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d-z20 · 13 hours ago

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The Agent Next Door part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: When a ghost from Rio's past resurfaces, the safe haven you’ve built together is threatened. As danger edges closer, your bond deepens in unexpected ways, testing your trust and strength in each other. Amidst fear and uncertainty, you discover just how far both of you are willing to go to protect what matters most.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, fluff ending, fingering (R recv), oral (Rio recv), praise kink, slight power bottom Rio

Words: 4.2k

A/N: The angsty third (and final?) part as promised

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

Under Her Protection

You’re sprawled out on Rio’s couch, nestled comfortably against her side as the TV plays in the background. It’s the kind of night you’ve both come to love—no plans, no rush, just the two of you together, half-watching some crime drama. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as you rest your head there, her arm slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

It’s a rare, peaceful moment, one that you’ve started to cherish more and more. You glance up at her; she looks different like this—softer. The usual tension in her jaw has melted away; her sharp features relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. You smile to yourself, the sight of her at ease filling you with a quiet kind of joy. She’s not just the composed, authoritative FBI agent you first met. Here, she’s Rio—your Rio—and you could watch her like this forever.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling her smile against your lips.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, her voice teasing. You know she couldn’t care less about what’s on the screen, but it’s a running joke between the two of you—mocking the exaggerated, overly dramatic FBI agents depicted on TV.

“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, playing along. “I just love how accurate it all is. Clearly, every case is solved in a day, and all agents wear heels and leather jackets.”

Rio chuckles, pulling you closer. “It’s ridiculous,” she snorts. “Half of this would get thrown out in court in a heartbeat. And don’t even get me started on the ‘enhance the grainy footage’ bullshit.”

You grin, enjoying the rare, playful side of her. “I bet you’d never pull a stunt like that. The great Agent Vidal would never dream of cutting corners.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smirk sharp. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’ve pulled off. Sometimes rules are more like... guidelines.”

You laugh, leaning into her, and she squeezes your shoulder lightly. For a moment, everything feels easy—peaceful.

Then her phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. She lets out a small sigh and picks it up, her expression immediately shifting as she reads the message. The shift is so sudden it makes your stomach drop. Without a word, she gets up and walks to the window, peering through the blinds like she’s expecting to see something—or someone—out there.

“Rio?” You ask cautiously, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her shoulders visibly tense. Finally, she lets the blinds fall back into place and turns to you, her expression grim. “That was work,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Someone I put away years ago just got released on parole. He... wasn’t supposed to get out this soon.”

You frown, confused. “Why is that a problem? Didn’t he serve his time?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “The last time I saw him, he threatened to ruin my life,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. And vindictive. If he finds out where I live... who you are... how much I lov—.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. The implications hang heavy in the air. You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the weight of her job and the risks that come with it.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing and moving to her side. “I’m sure it’s fine. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for the first time since you met her, you see real fear there. “Maybe. But I can’t take that chance.” She pauses, her hand brushing your arm. “I want you to stay here. At least until I figure out what’s going on.”

The seriousness in her tone leaves no room for argument, and you nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You settle back onto the couch together, but the atmosphere has shifted now, an unspoken tension lingering in the room. Rio keeps her phone close, her other arm wrapped protectively around you, her eyes flicking back to the window every so often.

You try to focus on the TV show, but your thoughts keep drifting. It’s unsettling, this shadow of a threat hanging over the two of you, and you can tell Rio feels it too. Her grip on you tightens every time she hears a noise from outside, her thumb rubbing circles against your arm as if she’s trying to soothe both of you.

Eventually, you turn your head to look up at her. “You know, I don’t need a TV show when I’ve got my own personal action hero right here.”

Rio snorts, shaking her head. “Is that what I am now?”

“Yep,” you say, grinning up at her. “Neighbour, fashion critic, and now... bodyguard.”

She rolls her eyes but leans down to press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. “Just stay close, okay?”

You nod, your heart fluttering at the protectiveness in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere, Rio.”

Relief flashes across her face, but it’s fleeting. She takes your hand, leading you to her bedroom without another word. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable—it’s charged, humming with unspoken worry and a need for closeness.

When you get to the bed, her hands are on you immediately, tugging you close. There’s a new intensity to her touch, her fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively. She kisses you hard, like she’s trying to stake her claim, her mouth moving with an urgency you’ve never felt from her before.

“Rio—” you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands sliding under your shirt, nails raking up your skin. Her lips move to your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that you know will last. It’s not just passion—it’s something deeper, rawer. Like she needs to prove to herself that you’re here, that you’re hers.

You let her take the lead, your own hands roaming her body, trying to reassure her in your own way. But she’s relentless, her mouth trailing lower, her teeth grazing your collarbone. She pushes you back onto the bed, her weight settling over you as she pins your wrists above your head.

Her gaze is dark, her eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re safe,” she murmurs, her voice rough. “I need to feel it.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.

Her grip on your wrists tightens briefly before she leans down, kissing you again, slower this time but no less intense.

The night is a blur of heated touches and whispered reassurances, her possessiveness never crossing the line into discomfort. Instead, it leaves you breathless, the depth of her need for you pulling you even closer.

When you finally fall asleep, tangled in her arms, the weight of her protectiveness wraps around you like a shield. Even as your mind drifts, you know this is only the beginning of whatever storm is coming. But with her by your side, you’re ready to face it.

—

You’ve been staying at Rio’s apartment for a week now, and every night, her hold on you seems to grow tighter. Even in her sleep, her arms remain locked around you, as though her subconscious refuses to let you out of her grasp. It’s a level of protectiveness you’re not used to, but you can’t deny how safe it makes you feel.

The days are a strange mix of normalcy and subtle unease. You run errands, cook together, and share quiet moments on her couch. But in the back of your mind, there’s always a faint sense of being watched. You’ve chalked it up to paranoia—Rio’s warning had a way of sticking with you, and you tell yourself you’re just imagining things.

Still, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling when you start seeing the same person more than once. A tall figure with a hood pulled low over their face, lingering at the edge of your vision. You’ve seen them on the street, at the corner store, and now again as you leave the grocery shop, arms full of bags. You glance over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as you catch sight of them just a few steps behind.

You quicken your pace, gripping the bags tightly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you cut across the street and head for the apartment building. You take a chance and glance back again. They’re still following.

By the time you reach Rio’s apartment door, your hands are shaking so badly you almost drop your keys. You fumble with the lock, finally getting the door open and slamming it shut behind you. You lock it, bolting the deadlock for good measure.

You text Rio immediately: I think I was followed. Just got back. Door locked.

The response comes quickly. Stay put. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’m coming back now.

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, but as you read her words, a new sound sends a chill down your spine. A faint rattle at the door.

Your stomach drops, and you freeze, staring at the door as the sound grows louder. It’s not your imagination. Someone’s trying the handle. Your mind races, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a table lamp. It’s not exactly a weapon, but it’ll have to do. Your grip tightens on the lamp’s base as the rattling stops, replaced by a loud bang.

The door crashes open, splintering the frame, and the hooded figure steps inside. They’re taller than you thought, their broad frame filling the doorway as they pause, scanning the room. You take a shaky step back, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Look who’s made themselves right at home. You must be the little pet she’s been keeping around.”

Your mind races, and you instinctively take a step back, trying to put the kitchen island between you and him. “Who the hell are you?” you demand.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t know me, but Rio does. She’s the reason I spent the last ten years rotting away in a cell. Thought I’d pay her back by taking something she cares about.”

He lunges at you with a knife, and you barely manage to swing the lamp, hitting him across the face. He staggers back, but only for a moment, then charges at you again. You fight back, kicking and screaming, but he’s strong—stronger than you expected. He pins you against the wall, one hand around your throat.

“That’s right, scream for her,” he growls. “Let’s see if she gets here in time.”

You’re gasping for air, your vision blurring, when suddenly, the already broken door is rammed open again, falling off its hinges from the force of the action.

Rio barges in, her gun drawn, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Let them go,” she says, her voice deadly calm, the kind that promises retribution.

The man tightens his grip on you, pulling you in front of him as a shield. “Shoot me, and you’ll hit them,” he taunts.

Rio’s eyes meet yours, and you can see the raw, helpless anger there. You’ve never seen her look so terrified.

The man tightens his grip on you, and your vision starts to black. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the lack of air making your limbs feel heavy. Rio stands frozen in the doorway, her gun unwavering, her eyes locked on the man holding you.

“Let them go,” Rio repeats, her voice low and seething with barely restrained fury.

The man smirks, his grip loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. “You really think you’ve got the upper hand here, bitch? You’re so predictable—always running to play the hero.”

Rio doesn’t flinch. “This is the last chance I’ll give you. Let. Them. Go. Now.”

He sneers, then suddenly shoves you away with all his strength. You stumble, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter hard before crumpling to the floor, pain flaring in your side. Rio’s shout of your name echoes through the room, but you can barely focus as you clutch at your ribs, trying to steady your breathing.

The distraction is all Rio needs. She lunges at him before he can turn back to her, knocking the knife from his hand as they crash to the floor. The struggle is brutal—a chaotic blur of punches and grunts as Rio fights with a ferocity you’ve never seen before.

He manages to pin her briefly, his hands going for her throat, but Rio uses the momentum to roll them over, her knee pressing into his chest. She grabs the cuff of his wrist and twists him onto his stomach, forcing him to let out a pained shout as she pins his arm behind his back.

“You should’ve let them go,” she growls, forcing his face against the floor. He thrashes beneath her, but her grip is unrelenting, her strength fuelled by sheer fury.

She pulls her cuffs from her belt, snapping them onto his wrists with a finality that fills the room. She grabs his hair and yanks his head up, knee still pressing into his back. “And now you’re going to pay,” she says coldly before smashing his face into the ground, breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.

Her eyes flick to you, her expression softening with worry. “Are you okay?”

Before you can answer, Rio pulls out her phone, calling for backup. Her voice is calm and clipped as she gives the necessary details, but her free hand remains clenched at her side, still shaking from the adrenaline.

When the call ends, she crouches next to you, her hands ghosting over your body, careful not to touch the areas where you’re clearly in pain. “Hey, let me see,” she murmurs, her tone gentle now. “Where are you hurt?”

You wince as you shift, trying to sit up. “Just... my side. Think I hit the counter pretty hard.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might explode all over again—but she just exhales, brushing a hand over your hair. “Backup’s on the way. He’s not going anywhere. I promise you’re safe now.”

You nod weakly, and she leans closer, her forehead briefly touching yours. The tension in her body doesn’t ease until the distant wail of sirens signals that help has arrived. Even then, her focus stays on you, her protective presence a shield between you and the man who dared to threaten what she holds most dear.

With the chaos finally under control and the intruder hauled away in handcuffs, Rio keeps a steady arm around you as she guides you back across the hall to your apartment. You can still feel the tremors in your hands, the echo of fear and adrenaline in your veins, but her presence is grounding.

As the door closes behind you, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she leads you to the couch, sitting beside you with her arm securely around your shoulders. “You okay?” she asks softly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You nod, leaning into her touch. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

A flicker of guilt crosses Rio’s face. “I never should’ve left you alone.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you reply, reaching up to squeeze her hand. “And you came back in time. That’s what matters.”

She exhales heavily, her arms tightening around you protectively. For a while, neither of you speak, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Then she shifts, her thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I mean it, though—I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. The truth is, you don’t mind the idea of her staying close.

As the evening wears on, you begin to feel a sense of normalcy returning. Wrapped in her arms, you finally let your guard down, the weight of the day melting away. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your heart skipping as you notice the way she’s looking at you—soft yet intent.

“You’re staring,” you tease, your voice quiet.

“Can’t help it,” she murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like she’s savouring every moment. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as she shifts to deepen the kiss.

Somehow, the two of you end up lying on the couch, her body pressing against yours as your hands roam freely, exploring the familiar territory with renewed fervour. She pulls away just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours. “Bedroom?” she whispers, her voice husky.

You nod, your heart racing as she helps you to your feet. The walk to the bedroom is brief, but each step feels charged with anticipation.

You guide her to the bed, her hand sliding into yours as you both move with an unspoken understanding. She lets you press her down gently so she’s sitting on the mattress, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “So, this is how it’s going to be tonight?” she teases, her voice low, challenging but still laced with warmth. Her eyes glint with curiosity, though you can sense she’s enjoying this shift in control. “Guess I can let you take the lead. Just this once.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning down to press a playful kiss to her lips. “Call it a thank you for saving me. Hero perks, right?” You reply, your voice just as teasing.

Her chuckle rumbles low in her throat as her hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. “You’ve got an interesting way of saying thanks,” she murmurs, tilting her head to expose her neck—an invitation and a challenge all at once. “But I’m not complaining.”

You take her challenge with a grin, leaning down to press your lips to her neck, your kisses starting soft but quickly growing more heated. You find the spot just below her ear where her skin is most sensitive, and when she lets out a low, pleased hum, you focus your attention there. Your tongue darts out, followed by a sharp nip of your teeth, before you suck on her skin, leaving a mark to match the ones she gave you just nights ago.

She tilts her head back with a soft gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re getting good at that,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but breathless. Her words spur you on, and you trail more kisses down her neck, each one deliberate, each one claiming her in your own way.

As your lips continue their path, your hands slide over her body, unbuttoning her shirt and tugging it off. Your eyes roam her, taking in every inch of her toned body and the way her muscles flex under your touch.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, arching a brow, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that betrays her confidence.

“Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation, earning a quiet laugh from her.

Your hands move to the waistband of her pants, your fingers brushing against her skin as you pull them down, leaving her bare before you. You grab her hips, pulling her into you so she’s perched on the edge of the bed, your legs pushing her knees further apart. Her dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of anticipation and challenge, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection and desire for her all at once.

“You look good like this,” you say softly, your hands trailing up her thighs as you kneel between them.

Rio leans back on her palms, her smirk widening. “Show me just how grateful you are, sweetheart.”

Looking directly into Rio’s eyes, you drag your tongue through her wetness.

“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice huskier now. Her nails coming to dig lightly into your shoulder as her body shifts beneath you.

Hooking your arms under her legs, you push your face further into Rio, tongue pressing firmer against her clit and she rolls her hips at the sensation. Your tongue swirls over and around her bundle of nerves, eliciting more praise. “You’re so good at this, sweetheart,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender.

The praise makes your stomach flip, and you press your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak your underwear.

You notice the subtle change in her demeanour, her usual teasing grin replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Her hands grip you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to her touch you hadn’t expected. “I don’t give up control often. But with you... it feels right.” Her voice falters slightly, and the admission makes your heart ache with tenderness.

As her orgasm builds, she finally lets go entirely, her usual defences falling away. Her head tilts back, her breathy praises and quiet gasps filling the space. After she reaches her peak, she pulls you up to her, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if grounding herself. “You’re incredible,” she whispers into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple as she catches her breath. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Her smirk returns, this time sharper, more determined. Before you can respond, she drags you down on to the bed, flipping you gently onto your back. Her strength is firm but careful, her lips curling in amusement at your surprised expression. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her voice low and promising. She begins to trail kisses down your body, her actions deliberate and knowing. “Let me show you how grateful I am,” she adds, her grin growing as your body arches beneath her touch.

With that, she strips you, her soft hands feeling all over your body. When her fingers trail up your thigh, she lets out a soft chuckle at the feeling of your arousal dripping. “Seems like someone enjoyed the praise.”

You whimper as her fingers press lightly against your clit.

“You made me feel so good, baby.” Her middle finger slides lower. “Such a clever girl.” She teases your entrance. “You know exactly how I like it.” She pushes her finger in.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moan as it curls inside you. “More.”

Rio slides another finger in, biting her lip and groaning at how easily you take it. "Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” she praises, starting to pump her fingers in and out. She adds a third, and you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. She picks up the pace, fucking all of the tension from the night out of you both. “You look so good like this,” she coos.

Arching into her touch, head pushing into the mattress, you keen, “Oh fuck. Rio, you’re going to make me cum.”

“That’s it, sweetheart; you’re doing so well, cum for me,” she whispers against your skin, kissing your neck.

Your mouth falls open, a breathless cry escaping as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension that had been building within you shatters, a wave of heat and pleasure coursing through your body. You arch into her, every nerve alight, the sensation so overwhelming that it renders you momentarily weightless. A strangled gasp follows, your voice raw and unrestrained, her name slipping from your lips like a plea and a prayer all at once.

—

Later, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Rio’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you, refusing to let go. The tension of the night seems to fade, replaced by a sense of closeness you hadn’t fully realised until now. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers tracing absent patterns along your back.

“You know,” she begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t usually do this—let people in, I mean. I don’t let myself feel this way.” She hesitates, her grip on you tightening slightly. “But with you... I can’t imagine not having you here.”

Your chest tightens at her words, and you tilt your head to meet her gaze. The raw vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “Rio...” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as your hand brushes against her cheek. “I love you.”

Her lips part in surprise, and then her smile grows, soft and genuine in a way you rarely see. “Took you long enough to say it,” she teases, though her voice is thick with emotion. She leans down, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with yours. “I love you too, you know.”

You crack a small smile. “So, I guess you’re gonna be the one crashing at my place now, huh? Seeing as it’s your door that got kicked in this time,” you say, breaking the tender moment.

Rio blinks at you, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply, grinning now.

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harianaswhore · 1 day ago

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NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᶠᴸᵁᶠᶠ ⟡

baby me - @thepersonnamedsam

a dulcet evening - @f1daydreamers

orange theory - @forzalando

making movies out of memories - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

prettiest - @starlost97

sleepy endearment - @adventuringblind

study hard - @fastandcarlos

sentimental - @illicitlimerence-writes

matchmaker pets - @the-flaneur

beause it matters - @chlerc

something - @leclsrc

the moment divine (^)

name(s) of love - @kiwisa

birthday - @norrisleclercf1

pick me up? - @captainreecejames

your hand fits in mine (so cute, i'll sob) - @the-offside-rule

hungry for you - @writtenfangirl

call me by your name (^)

car's outside (^)

the prettiest star - @lovings4turn

— ᴬᴺᴳˢᵀ⟡

i'll look after you (tw: not eating, passing out, etc.) - @roostersgirlfriendlovesf1

forced - @imaginaryf1shots

wait for your love - @leclerc-hs

all i'm asking for is your time - @mariahcarreyyy

as long as he's here (mentions of death of parents) - @forzalayla

just a mother - @natwritesf1

all of me for you (dark stuff !!! and smut towards the end) - @annie115

flushed (!!!! spiking drinks !!!!)- @xxblairexxss

ashamed (^)

break in, breakdown (tw: house getting broken into) - @pucksandpower

be my sanctuary (tw: domestic violence & abuse) (^)

blue birthday - @coco-loco-nut

stalker (tw: injury, stalking, etc.) - @norrisleclercf1

lay all your love on me - @foreveralbon

— ˢᴹᵁᵀ⟡

like real people do - @monzabee

you're laughing (suggestive) - @scuderiahoney

one too many bites - @va1entinesg4l

something angelic - @agendabymooner

do i wanna know - @leclerc-hs

lose control - @hugleclerc

wine (alludes to smut) - @sinofwriting

giggles (^)

dangerous distraction - @thef1diary

so in love - @pierregazly

lazy sunday - @thelostconsultant

— ˢᴼᶜᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬ ⟡

le temps de l'amour - @covenists

king of manifesting - @thisismeracing

dream girl - @lunavrse

wrong city - @captainreecejames

the short con - @planetpiastri

"you" in church - @slyscoutess

booktube - @edwardslvrr

that boy is mine - @imnameimswrld

the prettiest girl - @delewlew

i'm thirsty, refreshing - @5sospenguinqueen

needle little love (^)

best moments - @valstranquility

trophy husband - @thewispsings

monaco official - @lovemomhatepolice

self care queen - the original creator deactivated this is the reblogged version

baby alonso - @cockkette

notes - @hugleclerc

tease - @marlenesluv

espresso - @keerysfreckles

looked for stars and i found a supernova - @love-belle

modern day romeo and juliet (^)

— ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ⟡

something just like this two lay all your love on me - @imthebadguyyy

ferrari two - @chaostudee

a house, a home where do we go? you think, you know love will always show green eyes - @vetteltea

to live for the hope of it all two three (smau) - @pierregazly

secrets he'll keep ne quitte pas - @hey-kae

night after night one man warrior (smau) - @charles-eclair16

post race tension post breakfast tension post space tension post tension - @5sospenguinqueen

play pretend two (^)

slip up and i call you baby guess the heat drivers people crazy - @maxlarens

say don't go now that we don't talk suburban legends - @dannyriccsupremacy

archived what once was mardy bum - @leclsrc

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qqueenofhades · 3 days ago

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I think this is a very useful analysis that helpfully puts into words some of the scattered thoughts I've had, but have not been able to centralize, articulate, or otherwise had the spoons to offer post-election.

The one thing Bernie has not gotten and never gotten, even with all his Champion of the Working Class cosplay crusading (as a wealthy Vermont millionaire who has accomplished very little during his long tenure in office aside from repeatedly fracturing the Democratic party), is that a lot of the American working class see billionaires (as pointed out above) as aspirational role models, not evil parasites. Scholars can and indeed have written many long sociological, political, and analytical papers about the "What's the Matter with Kansas?" problem, wherein working class and poor people vote against their own economic interests in order to elevate grifting xenophobic populists whose policies only benefit the already-rich. For one thing, this presupposes the "rational individual" economic-maximization model of human behavior, which was popularized in the free-market 1970s and 80s, and has never been true in any meaningful sense, but as pointed out above: America is addicted to the "hard work makes you rich and billionaires have clearly worked to earn their wealth" mindset. They are equally addicted to the "temporarily dispossessed millionaire" fallacy, wherein if they too just Pull Themselves Up By The Bootstraps, that is the only thing stopping them from being equally wealthy. It's not, but we're still absolutely throttled by the "Republicans Are Better For The Economy" myth that just played a huge part in Trump's second election win. What's empirically "real" or not matters less and less.

Bernie's brand of faux-leftist populism is so toxic in America precisely because it pairs this apparent destruction of the American Dream (hey why do you want to destroy my chance of becoming a billionaire?!) with virulent anti-American tankie-lite rhetoric spouted by the online left, who see America as the source of all evil in the world despite benefiting enormously from their upbringing in America and access to American privilege. We can (and again, have!) written many, many papers about the founding and continuing social ills embedded in America: its establishment on the back of slavery, racism, genocide, and so on. But when it comes to day-to-day electoral politics, the average mid-to-low-information American voter does not give a shit about complicated historical debates and generational injustices. They just don't. They care about how much things cost at the grocery store and what the vibes "feel" like to them. After a brief upsurge of social acceptance in 2020 with BLM/George Floyd, they've also lost interest in dealing with systemic racism, and are inclined to accept Trump's easy-scapegoating rhetoric. This is not limited to white people either; witness the major gains he made with Hispanics in particular. The ones who are able to vote in presidential elections are US citizens and see themselves as safely insulated from Trump's mass-deportation policies because they're not undocumented (even if they have friends and relatives who are and who are very much NOT safe). They want to preserve their own piece of the pie and are not acting in grand pan-Latino racial solidarity. Nobody says they have to -- they can focus on their own personal interests just as much as white voters -- but they're definitely one of the communities who are in the soonest for a rude wakeup call.

Looking at the election results shows that America is, as ever, an extremely divided country. This election was not a landslide for Trump. The Republicans benefited from an extremely favorable map to pick up WV, OH, MT, PA in the Senate, but added no House seats and still have a tiny majority of about 3 (which may shrink further with special elections and/or unexpected departure). Trump got 49.9% of the vote; Harris got around 48.5%. The American electorate is not left-wing; it is also not immutably right-wing. It is primarily transactional, "what have you done for me lately," and cursed with low information literacy, sophisticated disinformation campaigns, and short-term memory that is worse than a goldfish. Abortion passed everywhere except in FL (where it needed 60% and got 57%). As ever, the public liked Democratic policies, but voted for Republicans to punish Democrats for not implementing them fast enough. That is one of the most maddening paradoxes in all of American politics and it fucked us good this time, but that's the twist of the screw. The Republicans also benefited from the post-COVID anti-incumbency that kicked Trump out in 2020. A lot of the scary things that happened in the last four years -- rising prices, ongoing threats to democracy, Dobbs, the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, etc -- were not necessarily Biden's fault, but they happened on his watch and contributed to the sense of visceral fear and threat that is always a better predictor of electoral behavior than the flawed idea of Rational Economic Maximization.

As such, despite the avalanche of "What Democrats Must Do Now" postmortems, we should definitely point out that Bernie instantly threw them under the bus for not being "pro-worker," when the Biden administration was the most pro-worker, pro-labor, and anti-corporate in recent history (and due to the electoral backlash it received as a result, quite possibly for a very long time). Bernie primarily conceives of the American working class as white people, often white men, engaged in customary trade-union pursuits, which is outdated and inadequate and reeks of the rancid "the left wasn't nice enough to fragile insecure white men" takes that are latently or openly misogynist. Biden did a hell of a lot to address their economic interests, and they punished him for it, because what is at stake, in their minds, isn't actually their economic interest (even if that's what is often used to describe it) but their position of unquestioned power as white men. They will happily give up the chance of better economic policies if it means continuing to assert their authority over other marginalized people; their lot might not be great, but at least they're still white. And indeed, still men. Bernie complaining that the Democrats didn't cater enough to White Men is, objectively, bullshit.

As such, I can tell you that one way that the Democrats can get back to electoral relevancy, which is definitely likely in 2026 and 2028 if we can get that far, is not by listening to Bernie. "Destroy the billionaires" paired with toxic tankie rhetoric driven by the online left competing with each other to be more extreme and unpleasant is electoral poison and that's why Bernie's chronic campaigning got him nowhere and fatally splintered the Democratic party in 2016, allowing Trump to win in the first place. It's a dud. The end. There is nothing positive or constructive in that vision, and while riding aggrieved populism can get you decently far, it also has to be a populism that's rooted in some idea of America, however shallow and lip-service. "Make America Great Again," despite how much Trump does to destroy America in every conceivable sense, works because MAGAts wave American flags and feel like a righteous and integral part of their country. The fact that in this election cycle, Democrats actually embraced love-of-country rhetoric, American flags, and appeals to fundamental "American" values, no matter how cringy and schmaltizily-nationalistic it feels to educated liberals, is an important part of getting that ground back. It promotes the idea that you can love America (however defined) and vote Democratic, and we can't give that up. Because then yeah, everyone waving the flag will be a jingoistic MAGA fascist, and people who like and respond to that imagery (which is a decent majority of ordinary Americans) will want to associate with them by default.

Likewise: a lot of online leftist/Bernie Bro rhetoric focuses on the magical revolution fantasy that America will just disappear and/or be Gloriously Overthrown and thus, somehow, all injustice from the tyrannical government will come to an end and we will live in a perfect utopia forevermore! (Uh, ask the Bolsheviks how that worked out for them.) America is an enormously flawed historical and geopolitical entity, but one thing it is not going to do is suddenly disappear overnight because of deranged Moral Purity Posting by so-called leftist keyboard warriors. It still matters how its massive power is used, and as anyone with a brain cell was well aware beforehand, Trump is only going to abuse it ever more egregiously. He will try to stay in office (if he doesn't die beforehand); he will pack SCOTUS with more corrupt toadies; he will do his best to wreck anything and everything that stymied him last time. He will undoubtedly succeed in at least some of that, and that is very scary. However, as I have said before, his total success is neither inevitable nor even very likely. If we are going to continue to hold the line and find victories where they come, we need to do a lot of things, but chief among them is not listen to Bernie F'n Sanders. He can, indeed, take several seats.

Bernie is wrong. He has always been wrong and is still wrong. The flaw in his theory is what he deems the “wealthy elite” versus what everyday Americans consider them to be. Voters don’t see all billionaires as the elites. They see college-educated liberals on the coasts, some of whom are billionaires, as elites.

Bernie-style populism didn’t land because billionaires figured out long ago they could undermine it by being socially right-wing, and the working class would forgive their wealth and privilege. That’s why this same demographic is willing to make it rain for grifters like Joel Osteen and Pat Robertson. That’s why they worship the wealthiest man on the planet like a God and consider him some real-life Tony Stark. People dismissed Donald Trump as a shameless attention-hungry New York oligarch until he called Mexicans rapists. Then he shot up to the top of the GOP primary polls. The working class didn’t think much of Elon Musk until he said “pronouns suck.” Then he became their hero. A scion of working-class Pennsylvania lost his US Senate seat last week to a hedge fund manager from Connecticut. West Virginia elected their richest man to the Senate after electing him governor – as a Democrat and later a Republican. Ohio tossed out their longtime Democratic senator, known for his strong support of labor rights, for – literally, no joke – a used-car salesman.

You can’t tell me the working class in America thinks being a billionaire alone is what makes one a “wealthy elite.” There are significant factors at play here Bernie is either oblivious to or purposely ignorant of.

In college, a professor once told me that Communism never succeeded in the United States because we are too religious and proud as a country. Religion, traditions, and culture were never widely discredited the way they were in Europe and Asia, where the clergy and nobility kept the bourgeoisie in figurative chains for centuries. The relative ease of social mobility made America unique compared to its Western counterparts. Historically, American progressivism has been focused on expanding social mobility – initially limited to only white men – to identity groups who had been denied it at the start: blacks, women, and immigrants. We have done it, with various amounts of success. While it may seem counterintuitive, Americans pride themselves in being the nation that pioneered the idea that wealth and status can be achieved through ingenuity and hard work and not just based on a lucky roll of the genetic dice, as it was in the Old World. It doesn’t mean we don’t have generational wealth in our country; we do, but since it isn’t the sole way to achieve wealth and power, we don’t care nearly as much about destroying all of it. Further, we will happily endorse it if the oligarchs and the aristocrats vow to promote and protect the social values we care about and the social hierarchy that benefits us.

It’s one of the reasons I believe Bernie could never beat Trump. If you ask working-class people what they want: an anti-immigrant, anti-intellectual billionaire or a Vermont socialist backed by kids from Harvard and UC Berkeley who hate our traditions and customs, the working class will always back the billionaire.

–Nick Rafter, "Bernie Sanders Can Take a Seat"

#history #american history #politics for ts #the national nightmare #long post

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loves0phelia · 3 days ago

Text

The Maybank Twins

Summery: which dream would you pick?

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A/N: Sorry I feel like this fic is all over the place and barely understandable but I had the idea of JJ having a twin since I learned JJ's real name was Jackson so I hope you like it anyway xx

JJ and Jackson were intensely different despite being twins. But it wasn't always like that.

Both boys were born kooks, but as children, the status did not matter. Being a kook or a pogue didn't have a meaning until you grew up. Kids from both sides of the island enjoyed playing with each other. That's why when they met you they didn't hesitate to befriend you even if you were a pogue.

On a beautiful Saturday, you took your shiny pink bike and began pedalling down the roads around town to the point where you crossed the line into Kook territory. You knew your dad wouldn't like you travelling so far from home but you loved to admire the large houses with picket fences and pools. You always dreamed of visiting one.

As you were looking with dreamy eyes at everything but the path in front of you, the front wheel of your bike caught the side of a sidewalk. The handlebars jerked to one side, and you tumbled forward. Hitting the ground with a soft thud, your knees scraped against the rough concrete.

You sat up slowly, tears welling in your eyes as you examined your knees. Both were scraped and red, with tiny spots of blood forming on the surface. Your palms stung from catching yourself.

The commotion probably alerted some people because next thing you knew two boys around the same age as you came running out of the house you were wrecked in front of.

They both darted out of the yard, weaving through the iron gate and across the street to where you sat on the concrete.

“Hey, are you okay?” one of them asked, crouching down beside you.

You sniffled, wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I fell off my bike.”

“Come in, we can give you a bandaid,” the second boy said without hesitation, looking at your scraped knees.

The first boy reached for your bike to place it to safety while the second helped you up on your feet and helped you inside the large mansion-looking house.

Inside, it felt even bigger. The tall ceiling and window looked fantastic. You almost forgot your pain as you looked over the various decorations.

“There sit” You sat down slowly on the gray cushions of the couch and tried to not get any blood on it.

“I’m JJ by the way, that was a badass fall, It looked so cool” He smiled and laughed, for a moment you were almost proud.

“Don't say that JJ she could have been really hurt and it's not cool” The boy crouched in front of you with a cloth soaked in lukewarm water and pressed it to your knee.

“You're just boring, Jackson, you don't think anything is cool!” JJ argued with his brother and Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do!” They continued bickering next to you until a beautiful blond lady came into the room.

“Boys, what is going on?” She asked with her hands on her hips looking over her twins.

The childish argument stopped immediately as if both of them were soothed by their mother's presence. “We saw this girl fall off her bike, we wanted to help her” JJ muttered.

“Did you guys ask her, her name?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. But both of them shook their heads. “I thought I raised you two to be gentlemen, what's your name honey?”

“y/n”

“That's such a pretty name, I hope these boys weren't too much of a pain for you” She whispered but JJ and Jackson definitely heard and you simply giggled.

This was the moment you began to be a constant person in their lives. Both of them loved you until they grew up and this love changed into something more.

When you all all turned from children to teenagers the words kooks and pogues began to have a meaning. You were now divided into two groups, rich and poor. But the boys didn't agree with this mindset. Especially JJ. After their mom died he became reckless. He Jumped on any opportunity to go on an adventure or to feel just an ounce of adrenaline. He was sick of the bubble wrap and wanted to live freely like the pogues.

Jackson on the other end even though he disliked the hate between each side of the island, he refused to drop everything like his brother to live a careless life. He wanted to go to college, he wanted to have a bright future, with a beautiful house, a wife and maybe even kids. He wanted the picket fence dream.

And you? You didn't know which dream to pick.

The dream with JJ where everything is joyful and exciting.

Or the dream with Jackson where everything is soothing and comforting.

The Bluetooth speaker blasted an upbeat song, filling the small living room with pounding bass and lyrics. JJ stood in the center of the room, wearing his signature goofy grin and wildly waving an imaginary microphone in the air.

“AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” he screamed, his voice cracking in all the wrong places.

You rolled over on the couch in laughter, clutching your stomach. “JJ, you’re ruining Whitney Houston! That’s a crime!” You both laughed as the song ended and Don't Stop Me Now by Queen started playing

“You think that’s bad? Just wait for this!” JJ leaped onto the couch with a dramatic flair, now holding an empty glass beer bottle as a microphone. “DON’T STOP ME NOW! I’M HAVIN SUCH A GOOD TIME”

“ I’M HAVIN’ A BALL!” You screamed following the lyrics, jumping up to join him. You grabbed a remote control off the coffee table and sang into it like it was your own microphone, matching JJ’s energy note for note.

“You’re awful!” he yelled over the music, grinning ear to ear.

“Excuse me?” You shot back, pretending to be offended. “I’m carrying this!”

“Please, you’re the backup singer at best!”

“Asshole!” You gasped and pushed him making him stumble and fall on his butt on the soft cushion but he quickly recovered, standing back up and grabbing you by the hand to dance on the dirty rug. Without a second thought, he turned bringing you with him and dipping you as dramatically as he could making you both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

He pressed a big messy kiss on your cheek and laughed again at the disgusted face you made before wiping away the saliva with his palm.

The next song started—a slow, cheesy love ballad. JJ struck a mock-serious pose, reaching out a hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”

You rolled your eyes but played along, taking his hand. “You may, good sir.”

You swayed dramatically around the room, both purposefully stepping on each other’s feet and exaggerating every movement. JJ spun you out and back in, and you both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of laughter as the song ended.

“That was awful,” You said, catching your breath.

“The worst,” JJ agreed, his head tilted back against the cushions. Then he glanced at you, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Wanna go again?”

“Duh.”

It was always like that between you and JJ. Loud, obnoxious, happy. You both never caught a break in each other's presence. But you loved it, you loved him.

JACKSON

Your fist knocks softly on the door of the twin's house. The sound feels like it echoes in the home. After a couple of seconds of nothing, no voice, no footsteps you try again. Louder this time.

“JJ I swear if you forgot your keys again- oh hey” the door swung open revealing the twin you were looking for.

“Hey Jacks.” you smile noticing his messy blond hair meaning he was probably taking a nap.

“Uhm JJ isn't here” he scratched the back of his head and leaned on the doorframe.

“Actually I came to see you… we haven't hung out much lately” you said looking up at him.

“Yeah sorry, I've been studying a lot and I saw you and JJ hang out often. I didn't want to bother you know”

“You never bother, I'm your friend too” he nodded and lifted himself off the frame to let you into the house you knew so well. It was honestly a second home to you.

His room was dimly lit, and much cleaner than JJ’s. You and him lay side by side on the bed, your legs tangled in the blankets.

He stared up at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting gently on your hand. You lay on your side, head propped in your palm as you looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Do you ever think about where we would be if you and JJ never saved me when I fell off my bike?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Jackson turned his head to look at you, his light blue eyes warm and thoughtful. “All the time,” he admitted, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You're like the only person I can talk to about.. anything. JJ, he's my twin but it's easier with you. Moments like this are everything I look forward to.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mean laying in bed talking about everything and anything?”

He grinned. “Yeah I don't get to do it with anyone else”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you reached out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “I don't get to do it with anyone else either”

He raised a hand, his fingers brushing your cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. It was soft, lingering, and full of unspoken affection. You closed your eyes at the touch, letting yourself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment.

It wasn't unusual for you both to show affection like that. Jackson's love language was physical touch and JJ's was quality time.

“I like this,” you murmured after a while, voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice equally quiet.

“Yeah. Just… us. quiet, calm.”

Jackson smiled, his hand finding yours under the blankets and giving it a light squeeze. “Me too.”

And it was always like this with Jackson and you loved it, you loved him but you couldn't bring yourself to choose who you loved most.

#jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj outerbanks #eddie munson x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x pogue!reader #outer banks imagines #outerbanks #JJ maybank twin

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 days ago

Note

H-hey mootie

So it’s my birthday this week

So if you would make a blurb about drider!Miguel killing readers shitty husband then fucking her 🕷️

I would love it 🥺🥺🥺

Yes it’s Halloweeny that’s cause I didn’t have the energy to write it myself no matter the word count or format I know you can do it Justice!! Love ya!!

YES U CAN MY WONDERFUL MOOT. 🎉🎂 Dedicated to the amazing moot 🖤 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ILYYY 🕸️🕷️ @cullen-rutherford-wifey

Huge thanks to my moot adqui for the Spanish translation help, and to @politemenacephd for the inspiration and their flawless Drider!Miguel smut in Arachnophilia that helped me a ton with this fic. 🖤

can I be him

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, MONSTERFUCKING, SMUT, P IN V, LOTS OF CUM, NIPPLE PLAY, LIGHT BONDAGE, SPIT, BREEDING, CREAMPIE, ANAL PLAY(idk if that's what it's called) EDGING, DRIDER!MIGUEL, ANGST, MUTUAL PINING, SLIGHTLY STALKER ISH BEHAVIOR, GRAPHIC BLOOD AND VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC DISPUTE, YOU HAVE A SHITTY HUSBAND, MURDER, INFIDELITY, A DARKER PIECE PLS PLSSSSS MIND THE WARNINGS.

Words 6.1k

Miguel shouldn't be doing this. But he can't help it. It was wrong to watch you like this. To want you like this.

The warm glow cast by the screen floating in front of him softened his chiseled features as he gazed longingly at you through the portal of dimensions that kept you apart.

A gorgeous, living variant of his own version of you that he could not save. The only one out of thousands he had come across. And believe that when he first lost you, his unfathomable grief kept him searching, scouring, waiting, hoping for months that there was one more universe out there where death didn't rip you away.

And the first he discovered just had to be one where you belonged to someone else.

Dated for almost five years now. Married for going on three. And the kicker was that bastard didn't even deserve you.

The multiverse was cruel. In every other reality, tragedy irrevocably tainted the legacy of Miguel O'Hara.

Always so close, and yet, never finding peace in any set of cards he was coldly dealt.

In this particular dimension he was watching you from, he was a mutant with his top half being that of a man and the lower half, that of a spider. A large abdomen adorned in fuzzy black hair with eight enormous thick legs like a tarantula and venomous fangs, irises of bleeding crimson to match. He was a drider. A monster, as far as he was concerned.

But there were times when he'd watch you that he'd allow himself to be crazy enough to dream that you could love someone like him.

At least in his mind he wasn't chained back by his fears and insecurities. At least for now in the sanctity of his office, your shitty husband didn't exist and you weren't lightyears away in an opposite plane of reality. You could be free to be all his, monstrous features be damned.

A version of you loved him once, would it really be all that far fetched to think you could possibly learn to love him again?

---

Another long day ended. You exhaled a weary sigh as you left the cold of late fall that was descending quickly into winter in the icy world behind you. Closing the door to your house that seldom felt like home these days.

You supposed your life was okay, but still you wouldn't have chosen it had you known this feeling of monotony would haunt you everywhere you went.

From your job, to sometimes family, but most of all your marriage. Nearly all your life, you felt out of place, but never quite like this. You supposed it started as early as nine months into your relationship with your now husband.

When he stopped buying flowers, when his texts became fewer, hours at work became longer, his patience shorter. You chalked it up to the unpredictable ebbs and flows of love.

"Love isn't perfect. Not all rainbows and butterflies," you were told time and time again.

When your husband wanted to, he could be great. When he was bad, he could be exceptionally worse. But how could you be so sure? With practically nothing to compare it to, you supposed this was simply the path that was carved out for you. Mediocrity may be disappointing but passion alone couldn't keep a roof over your head. Stability was still a wiser thing to choose than comfortability.

Even so, on the eve of your birthday, the empty spot next to you in bed that you slowly became accustomed to delivered that sharp reminder of just how lonely you really were.

Tears fell and seeking solace, you shamelessly indulged and allowed your mind to visualize him. That mystery man from afar who haunted your dreams and took up permanent residence in your mind with his bewitching crimson eyes. Sometime around when you suspected the love your husband once had for you had all but ceased.

You don't know why, but this being seemed to call for you, seemed to speak to you. To that forgotten part inside that for the life you couldn't explain why it remained empty.

It was almost like a cosmic bond to him, an adept yearning. An invisible lining etched into your very being that somehow recalled him in a different life. That gorgeous face without a name.

Miguel.

----

Miguel stirs awake, realizing he was a victim of sleep while watching you. His attention is called immediately to a growing spat between you and your husband.

"I asked a simple fucking question, John. Where. were. you."

"And I GAVE YOU A SIMPLE FUCKING ANSWER. Don't. fucking. worry. about. it."

Miguel sits up, high on alert, spider senses kicking in. Something about John's tone this time was highly unsettling.

"You know what, I've lost count by now, John..." You flung your hands in the air, weary, defeated and broken down by the endless disappointment, tear soaked trails running from your eyes that hadn't stopped since last night. "But of all the days out of the year...you just couldn't keep it in your pants on my fucking birthday..."

"Do you fucking hear yourself??" John screamed. "Nobody said anything about cheating! Where in this entire conversation has there ever even a hint about cheating? I'll fucking tell you: NONE." He points an accusatory finger. "You brought this all on yourself, not me!"

"It was Carla again, wasn't it." You nodded with a tearful sob, pacing around the living room. "Carla, fucking, Carla..."

Maybe fixing these pillows could distract you from the agonizing realization that you were reliving the nightmare of John's infidelity. Going on three for three when you thought the first and second time he had learned enough.

"I didn't sleep with goddamn Carla!!" John grabs a mug and hurls it at the wall.

That's it. Miguel draws a portal immediately. His yearning had reached a breaking point, and this fight was all the push he needed to come to shove. Miguel O'Hara normally obeyed the rules, but this version of him was unlike the others.

No rule was above being broken when it came to the lengths he would go for you.

"Real fucking mature, John. What are you gonna do huh? Gonna hit me, choke me?? Maybe then you'll actually be half the man you think you are!"

"Ohhh you fucking little..."

But before the worst can happen, an otherworldly threat makes itself known with a random buzzing orange window opening, allowing an enormous half man, half spider through.

You and your husband scream in horror, your conflict between you temporarily forgotten.

"Shit shit SHITTTT!!! WHAT THE FUCK!! John what's happening??"

"I don't fucking know..." John mumbles in disbelief, flinching as Miguel's long legs pound on the hardwood floor, echoing under his formidable size. His eyes appeared menacing, deeply laced with venomous dislike as he glowered at John, but seemed to soften, if not only for just a fleeting moment when they landed on you.

"If...if we both don’t get out of this. I need to tell you something" John mumbles almost incoherently as your fingers dug into his arm.

"W-what?" You turn to look at John, at this face that housed a soul inside it that you once knew but no longer recognized. Almost wordlessly appealing to whatever final shred of respect he had left inside for you as a last ditch effort to give you some semblance of the man you once loved.

"I ruined everything. Your sister and I fucked. Just know, I'm sorry..."

And before you could even have a moment to compute that final godforsaken dagger he had the nerve to drive into your heart, he shoved you in the way of the monster like a piece of meat so he could save his cowardly ass.

"JOHN!" the sound was wretched and broken. Devasted by betrayal. You shrieked in fear and brought your arms over your head, prepared to absorb whatever immense pain was about to wrack your whole body, praying frantically for a quick death.

But, you gasped in alarm when no such fate arrived and Miguel charged headfirst at your fleeing coward of a husband, pinning him to a wall as nearby photographs came down with crash of splintering glass.

His head hit the wall with a deafening crack, a dark pool of maroon beginning to leak from behind him and drip out of his nose.

He yelled but the sound was quickly muffled as Miguel's calloused hands wrapped around his throat, a couple trails of blood oozing down his fist.

"B-babe....aacghkk...please m'ergh sorry, I'm..." John tried to choke out, his teeth now coated in sheer red from where he bit his tongue, quiet trickles audible as the blood from his head seeped onto the floor underneath him.

Miguel was only moments away from crushing his windpipe, but he untensed his jaw when he heard you trying to catch your breath on the floor. He turned, taking note of how helpless and fearful you looked.

Though it would have given him immense pleasure to pull the plug, he had to think of you first.

"Do you mind?" He merely asks, his eyes cold as his fingers tightened just a bit.

"P-please..." John croaks. "Please...Babe..."

You're still reeling from anger that was slowly turning to anguish. As you looked at John, for the first time you felt nothing. It only took years and him nearly sacrificing you before himself for you to wake up and realize the sorry shell of a man he had turned into.

"Goodbye, John." You uttered like venom and turned away as you heard the sickening crackle and then wet sound of choking blood as Miguel snapped John's neck in half.

----

"You okay?"

"Fine."

Miguel could tell you were lying. After swiftly disposing of the body in a different dimension and washing up, he had came back to discover you hadn't moved an inch from your spot on the floor. Your numbness kept you anchored, gazing into the haunting abyss of the blood spatter that remained on the wall.

"Hey, easy now. " Miguel murmured as you finally began to stand up.

"I can handle my own, thanks."

"Of course, I mean..." He clears his throat, stomach uneasy when you became short with him. "Sorry."

You two sat opposite each other in the living room with you and on the couch and Miguel on the floor as that was the only space that could accommodate him.

Sometime during the seemingly infinite silence, you realized all of this bullshit your now dead ex managed to put you through in his final hours on earth made you profoundly indifferent to the fact a literal drider broke into your home.

"Who are you?" You ask at last. "And why didn't you kill me too?"

Miguel looks at you quickly, glad the empty silence was broken at last. "My name is Miguel." He looks down, shame in his expression. "And I, well.."

He doesn't think he should divulge all of his secrets yet. Surviving near death by drider and having your husband's cheating revealed shortly before his untimely death was more than enough burden to bear.

"I'm not from around here."

"I gathered that." Your eyes rake over his enormous form. You should be beside yourself. This man creature just killed your husband after all. But something about his voice was calming. Oddly soothing. Dare you say it was, rather attractive?

"So what are you, half spider?"

For the first time, an inkling of amusement shows on his face. "What, did my eight legs give it away?"

"Just a little." You hum, bringing your knees to your chest as you allowed yourself to relax.

"You know, you're...eerily calm about all of this."

"Heh...I know. Guess I kind of feel like I'm still asleep and I'm gonna wake up any minute."

"Wanna test that theory?" Miguel quirks a brow.

You pinch yourself while keeping your deadpan stare, holding it for a moment as if it would do anything. "Nope."

"Wow." Miguel says sarcastically to which you can't help but snicker. "So, do weird occurrences like this happen to you often? Still doesn't explain why you're not completely hysterical about all this."

"I watch the news." You shrug. "Crazy shit happens in New York all the time. What with Spider-Man being a thing and all. Just a step above normal, I'd say."

"Ah." It made sense. Miguel should've known your dimension had its own spider. A little bit of relief washed over him. At least this made things a bit less messy on his end. He falls silent again, stealing little glances of you now and then.

You were fucking ethereal in person. Being this close was something he only dreamed about. Now that it was happening in real time, he was wracking his mind desperately for ideas on how to drag it out as long as he could.

"So if I may: how'd you become half spider?" You ask the hard question at last.

Miguel raises his eyebrows, somewhat relieved you took the first leap. He proceeds to tell you about his lab accident, and how he became spliced with spider DNA.

He tells you about the multiverse, and how there are many versions of him out there with the same story, but his cursed him with the lower half of a mutant unlike most.

"So, if there's a whole multiverse out there, are there multiple versions of myself too?" You lean your chin on your hand like a curious pupil.

Miguel nods stiffly, trying to disguise the weight of the information he held. "Yeah. "

You go silent again, then you ask, "Did you know me in your own universe?"

Miguel's heart pangs subtly at the reminder. "Yeah, I did..." He looks away from you but you can't help but continue to stare at him.

He really was so pleasant to look at. That brown, wavy hair that curled just slightly at the ends you could only imagine would run like silk between your fingers, eyes a hue of red that couldn't be replicated anywhere except the deep center of the rarest rose, lulling voice that dripped from those full lips. This formidableness about him that crumbled into gentleness only when it came to you did absolutely nothing but pull you closer to him.

For the first time, those unconnected dots in that unanswered part of you in your dreams might be falling into place.

"Was I quite close to you?" Your heart steadily begins to pick up.

Miguel shook under his desire to just let the facade fall away and pull you into his arms. But he remained still as he looked back at you, silent plea from behind his words that was only articulated in those eyes that put bleeding sunsets to shame.

"You meant the world to me."

The pieces coming together prompted these strong emotions you weren't expecting, coming out in broken tears. "So that's why you found me..." You shook your head.

Miguel's heart tugs outside of his chest. He stands up, drawing closer, then his legs folded as he leaned in to where you sat on the couch. When you didn't pull away, he got the courage to cup your face in both his hands, gently wiping the wetness away.

"Why didn't you come get me sooner?" It clicks at that very moment. That tender gaze that graced you now could not belong to anyone other than your starcrossed beloved who visited every time you closed your eyes.

"I wanted to." Miguel must suppress his own tears at this point. Oh how he wanted to, how he ached to.

"Believe me, I really did, mi vida.."

His term of endearment for you just encourages you to liquify under his touch even more. "But why didn't you?? I was so miserable. I waited for you. I thought you weren't real. Thought you were never coming..."

"I know, I know." Miguel closed his eyes when your foreheads met at last. This feeling of touching you for the first time elated him, shedded him of his internal torment. He felt like he was soaring.

"You were married and I was..." He sighs deeply, pulling away just a little, "I was... well, me."

"What do you mean by that?" You furrow your brows, your heart panged by hurt, trying to understand why. Why he deprived himself of this thing you both clearly wanted when it was right there.

"Nobody as beautiful as you would ever love someone who looks like me.."

A pit falls to the bottom of your stomach and you immediately shake your head. "No...no, that couldn't be further from the truth, Miguel..."

You sit up, leaning in as you took his face in your hands again. His eyes went wide in disbelief. "W-what are you..."

A million chills erupt in Miguel's body that become embers of warmth as your lips touch for the first time. He holds his breath, then sighs. The little break in between the kiss and the low, gentle sound coming from him just encourages you to meet him again, and again.

Your fingers wind their way into his hair and his own hands couldn't do anything but pull you even closer as the kiss deepened under the weight of the burning passion. The longing was set free, a million questions answered that just kept confirming to Miguel over and over that this couldn't be more right. Canon be damned, rules be damned as your lips and your hands became a slow dance of sensual exploration.

"Miguel..."

"Please I-mnghhh..." He pleads then relents immediately as he lets his head roll gently back, allowing you to continue blazing tantalizing trails of kisses all over his neck. Because of the size difference between you both, he scoops you into his arms off the couch. He can't help but indulge the feeling of your body pressed against his, using his grip on your thighs to grind you ever so lightly against his abdomen.

The pressure delivered from the press of his body shoots directly to your core and you shamelessly take that as permission to roll your hips slightly as you straddled him, releasing that first moan into his mouth when your lips came back up from exploring the warmth of his neck.

That delicious little sound you make nearly wrecks him in the best way. Miguel moans equally louder as his kisses dial up in intensity. His teeth begin nipping intermittently as the kiss morphs into a passionate exchange of saliva and collision of lips on lips. The potent venom laced in his fangs pools with the building zeal and it seeps into your mouth, leaving sweet aftertaste whose foreignness only fuels your arousal.

An enormous thud echoes as Miguel falls backwards, but it does absolutely nothing to deter the flame lit under you. You both find a comfortable rhythm as his hands guide your hips as you ride his large spider abdomen while your makeout session riled with fervor. The coarse bristly hairs were a delicious addition to the addicting friction with each slow roll of your body. Miguel's lips fall open and his eyes falter. You relish this feeling of power over him, this enormous drider who all but became a weak weak man when he was underneath you.

You bite your lip as each heavenly movement inspires you to leave all shame at the door and start to put on a show. You card your fingers in your hair, moving it in your eyes in erotic display, groaning as you rolled your head every which way in careless abandon, letting your fingers dip in your mouth, squeezing your breasts.

"Fuckkk me..." Miguel breathes out. "Fuck me, you're so...God, you're so beautiful..." He hands continue to knead the swell of your ass, gritting his teeth as his grip locks down even harder and he feels you humping directly over his slit where his phallus was hardening underneath the ocean of fur to the point of ache.

His hands then move to play with your breasts, your eyes widened when the spot on your hips is quickly replaced with two of his smaller forelegs, one of them teasing the waistband of your pants as his human hands quickly unclasped your bra.

"Miguellll...." You mewl as one of his forelegs holds your hip steady while the other works little circles through your clothed clit, all while you felt his warm, wet tongue flatten and tease your left nipple. All you can do at this point is moan and let him wreck you completely, this pleasure that was smoldering you from all sides.

You gazed down, amazed and aroused to discover that the lower half attached to this beautiful man you were tangled in only fueled the desire, this taboo. Knowing fully well that he was capable of bloodshed, but for now he only wanted to fuck you. You grinded harder against him, answering his soft ministrations of your clit with eager gyrations of your hips.

"Me vas a terminar matando..."(You'll end up killing me) He weakly chuckled, "So, so perfect..."

Miguel is intoxicated by your breasts, circulating and squeezing them together, while his lips dribbled and slobbered as he sucked them both greedily into his mouth in messy alteration.

Soon both round globes were coated in a dripping sheen of his venom, working the thickening syrup in sloppy circles over both nipples that tingled and numbed you so deliciously along with the teasing circles of his thumbs that it made your back arch to the heavens.

He leaned back momentarily to admire his handiwork, lower jaw shiny with a mixture of venom and spit, a steamy yet filthy display of his subtle ownership he now felt over you.

His.

His rightful claim when he snapped your sorry ass excuse of a husband like a twig. Each little noise you made all for him only swelling his pride and confirming his suspicion that the loser couldn't make you cum like he could.

Speaking of cumming, you were damn near close. Miguel doesn't want to be greedy and would love to let his sweet little darling cream and squirt all over his stomach right now, but the thought was more appealing for this first time being on his tongue or, if you were up for it, his drider cock.

"I wanna cum, Miguel, please I wanna cum..." You whined, temporarily losing that sweet spot as he removed his forelegs from their massage on your clit.

"I know baby, I'm gonna make you cum..." He kissed you. "You'll cum for me. Many times, I'll make sure of it..." He panted, moving a finger underneath your chin. "How do you feel about taking my cock?"

The straightforward nature of his question answered itself in the further dampening spot in your panties. "Please...Y-yes pleaseee, Miguel. Want you to fuck me...want you to give me your cock..."

"Yeah?" He groaned, hands slinking all up and down your body, under your clothes, stroking your breasts. "I'll give it to you then, baby...fill you up so good..."

He paused then kissed you deeply once more. "You're gonna have to trust me... We'll have to try something different so this can work..."

You nodded. "I trust you, Miguel."

"Okay..." He whispered. "You're still okay with this?"

"Yes, I'm okay..." You breathed back. "I'm okay, baby. I want you so badly. I'm willing to try anything so you can be so deep inside of me..."

"Fuck, me too..." He groaned back against your lips. "Okay, hold on f'me..."

He set you back down on the couch and you were floored as you watched your beloved turn into an artist, spinning an elaborate web that stretched from floor to ceiling, almost like a swing that was anchored solidly on both sides to the wall.

"Mi vida..." He offers you his hand like a gentleman, helping you up. "Can I?" He whispers as his hands disappear underneath your clothes.

"Yes..."

He strips you carefully and slowly like fine china, letting the anticipation build as every patch of skin slowly became revealed to him.

Somehow letting him undress you, sliding the rest of your panties off and simply letting his eyes roam freely all over your body felt like the most intimate thing you had done all night, even more so as he still remained fully clothed in his top half as he stood back and drunk in the sight of you like wine.

"You're simply stunning, love..."

His hands ghosted low on your hips until they rested on the bare curve of your ass. You jumped and wrapped your thighs around him, Miguel tensed his jaw with a smirk as he kneaded the plump flesh of your ass, hardening again when he felt your bare slick he drew out of your pussy earlier against his stomach.

He nestled you into the makeshift swing that was soft and sticky as the fibers clung to your bare skin in a natural adhesive. He spun more webs around your ankles, opening them slightly.

"Is this still okay?" He asked gently again.

Exhilaration washed over you but you nodded, grinning and easing your legs open in further tease to demonstrate your own building excitement for what was to come. "Yes..."

"Good." His voice went halfway between a groan again at your pretty pussy blossoming like a flower in front of him.

He stood back, eyes cloudy and trained on you as he removed his shirt, letting it fall in a quiet heap to the ground.

You drank him in as well like an offering, moaning audibly when the slit in his fur low on his abdomen opened to reveal a long, thick, hard red cock with pulsating black veins adorning both sides. It curved upwards, and it throbbed, making your mouth water.

This only made the full sight of your monstrous lover even more alluring as he stood before you in all his drider glory, towering over you even now when you were closer to his eye level in your makeshift swing, with your thighs spread and your silky cunt begging to be filled.

He shot a web onto your belly, pulling you in closer while you still sat settled on the swing, giggling as he smirked playfully at you, until just the tip of his cock kissed between your folds.

"Hi there..." You chuckled, tilting your head up, wetting your lips seductively.

He groaned quietly in a stew of lust as he saw your tongue rake over your bottom lip,

"Hello, sweetheart...fucking gorgeous thing, you..."

He gently pinched both sides of your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, immediately bringing you into a deep french kiss.

The feeling of his warm tongue sliding in your mouth shot directly down to your cunt, only amping up in electricity as he teased his plump girthy head of his cock all around your pulsing clit.

"Miguel....fuck me..." Your spine arched and your nails dug into his shoulder, aggravating the raging arousal he was simmering for you all over his body. "Don't tease me like this, baby..."

Miguel released a mischievous chuckle that tapered into another one of his low moans that goaded you even deeper into all this pent up frustration you wish he'd take out on your now sopping pussy already.

"Ten paciencia, mi vida, por favor... " (Be patient, my life, please) He cooed sweetly at you, lightly brushing his nose against yours "Gotta get you nice and ready to take me..."

You breath became choked in your lungs when he begins to massage the fat tip directly over your velvety clit, grunting as he felt another drip of arousal leak and coat all along the thick head.

"Besides..." He murmured heavily though soft parted lips, entranced with hooded eyes. "The more I edge you, the more pleasureable it'll be when I finally make you cum all over my cock..."

"Baby, please..." The crescendo of arousal swelled in your belly, making your eyes water. You coaxed your body against him faster, desperate to reach that peak, but your movements were minimal due to the webbing. The feeling of emptiness covered you but was quickly eased when he promptly removed his tip from your clit again, this time dragging it down to your dripping entrance.

"Kiss me..." Miguel murmured and he didn't need to tell you twice. His tongue rolled and rubbed with yours as he began to circle his cock into your wet opening, inch by inch filling you ever so slowly. You gasp into his mouth, realizing this whole time what he was talking about. You felt every rigid vein, every solid groove as his drider cock slowly pushed into you, stretching you beyond comprehension. It was unlike any you've ever taken before. Fuck, it felt better than any you'd ever taken before.

Once you got past the daunting size, the addicting feeling and pleasure of having his cock inside you set off a new chorus of breathy moans from your lips. You sighed deliciously as you greedily accepted everything he was giving you, so transfixed on his divine face that was watching you the entire time.

Miguel was irrevocably smitten, completely enamored with the way your warm silky walls wrapped around him, the way you looked at him with immense rapture. Fuck, this feeling was greater than anything he felt in his entire life as your pussy molded to him like it was made for him. "So tight, cariño..." He teased then hissed as he reached the hilt.

You two gazed at each other, completely silent for what felt like divine eternity. Simply enjoying the feeling of Miguel being buried so deeply inside you.

"I'm gonna start fucking you..." He whispered.

"Go slow at first, baby..." You purred back, clenching your pussy around him, biting your lip when it earned another weak grunt from him. "Wanna feel you nice and deep like this for a bit..."

"Haah...you're a goddamn tease..." Miguel huffed. "I'll try and go slow as long as I can..." The sound that came from him next was downright pathetic as he looked down at where he had you stuffed to the brim, feeling along the emerging bulge in your belly.

"You feel so fucking good, it's hard not to just fucking ravish you right now..."

"Mmm...just kiss me, then..." You murmured and he quickly seized onto that opportunity as he slowly began to pump inside you with lengthy, meaningful thrusts. Every movement was so wet and sloppy with drenched noises as a sea of slick began to drool from your pussy, coating his cock that slid in and out of you with greater ease as the moments passed.

You squeezed your thighs in a death grip around his large waist as you became more hammered off this euphoria, the bristly hairs tickling the sensitive sides along your clit, goading you to grind back into each deep thrust.

"Shit..." And Miguel's patience flew out the door with that lethal squeeze of your thighs, his hands gripped the curve of your ass as he began to completely unload on your needy wet cunt. You cried out as you took every torturous inch like the absolute whore you were for him in this moment.

It tested your limits but God, this feeling of him thoroughly fucking you nice and hard scratched that nagging, primal itch you experienced ever since you first laid eyes on him. You were practically drooling at this point, laying back and taking it, your submission just fueling his fire, unlocking that deep seated urge to fucking breed this perfect cunt for all it was worth, to ruin you and fuck your brains out so you could feel him for weeks.

"Miguel, Miguel, Miguellllll....." The hungry, wispy mantra of his name from your lips nearly set him off the edge alone, a raw possession washing over him completely as he railed his cock into you to new limits.

"You're all mine now, you know that..."

"I'm all yours Miguel...all yours baby..."

He cut you off with another fiery kiss. "Wanna cum inside you, baby, can I?"

"Fffuck yes....yes, Miguel, fill me..."

"I'll fill you up, baby..." His forelegs come up again, but this time one directly rubbing quick, vibrating circles on your clit, while one gently teased and massaged the puckered rim of your ass, all while his heavy slick covered cock continued to pound your pussy. "But you're gonna cum f'me first..."

"Miguel..."

You nearly black out as you see heaven. Miguel locks in, dipping his head down as he swallowed onto your left breast again, tweaking and tugging the nipple of the right, his mouth salivating and more venom dousing and dripping from his tongue, soaking down your already sweaty body.

The web renders you helpless as you have no option but to lay there and let him pleasure you past anything you thought you could handle. It felt like overstimulation as you shook and cowered and whined so loudly it could wake the neighbors.

Your thighs trembled, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes as you forced yourself to let go. The premature ending of all the previous other treatments he bestowed on your spent pussy piled on top of one another, making this one far more intense and overwhelming than the others. Thick cream oozed lewdly out of you, making a sticky, glossy mess of both your pubes and coating his black fur.

"Cumming, sweetheart..." He panted, dripping sweat all down his reddened face, some of it landing in your mouth but you could care less. Everything about this encounter was so dirty and nasty already. The salacious feeling of consuming every part of one another from head to toe reduced you to nothing but a hole for him to dump his cum in, and you'd let him every time.

"I-love-you...."

And his heavy sweaty shaft and bulbous tip nudged your g spot simultaneously as his foreleg's massage of your swollen clit that your orgasm shuddered and rattled your bones, a new sinful coat of wetness squirting and seeping into Miguel's black fur that he soaked in like a badge of honor.

He forgot to warn you before, but when the coil in his balls finally released and he came inside you, the thick, viscous drider cum was like lava as it spilled and drooled and leaked from your insides. Even after you thought he had emptied, another spurt of a thick rope of cum painted your drenched walls and flooded out of you.

You both merely panted, eyes locked on each other in a display of intimacy of the deepest and most carnal kind, the overwhelming haze of orgasmic bliss made you both speechless. It almost didn't compute that he told you he loved you.

You laid there in your spiderweb tangled underneath your drider lover in the now fully emerged daytime, world outside none the wiser of the steamy, lewd acts that took place. All the more enthralling that this became a love nest built on top of your blood lust and mutual yearning that exploded like gasoline on a fire.

For now, real life could wait as you came back down to Earth and gazed at the flood of slick cum dripping and oozing from both of you. You felt that primal urge kick up again as Miguel smirked, softly stuffing the mess of what he could back inside the pool of glistening white that peeked between your aching folds.

"And I love you too, Miguel.." You whispered back.

All the puzzle pieces of his scattered life fell back into place as he heard those glorious words hit him like a train. He willed this himself. Even if it meant taking you from another dimension, this thread across time, this inevitable bond was now cemented permanently with your lovemaking and the deepest parts of him that were now inside you.

He could deal with all that bullshit later; he had his love back with him where she rightfully belonged.

You both laughed to yourselves as you sauntered down this path of mutual bliss and made a plan to leave all this behind and start a new life with your Drider lover in his reality.

But first...you couldn't help but pull him closer and he couldn't help but groan loudly as he effortlessly slipped inside you again,

"It's you and me against the stars, mi vida..."

And he groaned before rhythmically moving his body in that sinful dance with yours,

"But first I'm gonna prove it by fucking you all over again."

---

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daniiiboo · 2 days ago

Text

fearless- jh86

summary- moments in the song fearless that i thought was jack core

dani's thoughts- yay ! another fic ! and im actually rlly happy w this one !!!

warnings- nu uh nope! only cuteness

word count- 2254

You walk me to the car And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there In the middle of the parking lot

The game had just wrapped up, and the arena buzzed with the energy of victory. Jack had been on fire tonight, his usual flashes of brilliance lighting up the ice: his speed, his vision, the less-than way he threaded passes, all were reasons you loved watching him play. But tonight, something felt even more electric, even though the game had ended.

The two of you made our way through the quieting corridors of the arena, past the excited chatter of teammates and staff, heading toward the exit. The night air was cool against your skin as you and Jack stepped outside into the parking lot, the sounds of the city filling the silence between the two of you.

"You were amazing out there," you said, nudging Jack lightly with your shoulder.

He grinned at you, the glint in his eyes.

"Thanks. We got the win, that's what matters, right?"

"Of course," you said, smiling up at him. "But that assist in the third period? That was next level."

Jack's grin widened as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

"You know I play better when you're watching," he teased. His voice was light, but you could make out the affection in his eyes.

You both had reached his car, but just before he turned the door open, Jack had turned and faced your direction. For some seconds, he was staring, like holding onto the quiet of that particular moment. The low hum of the city seemed very far, like the world had come down to just the two of you.

"Hey," he said softly, taking my hand, pulling you gently toward him. "I wanna ask you something."

You tilt your head, intrigued by the way his voice softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more sincere.

"Anything," you replied, your heart skipped a beat.

"You walk me to the car," he started off, a smile pulling at his lips, "and you know I wanna ask you to dance right here. In the middle of the parking lot."

You blinked, not quite believing what you were hearing. But then his eyes flashed with that mischievous glint, and you just couldn't help it.

"You want to dance? Here? Now?"

Jack grinned, all charm. "Yeah. Out here. No music, just us."

You couldn't help but smile. This was so Jack: spontaneous, a little bit crazy, and completely endearing. But you didn't hesitate. Because right then and there, you knew it didn't matter where the two of guys were, whether a band was playing or a big crowd was watching, it was just him and you, and that was enough.

"Alright, let's do it," you said, pulling him toward the center of the empty parking lot.

The cool night air brushed against your cheeks as you and Jack stood there, the stars overhead sparkling like diamonds in the vastness of the sky. Jack took your hand, his fingers warm against yours, and he pulled you close.

"See? It's perfect," he murmured.

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

He just shrugged, his grin never faltering.

"Crazy for you."

And then, without any music to lead the two of you, you guys started swaying. There was nothing to be heard except the soft rustling of the wind and the far-off buzz of the traffic. Your feet moved slowly without much rhythm, but it didn't matter. The two of you were in our own world, the noise of everything else falling away.

His hand was at the small of your back, tugging you closer while your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt the warmth emanating from his body, the steady beat of his heart against your chest, and in that single moment, it felt as though nothing else in the world could be more perfect.

"You know," he said in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper, "this is probably one of the best parts of the night."

You smiled, your cheek resting against his shoulder. "I couldn't agree more."

You danced like that for hours, it felt like, the world silent around you except the sound of breathing, the rhythm of your feet upon the pavement. There were no distractions, no obligations, just the two of you, caught in this small, intimate moment.

At some point, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was soft, his smile genuine, and the way he looked at you made everything else seem irrelevant.

"You know," you said, a teasing note in your voice, "we should probably get in the car before people start wondering why we're having a private dance party in the parking lot."

Jack's eyes danced with mischief.

"Let them wonder. This is our moment."

Run your hands through your hair Absent mindedly makin' me want you

You watched Jack from the passenger seat as he took the roads, his eyes on the streets ahead, hands clasped on the wheel with that natural ease that always made him look so confident. Jack was always composed under pressure, whether it was on the ice or moments like these; it was one of the things you loved most about him.

As the night settled into a peaceful rhythm, you found myself getting lost in the way the light of the streetlamps danced across his face, casting shadows that so accentuated his features that he could almost have been the star of a movie scene. Then, without warning, he did it.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, pushing strands back, and it was as if the world around the two of you froze. You couldn't help the way your heart skipped at the simple, absent-minded gesture. His hand ruffled through his messy brown hair as if he didn't even realize what he was doing. But for you? Impossible to ignore.

It was such a small movement, yet it swallowed you in a wave of heat and made you want him more than you already did. He had done something so casual, not even thinking about it, and the surge of longing felt foreign.

"You make it hard to concentrate," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper.

At first, Jack didn't seem to hear you; his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but then you saw those lips curve into that playful smile, the one which always made your knees go weak. He glanced over at you for a second, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Distracted already?"

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Just… just run your hand through your hair again."

Jack's eyebrow rose in obvious amusement.

"What, this thing?" He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair again, this time slower, more deliberate.

You couldn't but laugh lightly, but inside, you were already a mess. Just the way he did it, effortless, natural. The way his fingers slid through his hair so absent-mindedly, the motion almost hypnotic, making you want him even more.

"You're impossible," you muttered, your voice playful, but full of undeniable tension.

He grinned, his eyes still on the road, yet the corners of his mouth curled upward in that familiar, irresistible way.

"You love it," he said, as if it were some sort of fact.

You leaned back against the seat, feeling the warm night air through the slightly cracked window, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. The streetlights blurred as you drove further into the quiet suburbs, but all you could focus on was Jack, his smile, the way he looked when he was so comfortable with you, the way his presence felt like home.

"Do you know what you do to me?" you asked lowly, your voice barely a whisper.

He looked at you again and softened.

"What do I do?"

You turned to him, your heart thudding in your chest.

"You just. you're so effortlessly you, and everything-every little thing-you do drives me crazy. You make me want you so much without even trying."

Jack didn't say anything for a minute, and the silence between the two of you stretched out just a bit longer than usual. Then he reached over, his hand finding yours, his fingers gently wrapping around it.

"You don't know how much I love hearing that," he said softly, his voice serious but warm.

You squeezed his hand; the touch from him was like an anchor- real. There was no need for great gestures, sweeping declarations, and quiet moments like these, where it was just the two of you and nothing outside existed.

As Jack turned onto your street and pulled into the driveway, he didn't immediately turn off the car. Instead, he looked over at you, his eyes soft, searching.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice low almost to a murmur.

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You," you said simply, your voice soft but filled with all you felt at that moment.

And I don't know why But with you I'd dance in a storm In my best dress

It was one of those nights that have everything go just right-the kind that make you smile for no particular reason whatsoever. You and he had spent the evening enjoying each other's company, dinner at that little place the two of you loved, having laughed over dessert, talking about anything and everything. It wasn't anything extravagant, but that's what made it feel so special. It was just the pair of you, lost in your own little world.

As you guys left the restaurant and out into the cool night, the weather seemed to shift. The air had been crisp when you arrived, but now standing in the parking lot, the clouds overhead grew darker and the wind started to pick up. You could feel the first drops of rain hit your skin-light at first, but quickly turning into a steady downpour.

Jack didn't, though. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he led you toward the car.

"Looks like we're going to get soaked," he said with a grin, his voice light teasing.

"I don't mind," you replied, your smile matching his. "I think it's kind of perfect."

He glanced at you, a little surprised by your reply, but there was something in your voice that seemed to spark something in him. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand as he opened the car door for you.

But no sooner were you getting into the passenger seat than you felt the sudden urge to do some crazy thing. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and you couldn't help but think of all those times you dreamed about dancing in a storm. Why not now? Why not tonight?

Before Jack could even sit down in the driver's seat, you threw open the passenger door and stepped back out into the rain, feeling its cool water rush over you. The sound of the storm was loud, thunder rumbling in the distance, but all you could hear was the beat of your heart racing in your chest.

You twirled to face him, a wild grin spreading across your face. "Come on," you hollered over the storm. "Let's dance!

Jack blinked in surprise, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he looked from you to the pouring rain. He shook his head, but his smile never faltered. He closed the car door and jogged toward you, his hands already reaching for yours as the two of you met in the middle of the parking lot.

And without another word, you danced. The rain came down on you guys, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but it didn't matter. The world around you could have been falling apart, and you wouldn't have noticed. Jack spun you around, wet hair flying around your face, and you laughed, the sound mingling with the rumble of thunder.

At that moment, there were only the two of you, lost in the storming chaos.

You stepped back and looked up at him, his face lit by the occasional flash of lightning. He, too, was laughing, his brown hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I don't know why," you said, panting from the dance, "but with you, I'd dance in a storm, in my best dress."

Jack's smile softened as his gaze locked with yours, holding you close against him.

"You make everything perfect, even the storm."

You grinned, feeling the rain running down your skin, free, alive, the world yours for the taking.

"You know," you said, "I think I'd do this every night if I could."

Jack pulled you close against him, his arms wrapping around you, holding tight as the storm raged around the two of you. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice a quiet murmur as he said, "I'd dance in any storm, any time, as long as it's with you."

And in that moment, it didn't matter that you were soaked to the bone, or that the storm wasn't showing any signs of stopping. It didn't matter, because it was with him. And that was all that mattered.

You guys stood there, swaying together in the rain, dancing under the storm that couldn't touch the two of you, knowing that you had everything you needed in that moment.

#dani writes ᡣ𐭩 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils x reader

66 notes · View notes

hoonieyun · 2 days ago

Text

together again

pairing: sim jake x reader “y/n”

genre: angst, exes to lovers

warnings: not a lot really but please let me know if i miss one, mentions of death, car accident, profanity, reader has/had amnesia, 18+

summary: your sister gets a call from the principal to pick up her daughter after an altercation with another student. unable to because of work, she asks you to pick up your niece and when you do, you meet an old face. one you hadn’t seen in years and one you definitely have tried to forget. among the memories you’ve forgotten, you wish you had forgotten him.

word count: 8517

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

your phone rings, jolting you out of your sleep. your sister’s contact appears on your phone and you bring it to your ear as you press the green accept button. “it’s 8am why are you calling me?” you say, voice hoarse. “what? y/n, its 10am are you still in bed? ugh, that doesn’t matter. jiheon got into a fight at school, can you pick her up please?” your sister asks. “i’d pick her up but i’m about to enter a conference, please, i’ll owe you one!” she says before ending the call, not giving you a chance to even answer. it wasn’t like you weren’t going to pick her up, you loved your niece and would do anything for her.

you quickly freshened up, changing into new clothes and putting your hair back into a clip. the drive to your niece’s school wasn’t too long. it was only 10 minutes away. when you got there, some students were playing in the courtyard. you made your way to the office, “hi, i’m y/n. i’m jiheon’s aunt, her mom asked me to come pick her up. is everything alright?” you ask the lady at the front desk. “miss park? are you jiheon’s mom?” a man in a suit who you assumed was the principal approached you. “no, i’m her aunt. her mom is at an important conference right now so she asked me to look after jiheon, is everything okay?” you asked once again, worried that you hadn’t seen your niece but had already asked for her a few times.

“auntie y/n!” jiheon shouts. you peer behind the principal and see jiheon running towards you. she crashes into you with a hug, her small figure only reaching to your waist. you kneel down to her level, “hey dear, is everything ok? are you hurt?” you ask her and she just looks down while nodding. clearly she had been affected in some way and you wanted to know what was going on.

“what happened? all i know is that jiheon got into a fight? what is that about?” you say while softly pulling your niece behind you. “well, she pushed another student off of a swing.” the man explains. “he started it! he was calling me names!” jiheon shouts from behind you, causing you to further put her behind you to shield her away.

“so she was defending herself. case closed, the other student should be punished- wait he? you pushed a boy off a swing?” you ask your niece and she nods. you mouth the word “nice!” and give her a high five before turning back to the principal. “we have a no violence policy here at Bright Spring Academy. jiheon will have to come in on a saturday for disciplinary training for the rest of the month.”

“what?!” you and your niece both yell in disbelief. this moment reminded you of when you would constantly get in trouble in school back when you were younger. at some point your parents made you switch schools 3 times in one year because of how much trouble you were getting into.

“that’s ridiculous! and what punishment is the other student going to get-” you ask but are cut off by another man running into the office. “principal lim! is leehan okay?” he asks, completely ignoring your presence and shoving past you to get to the principal. a little boy runs from the same direction jiheon had previously appeared from and ran up to the man. “uncle!” he yells and the man kneels down to the boy's level to receive his hug. he softly rubs the back of the boy’s head, “you alright bud?” he asks, his strong australian accent giving you deja vu.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you and jake were walking in a park hand in hand when he spotted a stray dog limping on the side of the street. jake quickly looks both ways before crossing the street, dragging you along as your hand was still in his.

he kneels down to the small dog, petting him softly; “you alright bud?” he asks the dog. the dog releases a small whimper before it cuddles up to jake’s hand.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“jake?!” you say in disbelief. “yeah?” he says before looking up at whoever called his name. when jake finally lets go of his nephew and looks up at you with his big puppy eyes, it's like he’s hit with a truck. he hasn’t seen you in years, the shock of seeing you out of nowhere causing him to lose balance and stumble onto the floor. “uncle!” leehan says, his small hands trying his best to help his uncle back on his feet. jake gets back on his feet, dusting himself off, and running his hand through his hair.

“y/n… what are you doing?” he asks, voice trembling a bit but his eyes says that he’s happy to see you. “leaving.” you say while grabbing your niece's hand and making your way to the exit. “don’t forget about saturday disciplinary classes!” principal lim says. “jiheon won’t be attending unless he’s there too.” you say, gesturing to jake’s nephew; and with that the two of you head to your car. “thanks auntie… i’m sorry.” jiheon says, causing you to whip your head around to face your niece.

once again, knelt in front of your 8 year old niece. you softly brush away her hair that has landed in front of her face. she was looking down, embarrassment and shame was spread across her tiny face. “hey…” you say while grabbing her chin to look at you. “never. apologize. okay?” emphasizing each word. “you did the right thing.” you say, making sure that your niece knew that you meant every word. “but mom says violence isn’t the answer.” she says, now fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “please, your mom and i used to beat up boys in school if they looked at us weird.” you say and her eyes light up at your words. “really?” she says and you nod. grabbing her hand once again as you approach your car. “yeah, but don’t tell her i said that. it’s good you defend yourself from a bully, that’s what matters.” you explain as you unlock your car and open the door to the back seat. you help jiheon get into your car, sliding her backpack off and putting it onto the seat next to her. you help buckle her seatbelt when someone calls out to you.

“y/n!” you turn your head around, the sun in your eyes but you could clearly see who called after you. you see jake running up to you so you quickly close the door, “give me a sec sweetie, ok?” you say and jiheon just nods.

“what the hell do you want?” you ask and jake quickly cover’s his nephews ears. “language!” he whisper yells, you mutter a small sorry. “when did you get back?” jake asks, hands still covering the small boy’s ear standing in front of him. you always imagined jake would be a good father. you often talked about a life where you had a family and grew old together.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“so how many kids do you want?” you ask him, playing with his hands as you both laid on your bed in your dorm. “hmm, 5?” jake says and it surprises you so much you begin to cough. “woah, baby you okay?” he says while laughing.

“jaeyun? five?!” you ask him and he just nods at you with a silly smile and his puppy eyes. you shake your head at him and smile back. “i don’t know if i can handle five kids.” you say half jokingly. he grabs your head and brings it to his lips, softly placing a kiss onto them. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you and all the kiddos. i’d make sure to give all of them equal attention and to love all of you with all my heart!” he says, rubbing your tummy and giving it a kiss as if there was already a child growing inside of you. “but…” jake says with a pause.

“i’d be happy with anything, just as long as you’re by my side.”

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“like… four months ago. jake what do you want?” you ask, finally giving him his answer but not without asking a question of your own. jake stutters, trying to come up with an answer but to his dismay he isn’t really able to form one. not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he was too stunned and didn’t know how to answer it without crumbling. “i just-” he begins but cuts himself off. no answer leaving his lips.

“bye jake.” you say as you begin to turn around. “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, desperation dripping from his words like he was begging you for an explanation when you clearly didn’t owe him one. “i have no obligation to you jake. we haven’t been together for 6 years.” you say before finally turning around and getting inside of your car.

“who is that auntie?” jiheon asks as she played with the hem of her sweater. “just some weirdo, you ready kiddo?” you ask her and she yells in excitement. you begin to back your car up but jake was slightly in the way. you didn’t like jake but you weren’t about to commit a crime and run him over with your car. you honk the horn causing jake and his nephew to jump, moving out of your way so you could leave the parking lot. once you had finished backing out, you sped off back to your sister’s house, exhausted by the interactions you had today and it wasn’t even 1PM.

jake watched you drive off, disappointment lingering in his head at how that went. for the last 6 years he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. he even would write a script in his head how he would talk to you when he sees you again for the first time in a while. needless to say, this wasn’t how he expected it to go. he combs his hand through his hair with a big sigh, “uncle can we go now? i’m hungry.” leehan says, tugging on his uncle’s jacket. “right! yeah, sorry bud. come on.” jake says as he grabs his nephew’s backpack as they make their way to his car. only parked a few spots away from where your car was.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you were helping your sister set the dinner table, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the jake fiasco earlier in the day when your niece randomly blurts it out, “auntie almost punched a guy at school today.” she says nonchalantly. your sister’s face contorts into a puzzled expression while you stare at your niece like she had just betrayed you. “jiheon! i did not!” you say with a scoff, slightly laughing. “jiheon, go upstairs really quick. i’ll call you down when dinner is ready.” your sister says as she stirs the soup on the stove.

jiheon gets up from her spot at the kitchen counter in one of the stools and walks up the stairs to her room but not before you tickle her for her betrayal, resulting in her shrieking followed by a giggle as she runs up the stairs. “so what was that about?” your sister inquires.

“nothing…” you say with a side eye, hoping your sister would take your side instead of believing her 8 year old daughter. “y/n…” she says like your mom used to say when she would warn you. “okay!” you say, throwing your hands up in defeat. “i didn’t punch a guy okay! but… i did run into jake…” you say, whispering the last part. “you what?” she asks, unclear what she heard. “iranintojakeattheschool.” you say, blending all the words together with the speed that they left your mouth. “y/n!” your sister says, an irritated expression spread across her face. “i ran into jake! gosh! must i talk about that man!” you say, slumping into a seat at the dinner table. head resting on your hand as you propped it up on the table. a pout visible on your face. “oh… jake you say..?” your sister says, slowly turning away from you to return to stirring the soup on the stove. “yes… what?” you ask, now concerned because of her reaction.

“oh, nothing.” she says with an awkward chuckle. you stand up from the table and get closer to her. “joy, what??” you ask her, now wanting an answer out of her. sure jake was your ex boyfriend but her reaction read as something else. not the reaction you were expecting

from your older sister when you bring up an ex. “jiheon! honey, dinner’s ready!” your sister yells out, trying to change the subject. “joy!” you say, swatting your hand at her but she was too far. before you know it, jiheon is rushing back downstairs with a piece of paper in her hand. “this isn’t done.” you mouth to your sister before you grab some glasses from the kitchen counter to bring to the table.

you’re setting the glasses down at their respective places when jiheon hands you the piece of paper. “what’s this jiji?” you ask, using the nickname you gave her. “open it!” she says as she rocks back and forth on her heels and toes. you unfolded the paper and inside there was a heart and two stick figures you assumed was you and your niece, and the words “i’m sorry” written in the heart.

“aww, jiji i wasn’t actually mad! don’t worry, i forgive you!” you tell her, reassuring your niece that she shouldn’t feel bad and that you were only joking around. she gives you a tight hug and the three of you have dinner.

ever since you moved back to korea, you had been living with your sister and her daughter. your sister’s husband worked overseas for your parent’s company while your sister helped manage the branch in south korea now that your parents were getting too old to be constantly working. your brother in law was a good man, but you could see that his family missed him.

your sister was kind enough to let you live with her instead of making you find an overpriced condo somewhere in the city. ever since the accident it has been hard for you to be alone, so being with them made things a lot easier for you when you came back to korea.

when you were 23, you were in a car accident that should’ve killed you. you broke several bones and had several cuts and bruises scattered across your skin; you were in such critical condition that the hospital at one point started preparing your family for preparations for your death, but life had other plans. instead of leaving this earth, you were in a coma for 8 months. after close monitoring and intensive care, the doctor’s taking care of you were surprised that you had opened your eyes one day.

you were now 28, almost 29 when you moved back to korea. your mother stayed by your side throughout your whole recovery in america, never leaving your side, she was like your guardian angel. when you woke up from your coma, the doctor’s diagnosed you with amnesia, which they expected with the amount of damage and trauma your body and mind went through. it took a year and a half for most of your memories to come back, however, the events of that night, so traumatic, never returned. to which you’re grateful for. even today, you have a hard time forming coherent and structured memories that stick in your mind unless a specific instance sticks in your brain.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re washing the dishes in the kitchen when joy slips the last of the dishes into the sink, “really?” you said with a stoic expression. it was just like when you were younger, sliding plates into the sink while the other was already washing dishes to avoid having to wash your own. the two of you laugh it off as your sister gives you a small hug. “thanks for picking up jiheon.” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

“i don’t know what i’m going to do with her. her behavior has been so different lately…” your sister says, leaning on the kitchen counter. “what do you mean? she seems fine to me.” you respond, eyes focused on cleaning the dishes in the sink. “what? she literally got into a fight today.” your sister reminds you. “no, she didn’t! the boy was bullying her and she defended herself, what about that is her getting into a fight?” you retort and your sister rolls her eyes at your response, like she expected that from you.

“violence isn’t the answer y/n. you, of all people should know that that behavior isn’t good.” she says, causing you to scoff at her. “oh, don’t give me that bullshit joy. i turned out fine. you need to prioritize your daughter’s safety and well being instead of being too focused on this behavior of hers.” you say, putting air quotes around “behavior”; soap suds flying into the air at your motion.

“she’s clearly not doing well because of a bully and instead of automatically thinking she’s the problem because she pushed some kid in self defense, maybe you need to focus on your daughter’s mental health.” you say, unloading onto your sister, disappointed in her for not seeing the bigger picture. “this has clearly been happening for too long and she had been bottling it inside until she had enough and finally stood up for herself.” you say, giving your sister a quick glance, her gaze glued to the tile floor of the kitchen.

“you can’t punish your daughter because she got into a fight, if you can even call it that. you need to let her understand that bullying isn’t okay and if she needs to defend herself, then she should.” by the end of your speech your sister’s face had turned a shade of red.

whenever your sister knew she was in the wrong, her face would gradually turn red. it was then that you knew that she understood what you’re saying so you didn’t need to say more. “go easy on her, she’s so young and she just wants you to feel like you’re on her side. we were just like that when we were her age.” you say softly, putting the last of the clean dishes on the drying rack. you quickly dry your hands on a rag before walking over to your sister.

“okay?” you ask, looking into her eyes. “yes, ugh i hate when you’re right.” she says with a smile while pulling you in for another hug. “it happens more often than you think.” you say with a chuckle and she pushes you away in response. “that was a good speech, it’s like mom’s spirit transferred into you for a second.” your sister says. your mom was always the more tender and understanding one of your parents. although your dad wasn’t necessarily strict or intense, his ways of showing affection were limited, and his way of raising you and your sister was focused on making sure you put in the effort to achieve your dreams through hard work.

“so what are you gonna do about the jake thing?” your sister asks, tiptoeing around the topic. “nothing. i haven’t seen since i was like 22 and i have no plans of seeing him again.” you say with a shrug before you made your way to your room. the basement that your sister had renovated to be livable for you. a spacious open area that had enough so that you didn’t feel like you were too crammed. it was like having a studio of your own.

what you were unaware of was that you would be seeing jake more often than you thought.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next day, when you’re casually shopping for a bit of groceries to make dinner for your mom as she was visiting you two, you run into jake at the market. he’s in the ramen aisle, sifting through the various ramen flavors. he hadn’t changed one bit, he still loved ramen.

you were about to turn around and leave when he glances at you, calling your name. you stop in your tracks like you’ve been caught. “bye jake.” you quickly say, not even bothering to look back at him and just making your way to another section of the store. far, far away from the ramen aisle.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you next saw jake at a cafe. you had just finished your morning run, something you picked up in physical therapy when you were in recovery. it had helped a lot with your mobility and was some sort of therapy for you. once your body recovered enough, you picked up running every morning.

you had stopped by a coffee shop to grab a latte for you and your sister, and a hot chocolate for your niece when you almost crash into jake as you’re exiting. “woah!” he says as he catches you, his hand softly landing around your waist as you grip the tray of drinks with both hands.

“y/n?” he asks and you just release yourself from his grip, jake throwing his arms up in defeat by your actions.

“bye jake.” you say and leave. jake awkwardly looks around, feeling like the whole coffee shop was staring at him and indeed they were. so he shyly smiles at everyone with an apologetic hand gesture to the patrons as he makes his way to the counter.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re on an evening run in the park when a dog runs up to you. stopping to kneel down and pet the cute dog, you’re unsure of where she came from or who her owner was. that was until a familiar australian accent calls for her, “layla! i told you to stop running after people.” jake says, causing you to roll your eyes. you stand with your hands on your hips and lean to the side as you watch jake jog after his dog.

“come here girl.” he says and layla runs back to him. jake was about to start a conversation with you but before he can say anything you return back to your run. “bye jake.” you say as your run passed him.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

when you see jake for the 4th time in just a week, you snap at him. you’re dropping off your niece at school for her saturday disciplinary class and of course jake is there to drop off his nephew.

you rush back to your car when jake runs after you. “y/n, please!” he says, pleading that you would just talk to him. “what jake?! what could you possibly want?” you say, frantically throwing your arms up, irritation clearly running through your face.

“i just wanna talk… please?” he asks softly, a bit hurt at your reaction. he didn’t think he had done anything wrong and he fully wasn’t sure why you were so angry or hostile towards him. you close your eyes to calm down a bit before you answer him, “fine.” you say calmly. a smile crawls onto jake’s face, ecstatic that you finally agreed to speak with him. you exchange numbers and jake texts you the address with a heart emoji. “cut it out.” you say bluntly and jake obliges. “ok, sorry. please drive safe.” he says, almost hinting at your accident years ago. a wound you weren’t ready to open up with jake.

you didn’t notice, however, that when jake gave you his number to put in yours, he didn’t ask for yours. jake, although you haven’t been together for sometime, still kept your number in his phone saved under “y/n” with a pink heart and ring emoji. he hadn’t even changed your contact photo. it was a picture of you at the beach. it was his favorite photo of you and his favorite memory.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you had arrived at the cafe, “cafe chaconne” in cursive written above the glass doors. jake was patiently waiting for you at the entrance, eyes lighting up and lips widening into a smile when he spotted you exiting your car and walking towards him.

“m’lady.” jake says while opening the door with a curtsy. you narrow your eyes at him and he straightens up and clears his throat. “sorry.” he mumbles and watches you enter, not seeing the smile on your face. jake releases a big sigh and prepares himself for this moment he didn’t realize he was waiting for.

the two of you quickly put in an order with the younger barista at the counter, jake fighting you on the bill and insisting to pay for your drink. a normal banter between the two of you when you were dating, a wave of deja vu hitting you as a short memory flashes in your mind.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“hi, can we get the bill please?” jake asks the waitress and she looks at jake with a confused expression. “sir your meal has been paid for already.” she kindly informs your boyfriend and now it’s jake’s turn to return the confused expression. when jake is too confused to speak, the waitress walks away after saying her goodbyes.

jake is still confused but his face changes when his eyes land on you. a shit-eating grin on your face as you smile at jake’s reaction. he soon realizes you’re the one who covered the bill and had beaten him to it.

“why do you always fight me on the bill?” jake says with a pout and you just shrug and stick you’re tongue out at him.

“you’re just my little princess.” you say and blow a kiss his way. jake at first rolls his eyes but pretends to catch the kiss and places it inside of his jacket.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“y/n? you alright?” jake says, knocking you out of your thoughts as you realize you’ve just been standing absentmindedly in the middle of the cafe. the two of you walk to a small table just big enough for the two of you and the silence is a bit awkward.

“you brought me here, so what do you want?” you say, your tone is a bit more sharp than you intended but you could tell jake wasn’t phased as it seemed like he was glad you broke the silence. “right!” jake says, almost jumping out of his seat at the sound of your voice. he clears his throat before speaking.

“sooo… how are you?” jake asks, testing the waters, unsure of how to start the conversation; trying to tiptoe around the touchy subject and tension between the two of you. “is that really what you wanted to ask me?” you respond and before jake can reply, the barista brings the two of you your drinks. you both thank her and as you take a sip of your hot chocolate, “i miss you y/n.” jake says, causing you to choke on your drink and jake’s eyes widen at your reaction.

“sorry, the drink is really hot.” you say trying to play it off so it didn’t hurt his feelings and jake gives you a small tight-lipped smile. he knows that his statement was abrupt and by your reaction it definitely caught you off guard but he took no offense to it all. deciding that just getting it out of the way would be the best even if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. those four words were something that had been eating at him since the last time he saw you and he had no way of telling you until now.

“um, jake. i don’t know what to say-” you respond but jake softly puts his hand over yours. letting you know that you didn’t have to feel the same way but that he just wanted to you know that. “it’s alright. just know that i’ve never stopped thinking about you.” jake says and you close your eyes. trying to hold yourself together, surprised that this was making you more emotional than you thought it would, unsure of what to say or feel.

“please, tell me about you. how’ve you been? i wanna know everything.” jake says and you slowly fill him in on your life. only the parts that you were willing to share, omitting all of the traumatic things that happened during your healing journey and focusing on the brighter side but jake brings up the accident and at first you were reluctant but figured that jake deserved to know the full truth.

“after the accident i was in a coma and after 8 months i somehow woke up. then my parents moved me to the states for better medical treatment. something about knowing a doctor there that specializes in physical therapy i don’t even know but i wasn’t necessarily in the position to question it.” you explain, jake nodding as he actively listened to you, a part of him wanting to hug and console you as you spoke after seeing tears well in your eyes. you had hoped that jake didn’t notice so you wiped them away and kept talking. you explained how after the accident, you were in a coma for about 8 months and miraculously lived through it.

“i was in the states until just a few months ago. i actually fully healed last year but didn’t decide to come back until recently.” you finish and jake is just nodding. at this point he was half listening and the other half was scanning your face. you were still as beautiful as jake remembered but he could tell some parts of you were different. you had a different aura to you and jake couldn’t blame you. what you went through was tragic and traumatic and he couldn’t imagine just how much pain and ache it caused you. he doesn’t realize a small tear is rolling down his cheek until you point it out.

“jake are you crying?” you ask and he snaps out of his thoughts. this time it was his turn to wipe the tears from his eyes and act like they weren’t there. “i’m really sorry you went through all of that, y/n.” jake says and you could tell he was being genuine. you mutter a small thank you before taking a sip of your drink. confusion brewing inside of you as you begin to feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. feelings that you only ever felt with jake.

“i had amnesia for a while. if i’m being honest i can’t even remember what it was like because the more i remembered old memories and made new ones, it filtered out me not remembering anything at all.” you explained, half unsure if what you said even makes sense but due to jake’s nod you assumed that it did. “i don’t even remember the night i got into the accident-” you begin to say.

“i’m really sorry!” jake says abruptly, interrupting you just as you were about to finish what you were saying. it was like he needed to get his apology out of his system despite having just apologized a few moments ago. like this apology was for something specific rather than a general condolscenes. “you don’t have to be sorry jake. it’s not your fault.” you say, comforting him because clearly he was feeling a strong bowt of emotion from hearing what happened to you.

“but you should feel sorry for never reaching out to me…” you say quietly but to jake it was loud and clear. “why did you come see me… at all?” you ask, this was a question that had been weighing on you for sometime. when your memories of jake came back, that was one of the first things you thought of, but ever since that day you had never received an answer. maybe now you would.

jake opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. like he was thinking of the correct thing to say but nothing leaves his lips besides another apology. jake drops his head, embarrassed at his weakness and for not telling you what you needed to hear. you were so tired of hearing sorries and apologies. none of that was going to bring you back together and no apology was going to fix the irrepairable damage that night did to you. but you couldn’t blame jake for that, you’d never blame jake for what happened that night.

you sigh as you stand up, jake’s eyes following you as you sling your bag over your shoulder and fix your coat. “thanks for the drink jake. i’ll see you around, i guess.” you say and before jake can even respond or react, you’re walking away from and out the door. “god, i’m so stupid.” jake says as he once again drops his head in embarrassment.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you weren’t sure where you were going but you soon found yourself walking along han river. the weather was fairly chilly but your coat provided enough warmth that allowed you to enjoy the air without feeling cold. you find an open spot on the grassy fields that ran alongside han river, the field was filled with families and couples on picnic blankets enjoying food and drinks and the company of their loved ones.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“i could totally fall asleep here.” you say as you lay down on the blanket that jake had laid out on the grass. the two of you were on a date at han river for your birthday, the weather was perfect for a picnic so he had planned the whole thing, all you needed to do was show up.

“yeah? you wanna take a nap? we totally can!” jake says, encouraging your idea but you laugh it off. wanting to enjoy the day that jake had planned for you as you watched him unpack a basket, laying out all of your favorite food and snacks onto the blanket.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re sat on the plush grass when your eyes start to feel heavy, slowly sliding down onto your back and carefully placing your head onto your arm as a makeshift pillow; drifting off to sleep in the middle of the field with the soothing sounds of han river like a lullaby. the cold night wind whips past your sleeping figure and the cold chill wakes you from your slumber. blinking your eyes a few times, your gaze lands on the stars that are shining in the dark sky and you soon realize that you had been sleeping in the middle of the park.

no other soul was present and although you were a bit fearful that you were alone in the dark at night, your fears were easily brushed away knowing that there wasn’t anyone that could harm you. you pull yourself off the ground and dust your clothes off before heading to your car and back home.

the drive back to your sister’s house wasn’t long but the sleepiness was holding onto you as you drove, fighting off the heaviness in your eyes by blinking rapidly and turning up the music from the radio. thankfully, you weren’t asleep for too long and still had enough time in the night to freshen up before bed, thankful that you didn’t ruin your sleep.

pulling into the driveway, you see an unfamiliar car parked in front of the garage, however, you know you’ve seen it somewhere but due to your sleepy nature it was a bit hard to wrap your brain around where you had seen the car before. you trudged towards the front door after parking your car and just as you’re pushing the door open, you hear your sister arguing with someone in the dining room. you instantly run over to see what all the commotion was and find your sister facing a man whose back is facing you.

he slowly turns around after hearing your footsteps and it turns out to be jake. that’s where you knew where the car is from, you saw his car at your niece’s school, you saw his car at the store, and at the cafe.

“what the fuck is going on?” you ask, irritation in your voice as you look at your sister and jake. why the hell was jake in your sister’s house and why were they arguing?

“tell her, joy…” jake says slowly, averting his gaze to your sister and onto the floor when your sister doesn’t immediately oblige. “yn, look…” she says, approaching and you can’t help but feel nervous as she steps closer to you. joy holds your hands in hers. “y/n… listen to me, ok?” she begins and you can’t help but grow more anxious the longer she stretches out what she’s going to say to you.

“when you got into the accident-” she continues but jake cuts her off. “it was my fault.” he abruptly says and your eyes slightly twitch at his confession. “what’s your fault..?” you ask, unsure if you want to know the answer to your question. “the accident… it happened because of me, ok?” jake confesses and you’re struggling to understand what he could even mean by that.

how could jake be responsible for your accident and you not know a single thing about it…

you force them to continue and to not leave out any details.

“the night of the accident, before you got into your car in the rain and crashed… we got into a fight. it all happened so fast but you stormed out of our apartment and drove off before i could even stop you…” jake recalls and your brain starts to swell as you’re gaining all this new information about the traumatic time in your life.

“jake ran to the hospital as fast he could when i called him-” joy begins to say but you interrupt her. “wait… you were the cause of my accident and you didn’t try to reach out… not once?” you ask jake, confusion turning into anger as more questions brew inside of your head. “you knew… this whole time? since it happened and up until now? you even tried to find your way back into my life and you knew this whole time and witheld this information from me?” you scoff, absolute shock in your voice at the audacity of jake and quite frankly also your sister.

“y/n, please. mom and dad didn’t let him see you. they refused… they didn’t want him anywhere near you after he explained to them what happened.” your sister further explains but it doesn’t fix anything.

jake let you leave that night and didn’t even fight to get you back. you left that night but he was the one who abandoned you.

“you’re both despicable!” you shout, cheeks burning red and veins purtruding on your forehead and neck. “i don’t care what mom and dad think, you, BOTH of you, should’ve never hid this from me…” you say with more anger and as you take a step closer, a wave of nausea washes over you; causing you to stumble.

your body suddenly feels heavy at your feet but your head is light. in a motion to grab your temble, your legs suddenly give out from underneath you and you start to fall; luckily, jake was fast enough to catch you.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“baby, they hate me! you know this, you can see the way they treat me!” jake says. the two of you were having your monthly argument about your parents and how they’ve never liked him. jake was a good guy, he was ambitious, smart, caring, and loving. everything you wanted and admired about him but your parents only saw the lack of digits in his bank account.

jake wasn’t well off but he took care of himself and his family back home. your parents never approved of your relationship and when he tried to get their blessing for your hand in marriage, they threw a fit. going as far as to ruin the surprise for you and tell you that you’re forbidden to wed jake and that they’d never approve of it.

which only caused you to question their thinking as you knew nothing about wedding, leading to jake’s proposal being spoiled but him not wanting to explain to you the full scope of the issue.

jake wanted your parents blessing for your hand in marriage but they wouldn’t allow it; jake however, had too much pride in himself to face you and ask you to make a decision. either spend the rest of your life with him or choose the path your parents want for you if it meant he would no longer be in the picture. or was he afraid..?

afraid that if he was to ask you this question, there wouldn’t be any doubt or second thought in your mind to leave him because your parents said so.

that’s where you were now, you were trying to get jake to talk to you about why he all of a sudden was so upset over an ordeal with your parents you barely even knew about, but he was too stubborn and would tiptoe around what he really wants to say… until it came out of his mouth in the worst way possible.

“fine! whatever, if you want to be your parent’s little robot for the rest of your life rather than to be happy, then go right ahead. be my guest!” jake says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration and betrayal even if you hadn’t even made any decision yet and had no clue where any of this was coming from. you were, however, hurt. hurt that jake would say something like this to you knowing your history with your parents.

“is that how you really feel?” you ask, your voice low as you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to fight off tears. jake doesn’t respond, not because he has nothing to say, but because he’s afraid that he’ll say the wrong thing.

but you take his silence as a yes. resulting in you storming out of your apartment with jake and to your car, waiting to cry until you get inside the car and drive off. you weren’t sure where you were going but the tears obstructing your vision wasn’t helping the fact that it was suddenly raining an intense amount compared to just moments ago.

you didn’t even have enough time to react before a bright light quickly approaches your vision paired with rapid honking and your memory goes black.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

as you make impact with the car in your dream, you’re jolted awake with a gasp. you’re laying on the couch while joy and jake are intently watching you from across the couch. they both jump to your side when you wake up, asking if you’re okay, and although you’re still quite upst at them, you choose to accept their acts of care and comfort because you know they truly do care for you.

“i’m fine… i just had a really intense dream.” you say as you continue to explain what happened. as you unravel the emotional events of your dream, jake explains to you that it wasn’t a dream and that was what happened the night you got into an accident. swallowing the dryness in your throat, you ask jake if he can give you and your sister a moment.

he slowly glances between the two of you before heading off somewhere, “you can wait in my room, jake.” you say and you watch him head down the stairs to where your bedroom is in the basement.

“what… is happening..?” you ask and she looks at you like you’re a wounded bird. your sister sighs before she unloads everything onto you, explaining the events of your accident up until your recovery, filling in the missing pieces of your mind.

she explains that your parents never liked jake and with him being the cause of the accident, your parents double downed and refused to let him see you. using that as a reason to fuel their hatred for jake, the accident acting as a mask to hide their real reason for their distaste of jake; because he didn’t come from a rich family like you.

the news weighed heavy on your heart, not knowing the sorrow that jake was going through while you were also going through something traumatic. you wished jake was there by your side because it would’ve made everything so much easier. having jake by your side always made things easier for you…

you quickly thanked your sister and gave her a hug before going to find jake in your room. walking down the short stairs felt like eternity as you think about everything that happened. you held so much hatred for jake because he wasn’t there for you but it wasn’t even his fault. you find jake standing by your bed, holding a photo in his hands, “hi, jake.” you say, slightly startling him.

“y/n!! sorry, i didn’t mean to snoop.” he says before setting down the photo where it originally was. it was a photo of you on your birthday, a photo that jake took.”its okay… um.” you begin to say, unsure of what you even want to say to him. “wait… let me go first.” jake says and he takes your silence as a yes before continuing.

“i know that you probably hate me for keeping this from you, but please don’t hate your sister. she was only doing what your parents asked. it was my fault you ran out and drove in the rain that night. i’m sorry for causing you so much hurt and pain and im so sorry for not taking responsibility for it. i wish i could go back to that night and stop you from leaving. i really fucking wish i tried harder…” jake says, biting back tears.

walking over to jake and gently taking his hands in yours while placing another on his cheek; you wipe away a single tear that had broke loose from his lashes. “it’s not your fault jake. please don’t blame yourself…” you say but he disagrees. explaining that none of this would’ve happened if he just chose not to fight or if he stopped you from leaving. “jake, there was no way any of us could’ve known that i would get into an accident that night…” you continue. “the only thing i care about is that i’m alive… and got to see you again.” jake’s eyes met yours when he heard your confession. a sliver of hope brewing inside of him as he believes this could lead to what he’s been wanting to go back to for years.

“but jake… why did you let my parents stop you? couldn’t you have visited when they were there? or tried to see me?” you ask and jakes eyes melt at your question. “y/n, i did. i wrote you a letter everyday and whenever i tried to visit you, security that your parents hired stopped me…” he explains and your heart breaks even more at the idea that your parents hated him so much they wouldn’t even let you see him, going as far as to hire a security guard to stop jake.

you endlessly apologize to jake, tears now running down your eyes as you wrap your arms around him, crying into his chest as he softly rubs your back. “don’t apologize, my love.” he says and your heart instantly flutters at the petname. “can we start over?” you ask, looking up at him and a smile spreads across his face. it’s kind of like you already had a do over a life anyways after waking up from your coma so what’s the difference with starting over with jake. “of course, my love.” he says and you hug one another tightly; not wanting to let go.

jake eventually goes home even though you begged him to say. the only reason you let him leave was because he said he promised to watch a movie with his nephew but he promised to come back tomorrow to take you on your “second first date”. you smiled at his words as you walk him to his car. “thank you for giving me another chance.” jake says. you lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “thank you for not giving up on me.” you say before turning on your heel and walking back inside, not seeing jake’s cheeks turn a bright red from your small kiss.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face as you prepared for your date with jake. after getting ready and putting on a dress in jake’s favorite color, you head upstairs to find your sister in the living room with a box. she’s rummaging inside of it and when she notices your presence, her eyes light up.

“y/n!” she says, waving you over to come closer. “these are all the letters that jake wrote you when you were in the coma.” she says and your mouth falls slightly open, “i would steal them before mom or dad found it and kept them. i forgot about them until last night.” she says andyou just give her a tight hug. in this box were hundreds of letters and jakes days without you. as you began to read them, you found yourself laughing and crying. some letters were emotional with jake writing about the pain of being away from you and not being able to apologize or even get to apologize.

other letters were short and lighthearted where jake would just write about his day and what he ate. often it would just be ramen, his favorite.

you were crying as you read each letter and before you knew it, jake was texting you to say that he was outside; ready to pick you up for your date.

as you walked outside, trying to hide that you were previously crying, jake gives you a small kiss on the cheek, “hey… have you been crying?” he asks and you reassure him that you’re okay. “okay, love. ready for our second first date?” he asks and you nod eagerly, a smile on your face that he hasn’t seen in years and a smile that you haven’t genuinely shown in just as long, maybe even longer. you didn’t know that you could ever feel so happy or feel loved again like before the accident, but getting back together with jake helped you put together your memories again, it was like everything came together like a scrapbook. torn and ripped pages, dried out flowers, and memories that apart don’t mean a lot but when put together, everything makes sense… and with jake by your side; you were finally together again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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amethystarachnid · 3 days ago

Note

Hey rose! I hope you're doing alright! I absolutely adore your Tony stark fics!! I hope you'd write one for Steve Rogers or loki. Can you write something with any one of them where their partner (reader) is very emotional, like cries at tv shows and books, can never NOT tear up when any of them say anything romantic or meaningful. And as much as they don't want their partner to cry, they feel really appreciated. Just loads of fluff! Thank you!<3🩵

P.s. ofc feel free to change or add anything you fell like. Appreciate it!

HAPPY TEARS

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You have always been the sensitive type, crying over movies and every sweet thing Steve did for you, and that's one of the reasons he loves you so much but, at the same it, it gets him worried for your possible reaction to the question that has been in his mind for sometime now.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8K

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing just pure fluff and just like a few words about a passionate night

ᯓ★ As always, since reader's gender isn't specified in the ask I'll write it as fem!reader because I'm a girl and it's what I'm more used to write, but if you want it to be with another gender are sure to specify it in your ask and I'll write it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, warm and inviting. It greets you before you even open your eyes, a little luxury of the life you’ve built together. Your sleepy mind pieces together the familiar sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen—the soft clink of the coffee pot returning to its base, the gentle scrape of a plate across the counter.

He’s making breakfast.

The thought alone tugs at your heart. After seven years together, Steve Rogers still finds a way to make every morning feel special, no matter how ordinary. You pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his hums blend with the noise of the city beyond the window. It’s moments like these, the quiet ones, that remind you just how deeply you’re loved.

By the time you shuffle into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, he’s plating up pancakes. He’s not wearing a shirt, just his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and his blond hair is damp and tousled like he’s already gone for a run. It’s infuriating how good he looks, even at this hour.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, flashing you that boyish smile, the one that makes your stomach flip even now.

You give him a sleepy grin in return, padding toward him on bare feet. His hand automatically finds the small of your back as you lean into him, your cheek pressing against his chest. For a moment, there’s no one else in the world but the two of you.

“You didn’t have to get up so early,” you mumble against his skin, your voice still thick with sleep.

“You were out like a light,” he says, his hand running gently up and down your spine. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little.” His voice is low, affectionate, and entirely too effective at making your heart melt.

When you pull back, he tips your chin up with one finger, his blue eyes scanning your face like it’s the first time he’s seen you. “Coffee?” he asks, already stepping away to grab your favorite mug from the counter.

You watch him pour the coffee, a soft smile playing on your lips. He’s careful, deliberate, like he’s handling something precious. And you suppose, in his eyes, he is.

As he hands you the mug, his fingers brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. The gesture is small but thoughtful, the way so many of his gestures are. Seven years, and he still makes you feel like you’re worth all the time and effort in the world.

The first sip of coffee is heavenly, and you sigh contentedly as you sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Steve sits across from you, his long legs stretching out under the table, and slides a plate of pancakes in your direction. “Banana chocolate chip,” he says. “Thought you might want something sweet today.”

Your eyes go wide. “You made these just for me?”

His laugh is soft and teasing. “Who else would I make them for?”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and before you can stop it, tears start to blur your vision.

Steve freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “Hey,” he says gently, already moving his chair closer to yours. “What’s wrong?” His hand lands lightly on your knee, his thumb stroking small circles there.

You shake your head, letting out a watery laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You glance down at the pancakes, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. “You made me pancakes.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, clearly not understanding why that’s enough to turn you into a mess. “And?”

“And you made them the way I like them,” you sniff, wiping at your eyes. “With the chocolate chips on top, not mixed in, because you know I like the crunch.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you look up at him, feeling ridiculous for crying over pancakes. “You’re too good to me.”

His expression softens instantly, a mix of affection and bemusement. He moves his chair even closer, until his knees bump yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs catching the stray tears. “It’s just pancakes.”

“No, it’s not,” you insist, your voice a little shaky. “It’s… it’s that you always think of these little things. You always go out of your way to make me happy.” You gesture toward the plate, then to him. “Even after all this time, you still do stuff like this.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, leaning in to press his lips softly against your forehead. “I hope you know I don’t do any of this because I feel like I have to,” he murmurs. “I do it because I want to. Because seeing you happy is worth it. Every single time.”

His words are a balm, soothing the tight ache in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, congratulations,” you say, trying for levity. “You made me cry before breakfast again.”

“Again?” he echoes, chuckling softly. “I’m starting to think it’s my superpower.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, even as you swipe at your damp cheeks. “You’d give Tony a run for his money.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve says with a wink, sliding the plate closer to you. “Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing warmth in his tone makes you reach for your fork. The first bite is everything you expected—soft, sweet, and rich with the perfect balance of flavors. You moan appreciatively, and Steve grins at the sound, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Good?” he asks, resting his chin on one hand as he watches you.

“Good,” you say around a mouthful of pancake, the tension in your chest easing with every bite.

For a while, the two of you eat in companionable silence, the kind that only comes from years of knowing and loving each other. Steve tells you about his run—how Sam gave him grief for being late to their meeting spot, how the park was unusually crowded this morning—and you listen with a soft smile, chiming in occasionally with little jokes or questions.

But even as the conversation flows, you can see the way Steve keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s still trying to puzzle you out. He’s always been like this, endlessly patient, endlessly curious about the way your mind works.

Finally, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair, studying you. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are.”

You pause mid-bite, your fork hovering just shy of your lips. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all,” he says quickly, his expression earnest. “I mean it in the best way. You feel everything so deeply, and… I don’t know. It amazes me, I guess. How you can look at something as simple as pancakes and see all the love behind it.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you glance down at your plate. “I don’t mean to make a big deal out of things,” you mumble. “I just… I can’t help it. When you do something sweet, it gets to me.”

He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want you to help it,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love that about you. I love that you cry over movies and surprise gifts and little things like pancakes. It reminds me to slow down and appreciate those things too.”

You blink at him, your throat tightening all over again. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, if you feel like crying over pancakes or anything else, go ahead. I’ll be here to catch the tears.”

It’s too much—his words, his presence, the unshakable love in his eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re crying again, this time out of sheer gratitude. Steve just laughs softly and moves to your side, pulling you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “More than anything.”

Friday nights at the Tower are sacred—a time to unwind, laugh, and for Tony Stark to force his eclectic taste in movies on the rest of the Avengers. Tonight, the team has assembled in the massive home theater, complete with a state-of-the-art sound system, plush recliners, and enough snacks to sustain a small army.

You’re curled up next to Steve on one of the oversized couches, your legs tucked beneath you and your head leaning on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around you, and he’s absently playing with the ends of your hair as Tony prowls the front of the room, remote in hand, his enthusiasm palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announces, dramatically pointing the remote like it’s a scepter, “tonight’s feature presentation is the cinematic masterpiece, Titanic.”

Groans ripple through the group.

“Tony, again?” Natasha asks, leaning back in her seat with a smirk. “You have a billion-dollar movie collection, and you keep picking this one.”

“It’s called having taste, Romanoff,” Tony retorts, tossing her a packet of Red Vines. “Some of us recognize greatness when we see it. This movie has it all: romance, drama, social commentary, and the single greatest piece of floating debris in cinematic history.”

“It’s a door,” Clint says flatly.

“It’s art,” Tony snaps back, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been wounded.

Steve chuckles under his breath, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You okay with this one?” he asks, his voice low and warm. “We can always sneak out and watch something else.”

You shake your head, giving him a small, teary smile. “No, it’s fine. I just… I’m probably going to cry.”

“I know,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay.”

The others are still bickering as the lights dim and the iconic opening notes of James Horner’s score fill the room. You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself. You’ve seen Titanic before—enough times to know that you’re in for an emotional ride—but somehow, the anticipation makes it worse.

It doesn’t take long. By the time Rose boards the ship and gazes out at the ocean, your eyes are already brimming with tears. The sheer scale of the doomed ship, the haunting foreshadowing—it all hits you at once.

“Uh, are you okay?” Bruce whispers from the seat next to you, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” you manage, your voice thick. “I just… I know what’s going to happen.”

Steve, unfazed, reaches into the bowl of popcorn and pops a kernel into his mouth. “This is normal,” he explains casually to Bruce, his tone as calm as if he were describing the weather. “She gets emotional during movies. It’s just how she is.”

Bruce nods slowly, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to understand. “But… it’s barely started.”

“She’s a big feeler,” Steve says with a shrug, pulling you a little closer as your sniffles grow louder.

“Is someone crying already?” Tony hisses from the front row, twisting around to squint into the dim light. When his eyes land on you, he raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t even hit the iceberg. You know that, right?”

“She knows,” Steve replies evenly, not even looking up from the screen. He grabs a tissue from the box he always keeps nearby during movie nights—specifically for you—and hands it to you without missing a beat.

Tony’s jaw drops. “You brought tissues specifically for this?”

“Of course,” Steve says, as though it’s obvious. “It happens every time.”

The group exchanges looks, equal parts bewildered and amused, but Steve just leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “Just let it out.”

“Wow,” Clint says, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a braver man than I am, Rogers.”

The movie marches on, each scene tugging at your heartstrings with surgical precision. Jack and Rose meet. They fall in love. They dance in third class and spit off the back of the ship. By the time they’re standing on the prow, their arms spread wide as the wind rushes around them, you’re openly sobbing into Steve’s chest.

“Am I supposed to do something?” Bruce whispers, looking helplessly at Steve.

“Nope,” Steve replies, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just let her cry. She’ll feel better afterward.”

“I’m not sure that’s how crying works,” Bruce mutters, but he stays quiet, occasionally passing you another tissue.

Tony, meanwhile, is watching you with thinly veiled amusement. “I’ve gotta ask,” he says during a quieter moment, “do you cry at every movie, or is this one just special?”

“Not every movie,” Steve says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But most of them. Especially the ones with tragic endings.”

“That’s an understatement,” Natasha says dryly. “Remember Finding Nemo?”

Clint snorts. “Oh, that was legendary. We weren’t even five minutes in, and she was already bawling over the mom dying.”

Tony looks scandalized. “Finding Nemo? That’s a kids’ movie!”

“And yet…” Clint gestures toward you, now hiccupping softly as Jack and Rose sneak into the cargo hold for their iconic steamy scene.

“She just feels things deeply,” Steve says, his voice laced with affection. “It’s one of the things I love about her.”

Tony groans dramatically, throwing a handful of popcorn in Steve’s direction. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, Rogers. Stop being so disgustingly wholesome.”

“Not my fault you guys don’t bring tissues for your girlfriends,” Steve shoots back, his smirk widening.

By the time the ship hits the iceberg, the mood in the room has shifted. Even Tony has gone quiet, though he’s clearly trying to maintain his composure. You, on the other hand, are a wreck. The sight of the passengers scrambling for lifeboats, the haunting wails of the violinists playing “Nearer My God to Thee”—it’s too much.

Your sobs reach a crescendo as Jack and Rose cling to each other in the freezing water, their breaths ragged and visible in the frigid air. Steve adjusts his hold on you, tucking your head under his chin and murmuring soft reassurances.

“I’ll never let go, Jack!” Rose cries, her voice breaking.

You lose it completely, clutching at Steve’s shirt as though your own heart is breaking. Steve strokes your hair, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Tony, meanwhile, is blinking rapidly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What?” he says defensively when Clint raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s allergies. Big-screen projectors always make my eyes water.”

Natasha snickers. “Sure they do.”

As the credits roll, you’re still hiccupping softly, your face buried in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hand moving in a soothing rhythm along your back.

“Okay, that was… intense,” Bruce says, looking around the room like he’s not sure what just happened.

“I’m pretty sure I lost three pounds in tears,” Clint adds, tossing an empty box of tissues onto the table. “Do we have a hydration station somewhere?”

Tony sniffs loudly and stands, stretching his arms overhead. “Well, folks, that’s how you do cinema. Epic. Heartbreaking. Unforgettable.”

“Admit it, you cried,” Natasha says, smirking at him.

“I did no such thing,” Tony replies, looking deeply offended. “Unlike some people…” He gestures dramatically toward you, still snuggled against Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says with a shrug, his tone as casual as ever. “She’s passionate. It’s one of the reasons I love her.”

“You’re an actual saint,” Clint mutters, shaking his head.

You finally lift your head, your cheeks streaked with tears but your eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks for letting me cry all over you,” you say softly to Steve, your voice still wobbly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his smile warm and unwavering. “You know I’ve got you.”

Tony groans loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “And this,” he says, gesturing wildly at the two of you, “is why I’m never inviting you to movie night again. You two are too cute, and it’s ruining the vibe.”

“Tony, you’re just mad because you cried,” Natasha quips.

“I did not cry!” Tony protests, his voice rising an octave.

Bruce chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, Steve leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You okay now?” he asks, his voice just for you.

You nod, your heart swelling with love for the man who always makes space for your emotions, no matter how messy they are. “I am,” you whisper. “Thanks to you.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Because we’re definitely sneaking out before Tony picks another three-hour tearjerker.”

You laugh through the last of your sniffles, feeling safe and loved in his arms. As far as you’re concerned, there’s no better way to end a movie night.

After the emotional rollercoaster of Titanic, the Avengers agree on one thing: no more movies that could make you cry. Steve, ever the supportive boyfriend, gently suggests a comedy for the next round, earning nods from everyone in the room. Even Tony, slightly miffed from being accused (rightfully) of shedding a tear during Rose’s tearful farewell to Jack, throws in his agreement.

“Alright, team,” Tony announces, striding to the movie library with a flourish. “Since apparently, I’ve been overly ambitious in my cinematic choices, I’ll keep it light. Comedy. Laughs. Penguins falling over or something. Nobody cries at penguins, right?”

“Right,” you say with an encouraging smile, though your earlier sob session has left your voice hoarse.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder, his lips brushing your temple. “You sure you’re up for another movie?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’m good. Something funny sounds perfect.”

The new movie is a slapstick comedy involving ridiculous pratfalls, a few over-the-top explosions (Tony’s insistence), and a hilarious subplot about a cat that keeps stealing its owner’s Wi-Fi password. It’s everything you need to decompress from the earlier emotional onslaught, and soon the room is filled with the sound of laughter.

Even Steve, who isn’t always in sync with modern humor, is chuckling at the absurd antics on screen. You’re curled up next to him, giggling into his shoulder as a character accidentally sets his kitchen on fire trying to make toast. Across the room, Tony and Clint are reenacting a particularly ridiculous dance scene, complete with exaggerated hip thrusts.

“See?” Tony says triumphantly, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. “This is how you do a movie night. Fun! Light! No tears.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. “Give it time, Stark. We’re not done yet.”

Hours later, after the comedy has ended and a few rounds of drinks have been poured, Tony somehow stumbles upon a nature documentary titled The Journey of Life. The cover features an adorable penguin waddling across a snowy landscape, and Tony declares it “perfect background noise.”

“This,” he slurs slightly, pointing at the screen, “is what we need. Penguins. Cute, waddling, ice-sliding penguins. No emotions. Just vibes.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Bruce asks cautiously, but Tony is already pressing play, plopping down on the couch with a fresh drink in hand.

Steve looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question. “You okay with this?”

“It’s just penguins,” you reply with a shrug, snuggling into his side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

At first, it’s exactly what Tony promised. The documentary opens with breathtaking shots of snowy mountains and vast, icy plains. The narrator’s soothing British accent describes the challenges of survival in the harsh Antarctic environment as a colony of emperor penguins waddles across the frozen landscape.

“Oh my god, look at them!” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re ridiculous,” Tony says with a chuckle. “Like tiny, overdressed toddlers. I love them.”

Everyone relaxes, lulled by the majestic scenery and the gentle cadence of the narrator’s voice. Even Steve seems to be enjoying himself, his hand absentmindedly stroking your back as you watch the penguins slide on their bellies and huddle together for warmth.

It starts with a single penguin chick—fluffy, wide-eyed, and impossibly adorable. It stumbles away from the group, its tiny feet slipping on the ice as it struggles to keep up with its parents. The narrator explains, in heartbreakingly calm tones, that not every chick survives the journey to the feeding grounds.

“No,” you whisper, your hand flying to your mouth as the camera zooms in on the chick’s desperate waddling. “No, no, no. Someone help him!”

“It’s nature,” Clint says uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “It happens.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to watch it!” Tony snaps, his earlier bravado evaporating. His face is red, and he’s gripping his whiskey glass a little too tightly.

Steve sighs, pulling you closer as your sniffles begin. “It’s just a documentary, sweetheart. It’s the circle of life.”

“Circle of life my ass,” Tony grumbles, his voice thick. “That chick deserves better.”

As the chick stumbles farther away, your tears begin in earnest. “He’s lost! He’s so little! Steve, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

Steve pats your back, his voice soft but resigned. “Probably not, sweetheart.”

“Why are we watching this?” Tony demands, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce. “You should’ve stopped me! You’re the smart one!”

“I didn’t know it was going to get sad!” Bruce protests, throwing up his hands. “It’s a documentary about penguins!”

By the time the chick’s fate is sealed (you can’t even bring yourself to look as the narrator solemnly declares that it’s “a tragic but essential part of the ecosystem”), you and Tony are both a mess. You’re clutching Steve’s shirt, sobbing into his chest, while Tony sniffles loudly into his empty glass.

“It’s not fair,” you cry, your voice muffled. “He was just a baby!”

“I know,” Tony says, his voice cracking. “He didn’t even get a chance! He deserved a chance!” He gestures wildly at the screen. “Why didn’t they save him? Someone could’ve—”

“It’s a documentary,” Natasha interrupts dryly, though even she looks mildly uncomfortable. “No one’s interfering.”

“That’s barbaric,” Tony declares, wiping at his eyes. “I’m calling PETA.”

Steve kisses the top of your head, his hand running soothingly along your back. “You want to stop watching?” he offers quietly.

“No,” you hiccup, though you’re clearly still devastated. “I need to see if the others are okay.”

The documentary continues, alternating between moments of lighthearted penguin antics and devastating tragedies. Each time something sad happens, you and Tony are reduced to tears, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.

By the end of the film, when the surviving penguins finally reach their feeding grounds and triumphantly slide into the water, you and Tony are clinging to each other like war survivors.

“That was horrific,” Tony declares, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. “Whoever made that documentary is a monster. I need a drink.”

“You’ve had several drinks,” Natasha points out, rolling her eyes.

“Not enough to erase that from my memory,” Tony replies dramatically. He glances at you, his expression softening slightly. “You okay, cry queen?”

You manage a shaky smile. “I think so. That was just… a lot.”

Steve, ever your rock, kisses your temple and pulls you close. “I don’t think we’ll be watching documentaries again anytime soon,” he murmurs.

“Seconded,” Tony says, raising his glass. “To no more emotional devastation disguised as education. Who’s with me?”

“Agreed,” Clint says, shaking his head. “No more penguins. Ever.”

As the team dissolves into laughter and lighthearted teasing, you snuggle deeper into Steve’s arms, feeling safe despite the emotional rollercoaster. No matter how many tears you shed — or how often Tony joins you — you know you’ll always have the world’s most patient boyfriend by your side.

The tower is unusually quiet after the emotional whirlwind of the movie night. The penguins have long since waddled off the screen, the room cleaned up from the chaos of snack wrappers and spilled drinks. You’re asleep now, curled up on the couch with your head resting in Steve’s lap, the faint remnants of tears drying on your cheeks.

The others linger, nursing drinks or settling into the comfortable post-movie quiet. Steve’s hand moves gently over your hair, his touch instinctive and protective as he listens to the idle conversation around him.

“Poor thing,” Natasha says softly, nodding toward you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cry so much over a documentary.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint retorts, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He went through an entire roll of tissues.”

Tony, leaning back in his chair with his drink in hand, glares. “It’s called empathy, Barton. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Empathy,” Natasha repeats dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe whiskey?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Tony mutters, waving her off. His gaze flicks toward you, then back to Steve. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Rogers. How do you do it?”

Steve chuckles softly, looking down at you with a fondness so deep it’s almost tangible. “I love her,” he says simply, his voice quiet but steady. “She feels everything so deeply, and yeah, that means a lot of tears, but it’s also what makes her so special. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Aww,” Clint says, his tone mocking but not unkind. “Cap’s going all gooey on us.”

Steve shakes his head with a smile, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression, something weighing on him. He glances at the team, then back at you, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he clears his throat.

“There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about,” he begins, his voice low. “I want to ask her to marry me.”

The room goes still. Natasha blinks, her eyebrows lifting slightly. Bruce, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, looks up with a small, surprised smile. Tony leans forward, suddenly all ears.

“Well, that’s not shocking,” Clint says, breaking the silence. “You’ve been together, what, seven years? We were wondering when you were going to pop the question.”

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve known for a long time that she’s the one. But…” He hesitates, his eyes dropping to your sleeping form. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Bruce asks gently.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his brow furrowing. “Her reaction. She’s so sensitive, and she gets overwhelmed easily. What if I ask and she has a panic attack? Or starts crying so much she can’t even answer me? I just… I don’t want to put her through that.”

Tony snorts. “You’re worried she’s going to cry? Newsflash, Rogers: she cries when you bring her coffee in bed. This is a proposal, man. Of course she’s going to cry.”

“Tony,” Natasha says, shooting him a warning look. “He’s being serious.”

“I am serious,” Tony retorts. “Look, she’s emotional, yeah, but she’s not fragile. She loves you, Rogers. That’s the whole point. She’s not going to freak out because you ask her to marry her—well, not in a bad way, at least.”

Steve looks unconvinced. “I know she loves me,” he says quietly. “But I also know how overwhelming things can be for her. I don’t want to put her in a position where she feels pressured or out of control.”

Natasha tilts her head, studying him with that sharp, analytical gaze of hers. “So don’t make it overwhelming,” she says simply. “You don’t have to plan some elaborate proposal. Just talk to her. Make it quiet, intimate. Something that feels safe.”

“Yeah,” Bruce adds, his tone thoughtful. “She’s not the kind of person who needs a big show, is she? She’d probably appreciate something small, just the two of you.”

Steve nods slowly, his mind working through their words. “You’re right. She doesn’t like big gestures. She always says the little things matter more to her.”

“Exactly,” Natasha says. “So make it one of those little things. Something simple but meaningful.”

Tony, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the past minute, suddenly speaks up. “And if she does cry,” he says, his voice unusually soft, “it’s not because she’s scared or upset. It’s because she loves you so much she doesn’t know how else to show it.”

The room falls silent at that, the weight of Tony’s words settling over them. Steve looks around at his teammates—his family—and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Natasha replies, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

The apartment is quiet, the kind of warm, serene quiet that feels like a cocoon against the bustling world outside. It’s just the two of you tonight, the city’s hum dimmed by the thick curtains and the steady rhythm of the life you’ve built together. Dinner was simple but perfect—Steve made your favorite meal, and you couldn’t stop laughing when he got flour on his nose halfway through baking the dessert. Now, the dishes are done, the candles still flicker softly on the dining table, and the scent of warm vanilla lingers in the air.

Steve’s been acting a little off all evening. Not in a bad way, but in that telltale way that you’ve come to recognize over the years. He’s quieter than usual, thoughtful, his blue eyes darting to you and away as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle in his head. You’ve asked him twice if everything’s okay, and both times he’s smiled at you and said, “Of course,” before steering the conversation somewhere else.

You’re curled up on the couch now, a blanket draped over your lap as you sip the last of your wine. Steve sits beside you, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, soft and reverent, like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Steve,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” he replies, though he doesn’t look away. His lips curve into that small, lopsided grin you adore, and your heart does its familiar flip-flop in your chest.

“Yes, you are,” you tease, nudging his leg with your foot. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing the shape of you. Then he leans back slightly, his hand slipping into his pocket.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he says, his voice calm but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flutter.

Your brows knit together as you sit up straighter. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” he says softly, and there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes now, a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He shifts, moving from the couch to kneel in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees.

Your heart skips. “Steve—”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Steve says gently, his voice steady despite the faint blush creeping up his neck. “And I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try—really, you do—but the tears are already spilling over, and a choked laugh escapes you as you press your fingers to your lips. Steve smiles, his thumb brushing over your knee.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection. He opens the box, revealing a stunningly simple yet beautiful ring—a delicate gold band with a single, glittering diamond. It’s understated and timeless, just like him, and it’s so perfect you can barely breathe.

“Y/N,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for seven years. From the first moment we met, I knew there was something about you, something I couldn’t let go of. You’ve taught me what it means to live in the present, to love with my whole heart, and to find joy in the little things.”

Your tears are flowing freely now, and you’re shaking your head as though you can’t believe what’s happening. Steve chuckles softly, his own eyes glistening.

“You’ve stood by me through everything,” he continues. “Through battles, through doubts, through all the times I’ve struggled to figure out where I fit in this world. You’ve always been my home, my safe place. And I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side.”

He pauses, his voice catching slightly, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I know how deeply you feel things, and I know this might be overwhelming for you. But I promise, sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything right away. I just need you to know how much I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “So, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling just the tiniest bit. “Will you marry me?”

The question lands like a thunderclap in your chest. You’re crying so hard now that you can barely see him through the blur of your tears. You try to speak, to form words, but they come out in a jumble of half-sobs and gasps.

“Steve—oh my god—I—” You press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions coursing through you. “I—I don’t—”

Steve waits patiently, his hands still steady on your knees, his expression soft and understanding. “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

“I love you,” you finally manage to choke out, your voice trembling. “So much. You don’t even know—I just—”

Steve smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I think I have an idea,” he says softly.

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head as you try to pull yourself together. “Yes,” you finally gasp, your voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Steve. Of course, yes.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and his smile widens into something radiant as he slips the ring from the box and gently slides it onto your finger. It fits perfectly, and you stare at it through your tears, your heart bursting with so much love you think you might actually explode.

“I love you,” Steve says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, your face buried in his shoulder as you sob into his shirt. He holds you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your waist.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his neck, your voice muffled and shaky. “So much. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Always.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your tears still streaming but your smile brighter than the stars. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”

Steve shakes his head, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” he says simply. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to give it to you.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathless sound, and Steve leans in to kiss you, his lips gentle but full of promise. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the kind of love that feels eternal.

When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, your hands cupping his face as you whisper, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s smile is soft, his eyes shining with unspoken emotion. “Me neither,” he says quietly. “Me neither.”

The morning sun streams through the windows, bathing the room in a golden light that feels impossibly warm and perfect. You stir under the rumpled sheets, the fabric soft against your bare skin, and the memories of the night before come rushing back. It had started tender, Steve’s hands moving over you with a reverence that left you breathless. But the sweetness had given way to something deeper, more passionate—an expression of love so consuming that it had left you both utterly undone.

Beside you, Steve shifts, his arm tightening around your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning, my beautiful bride-to-be,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep and full of affection.

Your heart clenches immediately, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes. You press your hands to your face, a choked laugh escaping as you try—and fail—to keep it together.

“Oh no,” Steve says with a chuckle, propping himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t even say anything that emotional this time.”

“You called me your bride-to-be,” you manage to say through your tears, your voice trembling with joy. “How am I supposed to handle that, Steve?”

He laughs softly, his hand brushing over your hair as he pulls you closer. “Sweetheart, if this is how you’re going to react every time I call you that, I’m in trouble. Because I plan on saying it a lot.”

You let out a watery laugh, burying your face in his chest. His skin is warm and familiar, and his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek feels like home. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I don’t mean to cry so much. I’m just… so happy.”

“I know,” he says gently, his fingers trailing soothingly down your back. “And I love you for it.”

After a while, your tears subside, and you lift your head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are soft and full of love, and the way he’s looking at you makes your breath catch. “Good morning,” you say softly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “My handsome fiancé.”

His grin widens at your words, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet. “I like the sound of that,” he says against your lips. “Fiancé. And soon, husband.”

You feel your cheeks heat, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I can’t believe this is real,” you say quietly, tracing a finger along his jaw. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be a dream.”

“It’s real,” Steve assures you, his tone steady and full of certainty. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet, glowing warmth that feels too perfect to be real. But it is real, and as you lie there in his arms, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

Eventually, Steve glances at the clock and sighs. “We should probably get up,” he says reluctantly. “The others are going to want to know.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Do we have to tell them today? Can’t we just stay here a little longer?”

Steve laughs, pulling the blanket off of you just enough to expose your shoulder. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, they’re going to find out eventually. Might as well tell them now before Tony starts making bets.”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help smiling as you roll over to look at him. “Fine,” you say, your tone mock-annoyed. “But if I start crying again, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” he promises, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

An hour later, you’re dressed and ready, though your face is still a little puffy from all the happy tears. Steve holds your hand as you step into the elevator, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin. You feel nervous for some reason, though you know the team will be thrilled. It’s just that sharing something so personal, so precious, feels a little daunting.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, squeezing your hand. “It’s going to be fine. They love you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors slide open to reveal the common room. The Avengers are scattered around the space, Tony sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, Natasha and Clint engaged in what looks like a very serious game of chess, and Bruce flipping through a book at the kitchen counter. Thor is munching on a Pop-Tart, his expression as cheerful as ever, while Sam lounges in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone.

Tony is the first to notice you. “Well, well,” he says, setting his coffee down and smirking. “If it isn’t our golden couple. What’s with the glowing faces? Did Rogers finally tell you about his collection of antique baseball cards?”

“Tony,” Natasha says without looking up from the chessboard, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Let them talk.”

Steve clears his throat, his hand still firmly holding yours. “Actually,” he begins, glancing at you with a small, encouraging smile. “We have some news.”

At that, everyone looks up, their interest piqued. Clint leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

You feel your cheeks heat under their collective gaze, but Steve’s presence beside you keeps you grounded. “We’re engaged,” you blurt out, unable to keep the words in any longer. “Steve proposed last night.”

The room erupts. Natasha and Bruce smile warmly, their congratulations genuine and heartfelt. Thor lets out a booming laugh and claps Steve on the back so hard he nearly stumbles. Sam grins, shaking his head as he mutters, “About time.” Clint whistles, looking impressed, while Tony raises his coffee mug in a mock toast.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony says, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Congrats, lovebirds. I guess this means I need to start planning the bachelor party.”

Steve groans, and you laugh despite yourself, leaning into his side as the team continues to shower you with affection and teasing remarks. It’s chaotic and overwhelming, but it’s also full of love, and as you look around the room, you realize just how lucky you are to have this family.

Later, when things have settled down, Steve pulls you aside, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “See?” he says softly, his blue eyes twinkling. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You smile up at him, your heart full to bursting. “No,” you admit. “It wasn’t bad at all.”

He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. “I love you, future Mrs. Rogers,” he murmurs, and once again, you find yourself wiping away happy tears.

The day has arrived. Months of planning, fittings, tastings, and a thousand little decisions have all led to this moment, and yet, standing in the bridal suite of the church, you feel like you might burst into tears before you even set foot down the aisle.

You’re wearing the dress you spent weeks obsessing over. It fits like a dream, a shimmering vision of white and lace that flows around you like a fairytale. Natasha, your bridesmaid—and perhaps the most patient person you’ve ever met—stands beside you, hands on your shoulders, trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Y/N,” she says firmly, her green eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You’ve got to hold it together. You’re going to ruin your makeup if you start crying now.”

“I know, I know,” you say, fanning your face with trembling hands as you try to will away the tears. “It’s just… everything’s so perfect, and I’m so happy, and—oh my god, Nat, what if I trip?”

“You’re not going to trip,” she says, her voice calm but decisive. “You’ve practiced this. You’re wearing sensible heels. You’ve got Tony holding onto you like a lifeline. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of Tony, you glance toward the door, where he’s pacing just outside. Your “man of honor” had insisted on walking you down the aisle, and though he’d tried to play it cool, you could see the emotion brimming behind his bravado. He’d barely been able to get through the rehearsal without tearing up, and now you’re both in danger of becoming sobbing messes before the ceremony even begins.

“I saw him wiping his eyes earlier,” you say with a sniffle, a hint of a laugh breaking through. “If he cries, I’m done for. I’ll start sobbing right there in the aisle.”

“Then don’t look at him,” Natasha advises, picking up a tissue and dabbing at the corners of your eyes. “Keep your eyes on Steve. That’s the goal, remember? Just make it to him without crying.”

At the mention of Steve, your chest tightens with a rush of love so overwhelming it’s almost too much to bear. You picture him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his blue eyes soft and full of adoration. The thought is enough to make you inhale sharply, and Natasha quickly steps in, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

“Focus,” she says sternly. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

You nod, taking a deep, shaky breath as you try to calm yourself. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

Natasha gives you a small, approving smile. “That’s my girl.”

The door opens slightly, and Tony pokes his head in, his face immediately softening when he sees you. “Wow,” he says, his voice unusually quiet. “You look… wow.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you say, your voice wavering. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha warns, pointing a finger at him. “I just got her under control.”

Tony steps into the room, straightening his tie as he tries to compose himself. “Okay, okay, no crying. But seriously, Y/N, you look… breathtaking. Steve’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

The lump in your throat grows, and you press a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to cry. Tony steps closer, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re going to be amazing. And if you cry, who cares? It’s your wedding day. You get a free pass.”

You laugh through the tears threatening to spill, nodding as you squeeze his hand back. “Thanks, Tony.”

He grins, his usual bravado creeping back in. “Besides, if anyone’s going to cry, it’s me. I’m already a wreck. You’ll have to carry me down the aisle at this rate.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond. “You two are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, it’s time.”

Tony offers his arm, and you take it, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold on. The doors to the bridal suite swing open, and you catch a glimpse of the decorated aisle, lined with flowers and softly glowing candles. The music starts, and your heart pounds in your chest as you take your first step forward.

The church is full of familiar faces, but you barely register them. Your eyes are fixed on the man standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked onto yours. Steve looks devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his expression a mixture of awe and love that makes your knees weak.

As you and Tony make your way down the aisle, you hear him sniffle beside you. “Damn it,” he mutters, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your own tears threatening to spill again. But Natasha’s words echo in your mind, and you keep your focus on Steve, drawing strength from the love shining in his eyes.

Finally, you reach the altar, and Tony steps back, giving your hand to Steve with a small, emotional smile. Steve’s hands are warm as they take yours, and his voice is steady as he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

And that’s it. The tears spill over, and you laugh through them, shaking your head as Steve gently brushes them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“I don’t mind,” he says softly, his voice full of affection. “I love that you feel so much. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The ceremony begins, and though the tears continue to flow, they’re tears of joy, shared by more than just you and Tony. By the time you say “I do,” the entire room feels wrapped in the warmth of the love you and Steve share, a love that shines brighter than any tears.

we need more soft fics in this sea of smut! (I like smut fics too but like...sometimes I just want something fluffy)

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i-still-got-love-for-you · 1 day ago

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Under the Mistletoe

Summary: just some fluff with Jason during Christmas!

CW: None just fluff, Christmas decorating in NOVEMBER!!!!!, literally that's it

A/N: hey yall, srry for not being active. i'm usually on tumblr when i'm depressed, so i consider this mini hiatus a good sign for my mental health. this was inspired by me decorating my xmas tree and imagining my crush, what of it? i'll do a percy or luke one if requested <3 enjoy and make sure to like and rb!

"You need some help?" Jason asked, his arm already reaching for the ornament in your hand. It was the same striking blue as his eyes. His gentle voice almost drifted into the jazz playing in the background.

"Yes, thank you so much," you sighed. You two had been decorating for two hours, losing track of time in the various boxes of Christmas decor.

One, you remember, was simply a heap of silver tinsel so tangled together you had to stop and fix. Another was full of pictures of you and your mortal parent, your age never being over seven. The most recent one you opened was full of holiday colored ornaments. Glittering red that looked like cranberries, molten gold so expertly crafted it seemed as if it was moving, green so dark and elegant you couldn't believe your eyes. And finally, an electric blue that reminded you of a certain blond.

You looked to your right, where said boy was extending his arms to put the blue ornament higher than you could reach. You could see a small slip of his stomach where his pj's rose up, but it was gone as his arms lowered. You looked back up at his disapproving face.

"Always in the gutter, love. This is Christmas, be wholesome!" he chided and tapped you on the nose . You giggled and fell into him, loosely hugging him around the waist. His arms automatically wrapped around your back and started gently swaying you two to the piano filtering through the speaker.

The swaying turned into a simple waltz, and soon you were sweeping though your shared apartment. You were laughing all the way through it, bumping into things and stepping on toes. Eventually, you stopped in a doorway, just hugging with your head to his chest.

"Looked up," he whispered into your hair. You did, and the mistletoe you found put the giddy smile back on your face.

"You know what that means..." you trailed off. You were both leaned in, eyes closed, about to touch, when-

"Hey, lovebirds! Whatcha up to?" Percy interrupted, grinning.

"How did you get keys to our apartment?" you asked, then responded to yourself, "Wait, never mind, he's Percy. Why are you in you apartment?"

"Checking that my decoration skills are being properly appreciated. And so it seems they are. Me and Annie are waiting for coffee downstairs, but I'll give you two a minute." And with that, he closed the door, locked it, and walked back to his car.

"That son of a..." Jason muttered under his breath. You grabbed his hands and pulled them to your chest.

"Hey, Percy doesn't matter right now. What matters is where we left off."

"You are absolutely right, Mrs. Grace. Where were we?" He grinned, before leaning in for a kiss.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace fanfic #jason grace fluff #jason grace imagine #jason grace x you #jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #heroes of olympus

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thebluestbluewords · 3 days ago

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swimming lessons

"You're not serious." Mal says, laughing. Her feet are solidly on her towel, nowhere near the water. "I'm not swimming."

Ben flicks a handful of water at her anyway. He's been swimming since he was a kid. He knows just how far he can splash without hitting someone. "You don't want to learn how to swim?"

"Uh, no." she jerks her feet further back. "Nobody really knows how to swim, some people can just fake it for a while before they fuck up and drown."

"I know how to swim." Ben says, kicking his feet in demonstration. He's good at swimming. He's got this. "I could teach you."

"You think you know how. It's only a matter of time until you get too cocky, and then you'll be the next body we have to fish out of the water."

"You're wearing a swimsuit."

Mal looks down at herself. She's wearing an emerald green bikini top, a mesh sort-of-shirt over it with more zippers than looks entirely practical for something that's ostensibly swimwear, and a pair of her own cut off shorts. Her bare midriff and thighs are incandescently pale in the sunlight.

"Evie made it." she says, as though that's all the explanation required. Knowing the two of them, it nearly is. Evie makes the clothes, and then the other three wear them. It's like a weird sort of isle mating ritual, as far as Ben can tell. He's been honored with an Evie's original leather jacket himself, and it certainly feels like there's a weight to the leather, and to their eyes on him, when he wears it.

"Jay's in the water," Ben points out instead. "He hasn't drowned yet."

Mal scoffs. "Jay's one of the morons who thinks he can swim, and also, his feet are on the ground."

"The last time I asked him to jump in the enchanted lake with me, he made up an excuse about needing to wash his horse." Ben says slowly. It's not that he's doubting the story, exactly...

Mal laughs. "The horse is named Denial. Or maybe Distraction. Next time he'll tell you he forgot his homework."

"Jay doesn't do his--" Ben starts to say, before his brain catches up. "Oh. I get it. Why wouldn't he just tell me he can't swim?"

Mal shrugs. "It's not exactly something we learned on the isle. Just one more way we stick out, and you know how much he cares about fitting in sometimes."

Ben knows.

He tries not to think about it, mostly. How much the VKs hide when they try to fit in. They don't do it around him very much anymore, and Mal hardly ever tries at all, but the others all hide pieces of themselves whenever they want to blend in with their classmates. Evie hides how brilliant she is, like playing dumb will make her more desirable. Carlos hides his tools like he's afraid they're going to be stolen from him. Jay smiles and jokes and says that he's not lying, that this is just who he is, like he just happens to be exactly the sort of friendly that Auradon eats right up, but Ben's seen how he acts when there's nobody around to impress.

It's not a big leap to assume that his assurances that he can swim and he's just not in the mood right now are another lie.

He flicks another handful of water at Mal's feet. "Do you really not want to learn? I could teach you."

"I really don't want to risk my life, no. Besides, I'm watching from out here. I have an important job to do."

"And that is?"

She grins, and swoops a hand through the air like she's gathering a cobweb with a duster. "Magic." Her fingers glow green, poison-apple bright and shimmering just like the lake water in the sunlight. She points a finger at Jay, in the water up to his knees and leaning down to splash a handful at Carlos. "Give me power, no more steps, lift him from these watery depths."

Mal lifts her hand, and Jay's feet fly out from under him.

Only they don't.

Jay's feet go flying, but it's because the rest of him is flying too, just a few inches above the surface of the water. He's reclining, easy as anything, like he's being held by an invisible hand.

"Hey!"

Mal waves her free hand at her second-in-command, without shifting the shining green one, which, now that Ben's looking, is cradled in a similar position to the unseen one that Jay is cradled in. "Hay is for horses, babe! Get more specific!"

"Put me down so I can splash the nerds!" Jay shouts. "I was gonna sneak attack!"

"And now you're not!" Evie chirps. She looks as gorgeous as ever in her swim clothes, which are a little red skirt with a ruffle, a red top that shows off the smooth golden span of her chest, and a giant sun hat.

"I'm not the one keeping you here!" Mal shouts back. "If you wanna swim so bad you can get off the spell!"

Jay rolls over until he's on the edge of whatever invisible force is keeping him up, feet dangling down to just brush the water."My spell now. Dump me off."

Mal grins so wide that the pointed fey teeth behind her human ones show. "If that's what you want."

"WAIT--"

She flips her hand.

Jay hits the water with a splash.

#polyamory wins once again obviously #my fic #descendants #descendants fic #mal bertha #Ben Florian #jay son of jafar #Carlos and Evie aren’t important here this is the non-nerdy side of the polycule’s time to shine

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darkdemeter · 2 days ago

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SERVER UPDATE!

Hey all! I'm excited to bring some info and some screenshots for the Darksiders discord I'm currently working on. This was meant to be posted last night but I was pretty exhausted heh, so apologies for that but now, without further delay, let's jump right into it shall we?

There is still quite a bit to do but I am jam jimming away at it! Though the plan is to get it up and running very soon. I have so much planned for this server and I'm just elated to share with you all what's to come!

There is quite a lot so this update will be a bit extensive just so users know what to expect when joining. I will have have a bit of a guide on my carrd masterlist available when the server goes live for people to join.

The Server

So upon entering, you will arrive at the welcome channel where the rules and basic overview of the server's intent will be discussed.

In order to have access to the server, you will need to complete the welcome. By doing that, you will be given this:

There is a members-log that will update studio members about their progress level ups! These consist of earning keys (not purchased from Vulgrim), and by being awarded ranks!

There is also a server support for anyone who has issues regarding in-server matters, broken aspects or violation of rules. The suggestions channel beneath that is where members can voice their input about what possibly could be added in the future. There will be another log for server announcements/updates for these suggestions and more.

As for Vulgrim's Trade, well yes-- I kind of hired him. And by that he spawned a serpent hole into the server and I can't get rid of him. So yes, he is here to act as the in-server merchant. Just... nobody trade their souls, okay? I don't wanna have to put that in the rules... it might concern new studio members.

"Now wait a second," I hear you ask. "What about roles? What are ranks and keys?"

Ranks and Keys Not Your Regular Roles

Now, there are many keys and ranks to be unlocked. Instead of the usual designation of roles and such, I decided to really tap into the creativity here. Give members a little something extra. These are just teasers (and I'm still contemplating the exacts of the Horsemen Companion) so there are more you're not being shown as of now.

But let's start with keys. So a bit of lore behind this was not only Darksiders from a game pov an inspiration for this, but also from a board game I used to play called Atmosfear that centered a LOT around collecting keys... and I really wanted to weave that into the server.

Keys have their own relative categories being that of "Purchase", "Reward" and "Cameo".

Purchase Keys are able to be bought from Vulgrim.

Reward Keys are earned/won as prizes by competing in games and challenges and by progressing through the server.

Cameo Keys are special and are dedicated to those I consider very good friends of mine I've met through the fandom and I want to commemorate them with their own key as a friend token/cameo nod to them. These keys are given to that respective friend when/if they join. Cameo keys can be earned by studio members from either receiving an invite to the server from that friend/holder of the key and providing that key holder's own and personally made code in the welcome channel.

Or...

If members did not receive an invite and are already part of the server or if that friend is not a member in the server to provide an invite, these keys can be earned as rewards by completing a series of challenges and games.

Keys are overall collectables but there are others that allow you to further access into the server. As an example, this server is a relatively 18+ just to keep it kinda simple. However, I don't want users to be confronted by or bothered by channels that contain nsfw content they have no interest in.

In hopes to counteract this and to allow a bit of customisation for members, there is an 18 Key. This key is a Purchase Key and can be collected from Vulgrim if members want to access nsfw content. But other than that, members can happily go about their business without it, but do note that some channels are by that logic restricted and cannot be viewed.

Moving onto ranks:

Ranks are quite simply level-type roles. Achievements! Shout out to my achievement chasers cause I had ya'll in mind for this also. I want this server to be casual, fun and friendly - but I also wanted to provide a challenge for members who are eager and game for it.

And technically speaking, though the Steed's Headstone is an artefact, it is very much a rank! :D So congrats, you earn your first rank quite easily by simply becoming a studio member!

There are of course your easier to achieve ranks if you want to have a go but not overly commit to grinding out some progress - but beyond that there are ranks to grind my fellow darksiders fans. And the Crucible is one of your friends here in that regard!

I'd like to have some ranks actually grant access to certain parts of the server, but I don't want to feel like it's excluding people, however I - again - want to provide a means of something enjoyable and for members to engage in. This is all meant to be fun in the end.

I want to create as many accessible yet immersive and challenging ranks to get but also leave some on the spare line for future content considering the 250 role limit. Sort of like... dlc content? I don't know. XD

EXTRAS

Just a bit of a sneak peek at the calendar...

Who's excited for Death December? And those of you who know Strife September... Now we've got a calendar where everyone - creators and studio members can come together and post content!

Lookie lookie - to keep it accessible for all, there are regular channels and 18+ channels. and look Jer! War's got two months! (If you know, you know, if you don't... uuuuh- UHHHHHHH 👀)

And let's take a look at the Crucible category, yeah?

So I'd like to incorporate the events system discord has in place to announce upcoming tournaments that are duals and combat related. These can range between powerful and elite enemies against members to even the Horsemen themselves. Compete alone... or with friends of 4.

Mini games are still in the heavy wip stage but they're just little competitions and friendly games to play together.

Challenges are something like what you'd experience in the darksiders games, where you take on waves of enemies, but again, this is in wip mode right now. Not only that however, either in the challenges - or another challenge channel - members can actually initiate creators to compete against one another! Whether that be by writing/art prompts or perhaps to challenge each other/ocs in a dual.

Now the leaderboard does act as a bit of a rank in the Crucible, however it's use is to really keep track of competitor's progress, just so then I can keep track of thing. (As of now, I don't have a bot in place to assign roles, so I'll be having to do that manually).

Prizes! Who doesn't like prizes? Tell me, Vulgrim. Yeaaah, he doesn't wanna admit it but the cute plushies are growing on him. As mentioned above, certain keys can be won/rewarded as prizes after competing and winning in the Crucible. Some other prizes are in the workshop, one of which hehe - I'm making a bit of a tarot/deck of cards that can be won and are also collectables. If these do become a collectable for members, I'm just wondering if I should instead do illustrated ones cause I think that'd be cooler and more unique. Level up my art skill tree!

Here's a sneak peek at that... There are 2 variants: Light and Dark to match the server's themes.

Cards backing

Cards front

Also shout out to @scarletknightreterns for giving me an interactive idea to possibly implement into the server which I am keen to do hehehe! I can't promise that it will be available upon the server's first launch. If it's not, it will be featured in the upcoming updates/announcements for the server! As mentioned, the server will get updates to improve member experience and to build a stronger community.

Phew okay, I think that just about covers all that I wanted to discuss in the update. Thank you to those who are eager to join and sending through those 🐴 I really appreciate it. With any luck the discord will be up soon and the guide as well on my carrd masterlist for a more in depth explanation for those who might be a little confused.

Alrighty, take care all!

#darksiders #discord server #sneak peek #discord update

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scriptlgbt · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, hope you are doing well. I am currently trying to make an Aromantic Asexual character that is a sociopath. I believe there is a negative stereotype around these two parties that they are cold and unloving and would like to try portray and show people that hey they are human and are capable of love. However, I'm slightly hesitant to do so since I don't want to play into the stereotype. Please send advice! ( Also have a fantastic day)

This advice is going to lean on the "sociopath" term a bit because I have more advice to give on the topic, and it's also not something we've explored in this way before on the blog.

I have some biases here because I have a Cluster B personality disorder (a cluster which includes disorders that are often labelled as "sociopath"). The term sociopath is generally considered outdated at best and derogatory at worst, with people mainly only using the term to harken to a legacy of criminalizing and institutionalizing people who don't express care for others in a way that is legible to others, or whose care is not expressed in a healthy way.

Based on your wording here, I'm assuming that you are using the term in an earnest way to describe a neurodivergent experience, and do not believe in these ableist assumptions yourself.

Because of this, I would recommend determining more specifically what you mean by "sociopath," and then dropping the term. Do you mean low/no empathy? Do you mean a specific disorder (and which one)? What does this look like for them, and what does their emotional and mental experience feel like for them? There are resources out there for learning more about what these things feel like for people who have low/no empathy, or who have disorders that are categorized this way, but I think if it is not a thing that you experience, I would tread with a lot of caution and find a beta reader or sensitivity reader with these experiences who is comfortable talking about this with you.

Re: Aroace - there are people who are asexual and aromantic who have had pretty much every experience and identity alongside this. What makes a stereotype harmful is when:

They are the only representation.

They are not written as 3-dimensional characters with feelings and thoughts, identities and experiences that transcend these labels.

These can be countered by having more characters of the same identity who vary from the character you are concerned with, and making the characters all as multi-faceted as possible. You may not be able to explore every character's whole lives in depth in front of the reader, but to a reader, it still matters that this intricate life they have is implied and hinted at within the context.

But that is generally good writing advice, in my opinion. So many authors have characters that are written to fit a role within the life of the protagonist. Best friends are there to fawn over them and be supportive, but don't have hobbies or interests or an unrelated life thing going on offscreen. When you write, ask yourself, could someone feel inspired to write fanfiction of this character? Is there enough that they could put them in an AU and they would still be recognizably them? Or do they only exist by their relationship to the protagonist?

mod nat

#mod nat #writeblr #writing advice #asexuality #aromantic characters #aromantic #aroace #neurodivergent characters #character development

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lillyspeakz · 2 days ago

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fun fairs and copywrites.

a/n: the soothouse video basically. I made it longer though- like 5-6k words. So enjoy!

warnings: some sexual innuendos, fluff, David and George being the classic third wheels, autistic reader basically, anxiety, all over fluff with some mental issues but they’re small.

not proof read at all!

enjoy!

video link.

It was the middle of November and knowing the group, they had nothing they had to do besides uni work and recording videos for Wilbur so he could edit them.

Knowing the place like the back of his hand, Wilbur suggested they go to the fair downtown, wanting to get out of the tight space they call an apartment and into the fresh freezing air. George and David agreed to go, wanting to fuck around and escape their problems for a bit, as Wilbur looked at you with hope in his eyes.

“Please come? We can go on as many rides and do as many games as you want. I’ll even let you wear my coat, I know you like it.” He smiled up at you as he crouched down, looking into your eyes as he took your hands in his, playing with the rings adorning your fingers.

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you leaned down and placed your forehead against his, sighing as your nose touched his. The close intimate space the two of you were in, warmth taking over both your bodies as you hummed out in question.

“Fine. As long as you make me hot chocolate when we get back?” You asked as he chuckled at your response, leaning back as he cupped your face in his hands.

“Always.” He said as he searched your eyes for any hesitation, only finding love and excitement, leaning in with a laugh as he placed his lips on yours. The smiles on your faces interrupted the sweet moment, giggles ringing through the room as footsteps were heard from the hallway.

“Can you two stop being a couple for five minutes and get ready? The fair closes at 10!” George hurriedly said as he got out Wil’s coat and a scarf for you.

Wil’s camera hung around his neck as he made sure his SD card was new and working, as well as his lense.

You huddled next to him, trying to find another source of warmth in this weather. You had a long sleeved on as well as one of Wilbur’s hoodies and his winter coat. He forced the scarf on you, not wanting your ears to get cold, no matter how much you complained that you were fine.

“No, you need it. I know you, you’re going to regret not wearing it because the wind will get down your jacket and make you more cold and you’re going to get sick and-“

“Wilbur, baby. I’ll wear it if it’ll make you feel better.” You said softly as he took a deep breath and sighed out in relief.

“Please.” He said while nodding, holding the cloth out for you as you stepped towards him.

“Of course.”

Wilbur had his other winter coat on, yet the old material not doing him any good as it was worn from many years of service. He wore his signature beanie, desperately keeping his ears out of the cold. His nose was strawberry red and his hands turning white and blue.

“Baby, come here.” You took the camera from Wilbur’s hands, placing it down gently against his chest as you took his hands in yours. You kissed his nose gently as you placed his hands around your waist, into the jacket against your warm body, hoping his hands warm up slightly from the new found comfort.

“Thank you. If this camera would work, we would be able to get this over with faster but-“

“Hey! It’s ok. The boys are doing-“ you looked over your shoulder to see David and George waving their hands around in weird gestures, ranting about god knows what. “Whatever they do. And I’m here with you. So take your time.” You whispered to him as he smiled at you, placing his forehead on yours once again.

“Luckily for us I got it to work and I need a video by the end of this week.” Wilbur sighed out as he called George and David over, them both racing to be first.

“I won!” David said while panting, coming in a few seconds behind George as you and Wilbur both laughed, the camera being pointed to the dying man as the blonde scoffed.

“Fucking when? Because from my understanding, you ate my dust so-“ George finished with sticking his tongue out at the man, screaming in fear as David reached out for him.

“Ok! Ok, let’s get going before it gets too late, it’s bloody cold outside.” Wilbur complained while pointing the camera at you than the boys.

“Hey guys, it’s me David from Soothouse. And I’m here to endorse London. This is just an average day at the park, as you can see, they’re all having a lot of fun.” David explained in a monotoned voice as Wilbur zoomed into the fair happening behind them all and onto Dave’s face.

As he walked away, George came up beside Wilbur, watching the event take place as Wilbur turned the camera onto him. “Basically. Yesterday there was a mass panic and-“ before George can finish your laugh broke through the silence as Wilbur and George followed along with you, not being able to handle the serious tone George held.

“Why the fuck- I’m sorry that was so fucking funny…” you said while wiping your eyes of any tears that fell, falling into Wilbur as he laughed along with you.

“It’s very tragic! Someone could’ve died-“

“Oh fuck… wasn’t a false alarm?” You asked Wil as he simply stared at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh so now I’m just your personally Google?!” The man joked as you shrugged, and looked away while slowly nodding. Wilbur gasped out in betrayal as you laughed and immediately started denying what you said.

“No no! I love you! And you’re more than a personal google, you just pay attention to things more than I do..” you giggled at him as he shook his head at you and brought you into a soft kiss, fingers gripping your chin as he tilted your head.

“Don’t inflate his ego anymore than it is! We talked about this-“ David groaned as you both pulled away as Wilbur smirked at the two.

“What can I say? I’m simply just so smart to my partner that they can come to me for anything…” Wilbur smiled as the boys groaned and complained how he’s going to brag about this to everyone, as you simply rolled your eyes at them and looked up at Wilbur expectantly. “Yes it was a false alarm, there wasn’t any evidence of shots being fired-“

As Wilbur put the camera back up, George started up once more, the tone coming back as he got close and personally with the camera. “We were all very scared. And- you know life’s about celebrating the good things! And um- that’s why we’re here today. We’re here to walk around the outside of winter wonderland and look in-“ George concluded as you and Wilbur laughed at his words, both freezing your asses off yet not caring enough as you guys were enjoying each others company.

“Would you ever go on that David?”

“Hell no! Look at it- the people on one side, they lose their limbs at the end.”

“Oh don’t say that-“ you whined out as the sight of the ride made you sick to your stomach.

“the sheer terror on their faces! Can you see it from here? Because I can! They’re terrified.” George looked at the ride as you hid into Wilbur’s side, not wanting to look at the ride anymore. You didn’t hate rides, but ones that went too fast, or caused your body to go into positions you didn’t like entirely, made you uneasy. And Wilbur knew this.

“Hey, we all collectively agreed we won’t go near that ride yeah? We can go on all the kid rides if you want, I may not fit, but it’s worth the try if you’ll have fun.” Wilbur put the camera down as he took your hand in his, pressing the cold skin against his lips, somehow warming both parts of the body up as he did.

“I’d like that.” You agreed as you smiled at the man in front of you, kissing his nose once more as you pulled him along, catching up with David and George.

As all four of you walked towards the fair, having to go around the place, you were hanging off of Wilbur’s arm, talking about what you were doing for the holidays coming up and what he should do, knowing how he dealt with them.

“You should come with me! Or even go visit your mom-“

“Wil- look what this fucker is doing!” David interrupted as Wilbur softly apologized and told you he’d be back.

Getting the camera set he pointed it at George as he danced to the music. “This is my jam!” Twisting and twirling as the faint music played, almost falling over himself as he did. David looked around clueless as Wilbur zoomed in onto him, then immediately panning onto you, making you look like a little big.

“Aww wait this is actually so cute- my little bug baby!” Wilbur cooed as you smiled up at him, nose scrunching in embarrassment as his comments continued.

“Stop, I don’t need anymore bad content on me on the channel-“

“Bad? Baby that was adorable! I’m keeping that for myself…” Wilbur whispered to you with a smile as you whined at the confession, never getting used to his way of showing his love for you and his compliments.

“Ok lovebirds- let’s go yeah?”

Walking further away from the fair, Wilbur telling the three of you it’s a “short cut”, which you all knew was bullshit.

Finally making it to downtown London, you all sat and looked at the structure in front of you.

“I don’t think it’s an arch-“ you said to George as you turned your head in many different ways, standing in front of Wil who caught the little mannerism on camera.

Laughing, Wilbur zoomed in closer to the structure as George hummed and nodded.

“Looks like an arch to me!”

“Are we- are we in France guys?”

“Yes. This is France.” David answered immediately as you snapped your head back to look at Wilbur with a playful smirk.

“Tu veux que je t'apprenne comment nous, les Français, nous embrassons ? Nous sommes vraiment doués pour ça, nous avons inventé une façon de nous embrasser grâce à ça.” You expressed with a smirk on your face as all three boys looked at you with wide eyes. Yet Wilbur’s weren’t filled with confusion. He knew exactly what you were saying thanks to your late night teachings after long days and activities. He was always curious, and he loved hearing you speak the language.

“What the fuck did you just say-“

“Yes please.” Wilbur and David said at the same time, George and David looking at Wilbur like he’s crazy.

“Did you just say yes to your death?!” George teased as you scoffed at him, gently nudging him as he laughed at you.

“No, let’s just say he has some stuff to learn when he get back home…” you winked at the tall man as his eyes widened and cheeks flushed.

“Did not need to hear that, did not need to hear that at all, we are going!” George said, taking David’s hand in his as you laughed at the pair, taking Wil’s in your own, falling back into step with the duo.

“I’m joking. Unless you do want to-“

“You think I’m passing up such a good opportunity to learn more French?” The smirk placed on his face made it aware that what he was saying had a deeper meaning only meant for you. “Plus it’s with you so please.”

You smiled up at him as he started pulling you faster, closer to George and David as you made it into the city. Buses going by as people crowded the streets, the smell of beer and drugs lingering in the air as you made a distasteful sound and cornered next to Wilbur.

Your anxiety went up when you were in big crowds and loud areas, hating how all the factors were combined at once, especially when you barely knew the area unlike Wilbur. He held the camera with one hand and your own in his other, making sure he knew where you were at all times.

Jazz music played as you all walked passed a saxophone player on the sidewalk, the speakers blaring loudly at you all. Covering your ear closest to the loud music, you wrapped your arms around the man, fear over taking your senses.

“I’m sorry.” You said into his chest and yes squeezing shut as you let him guide you. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad today-“

“Hey, what did I say about the ‘s’ word? It’s not your fault baby, I didn’t either. If I knew I wouldn’t have gone this way.” Wilbur spoke softly to you, camera in his hand still, pointing at the ground as he held you close to him. “Just knows I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you. If you need we can go into a little shop real quick?” Wilbur asked as you shook your head, yet holding into his arm and hand tighter as he held you through the whole way.

As you all made it to a crosswalk, waiting for the go ahead, Wilbur asked George what their mission was now.

“Looking for a place to shit. That’s really what it’s about. Harder than you think!”

“Have you guys tried any of the corner shops we passed? We’ve passed like 5-“

“That’s how little you think of us? We demand a luxury bathroom with a bidet and a glass of whine on my hand!” Wilbur exclaimed to you as he pointed the camera on your direction as you laughed.

“Well… we do live in London…” you dragged on as Wilbur gave you a playful stink eye, knowing you were right about that statement and how expensive stuff was now for something so simple.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that-“ Wilbur deadpanned as your laugh broke through the air, his tone and glare dropping as he smiled at you.

The camera filmed your shoes as you both took big strides, or you practically ran as Wilbur walked. It took you all about 5 more minutes to get to your destination, your pants being heard as you grabbed onto Wilbur to slow him down.

“I have little legs…”

“Want to hop on my back?” Wilbur asked as he turned around, ready for you to hop on.

“Baby, you won’t be able to film. I’ll be fine- Wilbur!” You screeched as he wrapped your arms around his neck and hoisted you up onto his back, gripping the back of your thighs as he jumped up to get you into place.

“See. Nice and cozy. Now just grab your legs around my waist- yup! And I can film! I’m a man of many wonders love.” Wilbur smirks back at you as you scoff at him, chin resting on his shoulder as he lifted the camera up to David, walking towards the fair as he did.

“where are we, David?”

“Um… think we’re in New Orleans last time I checked.” David told the camera as you all continued to make your way down the path, an automated voice greeting you on your way.

Finally making it to the entrance, you hopped off of Wil’s back as you wrapped yourself up with the coat, the fur of the hood covering your ears and making you nuzzle into the warmth more.

“I like to reconnect with my ears when they’re cold.” George said as he held his hands over his ears, hands not any better than his ears.

“Dude! Didn’t we trade mark the word-“

“the word house?” David finished for Wilbur as he repeated the sentence, laughing as they pointed at the fun house, claiming that they could technically sue for copyright.

“Do you think we should sue?”

“Fuck no! We barely have money for it, plus they were the og’s so-“

“She has a point…” Wilbur sighed as David slapped his arm.

“Siding with your partner isn’t always the right way!”

“It’s the only way David. I’m always right.” You finish off for him with a smile, Wilbur laughing at you as he nodded, not putting up a fight with that.

As you continued to walk further into the event, you all stopped at a ticket booth, dragging Wilbur by the arm as George and David followed and laughed as Wil made a face back at them.

“How many?”

“Um, 100 please!” You smiled at the worker as they grabbed a bundle of tickets and handed them to you.

“That’ll be 32 pounds please!” The worker said, exhaustion underlying their tone as Wilbur reached for his wallet, being cut off by your cheery voice, thanking the person as you grabbed the tickets.

“Love, you didn’t have to pay for those. It wasn’t even your idea to go!” Wilbur exclaimed to you as he rushed back to your side.

“Wil, you pay for my stuff all the time, and your still trying to pay for Uni. It’s the least I can do for you guys!” You smiled up at the man as he sighed out, bringing your lips into a sweet kiss as you walked.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too!” You exclaimed back at the man, both of your eyes practically shaping into hearts as you both looked at each other.

The moment was cut off as you ran into a pair of backs, George and David turning around to look at you too with exasperated looks.

“They were looking at each other again, weren’t they?!” George asked David as he nodded at the question, rolling his eyes jokingly at the pair, grumbling about how sick they made him.

As you stood in line for the Ferris Wheel, you all got into one cart, filling up the space as you did. You sat across from Wil, George next to you as David was next to Wilbur.

As the door closed, Wilbur asked if we all thought we could break out and get out of the cart before it started. He reached for the door, making you grab his hand and shake your head.

“Wilbur I swear to the heavens above, you’re lucky you even got me on this thing. If you’re not going to pull a Ryan Gosling by climbing up this torture device and asking me out on a date, don’t think about it.” You said sternly at the man as his eyes widened at you, sitting back in his seat.

“Damn… you’ve watched the notebook too much-“

“Tell him that-“ you pointed at Wilbur as he looked at you with betrayal as George laughed at him.

“You always want to watch it?” David exclaimed as Wilbur shook his head.

“Not always! It’s a good movie and the plot is very interesting-“

“He cries to it every time. He’s a real man. Take some notes.” You said as you looked at the pair next to you.

“Yeah! I’m a real man, fucker.” Wilbur told David as you all laughed.

As the ride slowly went up and the height difference became more apparent, you didn’t pay any mind to look down, knowing if you did, it would be your demise.

George went on about how they couldn’t do content anymore and how you all were going to jump out of the ride, while you looked at your shoes, tapping to a random song that was in your head. More so one Wilbur had gotten stuck in your head.

“And here’s my lovely partner, who is definitely terrified of heights but it’s ok-“

“Hey!” You laughed as you looked up at him to see the camera focused on you, Wilbur looking at what the film was capturing, keeping it in focus the whole time.

As you looked at him, you were making faces and smiling, causing giggles to escape both of you. Finally making eye contact with you, Wilbur silently said a small ‘I love you’ as your cheeks flushed red and your smile turned to one that hurt wearing from how big it was.

‘I love you too.’ You worded back as David asked to sit next to George, causing you to nod immediately and switch seats with the man, huddling next to Wil as you did.

“I prefer this.” You whispered to the man, lying your head on his shoulder as he nodded, agreeing with your statement as the ride continued and slowly came to a stop, letting you all out.

“If I die in here I’m blaming you.” You said as you pointed to David who convinced all of you to go into the fun house.

“Why me?!” He questioned as you shrugged at him, trying to come up with a good reason.

“Because. Weren’t you just wanting to sue this place for copyright?”

“No! That was not my idea at all, that was his!” Dave said as he pointed at Wilbur who had a shocked look on his face, almost hurt at the call out.

“You agreed!” Wilbur fired back as you all walked further into the building.

As you continued walking, going through hallways and staircases with various different obstacles, you came across a bridge that went through a spinning tunnel.

“Holy fuck- I think I might actually fall.” You laughed as Wilbur’s free hand came up to your back, guiding you through as he filmed David and George.

As you slowly walked through, your eyes fell onto the wall that was spinning, causing you to slowly trip in front of the man.

“Fucking hell! Do I need to carry you?” He said while laughing as you held onto the railing, laughing your ass off, as Wilbur slowly ushered you off of the platform. “Almost killed us!”

“I even warned you!” You said while walking over to the boys who were equally as giddy as you both from the scene they just witnessed.

“How did that even happen?!” George asked while you wiped away the tears that ran down your cheeks.

“Don’t ask-“ you said as you walked towards the mirror maze, looking back at the guys with a scared look. “I’ll stay back here.”

As George and David walked through, your hands immediately went out, feeling what was around you and what mirror was where, desperately trying to find an open space.

“Baby, you don’t have to do that! I’m in front of you, worse comes to worse I hurt myself ramming into one.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m doing this! To make sure that doesn’t happen..” you retorted back as one of your hands went and held Wilbur’s jacket.

As you both followed George and David, all your trust in them to get out, George and David went separate ways to see which one was the right one, yet failing as they did.

“We already went that!” David exclaimed to George as he turned around and went back the way we just came.

Wilbur continued to walk straight, not paying attention to the reflection of his camera on the material in front of him.

“Wilbur that’s not-“

“Ow!” Wilbur let out as his camera hit the wall, colliding with his chest as he caught himself before face planting.

Your laugh filled the area as you slide down the wall behind you, grabbing onto Wilbur once again as he turned to you, laughing as well.

“You were supposed to be helping me!” He yelled out as he bent over, camera dangling down as he tried to catch his breath.

“I-I’m s-sorry! That was s-so funny!” You barely got out as you also tried to catch your breath, tears once again falling as you did.

“Oh man, thank god the cameras fine, thought I crushed it.” Wilbur said as he examined the device, focusing and turning the lense as he checked.

“Yeah, I tried warning you but- that was worth it-“

“What happened over here?!” George asked as he came back over, leaping over you too as you both shook your heads telling him you’d show him later.

You all finally called it a night, the cold getting to you as you all played a couple games and rode some more rides to make the tickets well worth it.

As you stood on the train, one hand holding onto the rail and the other holding Wilbur for balance.

Wilbur stood his ground as he held the camera up to George as he summarized the day they had. Or night.

“It had a beginning. Definitely had a middle. This is the end.” He whispered into the camera as Wilbur laughed, turning off the camera to save the battery as much as he could.

“Fuck I’m tired.” Wilbur mumbled as he rubbed his face, body swaying with the train as it moved.

“We’ll go to bed once we’re home, get all nice and warm.” You whispered to him, your head gently resting on his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulder, the other holding onto the handles as well.

“What about the tea?” He questioned, remembering the promise he made to you.

“Hmm you can make it for me when we wake up tomorrow. I can wait, but right now what I want is to just sleep and have you hold me.” You said, your words slurring as sleep washed over you, body falling into Wilbur’s as he caught you into his embrace.

“Ok baby, let’s get off real quick and I’ll carry you the rest of the way, yeah?” As you nodded at him, he gently dragged you with him, telling George and David to go ahead.

As you both made it up to the streets, Wilbur brought you in front of him and gently lifted you up by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. Your arms automatically found the space around his neck, nuzzling into the cold skin as you fell in and out of the desirable state.

“I love you..” you slurred out as Wilbur chuckled at you, opening the door to the apartment.

“I love you too darling.” He said softly, waving at everyone that he hasn’t seen yet, whispering a small goodnight, the saying being reciprocated back just as softly.

As you heard a door open and shit softly, your back making contact with a plush mattress and hands leave your body, you whined out, looking for that warmth again.

“It’s ok baby. I’m getting you some clothes so I can help you change.” The man said softly, quickly finding a sweater of his once more and your favorite pajama pants, placing them on the bed.

“Ok, come here love. I’ll be quick.” Wil said as he took your shoes off in a swipe of his hand, helping you shuffle and shrug everything off. With you being no help whatsoever in this state, he struggled to get you dressed.

Your hands kept finding his and wanting him in the bed to sleep, complaining of the cold weather and wishing you were back home.

“We are home love, and if you get these pants on, we can go to bed yeah?” That proposition seemed to peek your interested as you helped the man get your pjs on quicker than before, immediately getting under the covers and grabbing for him.

“Wil..” you held out his name until you felt the bed dip from him sitting down.

“Can you move over love? I need to lie down too-“ Wilbur asked as you were currently starfished across the bed.

Scooting over, you curled up in on yourself under the covers, feeling the man curl his arms around you and hold you to his chest.

“Thank you for coming today. I’ll make it up you, promise.” Wilbur whispered as your soft breathes made him smile down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” You said once more before sleep finally took you on her grasp and whisked you away with her.

As he closed his eyes, Wilbur realized he wasn’t far from sleep either, falling victim to her sweet song.

Holding you closer than before, he sighed out with a smile before the sweet taste of sleep became too much.

“I love you.”

taglist: @number1wilburfan @xxvalentinezxx @evil-peanut-butter-addict-sam @rottenr0ckets @cloverlilly91 @horny-p0et @heartofwritiing @lizziehatters-teacards (if I missed anyone please lmk!)

#lilly writez.#william gold x reader #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #soothousebur x reader #soothouse x reader #x reader #wilbur gold x reader #dsmp wilbur #yay

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