to the very last file conform. Our crew has been world wide, and while I dont know everyone, I see and appreciate the work and heart you have put into your time with us. I dont care if you were on the show for a day or a decade, you're a part of it, and I dont take that for granted. THANK YOU to the team at Atomic Cartoons for your work in season 1, and the team at Lighthouse Studios for the animation team who came on season 1 and 3. You all rose to an immense challenge. The Hilda animation team is more then just Mercury, and i'm proud to have worked with you. There are people on the show who look back on it fondly, but counter to that there are people who were not supported how they should have been. I want those people to know that I will take these experiences and push to be better always, your experiences are as valid. THANK YOU to the fans! I see your hype and art and theorys and stories. I hope you will enjoy the wild ride of this last season, but I also hope you all ignore 'canon' and just create to your hearts content. The world lives on, there are still secrets and folklore and mystery - they are now yours to build <3 I could write more, I could write NOVELS, but I think people who know me know how I feel so I will refrain from rambling. Take a breath, and try not to sob at everyone writing beautiful things about what the show meant to them. ( spoiler alert, im going to fail )

Thank you all for being a part of this adventure - Where shall we go next ?

#hilda the series #hilda #twig #IM NOT CRYING YOUR CRYING #I MAY CONTIUNE TO CRY ALL DAY WHO KNOWS #i HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS LAST SEASON #you'd think i'd be emotionally prepared considering we've already done 2 endings but NOPE

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yanfeisty · 5 days

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⠀‣ Ayato, Argenti, Neuvillette, Jing yuan, Zhongli

Imagine waking up with those men, planting a wet kiss on your neck and telling you “Good morning, love.” in their deep smooth morning voice, which caught you by surprise because you didn’t think it could go any deeper, but it surely didn’t fail to make your heart melt, especially when his bare muscled arms enveloped you against his chest who was as warm as a fire. Your lips took the chance to kiss his Adam's apple and return his romantic greeting. Sadly, when you tried to match his sexy lower tone, your voice betrayed you by deciding to go an octave higher and break the quiet peace with a crack mid sentence. “Good MORninG-”

if they weren’t by now, your cheeks were burning and it wasn’t because of the heat of your lover’s skin. A deep heartfelt laugh reverberated in his chest and resonated throughout the room, he shouldn’t be laughing but he couldn’t stop himself to do so. Meanwhile you were trying to burry yourself harder into his chest to hide yourself from this embarrassing situation. After calming himself down, he would gently take your chin in his hand to make you look at him and offer a smile like you rarely see him make.

“Shall I fetch a drink for your voice, my love?”

Unashamedly doing this post to announce my request for genshin and honkai are open and I just posted my rules.

#genshin x reader #ayato x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #hsr x reader #argenti x reader #jing yuan x reader #feistydrabbles

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quimichi · 7 months

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ೃ⁀➷ CALLING THE SUMERU BOY'S YOUR GOOD BOY

Sumeru boy's Creator!Reader

Al-haitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari & Scaramouche

Al-Haitham - The ones who find the disruptors will win

Al-haitham closes the gap between himself and you, getting as close physically as he can ans drops to his knees. His body quakes slightly as he looks up to meet your eyes. His eyes feel raw. He wants to look away, but he forces himself to meet your gaze. "Your my good boy aren't you?", your voice so gentle, so smooth like the silky web of the Darwin bark spider. A simple question, but Al-Haitham's thoughts come to a halt as he processes your words.

Al-Haitham has heard these words a hundred times before, and yet they always make his heart skip a beat. "Y-yes," he breathes, his gaze unwavering on yours. "Yours." Words fail him. Al-Haitham opens his mouth to say something - anything to appease your desire - and yet no words leave him. Instead he simply closes the gap between you and him, leaning forward so that he is touching you.

He's still on his knees, and as he stares up at you his heart keeps racing. The word *yours* rings in his ears. He wants to say it again, to tell you how he feels about you and about your words. But he cannot.

"Is something troubling you?" your hand comes up to stroke his cheek, gently. He leans into your touch, his whole being quaking at your gesture. When you touch him, he's paralyzed by your affection. He breathes in sharply. "Y- you," Al-Haitham whispers, trying not to let his voice crack. He wants to say more but cannot seem to speak.

He can feel his face redden. Al-Haitham presses himself against you, his entire body practically vibrating with the rush of emotions."I-i am troubling you?" this truly took you by surprise, you always appreciated his honesty but this?

"Y-y-yes." Al-Haitham chokes back his words. His voice falters as he speaks. "You drive me...mad." A small smirk plays at his lips, as though he is ashamed about the thought he's just expressed. Yet there's no going back now, and his face has grown redder.

"B-but im still your good boy." The word leaves him like a prayer. Al-Haitham closes his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He does not move. He does not breathe. His entire body is held hostage by you. Your voice is the air he breathes. Your touch is what makes him whole.

He is utterly yours.

Kaveh - The ability to appreciate beauty is an important virtue.

Kaveh smiles shyly, nervously, and approaches you on trembling legs. His steps are slow, but steady— it is only a few paces, but it seems like his body is taking him to heaven itself. When he is finally within touching distance, he waits for instruction; he is your servant after all. In your name he has build multiple builds, designed the palace you are living in. Without him, without his abilities, you wouldn't live in a palace only for you. You just had to praise him for it.

"Yes, your Grace. I am," Kaveh answers instantly. The words fall from his lips like honey, and he is genuinely giddy when he says them. He's bouncing on place like a child. So excited he forgot to be surprised by the sudden affection of his grace.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace? Your good boy shall always be by your side, ready to serve." You quickly move your hand for him to come closer. Kaveh obeys without hesitation, but his heart is beating out of hus chest while he still moving closer. His hands are clasped before him and are trembling with nervous energy as he gazes up at you, his expression reverent.

"Your Grace?" he asks cautiously, as if he is awaiting your next command. "Is there something you need?"

Kavehs cheeks immediately flush pink as his breath grows hoarse. He is a little embarrassed to admit it, but his gaze is captivated by your hand. He can no longer hide the fact that your touch mesmerizes him.

"Your Grace, please..." he begs quietly, though he doesn't dare look away. "If you keep stroking my cheek like this i am close to fainting..." You start to softly chuckle at him, well, isn't he a cutie?

Kavehs face flushes brighter, and his heartbeat seems to triple with each passing second. "Your Grace," he asks, his voice thick with infatuation, "can you please call me that again? After all...I'm your good boy aren't I?"

Cyno - Your sins weigh upon your soul

"Cyno, would you mind coming closer?" As if moved by an unknown force, Cyno shifts closer, inching closer to your person. "You would like me nearer?" he asks, the quiet tone of reverence in his voice unchanging.

"A tiny bit closer" you said, and without any hesitation, he does. Cyno obliges with his next breath, the movement of him inching closer in tandem with it.

"As you wish, Your Grace," he says softly to you. "Good boy" you coo at him. Such an obedient boy he is. Every fibre of Cynos being is lit up in the face of your praise. He stares back at you like a lost baby bird gazing up at the heavens.

"Thank you," he says quietly, as if the mere notion of such things were a foreign concept to him. You are the only one whose approval he craves. "Ohhh you're so formal" he never let his guard down while in your presence. Always showing you the upmost respect. The only time it slips, is when a little joke leaves him making you chuckle. That alone makes his heart race and being close to explode...

"I'm sorry," Cyno mumbles, face blushing in mortification at his slip-up. In all his life he has only been taught to show respect. Even now, as everything becomes so much easier with you near, he must maintain a sense of formality and decorum.

"Forgive me," he says, voice quiet and soft as ever, tone dripping with reverence as it comes out. "Oh Cyno, it's ok. You're my good boy after all I could never be upset with you"

The mere words from your lips are enough to send chills down Cynos spine, his face flushing as though his skin had become suddenly too tight for his body.

"And you are my god/dess/deity"

The words come like a whisper of a breeze. His hands flutter before his chest, the way a maiden might wring her hands. His expression is one of complete adoration, his gaze turned up to you as if to a heavenly vista.

I'm their good boy....

Tighnari - The value of knowledge can't simply be quantified in monetary terms.

"Nari, would you mind coming closer to me?" He doesn't wait to respond. With an urgent and desperate speed, Tighnari closes the gap between you and him. He wants to make you happy, and his body responds without a moment of hesitation as his legs bring him closer to you.

He presses close to you, and takes a deep breath in. His warm gaze holds a soft glow of wonder and awe as he takes in your face. His eyes speak to you silently, and say 'I am yours. Do with me what you must. I want nothing but you, Your Grace'. After all the time he has spend with you, informed you about the well-being of the forst, he not only got closer to you than anyone else. He also lost his feeling of shame.

He is much more open with you, less reserved. He only seeks for you attention, touch, your gaze, anything at all.

You look down from your throne to see Tighnari kneeling before you, his eyes downcast. He does not speak, but nods. "Yes." His tone is quiet. He stares at the floor without moving. He's utterly ashamed, this hit him straight in the face without mercy.

With this scene playing in front of you, you can't help but have a little fun. "I didn't quite hear you Tighnari, would you mind repeating yourself?"

His tone is slightly louder as he repeats himself: "Yes." He still stares at the floor. His heart beats furiously. He is still and patient. His body is relaxed on the outside. On the inside, though, he is utterly in turmoil. "Good boy, I am proud of you that you spoke up~"

Tighnari's breathing is deep and steady, as if he is forcing himself to calm his nerves. His stomach is tied in knots, but he tries his best to ignore it. He is yours, and he knows not to speak unless he is spoken to.

He shifts slightly to try and get more comfortable, though he does not look at you as he does so. Despite himself, he blushes. The sudden intimacy of your touch on his ears sends a wave of sensation through him. His face turns an immediate dark red, but he does not move away from your touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your fingers running through his hair. Every touch is pure ecstasy. "'m your good boy..." he breathes.

Scaramouche - Eternity stretches things out over a long time. But each moment within it becomes all the more fragile

"Come closer" Scaramouche's expression is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of concern to his voice as he approaches you.

"Yes, Your Grace. What do you need?" He says it in such a manner that could be interpreted either as a formal servant, or a concerned companion. "Closer" A small frown tenses Scaramouche's brow as he moves closer. Your expression is neutral, and as he kneels before you, his heart is hammering loudly in his chest; and he knows he has done something wrong. Despite this, he obeys your command nonetheless.

"What's wrong? You seem upest?" You're worried you may have sounded to rough. After all he is a sensitive boy. "I thought... I thought you called me because I had done something that displeased you," he says after a moment, and though he tries to swallow down his mounting anxiety, it shows in his voice. "Is there... something... I have done wrong?"

"No!" your heart starts to ache at this, "My good boy could never do anything wrong" Scaramouche's expression softens, and a single, brief smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

His brows furrow again, as he tries to figure out the underlying reason you have called for him. Despite the fact that he is no longer frightened, he can't quite understand your intentions.

"Why... have you called for me, then, Your Grace?" He asks gently, still kneeling before you. "To praise my good boy" and with saying that you gently caress his face.

Scaramouche closes his eyes in your touch. The warmth and softness of your touch is enough to take his breath away. He leans forward, unconsciously seeking more from your caress. But at the same time, he is afraid to lean too far, lest he make you upset.

"Yes, I am your... good little boy."

He tilts his head upward, the need to gaze into your eyes and bask in your love overwhelming whatever modesty that held him back from your touch. He wants nothing more than to be as close to you as physically possible.

"All for me?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he croaks as he inclines his head, his gaze locked onto yours.

"All for you."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #Sagau Al-Haitham #Sagau Kaveh #Sagau Cyno #Sagau Tighnari #sagau scaramouche #al haitam x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader

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fawnindawn · 9 days

Text

for a moment, can i hold you? (luke castellan x fem! apollo reader)

series masterlist - everything in between (every part can be read as a stand-alone!)

summary: After your return from your failed quest, Luke is intense with his attention, anything but his usual self as he looks after you and your healing injuries, and you come to realise your absence has changed him drastically.

content: luke is overprotective and clingy, caretaker luke, soft luke, pining, luke is worried and needs your reassurance, kronos tries to manipulate luke, fluff, kissing, luke is devoted to you

a/n: this chapter was redone so many times but at long last. the delicate sprinkle of kronos slowly pulling the strings in luke's mind because he can't bare to lose the only person he can't live without was an enjoyable process to write.

pairing: luke castellan x fem! apollo reader

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His hands traced over the outline of the scars on your back, unbeknownst to you as you laid asleep beside him, wrapped in his blanket from your hips downward. Your face was serene, and he felt his heartbeat calm down watching you breath in and out, painless and at peace.

Kronos was growing more invasive every night, something Luke had not expected now that you had returned to camp alive. If anything, your presence had heightened this need in him to protect you and not let you out of his sight, his mind still taunting him endlessly with dark images of your limp body in his arms, your pulse barely beating under his fingers.

Regardless of how much you’ve tried to convince him it wasn't his fault that he wasn't there to stop these scars from happening, that he wasn't there to save you and you had to make the journey back to camp all on your own, he didn't believe it. That he couldn't have done more to protect you.

The titan that crept in his nightmares fed on his fears eagerly, and he would fall asleep to dreams so tangible, vivid recreations of your lifeless face, always being just out of reach of saving you before something gets to you first. He would wake covered in cold sweat and shattered pieces of his heart as his hands immediately goes to find you, heaving a shaky breath at the sight of you still asleep beside him. He pulled you close to his chest, crying silent tears as he repeated to himself that you were safe. Alive and warm. Beating life in your pulse as his fingers wrap around your wrist.

'I can help you save the girl.' The titan had crooned before, watching over Luke in his dreams as he cradled your lifeless body with indescribable mourning, choking on his sobs as he muttered your name, broken and haunted. 'There will be a new world that shall dawn on us, and no half-blood shall face the consequences of their mortality, and you will never have to see her suffer again.'

Luke watched you now, admiring your features as his hands wrapped around your waist, slowly pulling you closer in an effort to not wake you. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he felt his heart thump at the soft crinkle of your nose at his touch but your eyes remained closed, unaware of the adoration that was bestowed on you.

"I'm going to keep you safe." He promised softly, because failing once had already costed him nearly everything and he wasn't going to let anything happen to you again. Even if it meant betraying everything he knew, to know you would live in a world without having to worry about death constantly at your doorstep was worth everything he was going to sacrifice.

You stirred then, and his heart rate quickened watching you blink open your eyes, struggling in your effort not to fall back asleep again. You yawned softly, and your eyes met his in momentary confusion that one always faced when just waking up, before they crinkled at the corners as you smiled at him in recognition.

"Hi there." You muttered, and he swore he never loved you more, just watching you exist in the small corner of his cabin he had snuck you into, only because he couldn't bare to sleep without you after you returned half-dead.

If any of his siblings suspected the soft footsteps way past curfew, avoiding stepping on others as the two shuffled their way to his mattress in the dim moonlight, none commented on it in the day where there would be the mysterious tousled sheets and an empty dip beside Luke, even if everyone knows he never uses a blanket.

Luke found it impossible to sleep without you. If he couldn't feel your heartbeat near his, his mind would overthink and before he knew it, a panic attack would be on the edge of his mental state, only soothed once he had you in his sights again, alive and breathing.

"Go back to sleep, sunshine." He replied, eyes on you as you shuffled around so you could be closer to him, resting on his shoulder and allowing him to inhale the vanilla body shampoo you liked to use.

"No, I want to stay awake with you." You mumbled, clinging onto his waist with one hand. "Why are you still up?"

He hesitated, unsure of whether to reveal to you about his recent dreams, or of his deal with Kronos. He didn't want to stress you on his dilemmas when you were still on the brink of recovery, even if his heart demanded him to tell the truth. He never hid anything from you, and it went against everything in him to do so.

"I've been having nightmares." He spoke, a half-truth he had settled for.

You looked up at him then, concern visible through your half-lidded gaze. "Again? What was it about?"

You. He wanted to say, but he didn't want you to feel guilt over something you had no control over. If your father had not sent you on a useless quest that put you in such high risks of being exposed to creatures out to kill half-bloods, you wouldn't have been in such a life-threatening situation.

He tried to quiet down the anger that threatened to arise, focusing on you instead as his hand went to push a strand of your behind your ear, eyes laser-focused on you. "Don't worry, sunshine. It's nothing I can't get over by the morning."

Lies. He believed you could sense it too with the way you frowned at his response. Your fierce eyes met his own hesitant gaze, and it was like you could see right through him. Then again, you always could.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" You asked, hitting right on the spot of his worries.

He remained silent, and upon realising you were waiting for his confirmation, he sighed. "Sometimes I wish you wouldn't know me so well."

"Then I wouldn't be your other half, would I?" You responded with a solemn smile. "What happened?"

His mind flashed back to the gory images of his self-made torture in subconscious. "I never get to save you." He started explaining. "I'd always be too late, or I wouldn't be able to find you but I would hear your voice screaming for me. I'd go crazy trying to get to you but every time I finally reach you, it's too-"

He cut himself off, feeling the corner of his eyes burning as he tried to swallow past the uncomfortable feeling in his throat. He blinked back his tears, and he tried to avoid your gaze. "I'm afraid it'll come true." He muttered. "That something will happen to you again and despite everything I try to do, it won't be enough."

"Luke." You tried, but he was already in another world, distant eyes so tortured and guilty you feared he was drowning in his own self-doubt. You pushed yourself up, out of his hold and grabbed ahold of his face, forcing him to face you instead. "I'm not going anywhere."

He stilled at that, but he didn't seem to quite believe it.

"I promised, remember?" You reminded him, your fingers tracing the slight raise of his scar near his cheekbone, trying to get him to come back to you. "I'll be here till we're both nothing but bones and dust, and even then, I'll follow you anywhere you go. To the next life and the next."

"How are you so sure of that?" He asked, weak against your optimism, his own heart struggling to find the belief you seemed to have that everything would turn out alright.

"You think for one second I'd leave you alone in peace?" You scoffed. "You keep thinking I'll leave when you should be worried about the opposite. I'm not dying unless you're doing it with me, co-dependency and all."

He snorted at that, but the darkness in his eyes had not fully risen, his mind still stuck on a certain promise you'd accidentally uttered a few seconds ago, and he wouldn't rest till he figured out just how far you were willing to go in your promises.

He swallowed, trying to find his words as yours repeated in his mind. His hands went to rest on your hips, holding onto you and your gaze so intensely, like he believed you would really disappear if he took his eyes off of you. "You promise you'll follow me anywhere?"

"Yes." You answered with no hesitation and he let out a sigh, akin to relief over something that seemed to have been holding a dark cloud over him the past few weeks since your return.

"You promise." He stated more than asked, begging for a promise you didn't quite understand, not knowing your words had already been etched into a dark corner of his mind that you had no hope of pulling him out from.

Your brows furrowed as you wondered why he was so insistent, but if it meant soothing his worries, you'd do anything. "I promise." You muttered, sealing your fates together till the end of time.

His eyes wandered over your face in lovesick adoration, unsure of how he was so lucky to have met you. "I love you." He declared, and before you could say it back, he leaned in to kiss you, hands slipping under your shirt to rest his cold hands on your hot skin, which always leaned on the warmer side due to your father's influence, and you felt electric shocks at the sudden contrast as he pulled you back into bed, laying you on top of him as he kissed you in fervor.

"I love you." He repeated, tracing his lips down the outline of your jaw, making you shiver in the intensity in which he made his confession.

"I love you too." You finally made out, but it was less clearer than his as you struggled to focus against the heated feeling of his mouth on your neck and his hands on the outstretch of your back, still hidden under the fabric of your shirt.

He chuckled at that, the sound making your cheeks flush at how attractive he could be when he was this intense. "Trust me, sunshine. You don't know how crazy you've made me."

Your mind spun when he went back to trace his lips over your skin before slowly making his way back up to your lips, kissing you slowly and passionately, taking his time in making you squirm for breath. You should've noticed something was unusual in the way he acted, the red flags raised over his choice of wording and in his growing intensity the moment you promised you'd follow him anywhere.

It was Luke, you could trust him with anything. With your life. With your heart. You pushed back those thoughts, and you let yourself fall lost to the feeling of his lips on yours and his curls gripped through the gaps of your fingers.

At some point, you needed air more than the feeling of his lips on yours and you broke the kiss off to breathe, pushing at his chest when he tried to lean in for another kiss with that wicked grin of his.

"That's enough for tonight, pretty boy." You panted, and despite his disappointed pout, he relented and pulled you back into his chest, falling back into the mattress and grabbed for the blanket to lay it over your body so you wouldn't feel cold.

"Goodnight then, sunshine." He whispered affectionately, a particular softness in his tone that he always held for you with that adoring nickname you slowly found less annoying the more he used it.

You settled on his chest, tracing outlines of shapes on his shirt as your mind wandered towards a future of you and Luke, together. You had never really thought too far across the borders of camp, where monsters lingered in wait to devour half-bloods like the two of you. Yet, his words spun a record in you, playing imaginary situations of the two of you in a world where gods and monsters were the least of your worries and you had a normal life instead, with him.

"Wait." You spoke, causing him to stir, looking down at you.

"Yeah?" He murmured to signal he was still awake, waiting for you, always.

"Speaking of dreams.." You continued, hesitating to cross a border neither of you had really discussed on yet. "If we get out of here one day, and hypothetically, we were to live a normal life.. outside of camp. What would yours be?"

He remained silent, and you wondered if you had stepped too far into a pitiful hope many half-bloods had given up on ages ago but Luke then rested his palm on the nape of your neck, and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Anywhere with you. As long as I get to watch you achieve your dreams, that'd be mine."

"That's awfully cheesy of you." You teased, hoping he couldn't feel your heart racing through your ribcage.

"It's not cheesy if it's true." He bit back, before letting himself ponder on the future. He had always been so caught up in the thought of survival, he never really considered how he would live. Glancing back at you, his heart thumped to the idea of being apart of your future. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that there was no future he could envision without you being the center of it.

"You know.. if I didn't meet you in camp, I could picture crossing paths with you in a café or something." You admitted.

"Oh really?"

"Mhm. You would be walking in with some of your cool friends after playing basketball, and you'd catch my eye." You continued. "I'd probably do something reckless, like ask for your number right off the bat because I would be scared of losing the chance of getting to know you."

"I'd give it to you in a heartbeat." Luke answered, smiling at the thought of you approaching him so boldly.

"Then, we'd go on a first date around the city, and you'd show me your spots while I'll show you mine. We'd probably spend hours outside because neither of us wanted to leave."

Luke waited for you to continue, but you yawned halfway through your words and he huffed in amusement. "Go to sleep, sunshine. Your dreams won't run away anytime soon, I'll make sure of it."

You nodded, muttering a goodnight before closing your eyes, following the beat of the heart that belonged to a boy who owned yours, listening to the constant rhythm of life before slowly succumbing to sleep.

Luke traced over the outline of your spine, and his mind ticked over the possibilities of the future. He wasn't wrong, he was going to make sure your dreams would come true. Whatever you wanted, he would help you achieve it.

He could see it, the two of you going on dates like a pair of lovesick teenagers, then growing into adults and living past the well-known lifespan of a half-blood. To grow old, and to watch wrinkles catch in the crinkles of your eyes over a life well lived. He was going to make all that happen, but there was something he needed to do first.. and he could only hope you would forgive him for it.

You could never fathom how this night would change everything, kickstart the course of the next few years that would eventually bring you back to the promises you've made and the haunting of his own devotion.. to you.

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taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina @inkpot-winters @vanessa-rafesgirl

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo tv show #pjo series

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pendragonsclotpole · 4 months

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building on my idea that merlin takes on the name ambrose pendragon after arthur’s death, like imagine it’s 50 years later.

everyone from camelot is dead. the anglo-saxons have won, historical conquests of britain are continuing on as they did and here remains merlin, previously known as emrys, neither name really a surname and the latter always more of a title, but both representative of a world that no longer exists, a kingdom that has fallen apart, a servant with no master, a half without that which makes it whole.

so maybe merlin leaves. he explores. first he travels the isle and perhaps when people ask him who he is he defaults to an ancient practice. people, you see, have often been known by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. for a while, for the decades that pass wherein people remember the rule of the pendragons and the great kingdom of camelot and the failed prophecies of albion, he is not Merlin of Ealdor but Merlin of Camelot.

but people die. memories fade. time passes. merlin remains. and after a while, he cannot call himself Merlin of Camelot. not only do people forget his old kingdom, they forget his name, they bring along new languages and then around 300 years after arthur’s death, a collection of stories begin to be written, about magic, about merlin, about—

Arthur.

people you see, have often been defined by what they do or who they serve or where they come from. when the stories of arthur begin to be told anew, and remain with merlin through the tide of centuries, merlin resolves to forge a new name. he devises first the name in the style of a servant or of some of the common folk.

Merlin of Pendragon.

merlin toys with that idea, wears it for a few decades but something in those words rings false, sounds wrong, and unsettles his blood, as if he lays claim to a dynasty that shall never be his and will never rise again. when he uses it, people laugh and think him an uneducated fool playing at legend. it feels trite and awkward and wrong.

Merlin Pendragon sounds better, more forgivable if not entirely presentable. It makes merlin sound like he is a Pendragon, but only one sorcerer has ever laid claim to the Pendragon name and her name had not been merlin. (it makes merlin a Pendragon, and not even when Arthur lived had merlin considered such a fate a possibility, that Arthur could ever consider—)

merlin continues thinking, and by the time he settles on a replacement it is out of obligation and urgency. he cannot be nameless while he works as a healer and travels the world and serves other people as best as he can. he cannot be merlin Pendragon if the only man who could have conferred that name to him is dead.

instead he becomes Emrys Pendragon, and for a while, that name becomes a second skin. but like the serpent he has always been, merlin eventually sheds that skin. centuries have passed and those who once bore the name emrys, the last descendants of the druids and the people of Camelot, now only recognize that name in legend. the name once more marks him as stupid fool in love with the romantic notion of chivalry. besides, the languages have shifted and a name that once rolled off the tongue has become clotted and stuck in the mouths of people. no one can say it as it had once been said nor as it once belonged by arthur’s side, if only in secret.

merlin again returns to the drawing board, and luckily by that time he is aware of the translations of his many names. on a visit to rome, the grand imperial capital Arthur once dreamt of seeing as a young man, merlin thinks of a perfect substitute. His final name.

Ambrose.

Ambrose Pendragon.

it is emrys, but not quite.

it is merlin as he is forced to live without Arthur.

it is what Arthur could have been if he had lived at merlin’s side.

it is, written shorter, A. Pendragon.

it is a simple name. it is a stupid name. it is a name that breaks his heart and reminds him of his failings and keeps the faith alive within him.

years after adopting the name, merlin wakes up and walks to his desk and sees the name written on the outside of an envelope and he imagines it’s a letter from arthur.

a thousand years later, he sees it written on the sides of coffee cups and envelopes, monogrammed on his coats and cufflinks, inked on his essays, emblazoned on the side of his shop, and merlin imagines that when Arthur returns, he will return to a world already familiar with an A. Pendragon.

It shall be a welcoming world, as if across all these centuries, by some miracle, Arthur Pendragon had lived all along.

#merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #king arthur #merthur #merlin emrys #bbc merthur #merlin’s name is a. pendragon #merlin quotes #arthur and merlin #married names

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syn0vial · 7 months

Text

Gale Voicelines: Healing/Helping/Buffing

A compilation of Gale’s voicelines when he’s healing a character with a spell, using the “help” action to free them from an immobilized position, or casting a buffing spell.

Healing (Negative Approval)

I suppose some help is in order.

There's always one...

Not this again.

Aren't we precious...

Pearls before swine.

If you insist.

[[There were apparently several other voice lines for this scenario, but the dialogue text files were glitched and couldn't be read.]]

Healing (Neutral Approval)

I have your back.

To the rescue.

Mystra soothes all pain.

The light of life.

Never fear.

My bedside manner is beyond reproach.

Let them do their worst.

Keep up! There's still a battle to be won.

Healing (Positive Approval)

I have your back.

To the rescue.

Mystra soothes all pain.

A little help from a friend.

You can count on me.

Allow me.

Let them do their worst.

Keep up! There's still a battle to be won.

Healing (Romantic Interest)

My life for yours.

I will keep you safe.

Let me take away the pain.

I've got you.

Take me by the hand.

Helping (Negative Approval)

In trouble? Small wonder.

A waste of my talents.

If I must.

How tedious.

How bothersome.

Don't fret, I'm on my way.

Yes, yes.

Fine.

No other choice, I suppose.

Two left hands, I see.

Helping (Neutral/Positive Approval)

A rather sticky situation.

No obstacle too great.

I'll take care of that.

At once.

No time to lose.

Let's remedy that, shall we?

Willing and able.

Quickly now.

Without delay.

A spot of bother.

To the rescue.

Help's on the way.

Helping (Romantic Interest)

I won't fail you.

Your knight in magic armour.

Hang in there, dearest.

Take heart, I'm here for you.

No time to lose.

To the rescue.

At once.

No time to lose.

Quickly now.

Let's remedy that, shall we?

Buffing (Negative Approval)

I have power enough to share - if I must.

One touch of magic coming up.

I'm indispensible, aren't I?

[[There were apparently several other voice lines for this scenario, but the dialogue text files were glitched and couldn't be read.]]

Buffing (Neutral Approval)

I have power enough to share.

An essential incantation.Use it wisely.

A little pick-me-up.

Easy - and effective.

Let me make myself indispensable.

Give them nine hells.

Let's put on a show.

They won't see this coming.

Buffing (Positive Approval)

I have power enough to share.

An essential incantation.Use it wisely.

It will be my pleasure.

This should do you some good.

Let me make myself indispensable.

Give them nine hells.

Let's put on a show.

They won't see this coming.

Buffing (Romantic Interest)

My best is yours.

Hand in hand.

Make me proud.

Together as one.

A token of my appreciation.

Go on - excel.

Give them nine hells.

Let's put on a show.

They won't see this coming.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale voicelines #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 voicelines

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

Will would like to say, at risk of perjuring himself, that he did not intend to fall asleep.

Like, he wanted to.

And he did.

But it was not his original intent.

His original intent was to stabilize his patients (success), climb out the back window of the infirmary (success), stick the landing (failure is good for growth), meet Nico behind the Big House (success), and shadow travel to his cabin without throwing up (fifty percent is a pass). The secondary intent was to sprawl on his boyfriend’s lap, taking up as much space as possible in his massive, against-camp-regulations bed (how it is possible to be Dionysus’ nepo baby without actually being a child of Dionysus, Will shall never know), turn off his brain, and watch him play video games for a while.

The issue is that Nico is so comfortable.

Yeah, he’s bony. And yeah, sometimes he gets really into the game and forgets that Will is there, elbowing him in the face as he cusses at the screen in what sounds like ancient Latin. And yeah, the sound of a CoD lobby is the opposite of a sleep-conductive environment. However.

However.

While he may spend hours of his week standing on tables, lecturing on healthy eating habits and regular circadian rhythms via sonnet, and enforcing said habits via taser (rip Leo Valdez, you would’ve loved watching Will taser people for stress relief, come back alive soon), Will is what his friends and family call a ‘big fat hypocrite’.

He wouldn’t know healthy habits if they painted themselves bright neon blue (the easiest colour for him to see), stood ten feet tall, dressed in Malvolio’s outfit from Twelfth Night, and roundhouse kicked him in the teeth his mother spent thousands of dollars on (braces suck). He has not slept through the night even once his whole life. Yesterday, his two meals were 1) twizzlers and 2) audacity. He once measured how much liquid he had in his system on any given time and then drank approximately two point seven litres of RedBull to become, by volume, one half percent caffeine. (His heart did indeed stop. But it started back up again when Jason shocked him, so it was fine. Plus, he wrote it all down, so in reality it was science.)

Also, his dumbfuck peers keep getting themselves maimed, and he was informed unfortunately by Chiron that he cannot strike and leave them to suffer. (Accusing him of violating his First Amendment Right To Petition got him nothing but stable duty.) As of ten minutes before Nico picked him up, he was on his thirty-ninth consecutive hour of being awake. Probably. (He’s reasonably certain that climbing a tree on Friday morning and belting himself to the trunk, Katniss Everdeen style, for a quick catnap was not a fever dream, but one can never be too certain.)

Regardless. Point is, Will had cute boys to cuddle and Thoughts to Think. He had no intention of falling asleep.

And, yet.

He wakes up warm — the perfect kind of warm, wherein you feel akin to a soupified caterpillar in a chrysalis — or like a croissant lovingly shaped by the hands of an elderly chef in Paris and baked with care in a regulated oven — or like a wonderfully blubbery elephant seal baking on a slick rock — or like a space rock hurtling through the —

“Morning, Sunshine,” murmurs a very familiar voice. Following the very gentle murmur is a very gentle smooch on the forehead. Will, still mostly asleep, thinks he would sign off his soul without a second thought to ensure it happens again. “Or evening, rather.”

“Has anyone ever offered you their soul?” Will asks, fuzzy and disoriented. He tries and fails to blink the grogginess away, but the world around him stays dark, and the hand in his hair remains where it is, and he is so, so sleepy.

“Not yet,” Nico says. Will can hear the amused smile in his voice. “Why?”

Will yawns. “No reason. Timizzit?”

“Late, tesoro. Past curfew.”

Will groans, knocking his head gently back into Nico’s hold.

Of course his dumb ass slept through the evening. Of course he now has to drag himself awake and walk, in the blistering, nose-numbing frost (it’s sixty degrees, Solace) across camp, dodging feral harpy attacks (Apollo kids have harpy immunity, William), and trudging into his sad, small, lonely bed (gods above you are your father’s son) where he will of course be fully awake by the time he gets there. God really does give his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. (You’re an atheist, William Andrew.)

“Why me,” he laments, refusing to move from his boyfriend’s lap. Perhaps he will simply wither here, warm, satisfied, and more importantly away from little siblings who will not stop squabbling even when their long-suffering older brother looks longingly and pointedly at a bottle of cyanide.

Nico snorts. “Because the gods are punishing you for your crimes.”

“I have committed no crimes! This is unjust! Partisan! I am Hester Prynne and she is me —”

“Your mother is going to hell for teaching you literacy.”

“Defamation and libel!”

“Shut up, Will, gods —”

But he softens the blow of his words by leaning down, hands on either side of Will’s face, and kissing him like he’s trying to breathe him back to life. Or keep him quiet, honestly, but he smells like woodsmoke and citrus and old leather so Will doesn’t really mind. Even if he did, the chapped skin of Nico’s lips serves as a very good distraction, as does the brush of his thumb over Will’s cheekbone and the cool press of his ring against Will’s heated skin.

“Stay over,” he whispers, shifting his lips to Will’s chin, his jaw, his neck. He scratches his teeth lightly against Will’s adam’s apple and his hemoglobin briefly forget how important their job is. “You don’t have a shift tomorrow and everyone at camp owes you, like, twelve favours each.”

“That’s very convincing,” Will mumbles, unsure if he’s referring to Nico’s sound logic or the breath he blows on the shell of Will’s ear, which makes his arrector pili muscles go crazy. (He could make a more convincing case for the logic if all the blood had not abandoned his brain. Alas.)

“I’m a very convincing person.”

He slides a hand under Will’s shirt and his already very weak resolve pulls out a suitcase, packs its things, and abandons its family to pursue a career in competitive shoemaking. Or something. Nico’s hands are very very cold and it feels really really good for some reason and Will is just one man, okay. He may have been named after willpower but that does not mean he possesses any. And Nico is a convincing person. He out-stubborned Death.

“Okay,” he gasps out, arching into the nail Nico scratches over the intensely sensitive skin of his hip, “I’m staying, I’m staying, please take all your wiles and ship them out into the sea in a wine crate ala Danaë and her newborn.”

“…You are such a deeply strange person.”

“And yet you love me so.”

Nico presses his smile to Will’s forehead. “Indeed, I do.”

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mthupp · 1 year

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Update on My Novel (post-beta readers)

The last time I wrote about my work-in-progress, I was just sending it out to beta readers. That was about three months ago. Most of the readers were prompt in their responses, and their feedback was very helpful. I solicited beta readers for this book earlier than I have most of my other books. There were many more errors in what I sent to betas this time than in the past, and I felt guilty as…

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#Amazon #formatting #KDP #When Heart Shall Fail #work-in-progress

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fairysluna · 1 month

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Canon era Cregan Stark + being a softie with his Targ wife in the Godswood, just him and her playing in the snow type vibes

-🦊

how i looove cregan x targ!reader, so im just gonna add this little drabble to my among wolves and dragons series, though it can obviously be read as a standalone!! thank you foxy for this cute request!! ily🤍

tags — just fluff and domestic cregan for my cregan girlies out there.

Your hysterical laugh would make his heart burst with joy — contagious enough to make him giggle like a boy as he chased you down the Godswood. You heard his fastened breathing and the cracking of the leaves behind you, knowing he was about to catch you; you tried to run faster, but your long dress and heavy fur coat made it impossible for you to move quickly through the sticks and snow. It was no surprise when your husband finally put his arms around your waist, holding you against his chest as he let out some breathy chuckles against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Got you,” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers all over your body. You shrink in your position, his breathing tickling you and making you giggle. “Got to pay me now, right?” he mentioned before turning your body around in order to face you. Involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to get closer to him. He closed his eyes and pouted his lips, asking you for a simple kiss. You contemplated his beauty for a second, using your fingertips to trace his manly features before you cupped his face — his stubble brushing against your palm as you motioned him down, closer to you.

You brushed your nose against his, humming when his grip around your body tightened; his touch so possessive, yet so gentle. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed as his expression softened, quickly turning into a puddle between your arms. He leaned forward, blindly and instinctively searching for your lips. He was growing impatient, but complying to his wishes was not in your plans.

Before touching his lips with yours, you took him by surprise and pushed him into the soft, cold snow. You attempted to run away from there, thinking that your silly game would continue; however, before you stepped any further, you heard Cregan starting to groan almost as if he was in pain. Your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and guilt as you quickly reached his side again, kneeling and trying to see where he was hurting. His name became almost a chant from your lips as you desperately tried to see what was wrong, until he suddenly trapped you with his big arms once again and pressed you down the snow.

You squealed, hearing him laughing victorious. “You're such a fool! You scared me!” You tried to push him in the chest but his large hands grabbed yours and placed them above your head. He then leans towards you with that smug grin that would make your knees weak, and he kissed you so fervently that a soft moan left your lips. His touch was possessive, a bit rough and brutish, but it did not fail to make you see stars behind your eyelids. You sighed enamored once he pulled back.

“I'm just claiming my price, my love,” he softly said, giving soft kisses all over your face as you tried your hardest to look mad.

“I shall feed you to my dragon if you do this to me again!” you threatened, receiving a low chuckle from him.

“I'll take the risk.”

follow @by-fairysluna for updates!

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#cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #cregan stark fanfic

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month

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Could I request Sampo, Blade, Dan Heng, Welt, and Argenti getting a massive bouquet of flowers and cake as a gift from their s/o?

Argenti: loves giving people flowers and such.

It doesn’t matter who the recipient is either:

Elderly people who are lonely, elderly couples who are still together and very much in love, Young couples, Single people, people in general; Hello! Even stray cats, stray dogs and birds alike get a flower or two and animal safe cakes to eat.

Argenti gives EVERYONE and everything flowers and never asks for anything in exchange.

So when you’re the one to finally give this man his long over due -but much deserved- flowers. You were having an hard time trying to hold up an entire bouquet of a hundred ruby red roses in one hand, and a box of red velvet daisy cakes in the other.

You loved this man dearly and believed that he deserved nothing but the absolute best of the best.

Needless to say this man was swooning at the beauty of your gifts and accepts them wholeheartedly, as he then hold them close to his chest and inhaled the sweet scent deeply, humming in content as a smile graced his lips. He looked so pretty when he smiled like that, then again he was always pretty to you but in that moment he was so ethereal it took your breath away.

‘Thank you my beloved.’ He said as he kisses your cheek. ‘I shall treasure these flowers until their petals loose colour and their stems can no longer support them, but they’ll still be beautiful regardless because you gave me them.’ You mentally cursed Argenti and his seemingly effortless way with words as you burrow yourself into his side.

‘You deserve those flowers and I’m just ashamed that you didn’t receive them earlier.’ You said and Argenti chuckled, falling more and more in love with your beautiful heart by the second.

‘I don’t need flowers when I have you my dear, now would you mind in helping me eat these lovely cakes?’ Argenti asks as he picks up two of the red velvet cakes, admiring the skill that went into them. ‘I don’t think I can eat them all by myself and I would much prefer being in the company of my little flower.’ He concludes as he puts one of the cakes in your hands with a smile.

How could you say no to that face.

Welt: this man probably has had flowers from the likes of March, Dan Heng, Himeko, Pom Pom and Caelus/Stelle but they were nowhere comparable to the bouquet of flowers that you’ve bought for him.

He’s a little flustered at the gesture because wow that’s a lot of flowers for an old man like him. However he will take them as a gesture of goodwill and respect for you.

‘What’s the occasion? I’m certain I’m not missing any important events for such a gift.’ He mutters to himself as he squints at the calendar on his phone. Even with glasses on Welt could feel his eyes strain against the bright light of the phone screen. (Grandpa core.)

You giggle at the sight, if never failed to make you smile whenever he did the whole squinting his eyes to look at the screen, it was unabashedly Welt and you loved him regardless. Respectful older men was your type and Welt covered all basis of this.

‘No, I just wanted to give you some gifts as to thank you for everything you’ve done, not just for me but everyone.’ You told him as he puts away his phone and smiles at you. ‘I appreciate the gifts but you didn’t have to feel obligated to get me anything.’ He says, feeling as though there were other people more deserving of such generous gifts than him.

‘There’s no obligation Welt.’ You defended. ‘I wanted to get you something because you’re worth a thousand bouquets and so much more!’ Welt was moved by your words and made his way towards you, holding your face in his hands as he kisses your forehead softly.

‘Thank you. I shall treasure them forever.’

Sampo: acts like he receives flowers all the time but he’s bluffing and you know it from the way he’d trip over his own words.

He’s deeply touched that you got an old fool like him flowers and sweet cakes.

‘All this for ol Sampo? Oh you shouldn’t have.’ He’d say as he’s wiping a tear from his eyes before he then practically salivating over the sweet treats that smelt rich in sweetness in every aspect of its creation.

‘Only the best for my favourite masked fool.’ You replied fondly as you watched Sampo act like a kid in a sweet shop with the way his eyes brightened and how his smile seems to widen more over time.

‘Your favourite masked fool?’ Sampo echoed, pouting as he puts his hands on his hips. ‘How many other masked fools do you know besides me?’ He asks, not liking the idea of sharing you with the likes of Giovanni or something , you were his buddy! He can go find his own buddy elsewhere!

You chuckled as you ran a thumb across his pouty lip, pressing a kiss there because you could along with the fact that Sampo was an absolute sucker for your kisses. ‘You’re the only one I ever need to know because everyone else fails in comparison to the great Sampo Koski.’ You praised him as Sampo buried his head into your neck and attached his arms to your waist, drawing you closer into him.

‘Thank you for the flowers and the cakes.’ He whispers. ‘I really like them…will you…do this again for me next time?’ You kissed the top of his head. ‘You’re very welcome Sampo and of course I will, I’ve got to keep you happy somehow.’ You told him and under his breath Sampo then said, ‘how can I be made even more happy when I’m happy enough as it is with you already here in my arms?’

Blade: skeptical.

Never, ever, ever has he ever been given flowers. Never.

So needless to say he’s a little on edge and side eye the harmless bouquet of flowers as though they just personally insulted him.

‘What’s this.’ He’d ask.

‘A bouquet of flowers and a couple of Black Forest Gateau cakes.’ You responded as your smile melted off of your face. ‘You don’t like them do you.’

‘No.’ Blade, feeling the hurt within your voice cut into him deeply, says immediately. ‘I’m just not accustomed to being given gifts because no one in their right mind would give someone like me flowers and cakes. I don’t deserve them.’ He adds as a somber silence befell you both.

‘Well I think you do.’ You said after a while and Blade could only raise a brow at you. ‘It’s true! I’ll buy you a thousand bouquet of flowers and boxes of cakes if it means proving to you that you’re worth such things.’ You doubled down on your promise and Blade couldn’t help but smile a little at your determination to prove him wrong. It was a trait that he loved about you but wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

‘Even if the trail I leave behind is one of blood, death and pain?’ He asks.

‘Even then.’ You reaffirmed and Blade felt a warmth flood through him then and there as he sighs and takes the bouquet into his arms. ‘I’m no florist,’ he starts as he was just about to take the flowers up to his room before stopping to look at you over his shoulder, ‘but I’ll try to keep them alive, for you.’ He adds and your smile came back in full force.

A sight he loves to see as often as he could.

‘Everything has to die at some point, even flowers.’ You told him but he wasn’t having it.

‘Not if the flowers are from you, then I’ll keep trying in getting them to live forever.’ Blade replied and it was honestly the most romantic thing he’s ever said in that moment.

Dan Heng: thinks they were for someone else at first.

He, like welt, receives flowers for the rest of the Astral express crew now and then, but they paled in comparison to your bouquet of flowers and cakes.

‘Am I really worth all this?’ He asks, not so certain that he was in fact worth all the effort you’ve put into getting him such a radiant bouquet and delicious treats.

‘You are and I won’t hear otherwise Dan Heng.’ You said as you held him from behind, kissing his cheek that burned red afterwards, making you smile knowing that you still had that effect on him after so long.

‘Is this want to expect now? Bouquet and cakes?’ He says as he takes in the fact that you remembered each of his favourite flowers, and managed to have the florist organise them in a way that emphasised the beauty of each and every individual flower as they seamlessly blended into one another, almost as though it were a painting.

‘Only if you want it to be.’ You replied softly and Dan Heng gently rubbed a soft baby blue petal between his finger before letting them go, the faint smell of flora bringing about a sense of calm and belonging to his room. Something that his room severely lacked, but he didn’t understand what was missing back then as he did now, his room was missing your warm touch and it was very much the same for himself.

Dan Heng needed you in his life. He was missing your presence before he even met you, almost as though you were fated to meet and become romantically intertwined to one another.

‘Only if it’s from you.’ He says softly as he moves to look at. you with a soft expression. ‘Then consider it done.’ You kissed his lips this time, smiling against him in response upon feeling him smile into the kiss.

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caesium-55 · 2 months

Text

—seven days. [ iv ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warning/s: sexual content but it's nothing too explicit. also angst angst angst.

author's note: NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. also, lemme know what u guys think!! would love to read it honestly. it was what had been keeping me inspired.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @leclercdream

masterlist.

You have three philosophies in life.

Pussies do not get the good stuff. If you want the good stuff, don't be a pussy.

Hard work will pay off one day. In the meantime, work hard but don't work too hard. You work smart and make it seem like you're working hard so by the time your “hard” work pays off, you’re not too tired from working and still have energy to enjoy your reward, you know? Does that make sense?

Whatever Max Verstappen wanted, Max Verstappen would get.

Now let us focus on philosophy number three. It's a shitty philosophy to have, but when you're working as the manager of Red Bull’s golden boy—after Sebastian Vettel, of course—that philosophy sort of becomes the job description. It's your job to give whatever Max Verstappen wanted, whatever he needed.

When he asks you that question, sounding so innocent as if he hasn't just yanked your entire world off its axis by saying those words, your first reaction is to pull up the middle finger. Fuck you, Max. Max is an asshole for asking you that. Max is an absolute asshole for asking you for a kiss. For the five years you've worked for him, he should already be aware of the power he holds over your head. Should be aware that you'll give anything he'll ask. That's why he should be careful with what he's asking from you.

Said asshole has the audacity to pout. He resembled the pet duck who lived in your Abuelo's farm that you were very fond of in your childhood. Her name was Maria and she was a menace. Your Abuelo even tied a pink bow to the duck’s neck so it could be easily recognizable. A 181-cm tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired Dutch duck with a blue-eyed gaze that will never fail to make your bones tremble and your heart stutter once you let yourself stare at it. You can put a bow around his neck, too, like what your Abuelo did to that duck. Then, use the bow to choke him in a way that is definitely not sexy or kinky but in a way that screams murder, murder, murder.

“That's not nice.”

“‘M not a nice person.”

“You're a nice person, you just don't do nice things.”

You give him a weird look.

“If you weren't a nice person, you would not be here with me right now,” he continues, in a manner that made him seem like a hundred-old sage imparting wisdom. “But you're here and you're not leaving and you're not hurting me so you're nice.”

His words cause something rotten to bloom in your ribs, “How are you so certain that ‘m not gonna end up hurtin’ you? For all you know, I'm gonna use this billiard stick to make you a human skewer right now.”

He laughs. God. The sound is absolutely beautiful that it terrifies you.

“You're you, [Name]. You would never hurt me.”

In a sense, he's right. You will never hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. If you wanted him to hurt, you'll be leaving right now and flying to Texas the same way Kelly did in Abu Dhabi. Because, for someone like Max, nothing in this world is more painful than to be left alone when all you yearned for is someone to be there for you.

“So……will you?” he asks again. “Will you kiss me?”

He's drunk, your brain reasons. Your fingers gently reach for his jaw—very angular, you belatedly realize—and Max chases the warmth of your skin. He does not know what he's asking, your brain reasons again. You tug him towards you and your mouth meets his, immediately registering the taste of the beer on his tongue. He’s stupid, your brain added. I’m stupid, too, you argue mentally and pushes him against the side of the billiard table and toss your stick to the floor and let yourself take everything from Max Verstappen. Fuck you Max, you think with finality. Your brain replies: You’re also fucked.

He took what he wanted from you. Every day. Every single day. He will ask and you will give. Now, it is your turn to take. One last time before the inevitable goodbye that you know will break both of your hearts.

Anger. Frustration. That's what you feel right now. Anger because this is going to make things more complicated for you and goddammit, why are you making things hard for yourself? Frustrated because you’re not supposed to do this but you cannot fucking stop. Thank fuck you resigned before pulling this shit because this is soooooo unprofessional.

You read somewhere that said something like all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. And is this situation not a perfect demonstration of this? Max is your god. Max was your god. And you are going to devour him—fueled by five years of frustration and anger and a series of why, why, why didn't you talk to Horner? Now it's too late because I'm leaving all because you didn't talk to fucking Horner.

You've forgiven 2021. 2022 made your grudge grow. And you're not stupid to continue staying after his 2023 victory when it's clearly not happening—the dream that will be given to you with Max's power. You will never forgive yourself if you stayed here and be continuously reminded of what you could become, what you failed to become.

Max is surprisingly pliant under your hands. A rare occasion. One would expect Max Verstappen to take the lead because that's what he did in the race tracks. A 20-second lead from everyone else. He's also the type to just do whatever he wanted, you know? And people would let him. Because he's Max Verstappen.

Dominance. Total dominance.

“Wait,” he squeezes your arms and you do not hear him clearly the first time because you're so concentrated on his lips and how it feels and tastes against yours. “Wait, wait. Slow down.”

You pull away and you hear him take a gasp of air, “Somethin’ wrong?”

He looks so beautiful like this. Beneath you. Lips swollen. Blue eyes wide with desire. Hair perfectly messy. Grip on your arm so tight that you're sure will definitely leave a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow.

“Can’t breathe,” he says with a light laugh and you resist the urge to violently bash your head against the billiard table because what the fuck? That's not good for your heart. It's too… too… adorable. Max is not supposed to be an adorable person.

You suck in a breath and lower your head until your forehead meets Max’s firm chest.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You raise your head and meet Max’s eyes, the culprit behind your insanity right now.

(Your Abuela said that blue eyes were just blue eyes. Until you fall in love with someone with blue eyes and blue becomes a color that consumed your world whole. You appreciated the sky more because it reminded you of his eyes. You appreciated the color of the seas more because it reminded you of his eyes. Blue became the color of love.)

Now what? Do you continue or…?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Do you even need to ask?” you deadpan. Max’s hands circle around your waist and he gently guides you away from him. He dusts his shirt once he has fully risen from the billiard table before his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwining together, he leads you out of the entertainment room.

Your heart drums with anticipation. Numerous questions circle around your head but it all disappears in a flash when Max brings you to the room where you found him that morning. You wince when you walk past the broken door.

Yeah…

Making a payment plan will be hell. You're unemployed at the current moment, too. The first thing you have to do when you land in Texas is find a job.

He makes you sit on his bed, the soft mattress dipping down on your weight. You can only stare at him, brows furrowing in confusion and a question sitting on the tip of your tongue that you are yet to voice out. Max makes a beeline to his closet, throwing it open and procuring a box.

A box.

He walks back to you, dropping on his knees and that action makes you panic. Then, Max opens the box, pulling out the most gorgeous pair of five-inch block heels you have ever laid eyes upon and gently slips them onto your feet. The straps have pearls and satin bows and it has tiny white diamonds, elegantly cut, as the centerpiece. Not even the YSL Opyum heels you own can compare to its elegance and beauty.

You almost kick him in the face because you do not expect that he’ll do that.

I bought shoes and they don't fit her. Max has told you. You feel bile rise up your throat.

The shoes. They fit you. Perfectly. As if it was made to be yours. As if it was bought to be yours. As if he was thinking of you, who is nothing but his manager and somewhat friend, when he bought the gorgeous heels instead of Kelly Piquet, his fucking girlfriend of three years whom he had been living with in this fucking penthouse, and parenting little P with.

“They're perfect,” Max whispers and he looks up with that smile playing on his lips. You feel tears sting your eyes and you press your lips into a thin line before moving your gaze away, blinking rapidly.

Max is doing this because he thought you were Kelly.

“They're custom, you know? They're the only pair in the world.”

His words make the taste of bile a hundred times worse. You stare at the shoes on your feet as if it's a sin to have the shoes fit you. No wonder Kelly is mad at Max. If Leo has commissioned custom heels with another woman in mind and got your shoe size wrong after three years of being together, you'll feel hurt, too.

You feel the need to apologize to Kelly. Maybe a quick message to her IG? You also follow each other’s private account.

“You’re thinking,” he says and his voice snaps you out of the rabbit hole known as your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothin’,” you lie. The feeling of wanting to puke intensifies so you grab Max by his collar and plant your lips against his to push back the imaginary bile stuck on your throat and from there, the situation escalates to the point that clothes are removed. One by one. When you reach to unstrap the heels, Max grabbed your wrists, almost panicked.

“What are you doin’?” you ask.

“Don't take them off please.”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get.

Your name built a home in Max’s mouth, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease at every pleasure he felt, while your fingers explore every inch of Max’s skin. You're only allowed to watch back then. Now, you're allowed to touch.

Hearing his whimpers and little groans and shudders—all done by your hands—you feel nothing but satisfaction. He chants your name like it's a prayer and you're his god and if that is not love then you do not what is.

You wait for Max to utter Kelly’s name midway.

He never did.

“What are you doing?” his voice is groggy with sleep. After doing it, he immediately passes out. Weak ass bitch. You're still waiting for the horror once the realization of what you’ve done sinks into your system. The annoying headache, too. For now, none of them have arrived yet. Probably because you still have enough alcohol in your system to numb things out for you. While waiting, you're on your phone.

Ha, it's past 12 midnight now. You have three days to tell Max before you fly to Texas.

“Talkin' to someone,” you reply cryptically. His brows knit together.

“Who?”

“Just Logan.”

“The American in Williams?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, the American in Williams.”

You notice how his arms on your waist tighten, pulling you a little closer to him, but you say nothing. This action causes flowers to bloom in your lungs and you hope he hasn't noticed how your breath hitched.

“Why?”

“He’s my friend. Friends talk,” you deadpan.

Logan Sargeant is an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you a lot of your little brother and you both share the same sentiments regarding the feeling of being unwelcomed in Formula One. You suppose he has it worse though. Nobody in the grid really makes an effort to befriend the young racer and you're fifty percent sure that the fact he's American made a contribution to that.

None of the other racers even follow him on Insta.

“Well, what are you two talking about?” Grumpy and bratty Max is back. Welcome back, asshole.

“He’s in Texas right now and he was askin’ if I was back home, too. Said we should grab a drink together. I promised to show him around Austin.”

“You never invited me to Austin.”

“Why would you even go to Austin?” your nose scrunch a little. “You visit your mother for Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You're befriending too much racers.”

“Excuse me? I only have Logan as a friend. Charles, too, by extension because he's your friend,” you point out. “Checo and Daniel and Yuki and Liam because they work with you.”

“And me.”

“You're not my friend.”

“What am I then? Your dog?”

“I work for you.”

“You work with me, not for me,” he corrects.

You do not know why your heart skipped a beat at that.

“I’m just trynna be a good friend here and you're bein’ unreasonably grumpy,” you try to shift the subject to save your own sanity. “None of you even tried to befriend Logan.”

Max abruptly reaches for his phone on the bedside table and unlocks it. You watch as he opens his Instagram, the public one, and added Logan's account. You gape. He switches to his private account and searches for Logan’s account in your profile's list of followers and adds him, too.

“What the fuck, Max?”

“I’m befriending him,” he says simply. “I’ll invite him over if he ever comes by in Monaco during the off-season.”

You blink.

“Now say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.”

He tosses his phone to the bedside table and turn his back on you in a manner that reminded you of a very petulant child.

You glance at your phone only to see Logan’s freaked out messages.

logan: HE FOLLOWED ME??!? ON BOTH ACCOUNTS???

logan: AM I SEEING THINGS? HAVE I ACCIDENTALLY SNORTED DRUGS??!

logan: maybe it's the texas heat??

logan: *sent a screenshot*

logan: MAX VERSTAPPEN INVITED ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE??

you: congrats child

logan: is this your doing??!?

logan: are you with him now?

logan: wait that's impossible, itd be 2 am in monaco now there's no way youd be together rn

If only he knows.

you: how bout we talk later once the sun rises here in monaco?

you: or maybe once i arrive in the us?

logan: sure sure

you: stay safe out there kid

logan: HE JUST FOLLOWED ME I CAN DIE HAPPY

You toss your phone aside and inch closer to Max, looping your arms around him and falling asleep in his warmth.

Your phone rings and it's not the Max Max Max Super Max Max ringtone. It's the default one.

Mama, the caller ID indicates. 4:31 AM is written on the upper right corner of your phone screen. You press the answer button.

“Your Papa…… It was a dangerous call. He needs to see you before he… He might not make it.”

That alone is enough for you to jump out of bed. You scramble to grab last night’s clothes and slip them on. Fuck, they still smell like alcohol.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Max, who's rudely awakened when you abruptly jumped out of bed, looks so lost and when he sees you run your way out of his bedroom and to the stairs, he panics. The poor man panicked. He falls down the bed and runs after you, having the decency to only grab a towel to cover his lower half. He stops you, grabbing your wrist just as you're at the lowest step of the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” his voice is still rough with sleep and he's aggressively rubbing out his grogginess from his eyes. You stop, letting out a breath that you don't realize you're holding before turning around to face him. Then, the guilt rushes in. Max looks so…you don't have the words to describe it. His hair is a mess and he still looks sleepy but he also looks wide awake and kind of panicking and confused.

This is a face that's equally endearing and heartbreaking. You can't believe this will be the last time you'll be seeing him. You're still supposed to have three days left but now it's cut short and you—

You'll miss him.

“Sorry, baby,” you come up a few steps and cup his cheeks, bringing his face down so you can kiss his forehead. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours, eyes fluttering close.

“Where are you going?” he asks again.

“Texas,” you reply. “Dad… he… 'Twas a bad call and I need to see him. I need—I need to go home now.”

This is the reality of being family with a firefighter. You're always in danger of losing your father in one of the calls. And that is happening now.

Max understands because he knows your father's line of work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

You shake your head.

“Then, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you shoot him down quickly. “You drank last night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not drunk now.”

“Max,” you breathe through your nose to calm yourself down. “I’ll take the next flight available to the US. You stay here.”

“Take my jet.”

“No, Max,” you say. “Thank you for the offer but you’ll use the jet when you visit your mother.”

“I can fly commercial,” he squeezes your hands. “You don't want me to drive you. You don't want me to come with you. At least take the jet.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Just take the jet, please, [Name].”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get. So you nod your head slowly because it looks like he'll argue just to get you seated in his jet. And you'll argue with him if it was any other day but not today because you need to leave quickly. Time is becoming too precious. You can lose your Dad any second. You just wish you can see him and talk to him before he went.

“Okay.”

You pull away, whipping around to head to the door but Max doesn't let your wrist go. You turn back to him.

“What is it, Max?”

“Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Of course.”

“One last thing. Wait here.”

He runs back to his room and you tap your foot impatiently, eyes trained on the mismatched shoes that covered your feet. Max returns not even five minutes later and now, he's wearing clothes and he’s carrying the shoe box from last night.

You swallow the lump on your throat.

“Take this with you.”

With shaking hands, you take the box.

“See you around, [Name].”

“Goodbye, Max.”

It's a good thing that you spent the entire morning yesterday packing because this makes everything smoother for you. It is a little past 5 am now and the outside world is still enveloped in total darkness. You gaze at the apartment one last time, three suitcases in tow. The keys feel heavy in your hands as you lock the door behind you.

In the middle of your apartment living room sits a lone shoe box with a letter that says: Sorry, Max. I can't steal more from Kelly.

Beside the box is a folder.

An unfinished guide on becoming Max Verstappen’s manager. (I’ll have the final copy printed, binded, and sent before the 2024 pre-season. Haha, I’m channeling my inner Toto Wolff.)

The first paper you’ll see after you open the folder reads:

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024 and honestly, I am worried. Not for you, of course. You’d win WDC whether I am your manager or not. That's how good you are. I am worried for your future manager. I’m afraid it would take someone with guts like me to work for with someone like you. A powerhouse manager for a powerhouse athlete.

Inside, you can find the following things:

How to bake my abuela’s special cheesecake.

How to make Red Bull vodka

How to make Max’s favorite pasta for lunch

List of Max Verstappen’s favorite places in each city

How to iron Max Verstappen’s clothes

What to do when Max accidentally sets the kitchen on fire

What to do when Max has a bad race

How to protect Max Verstappen from angry Hamilton fans

How to deal with a drunk Max Verstappen

Etc…

I will still be watching your journey, not from the Red Bull garage but from another continent. We worked five amazing years together and now it is time for us to fly on different skies. As much as I liked working with you, you can't be the only one reaching your dreams. Don’t worry, I’ll always reach out.

Thank you, Max. For giving me a home. I’m not talking about the apartment. I don't believe that home are establishments. Home is the people you love and Max, you are someone I love.

In the last page of this folder, you’d see a handmade bracelet tucked inside. It's small and it's made of cheap beads and I do not care if you don't think it's worthy enough to be worn on your wrist. Not even going to be offended. It's dirt compared to the Cartier bracelets you wear everyday. I bought the beads while roaming in Brazil and I just thought I’d make you one.

I cannot give you any gift that you already cannot buy with your money so I went ahead and made this. Money cannot buy anything made by my own hands.

Thank you again, Max.

And I’m so fucking sorry.

Please don't be angry.

I love you.

You watch the sun rise inside Max's jet as you fly over Monaco to Texas.

#mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen #f1imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 #formulaone #fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 1 month

Text

WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

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Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

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There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

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This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

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THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

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My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #the final #take two (SORRY)#captain wentworth #mr darcy #persuasion 1995 #pride and prejudice 1995 #ciaran hinds #colin firth #persuasion #pride and prejudice #jane austen #frederick wentworth #fitzwilliam darcy #Youtube

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