#out of respect for my family I'd love to share these stories with you but I'll never ever exaggerate one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zapreportsblog · 9 months

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I'd love to request Emmtt with a mute mate, when she's changed he gets to hear her voice for the first time. She lost her voice in an accident just before she met him. Please and thank you!

Wow this is really creative, hope you enjoy it :)

↳ finding my voice ↲

➘ summary : Emmett’s mate lost her voice a while back but now as a newborn vampire will she find it once more

➘ a/n : you can not tell me this man doesn’t look crazy, like sir it’s giving yandere emmett

➘ emmett cullen x reader , twilight x reader

In the heart of the lush forests of Forks, the Cullen family existed as a unique coven of vampires who sought to lead a life far removed from their bloodthirsty nature. Among them was Emmett Cullen, known for his boisterous laughter and zest for life. He was a beacon of energy and strength within the family, his larger-than-life personality a stark contrast to his supernatural abilities.

However, it was a quiet and unassuming presence that would forever change the course of Emmett's existence. (Y/N), a human woman with an unbreakable spirit, had captured his heart in ways he never thought possible.

(Y/N) had been through more than most in her short life. A childhood accident had stolen her ability to speak, rendering her voiceless. Yet, her vibrant eyes spoke volumes, and the grace with which she moved resonated with the essence of her character.

It was during a chance encounter in the small town of Forks that Emmett first saw (Y/N). She was sitting on a park bench, reading a book, her fingers delicately tracing the words as if to hold onto every sentence. Intrigued by her quiet demeanor, Emmett approached, and as their eyes met, a connection sparked between them that transcended words.

(Y/N)'s accident had robbed her of her voice, but it hadn't taken away her ability to communicate. With the delicate yet deliberate movements of her hands, she wove intricate patterns in the air - a language known only to those who understood the power of silence. Emmett, captivated by this unique form of communication, found himself drawn into a world where words were unnecessary.

As days turned into weeks, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond deepened. Their connection was formed through the silent exchange of signs, each movement carrying a weight of emotion that words could never convey. (Y/N) showed Emmett the beauty of patience and understanding, while Emmett brought laughter and adventure into her life.

The Cullen family embraced (Y/N) as one of their own, her presence bringing a sense of tranquility to their immortal existence. Alice, with her visions, often foresaw moments of joy between Emmett and (Y/N), and Jasper, with his empathy, felt the genuine love that radiated between them. Even Rosalie, known for her guarded nature, found herself warming to (Y/N)'s genuine spirit.

As their relationship flourished, the Cullens marveled at the profound connection Emmett and (Y/N) shared. They watched as the two of them communicated through touch, through shared glances, and through the intimate dance of their fingers in the air. The family respected and cherished this unique bond that transcended the limitations of speech.

And so, in the heart of the Cullen family's haven, an unconventional love story was written. Emmett and (Y/N) proved that words were not the only means of conveying love, and that sometimes, the most profound connections were formed through silence - through the quiet whispers of the heart.

Within the tranquil embrace of the Cullen family home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond continued to flourish. Their love story unfolded through gestures and expressions that spoke to the depth of their connection.

Emmett's boisterous laughter and playful antics were matched by (Y/N)'s radiant smiles and the light that danced within her eyes. He would often invent wild stories, acting them out with exaggerated gestures that made (Y/N) giggle in response. In return, (Y/N) would share her thoughts and feelings through a symphony of delicate hand movements, her eloquence in sign language surpassing the limitations of spoken words.

The Cullen family marveled at the harmony that Emmett and (Y/N) brought to their midst. Esme, the nurturing matriarch, had a soft spot for their unique relationship, seeing the purity of their connection as a testament to the power of love itself. Carlisle, the patriarch, respected the understanding they shared, acknowledging that true communication extended far beyond verbal expression.

Alice's visions of their future were painted with joy and warmth, while Jasper felt the serenity that emanated from their union, a tranquility that often eluded even the most harmonious of couples. Even Edward, with his mind-reading abilities, could not grasp the full depth of their emotions, for their love existed in a realm untouched by words.

As time went on, (Y/N) became an integral part of the Cullen family, her presence weaving seamlessly into their immortal lives. She brought a sense of serenity that balanced the frenetic energy of her vampire companions. The family gathered around as Emmett and (Y/N) recounted their adventures with animated gestures and subtle touches, their joy infectious and genuine.

But as with any love story, challenges arose that put their bond to the test. A threat from the outside world loomed, casting shadows over their peaceful existence. The Cullens' sanctuary faced danger, and the unity they had fostered was put in jeopardy.

Emmett's protective nature flared, a fierce determination in his eyes as he vowed to shield (Y/N) from harm. And through the intricate language of signs, she assured him that she was by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

As the Cullen family rallied together to protect their home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s silent communication proved to be an asset, allowing them to strategize and coordinate with a precision that transcended spoken words. The battles they fought were not only physical but also emotional, as they navigated the turmoil while leaning on the strength of their connection.

And so, as twilight bathed the tranquil forest in shades of gold, the Cullen family and their unique couple stood together, united against the storm that raged both within and around them. The echoes of emotion that passed between Emmett and (Y/N) resonated with a love that needed no spoken words to be understood. As they faced the trials ahead, their silent bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love and the strength found in shared silence.

As the threat to the Cullen family grew, so did Emmett's determination to protect (Y/N). He had witnessed firsthand the dangers that lurked in their supernatural world, and the thought of leaving her vulnerable and alone, especially considering her inability to call for help, was something he couldn't bear. He knew he couldn't protect her indefinitely as a human, and a sense of urgency pushed him to consider an unconventional solution.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Emmett led (Y/N) to a quiet corner of the Cullen family home. He looked into her eyes, his expression serious yet filled with concern. Using the fluid language of sign, he conveyed his thoughts to her, his fingers forming each word with care.

"(Y/N), love," he began, his hands moving gracefully, "I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. I won't leave you unprotected like Edward did to Bella. I want to keep you safe."

He continued to explain his plan - the idea that (Y/N) could become a vampire, a creature like them, impervious to harm and capable of defending herself. His eyes held a mix of worry and hope, his love for her evident in every gesture he made.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion as she listened to Emmett's proposal. The idea of becoming a vampire was both daunting and enticing. She had already embraced the supernatural world through her relationship with Emmett and the Cullens, and the prospect of eternal life by his side seemed like a gift she couldn't refuse.

With a soft smile, she signed her response, her fingers moving in delicate patterns. "I agree. I want to be with you, Emmett, no matter the form."

Emmett's eyes lit up with relief and joy, his heart swelling at her willingness to share eternity with him. He took her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of their bond.

With their decision made, they turned to Carlisle, the family's patriarch and a skilled doctor who had experience in transforming humans into vampires. He led them through the process, explaining the changes that would occur and the challenges they would face.

For (Y/N), the transformation was a journey of physical and emotional trials. She faced pain and power, vulnerability and strength, as her human life faded away and her vampiric existence began. Emmett stood by her side through every step, offering his unwavering support and reassurance, their silent communication speaking louder than words ever could.

As the transformation neared its completion, (Y/N) felt the rush of new senses and abilities course through her, her body adjusting to its immortal form. Her eyes opened to a world painted in vivid colors and heightened details, a realm she had only glimpsed through Emmett's descriptions.

And as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in light, (Y/N) opened her newly enhanced eyes to lock onto Emmett's gaze. In that moment, their silent connection spoke of a love that had transcended the boundaries of time and form, a bond that was now sealed for eternity.

With a tender smile, Emmett extended his hand to her, his fingers inviting her to join him in this new existence. She reached out and took his hand, their fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged between them.

And so, as the sun's rays touched their skin, the journey of a new life began - one filled with challenges and triumphs, shared by a couple whose love had conquered the limitations of sound and words. In the embrace of their family and each other, they faced the future with a strength that defied the silence that once defined them.

In the days following (Y/N)'s transformation, a sense of renewal and exhilaration coursed through her veins. She marveled at the new world around her, her senses heightened to levels she had never imagined. The bond between her and Emmett seemed to have deepened, the unspoken connection between them now accompanied by a symphony of shared experiences.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the Cullen family gathered, a hush fell over the room. Emmett and (Y/N) stood at the center, their hands entwined. The air was charged with a palpable energy, a feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As everyone's eyes turned toward (Y/N), she took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength coursing through her. And then, to the astonishment of all, she began to speak.

"Thank you," her voice, melodious and clear, filled the room, resonating with an ethereal quality that left everyone speechless. The sound was as enchanting as it was unexpected, a testament to the transformative power of their supernatural world.

Emmett's eyes widened in awe, his grip on her hand tightening as he listened to her speak for the first time. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, his laughter bubbling up like a spring of unrestrained happiness.

The Cullen family exchanged astonished glances, their eyes filled with wonder and amazement. Edward, whose mind-reading abilities were unparalleled, couldn't help but smile as he realized the extent of the change that had occurred within (Y/N). Alice's visions had not foreseen this, a delightful surprise that warmed her heart.

"(Y/N), your voice," Esme's eyes glistened with tears of happiness, her motherly love radiating through the room. "It's beautiful."

Carlisle, who had been studying (Y/N)'s transformation with a scientist's curiosity, stepped forward, his expression one of genuine awe. "It appears that your vocal cords have been restored during the transformation," he mused, a mix of fascination and delight in his voice.

As the room filled with applause and exclamations of joy, (Y/N) felt a sense of liberation she had never known. She shared laughter with Alice, exchanged words of friendship with Jasper, and even engaged in conversation with Edward, her voice a gift that allowed her to fully participate in the world around her.

But it was Emmett's reaction that touched her heart the most. His eyes shone with unbridled pride and love, his arms enveloping her in an embrace that spoke of a connection that had grown even stronger. They shared whispered words of love, their voices now harmonizing in a way that seemed to echo the bond they had always shared.

In that moment, the Cullen family celebrated not only the transformation of (Y/N) into a vampire but also the rebirth of her voice. Her words became a melody that resonated through the hearts of all who heard, a reminder of the remarkable journey that had brought her into their supernatural world.

And as the stars painted the night sky with their brilliance, the Cullen family reveled in the beauty of (Y/N)'s newfound voice, a testament to the enduring power of love and the extraordinary transformations that were possible within their extraordinary world.

#x reader #emmett x reader #emmett cullen #emmett cullen imagines #emmett cullen imagine #emmett cullen x reader #emmett cullen x y/n #emmett cullen x you #twilight x y/n #twilight imagines #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight x you #requests #requested

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sadnymi · 8 days

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「 ✦ Fresh Out the slammer. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: Y/n made a decision she thought was right, but it ended up costing her the only real thing in her life. Now, instead of finding peace and stability, her life has turned into a nightmare a slammer. She ran away, only to realize her mistake and now she knows there's only one person she can turn to—the only person her heart truly loves.

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut,strong language.

Words:5k.

The dress shimmered like moonlight on water, a cascade of champagne silk that clung to my curves in all the right places. I stood frozen, a statue sculpted from fabric and societal expectation. Perfect. Flawless. Engaged.

Yet, the reflection staring back at me held no spark of joy, just a hollow echo of a smile. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. More like a numb acceptance of a life carefully mapped out, not by my own desires, but by the whispers and needs of my family.

Charles, my fiancé, was everything a respectable young woman could desire. Handsome, wealthy, with a lineage as distinguished as his manners. On paper, we were the perfect match – a union that would solidify our families' positions in high society.

The party buzzed around me, a symphony of congratulations and well wishes. I played my part, radiating a picture-perfect fiancée. Laughter bubbled on my lips, practiced and polite. This was the new normal, the life I'd been groomed for. A gilded cage.

Then, across the crowded room, my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes. A jolt went through me, a spark that had nothing to do with champagne or diamonds. Mattheo. There, in the shadows by the doorway, stood the one man who disrupted all carefully laid plans. His lips were curved in a smirk, a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down my spine.

He wasn't celebrating. He was observing. Analyzing. Like some predatory toying with the carefully orchestrated scene before him.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, washed over me. I needed a moment, a single breath outside the suffocating air of expectations. Slipping through the French doors, I stepped onto the cool balcony overlooking the city lights.

And then, there he was, leaning against the railing a few feet away. Mattheo, his gaze following mine as he took a long drag from a cigarette. I clutched the glass of juice in my hand tighter, the cold seeping through the crystal.

"Care to share the joke?" I finally managed, my voice low and laced with a touch of bitterness. He didn't turn towards me, but his voice, when he spoke, was a smooth caress in the night air.

"Just admiring the performance, love," he drawled. "You play the part beautifully. Almost makes you believe it yourself."

The words tumbled out of my mouth, a torrent of frustration and a desperate attempt to mask the truth even from myself. "What are you doing, Mattheo? Making fun of me?" My voice rose a notch, defensive and angry.

"He's a perfect man. His family and mine have been friends for decades! Don't go acting like you care about some fairytale love story." I knew I was overplaying it, the words spilling out too fast, a frantic attempt to convince someone – maybe myself – that Charles was the answer.

He didn't flinch at my outburst. "No, not that," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It's just… I don't get it. Why settle for 'perfect' when you could have something real?" His gaze held mine, a challenge and a question all at once.

"Real?" I scoffed, the bitterness dripping from my voice. "What's real? This?" I gestured at the glittering party scene below, the forced smiles and hollow laughter. "Or a life filled with… with what? Uncertainty? Danger?" The words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the life I'd always secretly yearned for, a life that somehow always seemed to revolve around Mattheo.

"Maybe," he conceded, shrugging a shoulder.

My breath hitched. His words were a direct hit, piercing through the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart. "I…" I started, but the words wouldn't come.

Frustration bubbled over, a cocktail of anger and confusion. "This is for me to decide, Mattheo! I don't need him, I want him! He'll be a good husband, a good father, a good partner. " My voice grew louder, the carefully constructed facade crumbling with each word.

"Sure, love," he said, that infuriating smirk twisting his lips once more.

"Dammit, Mattheo!" I exploded, tears stinging my eyes. "Either be happy for me, at least pretend, or leave!" The words were out before I could stop them.

Regret washed over me as quickly as the anger had risen. The light in his eyes, playful just moments ago, vanished, replaced by a flicker of pain I couldn't decipher.

For the first time that night, he looked at me seriously. No smirk, no amusement, left me speechless. "I think I'll leave then “.

And then he was gone, disappearing back into the throng of partygoers. The air felt suddenly colder, the weight of his absence a physical blow. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a mix of anger, fear, and something far deeper twisting in my gut.

A desperate urge to chase after him, to call him back, flooded me. But pride, stubbornness, and the carefully constructed image I'd spent all night portraying held me frozen in place.

I watched him go, a lone figure swallowed by the crowd, and a single, tear finally escaped, tracing a glistening path down my cheek.

The engagement ring felt like a lead weight on my finger. It was supposed to be a symbol of happily ever after, but all it brought was a dull ache in my chest. Charles, my fiancé, had proposed on a gondola ride in Venice, a picture-perfect moment straight out of a romance novel. The only problem was, the picture was a lie, a carefully staged facade.

The cracks began to show soon after. Charles, always so attentive during our courtship, started developing a curious habit of "forgetting" dates and appointments. His phone, an ever-present extension of his hand, would suddenly become a mystery when important calls came in. Excuses piled up like unwashed dishes, each one chipping away at the foundation of trust.

One particularly galling instance involved a charity gala. Charles had promised to accompany me, a public show of unity for my family's foundation. As the guests arrived, resplendent in their evening wear, I stood alone, a nervous knot twisting in my stomach. An hour later, with half the night gone, he sauntered in, a sickeningly self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His excuse? A "business meeting" that ran long. The lie was obvious, the scent of his cologne a dead giveaway – the same kind of perfume that clung to the woman flitting at his side the previous weekend.

One blustery Saturday, we planned a picnic by the lake. Charles, however, turned up two hours late, reeking of butterbeer and with a smear of lipstick on his collar. My accusations were met with a dismissive, "Oh, Y/N, you're being paranoid again."

Selfishness was another of Charles's defining traits. He saw everything in terms of "me" and "mine." My interests, my dreams, were relegated to mere footnotes in his grand narrative. One weekend getaway we'd planned, meticulously tailored to my love for hiking and stargazing, was abruptly rerouted to a luxurious spa resort "because stress relief is good for everyone, darling." My protests were met with feigned sympathy and a dismissive pat on the head.

The final straw came at a Ministry charity gala. All night, Charles was glued to a group of Aurors, completely ignoring me. I stood alone, clutching my champagne flute feeling like a pretty ornament on his arm. As I excused myself for a moment of fresh air, I rounded a corner and saw him, laughing carelessly, his hand resting on Astoria's waist. They were kissing, a passionate embrace that ripped the last shreds of hope from my heart.

Tears blurring my vision, I confronted him later that night. "How could you?" My voice trembled, the anger barely masking the deep well of hurt.

He sighed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Y/N, darling, don't be dramatic. It was just a kiss. A silly little thing."

"Just a kiss?" I cried, the dam of my emotions finally bursting. "And all those lies? The neglect? Charles”

His face contorted in anger. "You," he snarled, "are supposed to be the perfect fiancée. All smiles and beauty. You're just a pretty face, Y/N, that's all. Your role is to stand there and look pretty."

“I deserve better than this!"

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. "You deserve exactly what I'm giving you, Y/N," he said, his voice cold and hard. "A comfortable life, a prestigious name. Do you think your father will be thrilled if you call off the wedding? Think of the scandal, the gossip! That's all that matters, after all."

His words cut deeper than any wand. In that moment, I saw him for who he truly was – a self-serving, arrogant man who only valued me as a trophy, not a person. The anger surged through me, hot and cleansing.

"I don't care anymore about what any of you want!" I ripped his grip on my face, my voice a ragged scream. "This doesn't matter anymore!"

With that, I spun on my heel and fled, leaving him and the shattered remnants of our engagement party behind. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of anger, sadness, and a newfound sense of freedom.

Escaping the suffocating confines of the argument felt like breaking free from a Dementor's grip. My phone buzzed incessantly, a frantic symphony of missed calls from Charles and my furious father. Ignoring them, I switched it off, the silence a balm to my raw nerves.

There was only one person I craved, the one face that flickered behind my tear-filled vision – Mattheo. He'd been a constant presence in my mind, a forbidden flame that refused to be extinguished.

With newfound resolve, I hailed a carriage, the rocking motion mirroring the turmoil within me. He might not want to see me, might not even care. But right now, there was nowhere else I'd rather be. Nobody else who understood the storm raging inside me the way he did.

Love. It was a terrifying, exhilarating word, a truth I could no longer deny. I loved him. We'd never spoken the words, not truly, but in stolen glances and secret smiles, a connection had bloomed, defying all societal expectations.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, each passing minute mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Finally, the carriage drew to a stop before the imposing gates of Mattheo's mansion. As I stepped out, a heavy rain began to fall, mirroring the tempest within.

The grand entrance, familiar yet intimidating, recognized me with a soft hum. It creaked open without a touch, a silent welcome that sent a tremor through me. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I approached the heavy oak door that separated me from him.

"Mattheo," I whispered, my voice barely above a choked sob. "It's Y/N. Please, I… I need you."

Silence. The only sound was the insistent drumming of the rain and the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs. Doubt gnawed at me. Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe he didn't want to see me.

Tears welled up again, blurring my vision. Just as I turned to leave, defeated, the door creaked open. Light spilled out, illuminating Mattheo's tall figure framed against the warm glow.

Relief washed over me, so intense it took my breath away. His face was etched with surprise.

But before I could decipher it, his surprise melted into a mask of cool indifference. My tears, held at bay for a moment, finally spilled over, cascading down my cheeks in a torrent.

Ignoring the shocked silence, I threw myself into his arms, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea.He reacted instantly, his strong arms enveloping me, lifting me off the ground with surprising ease. His warmth seeped through my cloak, a familiar comfort amidst the chaos.

Buried in the crook of his neck, I poured out the events of the evening, the anger, the hurt, the suffocating realization of Charles' lies. He held me silently, his touch a silent reassurance. I clung to him, feeling a sense of safety I hadn't experienced in a very long time.

Finally, the sobs subsided, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. I pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from my cheek.

The room spun as he set me down on the plush couch, a soft cushion beneath my tear-streaked face. His strong arms cradled my shoulders, steadying me. Then, cupping my chin, he tilted my head up with a gentle yet firm touch.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble laced with concern. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

His worry, raw and unconcealed, was another dam breaking within me. Shaken sobs wracked my body again, each one a release of the pent-up emotions.

"I…" I choked out, voice thick with emotion. "I just… needed you."

He didn't pry, just nodded understandingly, a silent promise of safety washing over me. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes first, love," he murmured, his touch surprisingly gentle.

He helped me remove my soaked dress, the cold fabric clinging like a memory I desperately wanted to shed. A blush crept up my neck as he handed me one of his oversized shir. I slipped it on, the familiar scent of him – a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely Mattheo – wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Settling back onto the couch, he cupped my face again, his thumbs brushing away stray tears and a lock of hair that clung to my damp cheek. "Now, tell me everything," he said, his voice low and steady.

Taking a shuddering breath, I spoke. Words tumbled out, a torrent of pent-up emotions finally finding release. I told him everything – Charles' lies, the crushing disappointment, the suffocating loneliness of a horrible engagement.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "I was so afraid. I thought feelings, love, they would make me weak. So I thought Charles, with his perfect reputation and his predictable life, was the safest option. I didn't want to end up like my parents, constantly fighting, their love a battlefield. But this... this is worse. An empty shell of a life. And the hardest part…" My voice hitched, threatening to break again. "I lost you in the way. And I missed you, Mattheo. I missed you almost all the time."

"You will never lose me," he said.

Surprise flickered across my face. Never lose you?

"I never wanted you to leave," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "That night of the engagement, I… I wanted to run back to you. Run back home."

The tension in the room crackled as I stood, my body fueled by a newfound courage. My gaze swept across the opulent room, searching for escape, for a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between us.

Then, I met his eyes. A storm of emotions brewed within him – surprise, vulnerability, a flicker of something that made my heart skip a beat.

"I love you, Mattheo," I blurted out, the words tumbling forth with the weight of a thousand unspoken confessions.

He held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment, then looked away, a muscle clenching in his jaw. He turned towards the window, the rain now a gentle patter against the glass.

"You're not going to say something?" The silence stretched, threatening to suffocate me.

He finally turned back to me, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Well, I've spent my entire life only loving one thing, Y/N. Only one thing. And it was you. So yeah, I don't know what to say now."

My mouth opened, ready to respond, a million questions swirling in my head. Images of a younger us flooded back – a scraped knee, whispered secrets, and a childish declaration that love was a fool's game.

"No, no," I stammered. "I remember when we were kids, and I said I didn't believe in love, and you said you didn't too. You said—"

He cut me off, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I lied."

My heart skipped a beat. "You lied?"

He walked towards me, his smile turning tender. "You were terrified of the idea, and I may not have believed in love then, but I believed in loving you, Y/N. So I would have done or said anything you wanted me to."

Shame clawed at me. How could I have been so blind, so wrapped up in my fear that I missed the love that had been right in front of me all along?

"I'm so sorry, Mattheo," I choked out. "I'm so sorry. I don't deserve your—"

He cut me off, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Stop being so harsh on yourself, love," he murmured, his hand stroking my hair gently. "Look at me."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually filled with a mischievous glint, now held a tenderness that made my breath catch.

"You rest now," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "And if you're still in your word tomorrow…" He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"I love you, Mattheo," I repeated, my voice firm and unwavering. "And tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that."

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile that sent a warmth radiating through me. "Okay then," he said, his voice husky. "If you're still sure tomorrow, I'll be here. I'll always be here for you."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, the soft touch sending shivers down my spine. As I burrowed into his oversized shirt, a new sense of comfort and belonging washed over me.

Holding the pillow to my chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on it, I drifted off to sleep. Two things were crystal clear in my mind. One, I loved Mattheo with a fierceness I never knew existed. And two, never again would I let fear or societal expectations dictate my heart. He was mine, and I was his. And nothing would ever tear us apart again.

The morning light streamed through the window, painting the room in a soft golden glow. Sunlight and the lingering scent of Mattheo's cologne pulled me from sleep. The events of yesterday flooded back – the storm of emotions, the confessions. Was it real? Had I imagined it all in the heat of the moment?

Uncertainty gnawed at me. Should I stay curled up in this bed, a safe haven from whatever awaited me downstairs? But the thought of not seeing Mattheo, was unbearable.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself, 'It's Mattheo. My Mattheo.' The fear ebbed slightly, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach. Ten minutes later, after a pep talk in the mirror and a failed attempt at straightening my sleep-tousled hair, I crept downstairs.

The kitchen was bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. And there he was, leaning against the counter, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. Relief washed over me, as welcome as the familiar aroma of roasted beans.

His eyes lit up as he saw me. "There you are," he said, a smile playing on his lips. He crossed the room in two strides, handing me a steaming mug.

My heart did a little skip. It was my favorite blend, a subtle smoky aroma that always reminded me of cozy mornings at home. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Thank you," I murmured, accepting the mug. "That's perfect."

"I'm so sorry for showing up like that yesterday," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought… well, I thought you'd be mad. That you wouldn't want to see me."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Mad that you came to me? Y/N, I'd be mad if you didn't. I'm glad you're here."

The weight of anxiety that had been building in my chest began to loosen. But with the tension gone, my nerves started playing up. In a desperate attempt to fill the silence, I launched into a monologue about the weather, the latest Quidditch news (which I barely followed) and the peculiar new flavor of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans I'd tried the day before.

I could feel his eyes twinkling with amusement, but he didn't interrupt my rambling. Instead, he leaned against the counter, a smile playing on his lips. Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes?" I squeaked, my eyes locked on his.

"Calm down, love," he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You're safe here. And you don't have to talk if you don't want to." He paused, his gaze holding mine. "Just stay. Just be with me."

My fingers traced the familiar lines of his face – the strong jawline, the slight furrow between his brows that always appeared when he was thinking, the little scar above his left eyebrow from that time we tried to ride a rogue Hippogriff in third year. I missed it all – the details, the imperfections, everything about him.

As I looked up to meet his eyes, a wave of emotion washed over me. It was a cocktail of relief, happiness, and a lingering nervousness that fluttered in my stomach. This was the same feeling I used to get whenever he was near, but this time, it wasn't laced with fear. It was pure, unadulterated excitement.

"Every time you look at me like that," he murmured, his voice husky, "I lose control."

My heart skipped a beat. "And is that a bad thing?" I leaned in closer, the space between us shrinking with each passing second.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Our lips were a breath apart, the tension crackling in the air. Then, he closed the distance.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down my spine. It was filled with a raw emotion that neither of us had dared to express before. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away.

"We can't," he said, his voice strained. "You're still confused with what happened, and I can't take advantage of that."

A pang of disappointment shot through me. But then, a cold realization dawned on me. He thought my confession, my affection, was a way of coping, a distraction from the fallout of yesterday.

"Mattheo," I said, cupping his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. "You would be crazy if you thought I didn't mean what I said. I'm in my right mind. I meant every word. I love you. I have for a long time, even when I told myself I didn't."

And then, without further preamble, he closed the gap. His lips were on mine again, this time with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.

He picked me up, setting me on the kitchen table. The cool wood beneath me was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He trailed kisses down my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

“Your skin is so soft against mine. I could spend eternity just touching you."

I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I moaned, as he nibbled on my earlobe.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through my body. "I have no intention of stopping," he said, his voice full of promise.

He continued his descent, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire on my skin. He reached the waistband of my pants, teasing me by hooking his fingers under the fabric but not pulling it down.

I squirmed under him, desperate for more. "Please," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at me, his eyes full of desire. "Please what?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Please touch me," I said, my voice filled with need.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled my pants down, exposing me to him. He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. He kissed my inner thigh, teasing me even more.

I moaned, my hips bucking towards him. "Please, Mattheo," I said, my voice filled with desperation.

He finally gave in, his tongue darting out to taste me. I cried out, my fingers digging into the table. He licked and sucked, driving me wild with pleasure.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I wrapped my legs around his head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He picked up the pace, his tongue working its magic. I could feel myself tightening, my orgasm building inside me.

And then I was there, my body shaking with pleasure. I cried out, my fingers gripping the table even tighter.

He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me. I moaned, my hips still bucking towards him.

Finally, he pulled away, looking up at me with a satisfied smirk."You taste like heaven. I could spend hours between your legs." he said, his voice full of affection.

I smiled down at him, my heart filled with love. As I pulled him up for a kiss.He lifted me off the table, carrying me to the couch. laid me down, his body covering mine.

I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I wrapped my legs around him. "I want to feel you inside me today and everyday I want all of you," I whispered, my voice filled with need.

He kissed me, his lips hot and demanding. He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance.

He looked at me, his eyes full of love and desire. "Do you want me to show you how much I've been thinking about you?" he said, his voice full of conviction and i nodded.

And then he thrust into me, filling me completely. I cried out, my fingers digging into his back."You're so big." I say and he shuts my cries with a kiss.

He started moving, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“want to hear you say my name over and over. Let me know who's making you feel this good." He reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed in circles, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"I want to mark you as mine, leaving my scent and my love all over you." He whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He placed soft kisses on my neck, nibbling gently on the sensitive skin there.

"The way you look at me when I'm inside you drives me wild, love." He murmured, I could feel myself getting even wetter at his words if that was even possible.

His phone rang, interrupting the moment. He looked at the ID and smiled. "Turn around for me, my love." He said, his voice low and commanding. I did as he asked, turning around so he could take me from behind.

He put the phone on speaker and pulled my hair to the side, exposing my neck. He sucked and bit gently on the skin there, marking me as his. I moaned at the sensation, my body trembling with pleasure.

"She's with you right?" The sound from the phone was Charles, my ex-fiancé. I moaned at the thought of his call while we’re doing this, and Mattheo put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Yes, she's very much with me, Charles." Mattheo said, his voice confident and sure. He thrust hard into me, making me scream into his hand.

"I don't want any rivalry, just stay away from my fiancé." Charles said, his voice filled with anger. The moment the word fiancé got out of his mouth, Mattheo thrust into me again, harder this time.

"I want that rivalry, it's fine with me. And she's your ex-fiancé, I can see no ring in her finger anymore."

"What was that? Was that Y/N? Can I talk to her?" Charles said.

"No, you can't. Not now, not ever “Mattheo said, He turned me around so I was looking at him. He pulled his hands away from my mouth and leaned down to kiss me.

"If I saw you near her, if I saw you in the same place as her, even by accident, if I saw you breathing the same air as her, you're a dead man, little Charles." Mattheo said, his lips touching mine. And then he ending the call.

He kept thrusting into me until I knew I was close. "I'm so close, Mattheo." I said, my voice breathless.

"You're such a good girl, taking me so well. Cum for me, baby." He said. I did, my body trembling with pleasure. He thrust into me a few more times, then cum. He pulled away, his cum on my stomach.

"One day, I'm gonna cum inside you." He said, his voice low and commanding. The thought turned me on so much, my face was red by now.

"Oh, you like that? Like the thought of me putting a baby inside you?"I nodded, unable to speak. He pulled me so I was on top of him, hugging me so tight.

He played with my hair as we lay there, our bodies still trembling with pleasure. "I love everything you say, I want everything if it will be with you." I said, my voice filled with emotion.

Now that I knew better, forever was no longer a scary word, but a beautiful vow. I would never lose him again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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russellsppttemplates · 28 days

Text

Let me love on you a little more (Charles Leclerc)

Sometimes, it felt like what you were doing was a drop in the immense ocean, but Charles always made you feel a little better when you had the chance to go home

Note: english is not my first language. I based this on the news and stories I heard from people on the front line! This is in no way romanticising or summing up what happened, much less downplaying it! I hold huge huge respect and gratitude for healthcare workers!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: Covid-19 pandemic and themes associated with reader being a front line worker as a doctor (mentions hospitals, tests, death)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"You can follow the purple line to the testing site we have here", you told the elderly woman.

"Is it going to hurt too much? My neighbour had to get tested to weeks ago when she visited her family and she said it's uncomfortable", she mused.

"It's a little itchy, I have to admit it, but it shouldn't hurt you, just a little bit uncomfortable, Mrs. Loire", you attempted to soothe her, your usual hand on the patients' arm now a strongly inadvisable way to comfort them.

"Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N", he said, her eyes letting you know that behind her mask there was a big smile on appreciation and gratitude.

Taking temperatures and checking flu like symptoms was not how you thought your medical career would pan out once you chose your speciality, but the new normal was this and you were working your best to do what you got into medicine to do in the first place, improve and save lives.

"How many people have you sent to the testing site?", your colleague Marina asked you when she noticed that for now, there were no walk-ins or ambulances with new patients.

"Just this morning, twenty-five", you sighed, "the closest I got to a potential non-Covid case was the kid that broke his arm, but Ortho swooped him right from me".

"Are you truly so disappointed about not being on an Orthopedics case?", she chuckled, "you hated everytime you had to be on that floor", she argued.

"I'd do anything that isn't watching people die because we don't have enough equipment or because we don't know enough about this disease to stop it", you let your frustrations out.

"We're going to win this, Y/N", Marina squeezed your shoulder, "you're usually the hopeful one on the service, but I can hope for the two of us today", she replied earnestly, "I'm going to have lunch now, do you want to go with me and sit on opposite tables so I can at least look at your face without a mask from a distance?".

"Let's go, I'm starving and I'm going up to the ward this afternoon", you raised your eyebrows, tidying up the station for whoever would cover the afternoon shift there.

As you walked to the area you had lunch in, you were happy to find the sun shinning outside on the green park area where you or the patients' family would take them to get fresh air when they were still admitted and recovering. It wasn't a thing now for obvious reasons, so you and Marina ended up in there keeping a safe distance while enjoying the feeling on the sun on your bare skin.

"Do you sometimes feel like you're losing all sense of time in there?", Marina nudged to the big building, "my mother's birthday was yesterday and I thought it was still a month away - she called me to say she had left a piece of cake for me by my door".

"Yesterday, Charles called me and told me he has going to wash my favourite hoodie of his and then wear it around the house so that by the time I came home it was nice and smelling the way I liked it. Then I reasoned with him that it wasn't this weekend because how could it be? Then I realised he was right", you took a spoonful from the tupperware.

"Are you spending the weekend at home?", Marina asked, smiling at how you seemed to finally be taking care of yourself.

You had been one of the doctors who didn't mind staying for longer in the hospital, reasoning that you didn't have kids and fortunately your family members didn't need assistance so you could cover more shifts and work as much to keep everything running smoothly. It caught up with you as it did with all your colleagues so you set specific times in your calendar where you would go home and, barring any catastrophic situation at the hospital, no one would call you for the days you spent home so you could fully relax with Charles.

"Yes, five days at home and then I'm back", you sighed, "and you? How is your little one doing?", you asked.

"My wife texted me an hour into my shift to say that Milo had a Skype call with his class and their teacher and he said his mama was in the hospital being a hero", she gave you a big smile and looked up to control the tears, "it's hard being away from them, but these little moments help", she added.

"Charles does streams with his friends, and apparently he's always mentioning me and the people on the chat have been very supportive - whenever he calls me he tells me that some fans recognise my voice and my name from the virtual appointments and that they've been here and treated by me, too", you blushed, "He's always hyping me up and I can't wait to be with him".

Stopping by the coffee machine, you both got another expresso shot before parting ways since Marina wasn't on the Covid ward for that shift.

"We've just intubated three more patients", the doctor finished her rounding up to you and the rest of the team that would take over for them, "beds five and six aren't looking good and we've alerted their family members already", he nudged.

Everyone knew what it meant when it came to calling the families, so you nodded, "hopefully they'll get here on time, have them page me downstairs when they arrive, please", you asked one of the interns before you excused yourself to put your personal protective equipment on.

"Is that you, Y/N?", one of the younger kids you had treated said as you got out of the room.

"Yes, it's me! You have a good eye, Arlo!", you smiled before noticing nurse Francesca pulling his wheelchair, "are you going home, sweet boy?", you gasped.

Arlo had been the first child you treated in the ward, only having seen adults up until that moment and it changed a switch in you. A small child struggling so much seemed to shake something inside you, and every time you called his parents with updates, you wished that you'd never have to make the dreaded call.

"I am, my lungs are all good and I'm not warm anymore!", he smiled, "I finally get to go home, my parents are downstairs waiting for me. Did you give Charles my thank you hug for the cap?", he asked.

When you noticed the little boy talking about the last Monaco GP and how he hoped one day he would be able to meet his favourite driver, Charles Leclerc, you couldn't find it in you to keep your relationship undisclosed. So, when you went home the last time, you asked Charles to sign one cap for you and told him to be ready for a FaceTime with the little boy. Arlo was the happiest you had seen him since he had been admitted, lighting up when he saw your boyfriend on the screen and giving him a few smiles despite his tired and sick state.

"I haven't been home yet, but I will give him the biggest hug at the end of the week!", you smiled, "I'm so happy for you, Arlo!", you gushed, making the gesture to blow him as kiss as he waved goodbye.

There were good stories, and even though they in no way erased the sad ones, they helped you carry on with the fight.

Laying on the on-call room after your shift, you took off your mask since no one else was allowed inside it other than you, doing your usual routine and setting your phone in the window sill.

"Hey, amour", Charles said on the phone, "how was your day?", he asked as he watched you towell dry your hair.

"Hey, mon coeur", you offered him a small smile, "I'm so tired I can't guarantee I won't fall asleep in a minute".

"It's okay, I won't mind. Did you get tested?", Charles asked as he seemed to be tucking himself to bed as well.

"Yes, another swab up my nose", you flashed him two thumbs up, "I'll have the results in the morning and hopefully I can get out of here for a few days and spend them with you and not quarantine in a hotel room", you crossed your fingers, "I don't have any symptoms, but still, you never know with this bastard".

"We'll spend it together, amour", he comforted, "I already have a lazy couple of days planned out for us", he smiled as you too tucked yourself on the oncall room bed.

"That sounds amazing", you closed your eyes briefly, "I can't wait to be with you", you yawned.

Charles knew better than to start anything important, just happy to see you were resting, safe and sound, making small talk to lull you to sleep before he ended the call.

After attending the virtual meeting so you could update the next team on how the service was running before you left, the results from test came back negative, which meant you could finally drive home.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside as you heard commotion coming from the living room, "stay away while I put all of this in the cabinet", you warned Charles.

He was quick to go to the bedroom, getting his hoodie and a pair of shorts for you, "as much as I'd love to hold you all day looking like that", your boyfriend nodded to your figure in just underwear, "I think you'll be more cosy in these", he approached you as you finally let him touch you, his arms going around your waist and pulling your bodies closer, "I've missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered.

"I missed you so much, too", you pulled your face away from his chest before kissing his lips in a proper greeting.

Charles guided you to the living room after you got dressed in his clothes, stopping by the kitchen door to check if you had a proper breakfast to which you said yes, so he took you to the sofa, snuggling you two under the blanket as he put one of your favourite shows on the TV.

"I love you, Charles", you would say every now and again, completing the affectionate moments with a kiss or a squeeze.

During the afternoon, you and Charles ended up napping on the sofa, Charles waking up with you still fast asleep on his chest, making him kiss your forehead a couple of times and pull the blanket to cover you up.

"How long was I out for?", you rubbed your eyes two hours later, looking up to see your boyfriend's smile.

"A couple of hours, it looked like a really good nap", he kissed your nose.

"Yes, it was", you squeezed his body, "I'm really craving some carbonara for dinner, do you think we have what the recipe needs?", you questioned.

"We do - I did the food shop earlier this week and I got all of the supplies", he smiled, brushing your hairs away from your eyes and behind your ears, "do you want to get started on it?".

"Yes - I need to pee first, but I'll meet you in the kitchen", you winked, pecking his lips multiple times before getting up.

As he watched you walk to the bathroom, thoughts came flooding in.

This is what he wanted with you. Cosy intimacy that went beyond what happened in the bedroom. The domesticity that went beyond just spending time together and that shines through in the little moments of intertwined routines, special requests and little talks in the middle of the night about random existential questions.

Stepping into the kitchen, Charles gathered the ingredients, pots and pans before you stepped inside too, hugging his waist and nuzzling your face on his back, "you're so comfy, Charlie", you cooed before he turned around so he could face you, cupping your cheeks and rubbing them.

"And you're so gorgeous, mon coeur", he complimented, making you melt inside as you focused on the pads of his thumbs against your skin.

Slicing the guanciale, you removed the rind and cut the rest into small pieces while Charles grated the pecorino cheese and added the egg yolks to the same bowl, the pasta already cooking with the timer on the side.

Scrambling everything into the pot one last time before adding the pasta water a little bit at a time until it was spot on as you liked, making you serve it up in the plates and head back to the sofa.

"Haven't you had enough of the sofa?", you giggled as Charles let you sit before he placed the tray on your lap, doing the same with his own, "I know I haven't had the energy for much else, but maybe tomorrow we can go hike if you'd like", you suggested.

"I want to spend time with you, wherever you are - you're in the sofa, I'm in the sofa, you're in the kitchen, I'm in the kitchen, if you're in the bathroom, I'm in the bathroom", he stated like it was clear as water.

"Maybe not when I'm in the toilet, though, okay?", you squinted as he laughed at your antics.

Charles tidied up after the both of you, sending you to the ensuite bathroom for a bath he'd join you in as soon as he was done.

"You didn't get in?", Charles slumped his shoulders slightly as he saw you sprawled out on the bed.

"I was partially in a food coma, but also - I didn't want to get in alone and the water was a little too hot so I had to let it cool for a bit", you smiled, letting him pull you up and into the bathroom.

Stepping inside the bathroom, Charles grabbed your hips, "let me love on you a little bit more, mon coeur", he said as he pulled you to him, grabbing the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and taking it off of your torso, kissing the skin on your shoulders.

As he stopped his ministrations on your skin, you took the opportunity to take his t-shirt off while you shimmied your shorts and underwear, caressing his muscles before he also took the rest of his clothes off.

"Feels good", Charles dipped his fingers in the tub, getting in himself so he could help you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest.

Your boyfriend brought his hands together and formed a shell shape with them, collecting water in them and wetting your shoulder blades, then letting it cascade down your neckline, boobs and tummy before he let his hands wander around to feel your body, hoping it would show you his love and appreciation for you.

After you got out, Charles rubbed your products on your face, giggling when you made little faces before you put on pyjamas, tucking into bed and cuddling his chest.

"You know I've missed you so much, but our bed feels heavenly right now", you chuckled, kissing his naked chest, "I love you, Charles", you mumbled before sleep took over you.

"I love you, beautiful girl, sleep tight", he whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head before he rubbed your back.

Charles was woken up from your body moving a lot and the clammy feeling of your hand on his chest, looking for your face and noticing the crease on your forehead, "hey, amour", he gently shook you awake, "wake up for me, please, it's okay, you're okay", he urged as you opened your eyes wide as you took in where you were.

"I'm home, I'm home", you mumbled, taking deep breaths like Charles encouraged you to once you sat up, doing them with you a couple of times until you calmed down.

"You are, mon coeur, you are", Charles kissed your forehead when you rested your back against the headboard.

After standing there in silence while Charles played with your fingers on your lap, you were able to speak about it, "I hit five this week", you mumbled, "five people who have died on my watch since this thing started, five family members I've had to call to tell them their loved one didn't make it.

"And it's a small number when you compare it to other countries - so many colleagues are already on their one hundredth, but Monaco is so small", you reasoned, "I haven't had a number this high since I started at the hospital - in my regular service, I never lost five people".

"It's not your fault, amour - a virus is out there and you're working so hard to contain it", Charles pulled you to his chest, rubbing your arm up and down and kissing the side of your head, "the work you're doing with the testing site, making sure to slow the spread and ensuring everyone is as healthy as they can be - you're part of that, Y/N, and even though it doesn't seem like it, you're still winning, you're still beating the universe".

"I couldn't do it without you", you mused and Charles' scoff alerted you, "it's true, Charles! I would never be able to stay at the hospital for so long if you weren't supportive, if you weren't helping my parents and making sure they're doing okay when I can't do it! The way you support me and are there for me - the way your holding me like you always do", you snuggled further into him, "this helps me keep going - you do", you kissed his jaw, seeing his blushed cheeks in the dimly lit bedroom.

"We're a good team then", he accepted the compliment, kissing your temple again, "do you think you can go back to sleep or maybe we could have a chat, watch some TV, have a lazy makeout session", he wiggled his eyebrows.

"That last idea sounds great, I've missed that", you rolled over properly, taking his lips in yours as his hands roamed along your tummy.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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crueisummer · 11 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

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whore-ibly-hot · 4 months

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OMG SPEAKING OF MARRIAGE honeymoon with Joey or like anyone really what would Fritz honeymoon be like? Like I'd assume they didn't get one cause man's busy

Honey-mooning with Joey would be fairly simple, he'd take you to the inn or motel of one of the slightly larger nearby farming towns, and treat you to all the southern comfort food and hospitality you could want. He'd get you a nice breakfast, and flowers, but in the evening he'd make it very clear that he wants to begin the process of knocking you up. He will back off if you tell him to, but he'll make his intentions known. He just wants you knocked up as quickly as possible, and as much as he wants to enjoy the honeymoon he mostly just wants you back in the farm, acclimating to life with his family and getting settled in. It'll feel all that more real that your truly his once he can wake up in his own bed, with you their everyday.

"I hope you liked dinner, I've never been to that restaurants before, but my chicken was great. Um, darlin'? I know your probably stuffed, but are you too stuffed to work up the energy to go for a roll in the hay with your new husband?"

Fritz wouldn't be able to spend anytime honey mooning with his bride, and as a traditionalist this upsets him. Instead, he'll settle for a very extravagant one night wedding and ceremony away from the small town he's stationed at. He wants to give his bride the luxury you've never been accustomed too. You'll meet all his fellow military officials, and be shown off like one of Fritz medals. That night, he doesn't let you do anything during the consumption of the marriage. He wants to worship you, not the other way around. He will insist on some sort of white lingerie being sent in, as he wants you looking like a bride when he takes you, but he doesn't want to ruin your dress or suit. He asks beforehand if he'll be able to start trying for a baby that evening.

"Being a woman is not enough for a slimy cadet or confident rookie to simply respect you my poor dear, and I am sorry for their behavior. Being an officers bride should help, but we get new soldiers so often on the front lines, they may not know."

"What are you saying?"

"I think it'll be a little more obvious your an officers wife if you're walking around with a little bump next time we go to town. All for your safety, of course."

BONUS!!!: Mattias doesn't have the money for a big wedding or an extravagant honeymoon, but while he may not have the money, he has the spirit to party, and he knows others who do. The entire wedding reception is held as a block party at his mother's home in old Harlem, and the guests are a mix of neighbors and family. Mattias loves his family, and his perfect way to solidify a marriage is to blend you in with them. His biggest regret about the wedding is his father wasn't there to see him get married, so it's also nice for him to be around his Mami at a time like this. He loves how the two of you get along, and the two of them share stories of Mattias's papa, from when he was alive.

Mattias cannot handle it when his sees you playing with his young primos and primas, and the other neighborhood kids. Dancing with them and helping them reach the tinfoil trays to get food onto their plates. This results in him returning back to your apartment and immediately begging to dick you down, and give you a baby.

"Cmon, pretty girl!" He's kissing up on your neck, pulling you out of your reception outfit. "Gotta have you, mi esposa guapa, give you some kids. I've been shaking with nerves and energy all day, and I can't exactly fight it off at a block party. So please-"

"Let's make some hijos..."

#ask me stuff #yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #x reader #yandere boy #oc joey #oc fritz #oc matias #yandere boxer #yandere general #yandere soldier #yandere farmboy #yandere farmer #tw.breeding

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kyleoreillylover · 9 months

Text

The Bloodline!Reader x Rhea Ripley x Dominick Mysterio Part 2

A/N: You guys asked and I delivered! This took so freaking long 😭😭 I wasn’t expecting all the love on the first part, so thank you all! Here’s a part 2, lmk if you want a part three as well. This also has more bloodline and reader lore, but Dom and Rhea are in there too, I just needed to continue the bloodline story.

Tw: Manipulation, reader being manipulative, angry confrontations, cursing.

After Dom and Rhea comforted you, you insisted on driving to your hotel by yourself. Even though opening up to them cleared your head a bit, you needed to be alone for a while to process these emotions.

They were wary-torn between wanting to respect your boundaries but also wanting to be there for you-but they didn’t want to overwhelm you, so they let you go.

You promised them you’d come back to them once your mind calmed down, and that made them feel a bit better.

Unbeknownst to the 3 of you, Paul was looking for you under the “Tribal Chiefs Orders” and caught you leaving their locker room.

He sent immediately sent Solo after you, his usual stoic demeanor being replaced by anger as he drove to your hotel.

It all clicked into his mind- Romans’ sudden hostility towards you, the weird tension between TJD and you, you refusing Romans orders. And he couldn’t believe you, his own sister, would be affiliating with your families enemies.

When he came to your room, furiously banging the door and yelling at you once you opened it, you felt your emotions rushing again, but instead of sadness, there was anger- the burning hot anger you tried to push back these past few weeks because in fear of hurting your blood.

But now, you didn’t care. Why should you care when they clearly didn’t share those same fears?

You let that anger run hot, but you didn’t let it burn all your judgment down. You wanted to hurt Roman, to make him feel the same pain you’ve been feeling, but you needed to be smart about it.

“What the hell was that, huh?” Solo shouted at you, and you winced at how loud his voice was. “Is what Paul said true? You been talking to them Judgment Day bitches and helping them? What the fuck? You gonna pull a Sami and ditch us too, uce?

“You know damn well I'd never do that! And I'm not helping them! You just gonna hear what Paul says and believe him, huh?" You yelled right back at him, wiping at your eyes and it was then that Solo looked at you, really looked at you since everything that had happened at the Royal Rumble. Your slumped shoulders, your bloodshot eyes glaring at him- had you been crying? He let his guard down a little at that but continued on. "Then why were you in their room? What were you doing with them?" Your frown turned into a scowl as you crossed your arms, looking at Solo. "I was in their room cause when I was leaving the arena, Rhea thought it would be funny to talk some mess about you guys when I was passing their room. And I was already overwhelmed and tired, so I couldn't control myself and I got in her face-" Solo's anger was slowly draining away as you continued to speak, being replaced by some guilt. Paul was always trying to start something, he should've known you wouldn't do anything without a reason.

“- then Dominick and Finn broke us up, and I left their room and I was just tired and didn’t wanna take out my anger on any of you, so I just went here to chill out and sleep.” You finished, making your way to your bed and sitting on top of it.

Solo didn’t know what to say, he had never seen you like this. You were always the one lifting everyone’s spirit, putting smiles on everyones faces with your infectious energy, the one that comforted everyone. He felt out of his element.

You took his silence as anger and put your head in your hands, and he couldn’t tell if you were crying or not. “Great. Now you’re mad at me, Roman is mad at me. I just fucked everything up today.”

You picked your head up when you felt the bed dip, seeing Solo sit next to you. He frowned when he saw that you were, in fact crying. “What do you mean today? Roman said something to you today?

You nodded, tears still coming out of your eyes. “Yeah, he talked about Paul mentioning something about the Judgment Day and Paul said I was acting suspicious & he just completely went off the rails on me. But this was before I snapped at Rhea, so I don’t know what Paul was talking about. But I’m sorry for worrying you guys.” You sighed, sniffling and about to wipe your eyes again when Solo stopped you, handing you the box of tissues. You gave him a small smile at his rare act of affection.

“Don’t be sorry. You need rest. I’ll talk to Paul. And Roman. What he doing ain’t cool.” Solo spoke, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“You good now, uce?” You nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m good. But wait-” You grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from getting up, and pulled him into a hug. He froze, not prepared for the physical contact.

“Be safe, okay? Don’t tell Roman, but I need a break from all of this shit for a while, but you need to hold down the fort Solo. Just stay safe while doing it.” You confessed, tightening your arms around him. He stayed silent for a moment as he slowly wrapped his arms around you.

“Of course uce. You stay safe too.” He said after a moment, squeezing you a bit tighter. You smirked against his shoulder, you didn’t think it’d be this easy but Solo always had a soft spot for you, his younger sister. You could see the seeds of doubt you planted in Paul and Roman making the gears in his head turn, and it made you smirk even more.

Once he left, you picked up your phone, texting Dom and Rhea and telling them about your plan.

They responded almost immediately, saying they were on board. They smiled at each other once they saw your messages, proud and happy you finally came to your senses and realized how toxic your family members were to you. Rhea couldn’t wait until she could pummel Roman into the ground for hurting you.

You grinned once they agreed, saying you’d meet them after you checked on Jey, which was phase one of your plan. He faced the worst of Roman, being mentally and emotionally abused by him, so you sympathized with him, and felt anger on his behalf. He was your older brother, and while all your brothers cared about you, he always cared a little bit more and tried to protected you from the brunt of Romans anger when the Bloodline first started. You wanted to do the same for him. But first, you needed to get in his head to get to Roman. He was the key to beating Roman.

Roman wants to play with fire? He'll realize that you're more than willing to embrace the flames if it finally led to his Empire and position as Tribal Chief getting burned. And if anyone got in your way, you’d drag them down in the flames with you.

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etirabys · 3 months

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What were the major factors for you in deciding whether to have kids?

Unwillingness to forego one of the most intense and unique human relationships possible: "The key to the sociobiology of mammals is milk. Because young animals depend on their mothers during a substantial part of their early development, the mother-offspring group is the universal nuclear unit of mammalian societies."

When I was younger, my major objection to having kids was that it would interfere with my career. I cared a lot about my career and looked forward to transitioning from a student who worked really hard and excelled in classes to a professional who worked really hard and excelled in the workplace and also earned a boatload of money. But then it turned out that I wasn't a hard worker, I just loved studying and taking exams. I don't have a career or the relationship to a career I envisioned, so that's the major obstacle removed.

Seven years ago, I went to a meetup hosted by an economist who liked historical reenactments. His three adult children were in SCA garb, served the guests food from a medieval Persian cookbook, and sat around arguing with him (and the rest of us) about economics. It was my first encounter with a family where the children shared interests with their parents and talked like peers. It fundamentally changed my mind on what families could look like.

Similar story: I visited my friend's family two years ago, and stayed in his teen daughter's room because there had been an in-house auction to determine whose room would go to the guest. She won and was monetarily compensated for it. In addition to having another example of a Relatable Family Where The Members Actually Like Each Other, I found my friend and his spouse's financial philosophy appealing and will be compensated for pregnancy and childcare by my spouse. 20% of my objection to having kids was objection to the financial arrangements of traditional marriage (which imo fucked over both of my parents when their relationship broke down... but more so my mom), so it shifted me on the kids issue to see & adopt a financial arrangement that to me feels more autonomy-preserving, egalitarian, and respectful of my labor and opportunity costs.

I knew I didn't want to be pregnant, didn't particularly like infants, didn't want to interact with toddlers for more than an hour (I like them but get very fatigued and have to go lie face down to recharge), which seemed like a good argument to not have kids. But I also simulated being 70 and childless and it felt distinctly bad. Among other reasons I noticed for the first time that I want a connection to the coming generations, which was startling.

It was hard not to notice that the giant would make an excellent dad, and also that we have complementary skill sets and preferences qua parents.

I read "Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids" after I'd already decided to have kids, but when I was discussing the decision with friends, multiple of them brought the book up. Its basic argument is that we (I suppose I mean Americans and East Asians here) invest in our children well past the point where it matters, which increases the quality of life difference between parents and nonparents, which sucks because lots of people would enjoy raising kids if the unnecessary expectations were dropped. Once I actually read the book I found it suspect (I stopped reading when Caplan described a study and then drew an inference that didn't logically follow), but the conclusion seems true based on observation and common sense. My own parents and I had a lot of conflict over piano lessons because proficiency in an instrument was expected in their milieu. My mom regularly fought me to make me eat breakfast (to this day I don't eat in the morning, my body just isn't made for that) even though it would have been fine to send me off to school with a banana to tide me over until lunch. People trade away health and career points to breastfeed even though the evidence is shaky that it matters. My sister is pursuing a zero screen policy with her child and said this choice significantly increases work and emotional toll. Once I noticed I was the type to be an overworked neurotic parent and that I'd priced my own terrible personality in when simulating how hard childrearing would be, I also noticed I could (with effort) not be that person and have an easier time. So my expectations of parenting changed.

#rambl #dashreplies #parenting #about #I admit I'm also really worried about screens.#but mostly I worry about the interactable apps and the children's video ecosystem. tv seems fine. i'll do more research when it's relevant

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useless-catalanfacts · 2 months

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No question. Just rant. I love your page. And sorry for chaotic story time vibes, but I don't think I'd realised how crazy this anti-catalan thing really is until I travelled to southern Spain. My Spanish is not great, but I took a course in Catalan in high school (long story on why this was available in my city but it also included a human tower party at the end and it was brilliant even tho I almost died) so when talking to people I casually threw in some Catalan words to help my Spanish. I am Norwegian, and I thought it was kind of like... as if someone was trying to speak Norwegian but casually threw in some Swedish to fill in the gaps. Like we would totally have joked about it, but overall we would just be grateful they really made an effort to be understood. But no. IT WAS NOT THE CASE. My host was literally offended. Like offended offended. I didn't really get it, because it's not like the Catalans have oppressed him and I'm coming here speaking the tongue of the oppressor (its kinda the opposite). But no. My host acted if I was the most ignorant person ever. He basically sat me down and explained that I have to show respect and speak castillian (or english, which was apparently fine, even if he understood about 1% of it), and then I asked if he would speak Catalan if he visited Barcelona and he said he would never visit Barcelona because he didn't like the people there. And then I said that if you hate them so much, why not throw them out of the country, get rid of them, and let them have their own state? It sounds like a win-win. And he looked as if he was gonna hit me.

Ah 😬

I wish things like this surprised me, but I have family from Andalucía and Extremadura and have friends who also have family from Andalucía, and so I've heard this and worse... It also reminded me of a few weeks ago when there was a scandal because a train in Málaga (in Andalucía, southern Spain) gave the announcements in Catalan instead of Spanish (turns out the train had been programmed in Catalonia during the COVID-19 restrictions and later moved to the Málaga train system, but for some mistake this day it was showing COVID-19 precaution in Catalan from 2020 now in 2024). It was such a scandal that it was on the news and politicians were making such a big deal of it, the PP (the most voted party in Málaga and of all Andalucía) also said it was "offensive" and that Malagans were being "laughed at" by the trains. Other errors in public transport that actually mean people can't travel in time don't get reported as much as when one train's screens tell you in Catalan to wear your facemask. 🤷

The last part of what you say, absolutely right. I never understood it either: if they really don't like us, then shouldn't they also be interested in not having anything to do with us? Why not just kick us out? I never really understood it until some years ago when I heard the words of a right-wing Spanish journalist (I think was Federico Jiménez Losantos?) who said something along the lines of "if Catalans want to leave, then leave. But Catalonia is ours." Meaning that Catalan people, individually, we can leave and migrate abroad. But the land is a possession of Spain, our homeland is their property. I think that sums up that view. It's not about being annoyed at having to share a state with a culture you despise, it's about wanting to keep domination.

I'm sorry you had this experience. Your effort to communicate should have been valued, and pulling the words you know from a language from the same linguistic family was a good idea that would have worked great, they wouldn't have found it offensive if the language you knew instead of Catalan was Italian, Portuguese, etc. Thank you very much for sharing your experience, and I hope you could enjoy the rest of your trip (Southern Spain, outside of situations like this, is a beautiful place), and I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed the castells party (and didn't die in it)!

#ask #anonymous #actualitat #catalanophobia #catalanofòbia #coses de la terra #catalonia #catalunya #spain #language rights #language imperialism #imperialism #cultural imperialism #languages #langblr

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upagainstthesunset · 22 days

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Adoption in Comics

Found family and adoption are big themes in comics. i see a lot of talk about found family, as i think that really hits home for a lot of the tumblr comics fandom and rightly so. So for this post im focusing on adoption, legal or otherwise. A guarding and ward relationship, which can be parent and child or looser terms.

Many of the most well known and beloved heroes were adopted or have adopted children of their own. It invites discussion of nature vs nurture, of dsymorphia, of choice. It can be a situation that's terrible, or it can be a salvation. It can be done for all the wrong reasons and lead to a disconnect of expectation vs reality. It can be full of love but still lead to missteps.

But before i go any further, a poll. Id like to get some background on the fandom here, so please consider reblogging.

Note for the poll: "Strangers" meaning someone who did not know your birth family prior to the adoption

I wish there were more poll options to also ask the adopted part of the fanbase if they are a different ethnicity from their adoptive family, as that usually has a huge impact on their experiences. For example, I'm Korean but my parents are white US Americans. I grew up in an area of some diversity but not a lot, in that all my closest friends were white and all of my extended family was white. And because of that, my ethnic heritage was something ive had to actively seek out and choose to make part of my identity. It also meant that i just plain did not look like my family or peers, and so stereotypes and assumptions (good and bad) have been put on me at times.

Economic status also plays a role. Im mostly pulling from past knowledge of adoption agencies, but it's not exactly inexpensive, and of course financial stability is one of the big things agencies look for. So it ends up being that a good chunk of adoptive parents are fairly well off, in the upper middle class range. And that in itself can be alienating. This wasnt my personal situation but I knew of others where it was.

I might need to make a series of posts about how all this pertains to comics. It could really be a Master's thesis topic. But for now I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on adoption in comics. What feelings do you have about it? Have you given it much thought? How do the socioeconomic statuses of the adoptive family inform the characters and their actions? Does race with respect to adopter/adoptee play a part in the dynamics of what's going on in the stories you read?

I of course have tons and tons of my own opinions on all this, but I genuinely would like to hear from others. This includes fans who arent adopted! Your readings and interpretations are valid on this subject too! Youre really the average reader, the main demographic. So it's interesting to hear opinions from that perspective as well. And if you are adopted and feel like sharing your thoughts on comics, please please do.

Oh! And one last thing, feel free to tag or list comics characters who are adopted or who have adopted someone. I'd be interested to see how many there really are!

#dc comics #adoption #clark kent #bruce wayne #<-tagging two of the big characters related to adoption #gottaknow #kateliftstheveil

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zahri-melitor · 1 month

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You have been assigned a four issue mini comic [<100 pages]. It can be about whatever you want. The only restriction is that it has to be about a minor support character [IE character friends, character parents, reoccuring minor villains, reoccuring civilians]. Which character do you choose, and what story would you want to tell in a four issue mini?

For transparency, I'm asking this question to a bunch of people because I want to see all the ideas everyone has. See what everyone would do.

You know what I'd really love? Writing a Lady Shiva mini. I am stretching the definition of 'reoccurring minor villain' but she's never actually had a proper mini in her own right and she's very VERY rarely had viewpoint. I'd want to pick and choose from her various established backstories, and tone down as many of the League of Assassins connections as possible. I think I'd frame it as four pivotal fights (because that's the language of Shiva)

Fight 1: Sandra and David Cain (the 'sort out the backstory' issue/the apprentice) hitting the following:-

Carolyn and Sandra's childhood in Detroit as Chinese-American diaspora, including trips back to China to the family village there for additional martial arts training.

Carolyn encounters Ben Turner and David Cain, both of whom are training under Richard Dragon, with none of this LOA-linked

David Cain murdering Carolyn to motivate Sandra who he sees as a stronger fighter

Recanonise the Batgirl 2000 Cass origin

Sandra giving Cass to David

Fight 2: Lady Shiva and Richard Dragon (the 'birth of Lady Shiva' and her quest to match herself against the best fighters on the planet/the journeywoman)

This would revolve around Shiva's quest to seek training from various sensei.

References to Dinah and Shiva's shared mentor

Shiva and her encounters with Vic Sage and the first signs of her fondness for cases in which she sees the potential for greater violence, just as David Cain saw in her

Maybe recanonise the Paper Monkey stuff? Either way, have her win accolade and acclaim by facing off against the greatest fighters, killing many of them, and gaining her place in the hierarchy

Lots of wandering swordsman journey

Finishing point has this fight ending with Shiva not killing Richard because she can now best him and has found herself alone at the top as the 'best fighter in the world' - but she sees the power he still has above her - his ability to mentor and create the competition she seeks

Fight 3: Lady Shiva and Dinah Lance (Shiva the mentor, training those she most respects the potential in/the master)

I picked Dinah to frame this one for two reasons: she's my fave AND I wanted a fight with a woman for the second set.

We hit backstory with Shiva actively encountering Dinah, Tim, Connor, Cass. 'Her' heroes who she becomes attached to and to pushing them to be better competition for her.

This is the only bit where I might lean towards League of Assassins in terms of probably Nyssa and/or Talia approaching her to ask her to help train their troops, but Shiva finds it dull.

"Go to sleep Westley I might kill you in the morning" attitude emerging as she finds herself weirdly attached to the people she's pushing.

I would love to include a pay off for her fight with Helena Bertinelli in BOPv2 that was put on 'hold' in this fight with Dinah.

Fight 4: Lady Shiva and Cassandra Cain (The inheritance and future issue)

This would be framed around a NEW encounter between Shiva and Cass rather than one of their old ones

Leans into Shiva's death wish and viewing she's already passed on her inheritance, and that she's now defeatable

I would also want to see Sin Lance and Bethany Thorne appear in this issue (also Tim)

Looking at all four of these characters and how they have the potential to surpass and surprise her.

This one WOULD end with Shiva in a position where she's pushing Cass to kill her as she's now the tired one and Cass once again denying it to her

#am I stretching the definition a bit? yes #do I think this would work as an epic mini? also yes

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kustas · 6 months

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I'd love to hear your hashtag wha critical thoughts about recent developments if you feel like sharing them :)

I'll preface this with saying that for this answer I will not be making a distinction between my personal tastes and what is "objectively worst". The TLDR is I have felt like WHA's been dipping in quality since book 8 approximately.

One of WHA's strong points is its ongoing theme of accessibility, via its premise of how magic is purposefully restricted from people, and via its characters, mostly the kids, who showcase various life issues and allow the story to talk about how to solve them. Disability is an important one and was at the center of book 8, which is one of my favorites. You get to see Tartah and Coco work together for a goal (=making their friend a better mobility aid), and by doing so they brainstorm the why and then how which allows for complex notions to be carried out and explained to the reader. Cute story with touching implications that flows well. This quote in particular sums up so well what WHA is "about"

After this we transition rather brutally to the latest ongoing arc of the Silver Eve. This arc has been ongoing for years now, and three volumes, making it the longest so far, I'll come back to that, putting a star on it [*]. It delves further into aspects of accessibility the series had talked about before - access to magic, access to healthcare, and poverty. This is where this blog's namesake gets relevant. Custas is a kid who was already poor, who got badly wounded ending up disabled, and who because of that was stuck in a situation with no good endings: he can't make money in his state and needs money to get out of his state. On top of this gets added magic, and comes back the question at the center of WHA: Is it wrong to restrict the use of magic, and how?

After the arc is kickstarted by Custas getting his share of spilled beans of magical secrets revealed, enter immediatly strong players via ch.48's introduction of the Wise Ones and the king himself. The political aspect of how the world works was not mentioned before. Great chapter, interesting stuff all around, personally answered much of my questions. Immediatly after this chapter the focus in 49 fully switches to the Knights and their job, and the rest of the chapter is dedicated to a story of a sexual assault survivor and how she made it. It's a surprising topic to see pop up and it's handled with the respect it deserves. Chapter 50 goes back to Coco and her troubles. This concludes book 9 and...it makes for a Lot of stuff to deal with. Put a Second star on that. [**]

Addressing those stars before we move on:

[*] This arc is taking forever. WHA's arcs in earlier volumes only took a few chapters. This arc has taken three books thus far and I doubt we have reach its climax yet. I personally don't like it and it raises an issue the series did not have before: Will the payoff be worth it? Where it is worrying for the future of the series is that manga serialized regularly tend to up the stakes progressively until the end and it might...not work out.

[**] Too many things at once unresolved. This has already had consequences with the progressive vanishing of something WHA was once excellent at: sneakily introducing elements that get used a few arcs later in important ways. The manga has been, for a while now, accumulating unfinished plot threads via not answering the questions it opens and instead adding more and more characters. Jumping from a group of characters to another was not an issue beforehand because unlike this arc's, chapters took place at different times and/or in totally different places. The Silver Eve is both set in time AND place, making it hard to follow because all sideplot happen at once.

Book 10 continues to accumulate ongoing unresolved plots with: the royal family being shady, Agott's struggles irt. her mother, Dagda running around confused and tracked by the Knights, Custas and Ininia jumping Tartah and Coco, and Galga's accident + relationship.

Book 11 does the same adding Agott's crush on Coco, the actual festival, Jujy's inner troubles...Funnily enough, this page is a good summary of the ongoing mess.

Instead of solving all of this stuff we instead get stakes ramped up to 100 with the introduction of what I can only describe as a kaiju attack. As much as I love the horror and drama element, given what was already going on, this does NOT strike me as a good decision.

Now, we go back to the three latest chapters. These follow the same subplot: Custas' faction change and Coco's attempts to save him. This subplot has, to me, a whole lot of issues. Way earlier on in the story, even before Dagda's ambush, I had issues with how Custas was portrayed in relation to his anger, being drawn weirdly spooky for...a frustrated poor kid? Others have also pointed out it wasn't great to have one of your only dark skinned characters be a slum kid. Obviously given my handle on here, I am still a huge fan of the character. After chapter 45 (included), I already found it a bit tasteless to have so much horrors piled on him. WHA is a rather unsubtle series at time which I really, really dislike. Sure, makes it hard to miss the point, but when you're dealing with sensitive topics it can fall into touchy territory fast...

In the latest chapters, Coco appears to save Custas, the "how" part of her plan still being a mystery. Meanwhile, a timelooped and very confused Dagda looks for him, accompanied by Lulucy, who knows them both and is unaware of their ties with forbidden magic. She ends up telling him to abandon the faction he sided with by literally ripping off the brim of his hat with her magic. Meanwhile, Lulucy starts attacking him on sight. I have so, so so many issues with all of this.

Coco's story is about knowing the system in place sucks. Custas' story is about being screwed over by the same system. The story explicitly points those two out as mirrors: Custas is what would have happened to Coco without the right support. Coco's unique POV on the pointed hat witches shows us many prior times they are not the good guys. Hell, Custas himself talks about how the pointed hat's magical gatekeeping prevented him from living a better life.

To me, the point was supposed to be: the system in place doesn't work, which results in people in need not getting help. We loop back to the accessibility I started off mentioning. Yes, before the current system, bad things happened - but the current system is still allowing other bad things to happen now. So...why is Coco pushing Custas to join the pointed hats and abandon the faction he sided with? If a character who was upholding the status quo was doing so it would make sense (like Beldaruit) but Coco as a main character exists partially to point out why the pointed hats are not good. She demonstrates it to the reader via what happens to her AND knows it as a character. It comes off as inconsistent and frankly makes little sense.

Speaking of inconsistencies...why does Lulucy not recognize Custas, a child she's known for a while? Why does the young prince, introduced as a suspicious character on behalf of his family's unknown goals, become a helpful selfless little guy? Why are the Knights, originally introduced as an antagonistic faction because they are a milita enforcing the status quo, suddenly portrayed as fighting for good as a bunch of remarkable individuals?

Ah yes, the cops. I'm going to address something really fast about them. It makes me frankly uncomfortable the author chose their faction to evoke the two very sensitive topics of sexual assault and homophobia. I think the way those topics themselves were handled without greater context was surprisingly good, and it's touching in the first place to see an author who not only cares, but uses her series, destined partially for younger readers, to explain why she cares. However, Witch Hat is a very black and white series: the bad guys are bad and ugly and you should dislike them, the good guys are good and you should like them. There are some exceptions but who have been losing steam as of late. While originally introduced as a group of individuals who act in problematic ways for their day job, the Knights have slowly lost that bad guy flavor to become a fun band of colleagues/friends. They are law enforcers who enforce unjust laws, but it seems that the author's not on board with people hating them because this is the second time she gave a Knight a tragic backstory that makes them more sympathetic to the reader. First of: I do not see what's to redeem about them if the story's about changing an unjust system, so I don't get the necessity to make them nicer. Secondly: at least in my country (which has legal gay marriage and notably less sexist than Japan) law enforcement is renowned to not help sexual assault victims or gay people. The Knights Moralis are fantasy cops and cops, in real life, tend to abandon people who need their help regarding those two issues - if not worsen them, and count a majority of sexists/homophobes among their ranks. Making your unsubtly cop stand-in faction have both characters with those issues comes off as at least a poor decision if not bad taste.

(big words from the guys introduced in the story by arresting a bunch of children who were on a rescue mission for a misunderstanding they would not have cared about. Die idgaf)

Some more surface level things:

The art. The first books of WHA are noticeably more complex in their style featuring more reaslistic proportions for the characters. Latest arc has seen art lose some of the decorative "classic" flair in the linework and characters looking simpler and stylized to look way...Younger? In a way I do not like. Yes, it's expected for manga series to see their style evolve. I also want to make this clear: I consider the pace imposed on manga artists to be inhumane and if Shirahama had decided to draw her manga as stick figures to work less I'd be down for it.

The dialog. While WHA is very in your face (you may call it preachy) the dialog in the latest chapters especially Coco's feels off. A 12yo wouldn't give off speeches about the world in the heat of battle. When it's a calm scene between two characters discussing a deep thing, sure. When it's an epic public adult figure (see: Dean), sure. I'd prefer having the kids talk like kids.

Goddamn the story has become less nuanced and subtle over the time. Scenes like Qifrey getting confronted by Tartah post mindwiping his grandpa owned. The story's current "morally grey" moments just don't do it for me anymore. No, I don't want the witch politicians of the faction you established as a mistake beforehand to continue. I don't care if the fantasy cops are offended by a grieving husband pointing out they suck. I kinda wish he'd thrown hands actually

So...yeah, that's about it. While WHA's plot beats has always been impossible for me to predict, I don't know if I can trust where the story is going anymore. The fans eating it up confuse me and I might even get hate for posting this. Truth is, while some aspects have always been more or less present in the series since the start, I've felt like the really good bits that balanced it out have been going extinct. I don't know why and it's none of my business to. Some friends have pointed out we might be reaching a point where the author ran out of pre-written story and is now improvising. What's a bit concerning to me is I've also noticed she's way less active on social media, where she used to post regular bonus material for the series, this has stopped and I hope it's not because she lost her interest for the series or way worst, is overworked. Given the conditions for mangaka it wouldn't be impossible and like previously stated, I am of the opinion that no comic book series is worth putting their author's life, health and free time down. It's more important than me disliking the comic.

And regarding Custas - him joining the atelier to study with Qifrey would not be a good ending, no matter what the fandom says. It won't be cute found family. Custas has a family who's unique member wouldn't be able to follow him as a witch. That ending would separate a very traumatized child from the only adult he has in his life that gives him unconditional love and support. Custas needs to not be seen as a criminal so the rest of his life won't be over, and also a whole bunch of cash.

I'm not excited for the anime.

#ask #witch hat atelier #this took me like DAYS to type sorry

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