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svt-rosalie · 2 days ago

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. . . ♡ PREGNANCY ! ? 🪷 AU ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ what could of been! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

content warning / incorrect info on pregnancy and birth, rosie is emotionally, descriptions of birth, rosalie has an at home birth, not spelling checked, brief mention of sex (only brought up once), jihoon is the man we all need in our life

author note / i’m so proud of this! i got the sudden urge to write a pregnancy au for rosie and couldn’t stop writing so here you go! im gonna do some other parts to this au like rosie and her baby in going seventeen episodes, insta post, ect! i hope you enjoy, let me know if you want more AU’s like this :)

one of me is cute, but two, though?

give it to me, baby

juno, sabrina carpenter

THE BEGINNING

✿. rosalie finds out she’s pregnant!

A gasp left Rosalie’s mouth as she sat on her couch, a wave of nausea hitting her faster then she’s ever felt causing her to quickly leap from her spot and rush towards her shared bathroom with her boyfriend Woozi. Her stomach did not hold back as it brought everything back up that she had eaten for breakfast just a mere 4 hours ago.

“Are you okay Rose?” Woozi questioned, you could hear the concern in his voice.

Rosie simply sat there after throwing up and flushing the toilet. Her throat was scratchy and her body fatigued but she nodded her head the best she could.

Woozi rubbed her back with one hand and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe her face with the other. “Is everything okay? You’ve been throwing up a lot more recently from what I noticed.” He questioned.

The girl shrugged her shoulders leaning closer into her significant other, craving comfort. She had been so tired recently — her body felt like it had been rung through a ringer over and over. It didn’t help that she seemed to have caught a bug that made her throw up at randoms times.

Woozi started to chuckle making Rosie look up from her position of resting her head on his shoulder to look at him skeptically.

“What’s so funny?” She asked.

Woozi’s laughter softened but didn’t end as he spoke, “Maybe you’re pregnant!” There was a tone of humor in his voice.

Though as Rosie’s eyes widened and her body became stiff — Jihoon’s laughter died down, “You’re pregnant. . . ?” The statement came out more as a question than anything else.

“We should make a doctor’s appointment.” They both agreed, not realizing it would be the beginning of the rest of their lives.

WE’RE PREGNANT

✿. telling everyone their pregnant

It’s been a couple of months since the couple found out they would be having a child. They were young and in love, though they weren’t married they felt ready for this life. Others had different opinions and concerns especially since they just started their relationship but those words were fed in one ear and out the other.

Telling the company was one thing and the members they were expecting a child was one thing, it was honestly the easiest part they would deal with in the beginning. Telling their parents was another.

Rosalie’s parents are extremely protective of her, not in the sense of “you can’t do anything blah blah you live by my rules till the day you die” but just protective of the fact that she is their baby, their first born and they just want to best for her.

They had already told Jihoon’s family a week before when the couple went to visit the family for the weekend. Reactions of surprise and happiness was overwhelming and the nerves melted away from the two.

“We will be there to help you two no matter the time of day, just give us a call.” Jihoon’s mom had said to Rosalie when she made her way around to hug her.

Now it was time. The couple was sat in the Dumont’s kitchen room gathered around the table, dishes were filled with food as an everyone ate their filling. It was silent for the most part, the only thing heard was the smacking of Rosalie’s little sister Valentine’s mouth eating food and the clanging of metal chopsticks hitting the sides of dishes.

“Okay out with it, what’s going on? You two never act like this during dinner.” Rosalie’s father, Hyeonju asked after swallowing his mouth full of rice.

At those words Rosalie’s palms got sweaty. The speech she had practiced so thoughtfully on to break the news to her parents hasd flown out the window and straight into the pond beside their house.

Hyeonju crossed his arms, “Well—” “We’re pregnant!” Rosalie blurted out. There was no sugar coating it, no ‘Appa, I know I’m young’ speech, just straight for the jugular.

Reactions were mixed between her family, Valentine was confused, her mother had a smile on her face, and her dad; well you couldn’t tell the reaction on his face.

The deafening silence was broken by a chair scraping across the floor as Rosie’s mother got up to her hug her eldest daughter.

“Oh my gorgeous girl, I’m so happy for you.” She said cupping her daughter’s face with tears in her eyes. Her mother went into a tangent asking as many questions about the couple’s pregnancy as possible before she was cut off by her husband.

“Lee Jihoon?” Hyeonju asked. He stood up promoting the boy to stand as well and leave his position of watching his girlfriend and her mom alone. “Yes?” Jihoon answered.

Hyeonju sighed, “You better take care of my daughter and future grandchild, anything and I mean anything gets back to me that is even remotely upsetting — you and I will have words.” said boy nodded and expressed his love for the man’s daughter and their future child. “You have my word, I will be the man your daughter asked for and the best father our child could have.”

Hyeonju nodded and smiled broke out on his face “Come here!” he said, laughing and pulling the boy and his youngest daughter into a hug with his eldest and wife.

The tension in the room disappeared as they all hugged and laughed.

“Wait . . . does that mean Unnie had sex?” Valentine questioned innocently.

Rosalie’s face went red as the group laughed at the younger girls question seemingly meaning no harm by what she said.

It was a good family dinner, and soon instead of just 5 — there would be six!

SHE’S HERE!

✿. rosie finally gives birth

The room was bustling with noise and people. It was finally time for the couples little girl to come introduce herself to her family.

It had been a stressful morning with her water breaking and then immediately her contractions were causing her more pain than she ever expected.

At moment she was sat in her pool of luke warm water. Her desire to have a home birth just like her mother did with herself and her little sister overshadowed any other ideas, only wanting to go to the hospital if deemed necessary. Her mid-wife was instructing Rosie that she was at 9 centimeters dilated and soon enough she would be having to start pushing soon.

The girl nodded and continued to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth as her boyfriend, Jihoon held her hand close to his chest whilst rubbing her tense shoulder.

“You’re doing amazing Rosie.” Jihoon stated softly, he brought up the hand he was holding to give a delicate kiss. Rosie looked up at him as he was kneeled beside her with tears in her eyes. “Really?” She asked, “Because I’m absolutely terrified.” Rosie groaned out as another contraction hit.

The boy nodded as she squeezed his hand as the pain passed through her. If all she needed from him was to hold her hand through this pain then that’s what Jihoon will do, she carried their child for 9 months and was about to birth her, it’s the least he could offer at the moment.

The couple sat in silence as the midwife came over the check the files dilation once more before confirming she was at ten centimeters and was ready to push.

Rosalie’s mother who was their to assist in any way possible kneeled on her daughters other side offering a hand of support.

“Okay Jihye, on your next contraction. Push!” The midwife stated loudly.

And that’s what Rosalie did. It took the girl only 15 minutes to push her child out into the world which caused the medical staff and mid-wife to laugh out stating “We’ve got an eager little girl ready to meet her Omma and Appa.”

Despite being exhausted and out of breath, Rosalie took her baby girl in her arms after she was cleaned off and checked for any signs of health issues. A wave of relief came over the young girl and her partner as they watched their little Young-mi take a breath in and a breath out.

They were alone together for the first time in hours, the medical staff and her mother took their leave after cleaning up the girl, checking for any signs of tearing (thank god there was only a tiny one, she got stitched up in minutes) and getting her dressed and on a bed to be as comfortable as possible.

“We did this.” Rosie stated blissfully. Her voice cracked due to the strain of her yelling out as she pushed a couple of minutes ago.

Jihoon shook his head at her words.

“You did this. You kept her fed and healthy, you made sure she had a safe place for nine months, you brought her into this world. I wouldn’t have her without you, so thank you. Thank you so much.” His words didn’t go unspoken without tears shedding from both parties eyes. Rosie titled her head up to reach the boy sitting next to her and placed a sweet kiss on her lovers lips, cherishing this moment for as long as she could.

“Welcome to the world Lee Young Mi, you’re gonna be so loved.”

T͟I͟M͟ELINE.✶ 🧸

july 2020, baby is conceived august 2020, rosalie and jihoon find out they are pregnant september 2020, company is told about pregnancy november 2020, gender of the baby is confirmed december 2020, fans receive the news of rosie’s pregnancy december 2020, rosalie and jihoon go on pregnancy leave march 2021, baby yvonne dumont/lee young-mi is born

♡: ANNOUNCEMENT POST!

Liked by saythename_17, everyone_woo, and 4,678,092 others

parkjihye ♡

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rosalienews there is no way…….

tigerose I KNOW THEY ARE LYING WTFFFFFF

rosiecheeks woozi works quick don’t he

saythename_17 열일곱 번째 멤버를 맞이하는 것이 기다려집니다

translation, cant wait to welcome the 15th member of seventeen

roseswrld HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK

rosepetals y’all i have nobody i can share this news with, what am i supposed to do

smelltheroses i died, came back to make sure it wasn’t a joke, died again

woozi_universefactory ♡

click here to join rosie’s taglist!

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie @conniesbbymama @jihoonsbbygirl @kaitieskidmore97 @cheolsboo @mars11rules67 @svt-manon @g4ns3y

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eggcats · 1 day ago

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I was originally gonna have this in the housewife au but it's funnier to me if everyone thinks they hate each other for this conversation (fighting is their love language, they both need enrichment in their enclosure).

So just, like, imagine this conversation at the hotel in front of everyone AFTER Vox and Alastor have just fought in some way.

Vox, doing something ridiculous that Alastor mocks him about.

Vox: Fuck off, you think I'm funny.

Alastor: Well, I certainly find you fun to laugh at! But I suppose that's why I find you endearing.

Vox: Y'know, I might be endeering to you, but what do I have to do to get a deer in me!

Alastor: No.

Vox: Oh, fuck off, so you're allowed to make deer puns but I can't?

Alastor: Well, only one of us is a deer, after all!

Vox: With how much of your DNA currenly in me, I'm probably like, a quarter deer right now. So I'm gonna keep making jokes.

Alastor: Are you implying you can make deer related jokes when you have my....genetics....within you?

Vox: Fuck it, why not?

Alastor: Well, then I suppose you might as well have your fun while you're "allowed," haha!

Everyone is watching this exchange in abject horror. No one wants to make a sound in case they've forgotten they have an audience. (They haven't, they just don't care.)

One time at the studio Angel almost breaks character because he overhears Vox make a deer pun to a Valentino who's extremely over it, and he realizes that he's the ONLY ONE there who knows that that means that Vox and Alastor had JUST hooked up. He can't tell anyone to suffer with him - no one would believe him, and if they did he doesn't want two pissed Overlords after him.

(One time Vox makes a low-key deer pun live on television and the entire hotel goes silent.)

#hazbin hotel #alastor #vox #radiostatic #staticradio #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #this joke popped in my head and i lost it #i was also thinking of that art thats like a tiktok with a comment by vox saying he wants Alastor to inject him with so much #of his dna it affects his 23&me results and i was like thats so fucking funny

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vhaos-chaotic-writing · 2 days ago

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Hi! Can I request some headcannons for yandere Transformers One Starscream? With the reader who is also apart of the High Guard, the reader’s personality is sweet, kind, and bubbly. Thank you for reading this!

(づ￣ 3￣)づ Oh, that fine mech of a guard,,, Starscream,,,

(TFO) Yandere!Starscream w/ a High Guard!Cybertronian!Reader (HCs)

WARNINGS: Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, marking. Reader is gender neutral and a cybertronian (alt mode not mentioned).

TFO!Starscream's path to become a yandere is a slow burn one.

You two met when you and him started to work as part of the High Guard and in the beginning Starscream would have highly doubted you because of your personality.

Sweet, kind, bubbly - a walking ray of sunshine. How the frag did you manage to become both a potential candidate to be part of the High Guard and actually part of it?

Starscream kept his doubts to himself - as much as he wanted to call out your personality, he decided to let time tell if you were actually worthy and capable to be part of the High Guard or not. After all, he had to focus on himself and his new job.

"I really hope we get to be part of the same squad, Starscream!" You said with your bright smile, optics holding sparkles as you looked at the seeker.

Staring at you for a moment, Starscream looked away to hide the light blue hue appearing on his cheekplates "... I hope so, too."

How funny destiny works - it was your sweet personality that made the seeker slooowly fall in love with you.

No matter how harsh the day was, how tiring the tasks were - you always kept your smile and supported the others. And by Primus, you knew how to fight when needed! It made Starscream's spark sigh.

With Soundwave's and Shockwave's support (and constant call out about his crush on you), Starscream would have been the one to start the relationship, courting you and proving himself to be the perfect potential conjux for you and only you.

He makes sure to let the others know you are his, you are taken, he has his optics on you and that he will not step back. He is going to become an unstoppable force.

His yandere traits would have started to come out to the light in that courting phase, even more if there was another bot that was also trying to court you - my TFO!Starscream would be a possessive, territorial yandere.

I don't think he would have played dirty to get to become your conjux, this mech would have proved himself to be better than any other bot that tried to court you. Strong, a mech that works hard, intelligent, but that's sweet and shows his love for you whenever he gets to hold your servo and whisper you how much he loves you.

When you accepted to take him as your conjux, with that precious laugh full of joy and tears of happiness in your precious optics, you both decided to finally complete the conjux ritus in the following cycles.

Alas, as destiny brought you together, it also decided to be cruel - because both of you didn't got to meet that dreamed day of celebrating becoming each others conjux endura, since the killing of the Primes happened that horrible day...

After you all, or the ones that got to escape and hide from the Quintessons and the corrupted guards that followed Sentinel, in the middle of the night, everyone mourned.

As you cried your optics out and hugged your legs against your chestplate, Starscream held you close, letting you hide your faceplate against his shoulder as his servos caressed the back of your helm.

Your dreams of a peaceful Cybertron free of the Quintesson's wrath, the fact that now your people was doomed with the loss of the 13 Primes and the Matrix, the loss of many of your guard friends and the even bigger loss of your home, of not being able to come back to Iacon - it broke you.

And it broke Starscream too.

To hear your cries it made his spark clench and a need to destroy everything make his whole frame shake.

He would kill Sentinel the moment he got to place his servos on that traitor - for having the Primes and many of his teammates get killed, for having team up with the Quintessons - and for having made you cry and mourn.

"Starscream - what- what we are we gonna do?" You cried softly. The seeker gently snuggled his helm against yours, managing to bring you comfort and make your sobs soften.

"We'll keep fighting. We'll remain in the shadows but keep fighting, do anything to make him fall in front of the Quintessons and then avenge our fallen Primes. And I promise, after that, we'll see our Cybertron bloom in pride and joy again, and become conjux endura of the other, as we wished to." He promised in whispers, kissing your forehelm and letting you recharge in his arms, safe and sound.

He never lets you out of his sight, letting the fear slowly eat him alive at the idea of losing you.

Holds you closely whenever you decide to take a break from smiling - you've tried to keep that bubbly, kind personality of yours even after the tragedy... and it makes Starscream want to end it all, his poor, precious sweetspark. You shouldn't be suffering like this.

He will make Sentinel suffer for having tainted your precious, gentle spark.

Starscream would start to develop a need to mark you - and you let him, it grounds you and it makes him feel his spark set on fire to keep going, to keep fighting in your name.

As he sits on his throne back in the hideout, you sit on his lap, and when your smile wavers and your optics fill with tears after coming back from patrolling and stealth missions, he kisses your tears away.

"Don't cry, my love. We'll get our revenge, and we'll be free."

Hope y'all liked it! (❁´◡`❁) Vhaos out!

#transformers #transformers x reader #yandere x reader #yandere transformers #tfo starscream #yandere starscream #tfe starscream x reader #tfo starscream x reader

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maretinelli · 2 days ago

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FAVORITE AUNT

Oscar Piastri X fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n needs to buy a birthday present for her niece, she doesn't know how to do it because she's never been that good with children. But Oscar sees at dinner how much the children love her.

Words: 2.8K+

Warnings: Cute, funny, Oscar being very affectionate (oh how cute😭) And I think that's it

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. You can request stories on my profile. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

The Australian sun seemed warmer that afternoon, painting the sky with golden hues as the sea breeze tried to alleviate the heat. The air carried a faint smell of salt mixed with the sweet aroma coming from the coffee shops scattered along Melbourne's busy streets.

Y/n and Oscar walked hand in hand through the shopping center, passing illuminated storefronts and listening to the lively buzz of people enjoying the end of the holiday season.

Oscar, who was on vacation after the end of the championship, liked the light energy that the city transmitted. He was used to the fast pace of the races, but there, next to Y/n, everything seemed to slow down in a good way.

They had already passed by several stores—bookstores, children's clothing stores, and even an educational toy section—but Y/n still didn't seem satisfied with any of the options. Oscar, on the other hand, was already starting to find her indecision amusing.

"I think we've already walked halfway across the city," he commented, squeezing her hand lightly. "What exactly do you want to give as a gift?"

Y/n sighed, stopping in front of a large, colorful toy store. "I have no idea" She admitted, biting her lower lip.

Oscar arched an eyebrow, gently pulling her into the store. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with children running between aisles filled with stuffed animals, dolls, cars, and board games.

"What do you mean?" He asked, watching Y/n look at the toys with a confused expression.

"I've never been very good with children," Y/n confessed, crossing her arms. "I don't know, I don't have that natural instinct to know what they like."

Oscar laughed, picking up a dinosaur doll that roared as he squeezed his belly. "Are you serious? You seem to be great with everyone." He asked a little in disbelief.

Y/n smiled, picking up a teddy bear and examining it uncertainly. "The kids don't really seem to like me," she confessed, pouting a little.

Oscar frowned, still a little skeptical. "You sound like you have a curse that keeps children away."

"Looks like I do," Y/n rolled her eyes. "One day, I was at the salon getting my nails done with Mackenzie, and the manicurist's daughter came in all excited, smiling at her and saying, "Cinderella Moana!"

Oscar frowned. "Cinderella Moana?"

"Yes! She was wearing a Cinderella costume over a Moana one, it looked like a Disney crossover." Y/n laughed lightly. "And I tried to be nice, didn't I? I asked smiling what that meant..."

"And what did she say?"

Y/n huffed and threw her hands up. She turned to me with the most sullen face in the world and said, "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to my mother."

Oscar held back his laughter, not wanting to disappoint his girlfriend with a laugh, and then handed her another toy to examine.

"Okay, that was a good one."

"And there's more!" Y/n continued, picking up a stuffed toy without much enthusiasm. "Once, my neighbor asked me to take care of her son for half an hour because she needed to take care of something quickly. I accepted, I thought it would be easy." Oscar was already looking at her expectantly. "But the boy cried non-stop because he said I looked at him the wrong way."

Oscar almost choked, allowing himself to laugh now. "What do you mean?!"

"I wanted to know too! I asked him what he meant by that, and he just cried harder and screamed 'I don't like this!'" She puts on a high-pitched voice.

Oscar was still laughing when Y/n sighed and began walking slowly towards a hallway full of teddy bears. He could tell her frustration was genuine and, without thinking much, he placed a light hand on her back, offering comfort.

"But Mary really likes you," he said softly. "And not just her, but the others too. Whenever I go to family gatherings with you, you can see how much they love having you around."

Y/n sighed, putting one hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Her eyes wandered over the shelf full of colorful teddy bears. "They probably just like me because I'm family," she muttered. "Because I'm their mother's sister."

Oscar smiled slightly and turned his body a little to face her better. "That's not true," he said, picking up a small stuffed rabbit and placing it in her hand. "Mary would love anything you gave her. If you gave her a rock, she would scream with joy and say it was the coolest gift in the world."

Y/n couldn't help but smile shyly, looking up and running her hand through Oscar's hair briefly, in an affectionate gesture.

In fact, her nephews really enjoyed spending time with her. They liked to play games, ask random questions, ask for help with schoolwork, and even tell secrets that not even his parents knew. But still, an insecurity insisted on staying there, hammering in his mind.

"But sometimes I think..." She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "What if one day I become a mother and my children hate having me as a mother?"

Oscar paused. The lightness in his eyes faded a little, and he pressed his lips together, feeling his chest heave. "Y/n..."

"I mean it," she sighed. "What if I'm not good with kids? What if they think I'm boring, or weird, or... I don't know, what if I'm just not good enough?"

Oscar turned to her completely and gently cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You have no idea how lucky our children will be to have you as a mother," he said, his voice firm but sweet. "And honestly, I bet they'll love you more than they love me."

Y/n smiled weakly, feeling a cozy warmth spread through her chest. She wrapped Oscar in a brief hug, resting her face on his shoulder.

"Thank you for always being here."

Oscar smiled, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Always," he replied, before pulling away slightly and clapping his hands once. "Now, let's find a really cool gift for Mary."

Y/n laughed, finally feeling that maybe this whole kid thing wasn't that hard after all. After all, with Oscar by her side, everything seemed a little easier.

••••••••••••••••••••

The warm Australian night air brought a comfortable breeze, making it the perfect weather for an outdoor party. The sky was clear, dotted with stars, and the streets were quiet, lit by yellow streetlights.

Oscar parked the car in front of Meredith's house—Y/n's older sister and mother of her nephews. He turned off the engine before turning to Y/n, who was holding tightly the wrapped gifts in her arm, almost as if her life depended on it.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile playing on his lips. "You're more nervous about delivering this gift than you were when we first went out together years ago."

Y/n let out a sigh, adjusting the package in her arm. "Because I am! What if she doesn't like it? What if..."

Oscar chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. "She's going to love it, love." He said sweetly, getting out of the car and opening the door for his girlfriend to get out as well.

With a suspicious look, Y/n took a deep breath and walked to the door, knocking a few times. A few seconds later, Meredith appeared, opening the door with a warm smile.

"Y/n! I'm glad you came!" She hugged her sister briefly before looking at Oscar. "And Oscar! It's been a while. It's good to see you again."

Oscar smiled, greeting her with a wave. "Time flies, doesn't it? But I'm glad to be here."

Meredith made room for the two to enter, and Oscar took the opportunity to place a comforting hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.

"Breathe, everything will be okay."

Meredith, not noticing the brief moment between them, turned back into the house and called out excitedly, "Mary! Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are here!"

Oscar couldn't help but smile a little when he heard that, Uncle Oscar. He has sisters, but he didn't have any nephews yet. It was sweet that Y/n's family made a point of including him like that.

They followed Meredith into the backyard, which was beautifully decorated with balloons, confetti, and red and silver ornaments.

It was then that Mary spotted Y/n. Her eyes lit up and, without hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and ran towards her.

"AUNT Y/N!!!"

Y/n bent down just in time to receive the little girl in her arms, laughing as she spun her around slightly in the air before hugging her tightly.

Oscar, taking advantage of the scene, began to greet Y/n's parents, Meredith's husband and her other sisters, but his eyes always returned to his girlfriend and niece, a slight smile on his face.

Mary pulled away from the hug a little, her eyes shining with excitement. "I missed you!"

"Me too, sweetie!" Y/n smiled, holding out the gift to her niece. "Here's your present, little one. I hope you like it... Uncle Oscar helped me choose."

Mary grabbed the package with excitement and quickly tore the paper open. When she saw what was inside—a huge unicorn plush toy, a painting kit, and a Barbie doll—her eyes widened with pure happiness.

At the store, Y/n had been at a loss as to which gift to choose. Afraid of making a mistake, she ended up picking all three, which made Oscar laugh at the time and say that she was exaggerating. But now, seeing Mary's reaction, he knew that she had made the right choice.

"I LOVED IT!!!" Mary squealed, jumping into her aunt's arms again, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Aunt Y/n!"

Y/n laughed, caressing the little girl's back. "I'm glad you liked it, princess."

Mary pulled back a little, looking at Yin with a pure smile. "Anything you give me will be nice. Because I love you."

Y/n felt some tears wanting to come out, but then she smiled and hugged her five-year-old niece once more. "Oh love, I love you too!"

Oscar, who was very close, leaned over and whispered in his girlfriend's ear: "Did I tell you? If you gave her a rock, she would be happy too."

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes before finally approaching her parents and other family members to greet them with hugs and smiles.

Oscar stood beside her, placing a hand on his girlfriend's waist while her father and brothers-in-law brought up the subject of racing, asking about the season. Meanwhile, Y/n's mother and sisters talked about random subjects, laughing among themselves.

Suddenly, an excited scream echoed through the yard, coming from inside. "AUNT Y/N!!!"

Before Y/n could turn around, three little 7-year-old hurricanes—the triplets, her nephews too—ran up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug, almost knocking her backwards.

She laughed out loud, trying to balance herself, but it was Oscar who, in a quick gesture, held her back so she wouldn't fall. Making everyone laugh.

"Okay, okay, boys, I missed you too!" Yin said between laughs, kissing each of their heads.

The triplets had moved away a little, but now their focus was on Oscar, who was watching them with amusement. With the seriousness of growing boys, they each reached out to shake his hand firmly.

Oscar bit back a smile and returned the handshakes as if they were closing a big deal. "Hey, boys? How's it going?"

"Well, Uncle Oscar!" they replied together.

Y/n looked at her boyfriend and smiled. He was already part of that family, and every day that became clearer.

After the lively greetings with the triplets, Y/n's father, who was chatting happily with his family, suddenly remembered a funny moment from his daughter's childhood and, with a nostalgic smile, asked:

"Y/n, do you remember that time you tried to run away from home because I wouldn't let you eat cake before dinner?"

Y/n widened her eyes, already feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She laughed nervously, hiding her face in her hands.

Her father turned to Oscar, eager to tell the story. "She was about six years old and decided she was going to run away. She took a little backpack, put two stuffed animals, a Barbie and... a piece of bread in it. She said she could take care of herself and that she would never come back."

Oscar laughed out loud, shaking his head in pure amusement. "Four years of dating and you still haven't told me that, Y/n?"

She laughed, embarrassed, and hid in his chest, making the family burst into laughter.

Before he could respond, Meredith and her husband appeared, calling everyone to dinner. The large table in the house was filled with excited voices, silverware clinking against plates and constant laughter.

The triplets and Mary were curious about Y/n's travels with Oscar. "Don't you get sick from flying so much, Aunt Y/n?" one of the boys asked, drawing laughter from the table before she could answer.

Oscar exchanged glances with Y/n during dinner, a discreet smile always present on his lips, as if to say that she did very well with the children.

After the congratulations and the cake being cut with Mary insisting that the first piece should go to Y/n, the night continued pleasantly. Y/n was chatting animatedly with the adults on the balcony when she felt a light tug on her dress.

She looked down and saw Mary, who was staring at her with bright eyes. "What's wrong, love?" Y/n asked, smiling.

The little girl fidgeted her fingers nervously before asking softly, "Can you and Uncle Oscar play with us? We have a cool game, but we're missing two people..."

Before Y/n could even respond, Oscar leaned over and said, laughing, "Sure, me and Aunt Y/n are going!"

He placed the glass of wine on the table and, in a natural gesture, took Y/n's hand, guiding her to the backyard, where the children were waiting anxiously.

The conversations on the porch died down when the adults noticed the couple approaching the group of children.

Y/n looked at her nephews curiously. "Okay, what's the joke?"

One of the triplets held up a plastic crown and placed it on her head. “It’s a wedding!” Mary announced excitedly.

Y/n and Oscar laughed out loud as they saw the kids putting on makeshift costumes. Mary clapped her hands to get their attention.

"Now everyone pay attention, because Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are getting married!"

The game unfolded amidst laughter. The children improvised a speech, pretended to be priests and threw plastic flower petals.

Until Mary crossed her arms and looked at them seriously. "Now you need to kiss."

Y/n's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to respond, but Oscar just smiled at the corner of his mouth and, before she could think about running away from the situation, he gently held Y/n's back and waist and leaned her back, sealing their lips in a sweet and long kiss, respectful, but passionate enough to draw excited screams from the children.

The adults on the balcony whistled and clapped excitedly. When Oscar lifted her back up, Y/n buried her face against his shoulder, giggling shyly.

The night passed at a light and happy pace. Soon, Oscar and Y/n were at the front door saying goodbye to the family.

The children were the ones who took the longest to hug, holding Y/n tightly, and she ran her hand through each of their hair, promising that she would come back for them to play more often.

Oscar then held her hand as they walked to the car. He opened the door for Y/n and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

When he started the car, he gave her a long look before getting out.

Y/n frowned, laughing. "What is it?"

Oscar smiled. "Nothing... I was just thinking about how much the kids love you." He paused and joked, "I guess kids who don't like you are born with defects." Y/n laughed and pulled Oscar into a quick kiss, feeling his smile against her lips.

As they pulled away, he sighed, still smiling. "You're going to be a great mother, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, feeling her heart race. Before she could answer, Oscar continued, his voice full of affection: "I can imagine you going for walks with them, teaching them how to ride a bike, encouraging them in sports, cooking and reading stories before bed..." He chuckled softly. "And I'm there, by your side, watching it all happen."

Y/n bit her lip, feeling a warm warmth in her chest. "That sounds like a perfect plan." She smiled.

Oscar squeezed her hand gently before finally leaving with the car, guiding them back home, his heart light and full of love. Y/n knowing that now she knew that the children loved her.

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #imagines #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #fem reader #imagines oscar piastri #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lovers

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

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so, we've seen how sahsrau would react to the reader being a simp but what about sagau how would they respond

like the reader painted a portrait of furina using a dog leash on them the world finds out about some old smut books the reader wrote about their favorite character

omg what if sahsrau found the portraits would that cause even more jealousy i mean both sides already knew we are simps so it shouldn't but who knows

I swear if I see anymore SAHSRAU or self aware au in general...-

In Teyvat, Fontaine is in flames.

Neuvillette is trying so hard not to comment, but the way his dark blue thingy (idk what's it called 🧍‍♀️) flicks betrays his emotions.

Furina? Oh, she thrives off this. She’s parading around, absolutely insufferable about being your chosen muse.

The other Archons? Jealous. Ei claims it’s improper, Zhongli sighs but does not deny he’d love a portrait too, and Venti? He’s just begging you to paint him in a worse position for fun.

Meanwhile, the Amphoreus crew sees this and immediately goes into full existential crisis.

“They drew this? For another world’s god??”

Mydei, Phainon, and Castorice all suddenly have one question: Where are our portraits?

Trailblazer is dying of laughter while Aventurine tries to commission something worse just to mess with everyone.

Oh no.

Teyvat is losing its mind.

The minute someone gets their hands on your old self-indulgent books, it spreads like wildfire.

Wanderer? (I know what you are and i have seen what you guys do to hat guy.) Red-faced, pissed, and pretending he’s never heard of you.

Alhaitham? Absolutely smug about it and will quote it back to you.

Childe? Never letting you live it down.

Neuvillette? …Contemplating the meaning of existence.

Cyno? Debating whether this is punishable by law or just really funny.

Oh, they’re mad—but not because of the content.

Because it’s NOT about them.

Blade just stares at you like he’s reconsidering everything. Dan Heng avoids eye contact. Argenti? Dramatically reciting passages like poetry.

Sunday? Oh, he’s planning revenge. He’s going to make sure he gets a dedicated volume next time.

Aventurine is just amused. He knew you were down bad. But this? This is spectacular.

Oh, absolutely. They already had an uneasy truce, but now?

Teyvat’s people are mad that you’ve clearly dedicated so much time and art to a different world.

The Star Rail characters are mad that Teyvat had the privilege of being your muse before they did.

Your inbox? A warzone of commissions, passive-aggressive requests, and straight-up demands for equal artistic attention.

Meanwhile, you? Just vibing, completely unaware of the interdimensional jealousy you’ve caused.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #will add tags later #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sahsrau #sahsrau x reader

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theemissuniverse · 2 days ago

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“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)

CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit

MASTERLIST

No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.

The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.

He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.

Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.

You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.

He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.

That’s just the type of person Henry was.

He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.

This was it.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?”

You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.

Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”

You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”

You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”

Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”

“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”

When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”

“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“

Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.

He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”

You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”

Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.

And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.

And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.

“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.

Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.

You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.

It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.

You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.

Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.

You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.

Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.

“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.

“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.

“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.

He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”

“Then have me.”

Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.

You were his now. In a strange way.

#x reader #henry danger #henry danger movie #henry danger x reader #henry hart #henry hart x reader

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redrayvenrr · 3 days ago

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Y'all are sleeping on Sweets headcanons, so I am here to pick up the slack (which ended up becoming a long rant, and I'm not sorry)

-Sweets' bitch from another ditch Gael is a tattoo artist, y'all know Sweets is Gael's test dummy

Sweets is probably covered head to toe in the randomists tattoos. They got at least one full sleeve, 7 of them are incomplete, and maybe like 3-5 of them are actually ones Sweets wanted

But I offer you Nat coloring Sweets' tattoos to the point where Sweets buys her temporary tattoo markers for her birthday

-Essence Eaters live longer than the average person, right? So Sweets could easily be twice Law's age but is still making fun of him and calling him an old man despite him being in his 20's (imagine Sweets being born in the 70's-80's and Law 90's-early 2000's XD Sweets is very happy that ripped jeans are back in style)

I also imagine Sweets with longer hair because at some point they decided that going to get a hair cut every month or so is too much of a hassle for how long their life span is (and I offer you Sweets eventually needing to dye their hair grey to match Law's so they still look like a couple to non-attuned (I'm not sorry))

Also, remember that in the "getting patched up-" video Law says that "this doesn't look like one of the little scuffles you do for fun at the circle"???? Hello??? Street fighter Sweets??? Go kick ass Sweets you got this baby

-And scars?? I'd imagine they'd obviously have the few you get from childhood, and if we're going with street fighter Sweets, then they probably have a bit more than normal. Like on their knuckles and maybe one on their cheek/forehead/lip/ankles or something. But ya know, it's just for fun, and every once in a while, they're not addicted to fighting or anything

But then the fight with Joel? Joel was out for blood, and Sweets practically died. There are definitely scars, one of which I imagine being a scratch over their eye cause I'm edgy like that (plus it makes sense that Joel would use everything in his arsenal to take down the all powerful Sweets which means nails and playing dirty).

But there is definitely a bite scar since he drained Sweets' lifeforce, which is why they were so concerned about Law getting scarred after the train incident. They don't want him living through that pain they feel every time they see their own bite scar (and ya know they can't live with the idea of hurting Law so "please at least don't let my mistakes scar")

-And speaking of the train incident Law stated that Sweets is strong as all hell and I'm here for it and I need them to crush a watermelon and Law looses his shit (buff Sweets for the wiiiin)

-Sweets' heartbeat was already a comfort for Law, but after Joel, you'll often find Law pressed against their heart. Cuddling on Sweets' chest is a must. When Law has a bad day, Sweets immediately presses him against their chest. Hugs often are one of Law's arms wrapped around them and his other hand press against their chest. Law sitting in between Sweets' legs so he can lean his back or shoulder against their heart

-I think it would be funny if Sweets also had an accent (like Bitish or Scottish or some shit) and everyone enjoys watching Nat struggle with her own accent because she'd have the weirdest mix of her father's southern, her mother's average american, and Sweets' (maybe a bit of uncle desdes)

(And while we're talking about Nat, when are we getting her dog!??! Please, I need the household to just become Spy X Family)

-Can we talk about how good Sweets is with kids? Where did you pick that up? Cause I just always imagined them as an orphaned only child? Like I physically can't see them with a family before Law and Nat, but maybe that's just me

(Maybe they grew up in foster homes and were always the older sibling of the group? Idk)

-One order of Sweets being good at the guitar and singing, strumming their guitar while Law plays the piano and singing Nat to sleep please

Sweets being in a band as a teen in the 80's/90's sounds like good blackmail for Gage to abuse (especially the hair) (but like imagine them doing a killer rift then proceeding to sing Def Leppard)

-I think their job would be like a metal worker or glass blowing, and I don't have an explanation as to why

-Sweets honestly feels like the most responsible and mature person out of all the characters they're just shit at taking care of themself and, say it with me: ✨️traumatized✨️

-I also imagine Sweets as a male, but that's my own problem

But imagine Nat finally calling them dad, and they just combust

Plus Sweets feels like one of those dads who drops a piece of lore then never speaks of it again (whereas Law is the hands on hips, legs apart dad pose (you know the one I'm talking about))

The idea of Sweets being "one of the guys" with Law's coworkers gives me life (because yes Love/Newbie is also a male cause if Desmond isn't just a pure gay man then you're wrong (honestly like 90% the listeners are male in my head)idk)

#lol my girlfriend doesn't know I listen to asmr rps this is gonna be awkward for me #i just need old yaoi and their daughter #nat and her dads is my roman empire #the dynamic between sweets and gael will forever be funny to me and i need more in my diet #discovering old pictures of sweets feels like paleontology #what youre gonna look at me and say sweets wouldnt sing pour some sugar on me??#remember sweets goes to therapy and I'm very proud of them #breaks my heart that as soon as law asks sweets to move in they both get train trauma 😞#reverie audios #reverie audios headcanons #reverie sweets #reverie law #reverie nat #reverie gael #reverie uncle desdes

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csphire · 2 days ago

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Hopes and dreams I had for Dragon Age 4 that we so did not get.🙃😢

An actual RPG game. Not Nice Guy, Nice Funny Guy, and Nice but Stern Guy. Let us screw up and piss off our companions.

No more dialogue wheel selection bait and switches. "Nooo I didn't mean that. I did not think they would say that! That's not what I thought that choice meant. I meant-fuck! *sighs* ...I guess I'll have to reload." Or more accurately, "That was the mean option? Are you kidding me!"

Letting the player be an asshole. Sometimes, it's just cathartic to punch a character. People in customer service especially need this at the end of a shift. Putting this in games is a public service. We needed more of those kinds of moments beyond the bloody tutorial.

More of our previous choices having an actual impact in DA4. Like the Well of Sorrows I was so certain would bite an Inquisitor in the ass somehow in the future. Like Morrigan with Mythal in her could force the Inqusitor to hurt or even try to kill Solas. So I agonized over that choice. The same goes for who we left in the fade. Honestly, the three or so that carried over I did not see any impact on DAVG at all. Am I wrong?

Who we left in the fade showing up or we find their body. "Where's Hawke?" Yeah... where's Hawke BioWare? Get's Hawke's clothes instead. Well, that's... depressing.

The option to play as the Inquisitor trying to be low profile or as a nobody aka Rook. This way, everyone is happy, right? For a lot of us, the Inquisitor going toe to toe again with Solas was important.

By playing as the Inquisitor we would have had one sweet Dagna-created prostatic arm-not from Bianca because screw her. Also, depending on our class each one would be a little different. Oh, and that prosthetic would also be customizable just like Varric's crossbow and every other weapon in Dragon Age Inquisition. I really thought BioWare would jump to help feature an amputee in an empowering way. True we had Neve but it felt like more of an afterthought to give her a prosthetic that honestly looks uncomfortable as hell.

Open worlds to collect mats, and kill things to craft gear and weapons for our team only better. It would have given us time to breathe and enjoy the scenery. Plus I like doing that kind of tedious shit and if you don't, fine go buy that stuff I guess.

Vendors that will sell us the goods if we got the coin and none of that faction BS.

"Knife ear!" You think at least the venatori would be shouting that at my elf. Nope! I did not feel like my character's race mattered in this game. I don't think Solas over a decade really put the fear of the gods into the North. We all know isms and slavery are bad but putting those things in a game's world helps people realize why they're bad and can even help people feel what it's like to be on the receiving end of such abuses which can help create a thing called empathy.

Blood! Where is the blood? Why is my character not covered in dirt and the gore of their enemies? Don't like that, fair but what about an on-off feature in settings?

Enemies that send chills down my spine. Instead, the ogres and darkspawn made me bust out laughing. I cannot take them seriously, especially the ogres. I see them and think, "Derp a durr... oh I'm an ogre and soooo scardy... rawr."

Dagna... because she's adorable and if any dwarf deserves magic it's her. Or at least let her nerd out, study Lace and help her understand more about her new abilities.

Sandal Cameo at least. Also adorable aaand... ENCHANTMENT!

Our companions can get hurt. I'm starting to think they made them immortal because they knew some of us would let them get hurt on purpose. There are no feelings of concern at all for them going into combat now, no pick-up mechanics it leaves me feeling only more apathetic about them.

Quicker cooldowns on abilities instead of spamming the left mouse button all of the time. And more than two fucking abilities on my hot bar. BioWare... what were you thinking?

Three or more companions traveling with us instead of two. It was the gold standard all throughout the franchise. How are we supposed to get to know them all when limited to-oh right most of them have a personality as deep as a kiddy pool, never mind.

Companions with personalities and problems deeper than kiddy pools. That tension between Cassandra and Varric, Dorrian and Vivienne, Cole and Sera, and so forth was... chief's kiss.

Control of all THREE of our companions traveling with us in combat. Look, I'm a control freak who likes strategy. Combat for the series has always been centered on strategy, pausing, builds, and gear. Am I still bitter that they dropped us to two? ...Yes.

If playing as the Inquisitor you get the option to romance someone new. Especially let us have the option for Lavellan to move on from Solas.

Better-looking hands and body proportions. Why are the heads so damn big? And honestly the hands in failguard genuinely creep me the hell out with tucking the pinkies away all the time. It's weird! Strange hill to die on I know but they just make me cringe and die a little inside.

Romance scenes that would make Larian and BG3 fans blush. This game was always meant for adults. Adults have *gasp* SEX!

Solas not being a total red flag d-bag for killing our favorite dwarf! Run Lavellan Run! You're probably next. And if not him, Bianca is going for your eyes!

Solas being less of a manipulative antagonist twat and/or the player has the ability to be more diplomatic from the start with Solas to get his help. I feel like Solas' character development sorta backtracked by a lot.

Solas once again is a romance option but this time to EVERYONE! That and I wanted to see Lavellan and Solas finally get it on.

They finally let us romance Varric. Oh they did you so dirty, baby... *ugly crying*

A memorable soundtrack that sets off all the feels and is not stuff that's reused from the Inquisition.

Last but not least, where the fuck is our Golden Nug Bioware?

I might add more later, but feel free to add more and comment below!

#failguard #dragon age 4 #dragon age veilguard #veilguard critical #bioware critical #add your thoughts below #but hey at least we got our flowy hair... on our giant heads!#i had such high hopes #oh naive little me #ea critical #I tried to like veilguard. I really-really tried but I can't get over what they did to Varric #I reject the cannon #wip #i might add more later

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2009editingtips · 24 hours ago

Note

This is me begging you to wax poetic about Phil's hair

Phil's hair journey is something that can actually be so personal to me specifically.

So, we start with shaggy black emo hair Phil, where he's at university and basically out in the ways that matter to him (slutting it up on main, an icon). And he's got this plan for his life, right? He's going to school; he's got a semblance of an idea for the future. But he's a baby adult at best. And then he starts doing this YouTube thing. He puts all his weird/creative/extraness that had been looked down on for years out for the world to see. And people like it. They like him. They like him so much they give him a platform and job offers and new dreams to realize.

And that's actually terrifying because he has so much to lose now.

Going from the mostly carefree feeling of being himself, accepting himself, despite the culture, to feeling like the caveat to all his dreams coming true is that he has to take that joy, that self-love that took SO LONG to find, and keep it hidden. Not only that, he has to lie to everyone. All the time.

So then there's short black fringe Phil, who's in the closet, mentions his attraction to girls where he can, trying to cover his internet tracks. But people are persistent; boundaries aren't something he knows how to set yet. His past is thrown in his face every other moment, so he doubles down. Sticks with his branding of the non-cursing, family-friendly, boy-next-door type. It isn't untrue so much as it's put on. He loses some of his spark in those years. Not enough rest and looking over his shoulder at every moment will do that to someone.

Then II Phil with the black quiff...

I have the most thoughts about this era, so forgive me for yapping.

II, which was meant to be the end of "Dan and Phil," not that the audience knew. But Phil did. And he changed his hair. Let his past branding slip just a bit, preparing the audience in a way.

And he's talked in the past about how he was scared to change his hair because he genuinely thought people would leave. Because up until then, the audience he'd curated, however extensive in number, was still this intangible, fickle beast he'd not learned to tame.

But that deep-rooted fear persisted. The fear that the love of your audience is so fickle that they would leave because you changed your hair... but it wasn't about the hair, not really. It was the fear that they don’t actually like you or your content and they only like that you represented their childhood or their awkward teen years. So, if you grow up and change, then they have to. And they don’t want to hear that.

So, you put off being yourself (in more ways than one) for the comfort of others. Because if you truly aren’t liked, you can at least pretend for a bit longer. You can keep your hair the same.

And then he comes out, and it's all out in the open.

And then Phil is publicly alone for a bit. After a decade he's just... amazingphil again. "Babysitting the kids until Dan comes back," undermining his content like it wasn't instrumental in getting countless people through the pandemic.

Like his joy, however put upon it may have been, wasn't infectious.

Then we hit 2023 with the messy brown fringe, and it's almost right. It's nearly there. Phil has cultivated his audience, weeded out the bad seeds, and knows more now. But he's still... hesitant. Soft around the edges.

And then dapg is back, and it's... it's silly and light, and it feels like 2009 again but easier, more honest.

Stealing this quote from @silaswhatever here: "and now he's blond messy fringe Phil, and this feels like an almost final evolution of Phil - a reclamation of a mistake he made in his teens, a change to commemorate both 15 years of being a dork on the internet with his soulmate and to highlight the beginning of a "new era" for them. And now he gets to be the person beyond the mask of "AmazingPhil", he gets to be Phil Lester, a messy, slightly mean, but very funny guy who loves the person he's been with for fifteen years and we all love him for it."

Anyway, I am normal about him.

#red you did not ask for all that but it's also ur fault so...#thems the breaks #742 words is me being brief btw #celeste is being parasocial on main again #answered #asks #celeste is talking #phil lester #amazingphil #phan

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didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback · 3 days ago

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Pere's post game interview is frustrating, zero self-criticism

yeah, it sounded more like a press conference alberto toril would give after a real madrid loss than anything else. 😵‍💫

"the match was very good, we dominated. the result is there and it's difficult, but we did things well. we had many chances and we got into the game very well. i didn't expect to have to make changes, but sometimes you need to improve some aspects." 😒

so i don't think it's appropriate for a coach to completely bash the team or throw them under the bus after a loss, but a little more self-reflection please. what exactly was done well? and the fact that he didn't expect to make changes, when even if we were winning we should have had other subs, is concerning 🤔

i went into this season giving pere the benefit of the doubt because if you look back to jona's first season with the team (turin), it was not perfect either. mistakes will be made but what you want to see is growth and change after mistakes. now halfway through the season with pere, i'm not sure if i am seeing any of that.

and the disconnect in the succession planning and the debacle that was the keira transfer is more proof of that...

you know, it's so funny. if my old blog was still alive (rip 💀), you would have seen all the posts calling for jona to be fired last season, especially from a certain sector of alexia fans 😬

there is no perfect manager and certainly no manager that will please everyone.

however, what jona did well was understand the behind the scenes dynamics, which is why he was an upgrade over lluís cortés, who lost the locker room. i don't know what is happening but clearly there need to be changes. let's hope that whatever was said to the press was just pr and that they have a real plan to at least settle the team moving forward. 🙏

#pere romeu #jona giraldez #fcb femení #futfem #woso

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ender-cloud · 2 days ago

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My (personal) thoughts on Jimmy Mouthwashing and how the fandom perceives him: did anyone ask for this, no, but i just wanna talk about him!

Under cut to make things look cleaner

Jimmy is the most hated character in mouthwashing, and for good reason, his actions are morally wrong and what he did to Anya is just absolutely disgusting and horrible. But is Jimmy a bad character? No.

Yes he’s a bad person but thats because he’s well written, and sometimes the fandom seems to skip over all of that. There is a reason why for 80% of the game you play as Jimmy, you are supposed to feel this connection to him, you need to play as him to understand why most of the crew was able to follow him, he’s good at manipulating even the person playing.

Jimmy has so much depth to him, everything we see through his eyes is for a reason, the way we see characters through his perspective is for a reason, and thats what makes him such a great character.

Everyone tries to ignore him most of the time “oh sorry you had to draw Jimbob” or stuff like that and while it’s funny it’s not the only view you should have. Jimmy’s character is not meant to be pushed to the side, if he was you wouldn’t play the game through his eyes.

This man is smart, conniving, manipulative, and jealous of power he’s not able to handle. This is apart of the theme that is taking responsibility but Jimmy is usually mischaracterized as this dumb evil horse lover.

He’s not the only one who seems to mischaracterized, Curly is too. Everyone seems to act like he’s this perfect dude whose great for Anya and would be the hero but he is just as in fault as Jimmy.

Curly was the one who knew Jimmy and always saw the best in him, it is heavily applied that he knew what Jimmy was doing to Anya and did nothing about it when Anya didnt even have to say his name for Curly to know. This is because Curly thought of Jimmy as his friend and his right hand man (which is also kinda mischaracterized)

Curly didn’t just like, hate jimmy all of this time, no they were friends, and Jimmy’s betrayal hit him. Curly also had troubles with taking responsibility, he didn’t take responsibility for how he did almost nothing to stop Jimmy and also he couldn’t take responsibility for being the captain and keeping everyone safe.

You play as both perspectives so you see how similar the two are in some ways and how different they are in others. It’s not a question of if Curly’s better for Anya because thats not the point, the point is to show that they both are at fault and both cant take responsibility which isnt shown that often.

Anya doesn’t need Curly, she needs time to heal, she needs to go to therapy and take care of herself, not date someone who was friends with her abuser. She needs time before she should be in a relationship with anyone because what happened to her is a traumatic experience that no one should go through.

Also Daisuke and his thoughts on Jimmy as well seem to be twisted. Daisuke trusted Jimmy, theres a reason why Jimmy was able to convince him to climb into the vent, its because Daisuke felt almost kinda safe, like he could trust him.

This is because Jimmy is a good manipulator, however a character acts around Jimmy is because Jimmy has shaped them to feel that way, Daisuke wouldn’t have just climbed in there if he didn’t think that Jimmy wouldn’t mean for him to get hurt, even though we might see that he did we have to put our perspective with Daisuke.

Personally I hate Jimmys actions and who he is as a person but I love his character, i like how it’s portrayed in such a new and unique way. Every character in mouthwashing is (I didnt talk about Swansea because I couldn’t think of anything at the moment😔)

I feel as though while no one should forgive Jimmys actions, they should see that he’s a good character and very very well written and is not meant to just be pushed into the background. His toxic masculinity, his manipulative mind, his incapability to take responsibility even in the end when he put Curly in the pod instead of himself, its all written for a reason.

I uh, hope you enjoyed this ramble, it’s something I’m very passionate about because i really really like character analysis and character writing and Jimmy’s character is one of my favorites to just try and figure out the inter workings of.

Without Jimmy, Mouthwashing wouldn’t be the game it is

#mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #diasuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #captain curly #ace rambles #uh character analysis #i think #more like fandom mischaracterization analysis lmao #i might be a little late to the Mouthwashing hype ive been a fan for a while I just now put my thought to words #might be an unpopular opinion #the fandom seems pretty divided

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hrizantemy · 8 hours ago

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Nesta stood in the kitchen of the House of Wind, her fingers curled around the edge of the wooden counter, the warmth of the hearth doing nothing to touch the cold sinking into her bones. Across from her, Elain stood stiff, her hands clasped together as if holding herself in place, as if forcing herself not to tremble.

They stared at each other.

Elain’s voice had been quiet when she first spoke, but it had not been soft. The words had been honed, sharp, and they cut Nesta clean through.

“You pushed us away. Pushed everyone away. And then one day, you just… came back. And you didn’t need us anymore.”

Nesta didn’t say anything.

Elain’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, as she let out a breath too heavy for her slight frame.

“You healed without us. It was easy for you. So why—” Elain’s voice cracked, but she forced herself to keep going, her brown eyes burning with something raw, something that had been simmering in her for so long Nesta had never even noticed. “Why couldn’t you do it with us?”

Nesta’s fingers tightened on the counter, the wood biting into her skin.

She could have said a thousand things. That it hadn’t been easy. That she had burned and broken and clawed her way back from the darkness with bloodied hands. That she had not healed so much as survived.

But none of that would matter, not to Elain.

Because Elain had not been looking for an explanation.

She had been looking for an answer.

Then the fire started in her chest, blazing hot and all-consuming. It roared through her veins, searing through every tender, fragile thing that had been built inside her over these past months. Nesta wanted to rage. She wanted to burn.

How dare Elain say that?

How dare she stand there, in this too-warm kitchen that had never felt so unbearably cold, and say those things as if Nesta had chosen to carve herself apart? As if she had wanted to drown alone?

A thousand cruel words clawed their way up Nesta’s throat, sharp as glass, aching to be thrown. She could have torn Elain apart, piece by delicate piece. She could have reminded her that she had been the one to stand idle as Nesta fell apart, that she had done nothing while their world collapsed. That she had been too soft, too sweet, too wrapped up in her own grief to fight for anything.

Nesta could have said it. She wanted to say it.

But she didn’t.

Because beneath Elain’s sharp words, beneath the rare anger in those doe-brown eyes, was something else.

Hurt.

Nesta exhaled sharply, fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.

Elain had never known how to be angry. Not like Nesta. Not like Feyre. But now, standing there, her voice shaking, her hands trembling—Elain was furious in the only way she knew how.

And for once, Nesta did not fight back.

She swallowed down the fire, let it sear her from the inside, let it settle into something bitter and burning. Because Elain had spoken with resentment, yes. But beneath it, Nesta realized, was something worse.

A plea.

And Nesta let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though there was nothing funny about any of this. She could still taste the fire on her tongue, still feel the venomous words she wanted to spit out, but she swallowed them down. Instead, her voice came out like steel wrapped in smoke—steady, but edged with something dangerous.

“How?” she demanded, the word snapping through the cold kitchen. “How was I supposed to heal with you? With any of you? You didn’t know how. None of you knew how.”

Elain flinched, but Nesta didn’t stop.

“You wanted me to be better, but none of you actually knew what that meant. You just wanted me to stop being a problem. Stop making things ugly and difficult. You wanted me to sit in that damn house, wasting away, pretending everything was fine just because it made you feel better.”

Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding like war drums in her chest.

Elain shook her head, her arms wrapping around herself like she was holding something in. “That’s not fair,” she whispered, but Nesta just laughed again, harsher this time.

“It’s the truth.”

Elain’s eyes were shining now, but Nesta refused to feel guilty for it. Not when her sister had thrown the first stone.

“We had a plan,” Elain finally said, her voice wavering, but there was an edge to it now. A quiet sort of desperation, like she was trying to make Nesta understand. “Rhysand and Feyre… they had a plan. They were going to help you, Nesta.”

Nesta went still.

Her rage flickered, turned to something colder, something more dangerous.

“A plan,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elain nodded quickly, her hands tightening where they gripped her arms. “They just—” She hesitated, her mouth pressing into a thin line before she finally forced out, “They didn’t know how to help. But they were trying.”

Nesta stared at her sister.

And then she let out a breath, slow and sharp, like the edge of a blade.

“Trying.”

A bitter smile curled at her lips, but there was no humor in it.

Nesta let the silence stretch between them, let it grow thick and heavy, suffocating.

Then, slowly, she tilted her head and said, “What was it, then?”

Elain blinked. “What?”

Nesta took a step forward, voice quiet but sharp as a blade. “This plan you keep talking about. What was it? What was your version of trying?”

Elain opened her mouth, but no words came out. She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before she forced herself to meet Nesta’s gaze again.

“You… you could have come here,” she said finally, voice wavering. “You could have trained with Cassian, worked in the library with the priestesses—”

Nesta let out a breath of disbelief, shaking her head with a laugh that had no real amusement in it.

“That was your plan?” she asked, her voice like ice. “That was how you were going to help me? Just send me away, let someone else deal with me?”

Elain flinched, and for the first time, guilt flashed across her face. But she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin in that quiet, stubborn way of hers. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Nesta demanded.

Elain didn’t answer.

Because they both knew.

Nesta let out a sharp breath, shaking her head as the pieces fell into place, as the truth settled over her like a suffocating weight.

“You were going to lock me in a tower,” she said, voice flat. “Trap me up here with no way out and call it helping.”

Elain’s eyes went wide, her lips parting as she rushed to shake her head. “That’s not true! You—you could have gone down the stairs, Nesta. You could have left anytime you wanted.”

Nesta laughed, low and bitter. “Is that what you tell yourself? That I could have just walked down those ten thousand fucking steps and everything would’ve been fine?” She took a step closer, her voice cutting through the cold air. “You never intended for me to go down those stairs. None of you did. You would have sent me up here because you wanted me gone. You wanted to dump me with Cassian—the one person I told you, over and over, that I didn’t want to be around—and just hope for the best.”

Elain flinched, but Nesta didn’t stop. “That was your great plan. Your version of helping. Throw me in a cage, leave me with someone I didn’t want to see, and if I didn’t fix myself—if I didn’t magically become someone more palatable for you all—then what?”

Elain swallowed hard, her fingers trembling where they gripped her arms. But she had nothing to say to that.

Because Nesta was right.

Nesta leaned forward, her gaze sharp and cold as she pinned Elain with a look.

“So tell me, Elain,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “What would’ve happened if I didn’t fix myself? If I didn’t magically heal in the way you all thought I should? What was the real plan?”

To her surprise, Elain didn’t flinch. Instead, her chin lifted, her gaze firm and resolute, as if she truly believed in what she was about to say. “Then you would have gone back to the human lands.”

Nesta’s heart stuttered for a moment, and she blinked. “What?”

Elain’s voice didn’t waver. “That was the ultimatum. Fix yourself, or go back. Back to the human lands. To that place where you didn’t have to face any of us.”

The words hit Nesta like a slap, and she scoffed. “Really?” she sneered. “Fix myself, or be sent back to be hunted like a beast for sport?”

Elain’s eyes hardened, but there was no anger in them, just a quiet certainty.

Nesta stared at her, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She had never been so disgusted in her life.

Nesta stood there, frozen for a moment, as the weight of Elain’s words settled around her. The calmness of the room, the steady crackling of the fire in the hearth—it should have been comforting. But all she could feel now was the raw burn of it, the familiar sting of flames licking at her skin, crawling through her veins, trying to claw their way out.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and for a moment, the world felt unbearably small, suffocating. The flames were rising again—raging inside her, hot and furious, and the power that she had once resented, that she had fought with every fiber of her being, was surging within her now. The same fury, the same destruction.

It was always there.

The flames had always been there, buried deep inside her, waiting. Always ready to consume. Always ready to burn the world down.

But not now.

Nesta closed her eyes, her breath coming in sharp, shaky inhales. She could feel it—the heat, the strength—and for the first time, she didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to let it take over.

With every ounce of willpower she had left, she shoved it down, pushed it back into herself, into the deep, empty spaces where it had always hidden. She crammed it all into those holes, locking it in, forcing it back behind the walls she had spent so long building.

Not this time, she told herself. Not again.

Her chest ached with the weight of it—the suffocating pressure of holding it all back, of keeping those flames from consuming everything around her. She felt the burn in her throat, the taste of fire on her tongue, but she clenched her teeth and forced it down. She wouldn’t let it out. Not here. Not now.

Not with Elain watching.

Nesta exhaled sharply, the effort of holding everything in making her chest feel tight, suffocating. She blinked, looking at Elain, and it should have felt like betrayal. Her sister—her sweet sister—had agreed to this. Had backed this plan, this cold, heartless ultimatum. It should have stung, should have burned like the flames that were still coiling through her veins. But instead, all she felt was… numbness.

The fire was still there, just beneath the surface, but now it was distant. Fading into the background of her thoughts, leaving nothing but the weight of her sister’s silence.

Nesta shook her head slowly.

“You, of all people,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from holding back everything she wanted to say. “You agreed to this?”

Elain’s expression faltered for just a moment, before she squared her shoulders, trying to hold onto the same resolve she had moments before. But Nesta saw it—saw the hesitation there, the guilt lurking behind her eyes.

“Did you think I would just—fix myself? That I’d become this… this thing you wanted me to be?”

Elain’s lips trembled, but she didn’t answer.

As Nesta stared at Elain, something shifted in her sister’s eyes. It wasn’t guilt about the plan—no, Elain still believed in it, still thought it had been the right thing to do. But there was something else now, something deeper, something more raw. Regret. It flashed in her gaze, quick and sharp, but it wasn’t for what Nesta had expected.

It wasn’t for the plan. It wasn’t for the cold decision to send her away, to lock her in a tower with no escape.

It was for the words she had said. The truths she had revealed.

And as that realization settled on Nesta, she felt a flicker of the same regret within herself. What had it been for? What was the point of this? Of tearing at each other, exposing these old, festering wounds? Would it even make a difference?

She closed her eyes for a moment, the ache in her chest growing.

It wasn’t the plan that hurt the most. It was the feeling of seeing Elain—her sister, her blood—stripped of the softness she had always worn like a shield. The way she looked now, so broken, so exposed, made something twist inside Nesta. It made her wonder if the cost of honesty—of telling her what she really thought—was worth what came next.

The silence between them was heavy, suffocating. And Nesta hated it. She hated the way Elain was looking at her, the way she could feel the shift, the regret both of them were carrying but had no idea how to express.

Finally, Nesta spoke, her voice quieter now.

“You shouldn’t have told me,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “I shouldn’t have heard it.”

And with that, she turned away, unable to look at her sister anymore.

Nesta walked away without looking back, her steps slow but deliberate. The weight of the conversation still pressed on her chest, and she could feel the bitter taste of it lingering on her tongue. She had to escape. The suffocating silence between her and Elain was too much. She needed space, air—anything but that thick, stifling tension.

As she entered the common room, the atmosphere didn’t offer the reprieve she had hoped for. It was just as tense, just as loaded as the kitchen had been. The soft flicker of the fire in the hearth did little to ease the heaviness in the room. Feyre, sitting on one of the couches, glanced up at Nesta with a strained smile, but it was clear no one had spoken much since she’d left.

None of them had.

Feyre had likely tried to fill the silence with small talk—awkward, disjointed attempts at conversation that fell flat, like throwing pebbles into an empty well. Nesta could see the strain on her sister’s face. Feyre never liked this kind of tension.

But Nesta didn’t care. She didn’t care about their awkward attempts to bridge the gap between them.

Her eyes flicked to Taryn, sitting quietly on the far side of the room, her expression unreadable. For a moment, there was no need for words between them.

Nesta took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go.”

Taryn didn’t hesitate. She met Nesta’s gaze for a beat, then stood without a word, the silence between them stretching but not breaking.

There was no argument. There was no protest. Just a shared understanding.

As Nesta reached the door, she heard Feyre’s voice, clear and tight with concern. “Where are you going?”

She paused, not turning immediately. She could feel Feyre’s eyes on her, could hear the unspoken plea in her voice. “You’ve only just gotten here,” Feyre added, the words almost a whisper.

It was enough to make Nesta stop. Enough to make her look back, though the anger that flared in her chest made her want to walk out without a word.

She turned slowly, meeting her sister’s eyes. The weight of what had been said earlier—the anger, the resentments, the truths spilled out in the heat of the moment—pressed on her, and for a brief, sharp second, Nesta felt a bitter sting of betrayal.

But it wasn’t just anger she felt. There was something else, something darker and more sorrowful. Pity.

Because she could see it now. Feyre wasn’t trying to trap her, not really. She wasn’t trying to break her down. Feyre had seen the way Nesta had crumbled before, the way she had spiraled after the war. She had watched her drown in men and drink, in rage and loneliness, and it must have felt like the only way to save her was to lock her away, or to send her off to the farthest reaches where she wouldn’t have to watch it anymore.

She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice raw, trembling slightly with emotion.

“Elain told me about the plan,” she said, her gaze flicking to each of them, one by one. “About how you were going to help me heal. How you thought sending me away with Cassian and locking me in some damn tower would fix me.”

Her words hung in the air like a punch, and she could see the shock on their faces. Feyre’s eyes widened, guilt flickering across her features. But it was too late for apologies, too late for anything but the truth.

Cassian, to his credit, looked just as stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off, her voice barely more than a whisper now.

“So, that was it? That was the great plan you thought would heal me? The great solution? You just thought you’d throw me at Cassian, leave me to figure it out, and everything would magically fall into place?”

Her eyes flicked over to Rhysand, who had remained silent until now. He didn’t look apologetic at all. Instead, his gaze was steady, unwavering, as he put a hand on Feyre’s shoulder in a way that seemed more like comfort than guilt.

And then he spoke, his tone calm but firm, answering for Feyre without hesitation.

“We thought it was the only way,” he said. “But it hadn’t come to that, Nesta.”

It hadn’t come to that.

The words cut through her, and for a moment, she didn’t know whether to scream or collapse under the weight of it all. The coldness, the distance, the feeling of being reduced to a problem to be solved instead of a person who needed help.

Feyre stumbled back a step, her hand instinctively reaching for Rhysand’s as if grounding herself in him could somehow steady her racing thoughts. Her voice wavered when she spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders.

“I… I thought it would help,” she said, the words coming out strained, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Nesta. “You were spiraling, Nesta. I thought—”

Her voice caught, and for a moment, it felt like she was fighting something back. She cast a glance at Cassian, but her words faltered. She cleared her throat, almost too quickly, and turned her gaze to Taryn, who stood silent, watching the entire exchange.

Feyre’s lips parted again, but she stopped herself, a brief hesitation making her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t need to say it.

Nesta could feel the air shift between them. She could already guess what Feyre was about to say, the words that would break through the tension. But Feyre never spoke them. She looked at Taryn, and Nesta saw the subtle shift in her sister’s expression—the way her eyes lingered, how she held her breath for just a heartbeat too long.

Cassian was her… mate.

But Feyre didn’t say it. Instead, she swallowed, the words catching in her throat, unsaid. There was something in the way she looked at Taryn, something vulnerable, something Nesta had never seen before, but she knew what it meant.

She’d been so desperate to fix her, so desperate to save her from herself, but in the process, she’d nearly lost her sister. And the bond that connected them all had never seemed more fragile.

Before Nesta could respond to Feyre, the sharp, biting voice of Amren cut through the tension in the room like a blade.

“Girl, enough,” Amren snapped, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Nesta, unblinking. Her words weren’t soft, weren’t filled with pity—they were a direct hit, aimed straight for the heart of what Nesta had been avoiding. “You were drinking yourself into oblivion, sleeping with anyone who would have you, and pretending you didn’t need help.”

Her voice rang out, biting and clear, and Nesta felt the sting of truth in each syllable. There was no sugarcoating, no softening the harsh reality of what she had become. Amren didn’t flinch, didn’t even soften when she spoke.

“You needed help, Nesta,” Amren continued, her tone cold and direct. “You needed it. And you pushed it away. You pushed them away. You pushed us away.”

Amren’s gaze flicked over to Feyre and then back to Nesta, a touch of disdain in her eyes. “It’s easy to burn everything down and blame everyone else, but the truth is—you needed to face yourself, to face what you’ve done. It’s over now, but don’t pretend like it wasn’t you who kept yourself trapped in the past.”

Her words rang in the heavy silence, and Nesta flinched, the sharpness of them cutting deeper than she expected. There was no warmth in Amren’s reprimand, but there was no question either—Amren wasn’t wrong.

Nesta didn’t know how to respond, her mouth dry, her chest tightening under the weight of everything she’d been avoiding. She had never wanted to hear the truth in such brutal terms, but now that it was out, she couldn’t ignore it. She couldn’t escape it.

The fire inside her seemed to dim, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sliver of what might be shame creeping in.

Amren didn’t pause, her gaze cold and piercing as she took another step toward Nesta, her words laced with contempt.

“You think you’ve suffered?” Amren sneered, her voice cutting through the room. “You think you’re the only one who’s been broken? The only one who’s been through hell? You have power, Nesta. But what have you done with it?”

Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides, every word like a weight being thrown on her chest. She could feel the shame rising in her throat, but Amren wasn’t finished.

“You have power,” Amren continued, her voice harsh, “Yet you’ve done nothing with it. All this time, all this potential, and you’ve squandered it. You’ve locked yourself away, burned everything down around you, and for what? To hide from what you truly are?”

Her words struck like a whip, every sentence aimed to break her further. There was no kindness, no hint of understanding. Just cruelty, plain and simple.

“You haven’t made yourself useful to anyone. Not your sisters, not your people, not anyone.” Amren’s words were as unforgiving as ever. “You could be a force. You could do something, anything—anything—but you’ve chosen to wallow in self-pity instead.”

Nesta’s chest tightened, her breath coming short. She wanted to retort, to push back against the accusations, but a part of her knew Amren was right. Every word cut deep, sharper than anything she could’ve imagined. She had power. She had a gift—and yet, here she was, useless, hiding from it all.

“Is this what you wanted?” Amren’s voice was almost mocking now, as if it were all so obvious to her. “To waste your life like this? To be nothing but a shadow of what you could be? You’ve done nothing but take and take. You think you’re special? You think your suffering makes you exempt from responsibility?”

Nesta felt the heat rise in her chest, the flames within her flickering to life. But she didn’t give in. Instead, she stood, staring at the floor, trying to hold onto whatever shred of composure she had left.

But Amren’s words were relentless. They echoed in her mind like a drumbeat, a reminder of every failure she had ever hidden from.

The worst part—the absolute worst part—was that no one said anything. Not Feyre, who usually couldn’t stand the weight of silence like this. Not Elain, who had peeked her head out from the kitchen, her wide eyes searching the room, but still, she said nothing. They all just stood there, letting Amren tear into her, standing in the quiet of their own guilt, their own discomfort.

It was as if Nesta’s pain, her failure, was something they could all agree on but never speak about aloud—like the invisible thing that hovered between them all but never had a name.

And that was the truth that hit her like a punch to the gut. This was what they all thought of her. Every single one of them. They saw her as broken, as a problem that couldn’t be fixed, as a source of shame.

She felt it then, the weight of their collective judgment. It was suffocating. It pressed against her chest, wrapped around her throat like a vice, and she couldn’t breathe.

Feyre had always tried to be the protector, the one who fixed everything. But she had failed, and in that failure, Nesta had become something ugly to them all. Something that needed to be locked away, something to be handled at arm’s length.

Elain, sweet Elain, who had once shared her pain, now stood in the doorway and said nothing. Nesta could see the pity in her eyes, the distance between them that hadn’t been there before.

And Amren, cold as always, only saw a mess to be cleaned up, a task to be finished, and she didn’t care how she got there, as long as it was done.

There was nothing left but the bitter taste of betrayal—this time, from everyone she had ever trusted.

The silence was so loud, so suffocating, that Nesta thought she might crumble under its weight. It was as if the entire room was pressing down on her, suffocating her with the unspoken truths and judgments that had been building for so long. It felt like a dam had broken inside of her—everything she had held back, all the rage, the hurt, the confusion—flooding to the surface, threatening to drown her.

And then, just as she thought she might implode from the crushing pressure, someone spoke.

It was Taryn.

Taryn, who had been standing quietly beside her, eyes wide and still, like a ghost in the shadows, suddenly broke the silence with her soft voice.

Taryn cocked her head to the side, her eyes sharp as she looked around at the room of people who had let the silence drag on for so long. She let out a breath, the calmness in her tone holding a quiet but cutting weight.

“Wasn’t it Nesta who fought in the war?” Taryn’s words were slow, deliberate, as if she were dissecting the conversation piece by piece, each word aimed to challenge everything they had assumed about her. “Wasn’t it Nesta who helped kill the King of Hybern? Who was on the frontlines with your General, fighting beside him, bloodied and broken? Who helped take care of the wounded soldiers, running back and forth through the battlefield, something even their High Lady didn’t do?”

She paused, letting her words hang in the air, like an accusation they hadn’t expected.

Taryn’s eyes burned with a fierceness that made Nesta’s chest tighten. The tension in the room shifted, and Taryn didn’t hesitate to press further, her voice dripping with biting sarcasm as she cut into them with unflinching precision.

“What have any of you done?” Taryn’s words were like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. “If I remember correctly, your High Lady—” she let the words hang in the air like a challenge, “released two death gods and a monster, the latter of which still somehow managed to disappear, didn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for anyone to respond, her gaze moving over the room like a judge passing sentence.

“And let’s not forget,” Taryn continued, her tone colder now, as her eyes narrowed on Feyre, “your High Lady destroyed Spring. Destroyed it. Sending countless refugees fleeing—many of them even came here, to this city, because of the chaos she caused.”

Rhysand’s voice cut through the air, a low, commanding presence that instantly demanded attention. His gaze was cold, sharp as he met Taryn’s defiant stare.

“You will show respect to your High Lady,” Rhysand said, his tone clipped and controlled, the weight of authority in his words unmistakable. “You are a citizen of this court, and you will follow its laws and respect its leadership.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward Feyre, whose face had paled under the pressure of Taryn’s words, but Rhysand didn’t let the brief hesitation in his High Lady’s gaze sway him. His focus remained squarely on Taryn.

“I understand your frustration,” he went on, his voice now tinged with something darker, “but this—” he gestured to the tension in the room, the growing rift between them all, “is not the way to speak. You may not agree with every decision made, but respect is not optional. You will not undermine her in front of everyone.”

Nesta could feel the tension in the air, the invisible barrier between them as Rhysand’s words hung like a sword above the conversation.

Taryn didn’t flinch, though. She stood tall, unwavering, her gaze steady on Rhysand.

“I don’t need to undermine her, High Lord,” Taryn responded, her voice still laced with defiance. “You both have done that yourselves.”

The room seemed to freeze, the words sinking in, and even Rhysand’s expression shifted, just slightly, as he registered the weight of Taryn’s response. But he said nothing more. He knew better than to engage further. His silence only made the unspoken tension in the room more palpable.

For a moment, it felt as though everything was on the edge of breaking—like the cracks in their foundation were finally too big to ignore.

Taryn turned her gaze sharply toward Amren, her expression shifting into something darkly amused. She let her words hang in the air like a poison, sharp and pointed.

“You know,” Taryn said, her voice low and deliberate, “they whisper about you. The citizens, I mean. They call you the Angel of Death. How you destroyed the rest of Hybern’s armies, how you tore through the battlefield with ease. And now…”

Taryn’s lips curled into a slight smile, her eyes never leaving Amren’s face, watching for the reaction she knew would come. The tension in the room grew as Amren’s expression shifted into something dark, her eyes flashing with a snarl, teeth bared as her temper began to rise.

“Watch your tongue, girl,” Amren hissed, her voice a low, venomous growl, but Taryn didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look remotely intimidated.

“You want to talk about uselessness?” Taryn continued, her smile never faltering. “Look at what you’ve become.”

The room was silent, the only sound the shallow breaths of everyone standing there. No one dared to speak, watching the confrontation unfold. Amren’s eyes were narrowed, fury etched on her face, but Taryn’s words had landed, and there was no taking them back.

As Taryn’s words landed, sharp and unforgiving, Nesta’s instinct was to reach out, to stop her. To tell her to back off, to avoid making things worse. After all, Amren’s fury was a force to be reckoned with, and the room was already thick with tension. But as Nesta’s gaze flickered between the two women, she didn’t move. She didn’t speak.

Taryn—Taryn—was standing up for her, and in a way, it was more than Nesta had ever gotten from any of them. Every word from Taryn, though sharp, felt like a shield. She wasn’t just defending Nesta against Amren’s cruel accusations; she was standing up for everything Nesta had been forced to endure. Everything she had tried so desperately to bury.

For the first time in a long while, Nesta felt like someone saw her—really saw her. Not as a broken, useless thing to be fixed or a problem to be solved, but as a person who had a right to her pain, her struggle, her flaws.

And though the instinct to protect Taryn from Amren’s wrath whispered at the edge of her mind, Nesta knew—knew—that this wasn’t about stopping Taryn.

Taryn was speaking up for her when no one else had the courage. And that, in a twisted way, made it all worth it.

So, Nesta stood there, quiet, still. She let Taryn continue, even as Amren’s fury brewed like a storm about to break. She let the words settle over her, felt them, for the first time, lift something inside of her that had been heavy for too long.

Taryn’s voice was a lifeline, no matter how sharp the edges were. And for that, Nesta couldn’t bring herself to stop her.

Taryn’s gaze hardened as she took a step back, her voice cutting through the thick tension like a blade.

“For the hundreds of years you’ve all been alive,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the room with a sharpness that seemed to pierce each one of them, “everyone knows how you and your inner circle made your way through Velaris. Through the bars and the brothels. Drinking, fucking, living like there were no consequences for your actions.”

Her words hung in the air like a toxic fog, and Taryn’s eyes never wavered as she continued.

“And some of you still do,” she added, her tone dropping lower, heavier. She turned her head slightly, deliberately locking eyes with Morrigan, who had been standing quietly, watching the exchange, her expression unreadable.

The pointed look Taryn gave her wasn’t subtle. Morrigan stiffened, her jaw tightening, and though she didn’t say anything, the weight of the accusation was undeniable.

Taryn’s voice was no longer just sharp—it was loaded with years of bitterness, of watching, of knowing. She had seen it all—the reckless behavior, the ways the High Lord and his inner circle had lived, and the damage they’d caused. And now, it was being thrown in their faces, laid bare for them all to acknowledge.

There was no denying the truth of her words.

Taryn let the silence settle, let them feel the weight of her words before she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“But when Nesta did it—” her voice was softer now, laced with something almost mocking, “when she drank, when she fucked, when she tried to drown herself in everything that you all have indulged in for centuries—suddenly, it was different.”

Her gaze swept over them again, daring them to refute her.

“That doesn’t sound right, does it?”

Her words were deceptively light, but the truth behind them was heavy. They all knew it.

Rhysand’s expression darkened, but he said nothing. Feyre’s lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Morrigan’s jaw was clenched tight, her golden eyes flashing with something unreadable.

Taryn gave a small, humorless smile.

“Funny how that works.”

Taryn let out a slow, measured sigh, as if she had finally grown tired of the conversation, of the weight of all these people who thought they had the right to judge. Then she turned to Nesta, her sharpness softening just a fraction.

“Elia will be waiting for us,” Taryn said, her tone casual, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just carved through them all with nothing but her words. “We should hurry.”

Nesta knew it was a lie. A flimsy, obvious lie. But it was a lie she agreed upon. A lifeline she was willing to take.

So she straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and turned back to face them all—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Elain, Morrigan—every single one of them who had sat in silence, who had judged, who had only spoken when it suited them.

Her voice was steady when she spoke.

“Is someone going to winnow us, or are we walking the ten thousand steps?”

The room was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had been said. Rhysand’s face was carefully blank, but his displeasure was obvious, his fingers still curled tightly around Feyre’s shoulder, as if willing her to stay silent.

But it was Feyre who answered.

“I’ll winnow you.”

Nesta could hear the guilt in her sister’s voice, the unsteadiness of it. Could see the way her hands tensed at her sides, the way she couldn’t quite meet Nesta’s gaze. And she knew that was the only reason Feyre had spoken first—because guilt had finally sunk its claws into her.

Nesta flicked her eyes to Rhysand, saw the way his jaw clenched, how his lips pressed into a thin, displeased line. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want Feyre to do it. But even he knew that stopping her now, after everything, would only make it worse.

Rhysand’s rage was barely contained, a storm just waiting to break. Nesta could see it in the way his violet eyes darkened, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was restraining himself from doing something rash. Like he might mist her and Taryn both if Feyre weren’t standing right there.

His power crackled in the air, unseen but felt, pressing against the room like a silent warning. He had always been careful with his control, always prided himself on his restraint—but now, now Nesta could see the cracks in it. Could see how close he was to snapping.

Taryn, to her credit, didn’t so much as flinch under his stare. If anything, she seemed amused by the fury radiating from him. She met his gaze head-on, her chin tilting ever so slightly, as if daring him to act on his rage.

Nesta wasn’t stupid. She knew Rhysand wouldn’t, couldn’t, harm them—not with Feyre standing between them. Not with the eyes of his court watching. But the thought had crossed his mind. She knew it had. And that knowledge sent something cold curling through her spine.

Nesta only smiled, slow and sharp, as if she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said, looking at Feyre but meaning it for Rhysand.

Feyre stepped forward, jaw tight, and reached for them. And just before the world vanished in shadow, Nesta caught one last glimpse of Rhysand—his hands clenched, his teeth bared ever so slightly.

And, for the first time in a long while, Nesta felt satisfied.

Tag list: @litnerdwrites

#anti acosf #anti acotar #anti feysand #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta #anti azriel #anti cassian #anti amren #anti nessian #anti morrigan #sapphic nesta #more sapphic nesta

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