#filter the damned tag out if it bothers you

[patolemus]

love it when i can just block people i don’t like. i don’t even have to interact with them, i can just block them if they say uncalled shit

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

[ part three ]

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[foli-vora]

pretty boy

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: This gif should be fucking illegal. There I was, just minding my own business at 12.30am thinking ‘hey I should probably get some sleep’ and then bam—suddenly I was obsessed with needing to suck this man’s dick. So here we are—enjoy.

This is a drabble of 500+ words and I can’t be bothered tagging so yeah.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY: oral sex (m), swallowing, the need to have this man weak and whiny at my fingertips… look, this is probably a mess but idgaf

-

He’s so fucking thick.

An ache is quick to build in your jaw, your mouth straining uncomfortably as his cock disappears beyond your lips. He hits the back of your throat and you inhale sharply to push just that little bit further, to take him deeper, to drive him closer to that sweet edge you’d been teasing him with.

You fight the discomfort eagerly, practically hanging onto every little whine and exhale that falls from his lips. He always sounds so fucking pretty, breathless from being lost in his pleasure and full of praise for every inch you take greedily.

He never knows where to put his hands, and you’d laugh if you didn’t have the solid length of him heavy and throbbing against your tongue.

His fingers trace your cheek, glide over where your lips part around the width of him, swipes through the saliva that gathers at the corner and spills down your chin. They curl around the back of your head, and you tremble from the strength you feel lingering behind his touch, the temptation to hold you steady and fuck up harshly into your mouth almost overcoming his patience.

One day you’d break him. One day. 

His hands move again, quickly coming to rest over yours where they’re spread out across the scarred expanse of his hips, holding him in place. He’s quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking a physical tether to the world as he drowns in an endless void of ecstasy. 

A brief tang of salty precum oozes from the tip of his cock and sinks into your taste buds as you pull back enough to take a breath, and your tongue drags over the smooth head firmly before gently rubbing along the lower side where you feel his frenulum, massaging the spot over and over and over—

He jolts, toned stomach jumping at the sensation and you groan weakly around him, eyes fluttering as he bucks into your mouth. He’s close. You hear it in the way his lips form the plea of sweetheart, the way he helplessly cries out for his God and begs for that little push over the edge.

Please, sweetheart. Just a little more, j-just like that—God, please, yes—

He erupts on your tongue with a flood of thick heat and a delightfully filthy moan that has your weeping cunt clenching from the low obscene rumble of it, and you swear you’ll never get enough.

You swallow it all down eagerly, tongue rolling over the length of him until he finally starts to soften in your mouth and his thighs start to shake from overstimulation. You pull away and let him fall from your lips with a low pop before delivering a final kiss to his thigh and standing. You resume dressing, fingers numb from his tight hold and slow as they try to continue buttoning your shirt as the morning light filters through the window. 

He pants into the air of the bedroom, a blissed out, tired smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he swims in his post orgasm waves, “What was that for?”

“You’re just so damn pretty, Matthew.”

[shybluebirdninja]

Off Road

Summary: Logan drives off into the mountains and doesn’t come back for days, and you’re not sure if he’s ever coming back.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader Note                : angst

The first day was always the hardest.

You stood at the window, arms crossed tight over your chest, staring at the empty driveway where his truck used to be. The silence out here was brutal—no traffic, no people, just the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional creak of the cabin settling.

You hated it when Logan left like this, hated the way it felt like the world paused in his absence.

He’d driven off two days ago, early in the morning, before the sun even thought about rising. You’d heard the soft crunch of gravel under his boots, the heavy sigh as he opened the door to the truck. He didn’t say goodbye. He never did when he went on these solo runs into the mountains.

You’d tried to ask once—tried to get him to talk about why he needed to disappear like that—but it never went anywhere. His eyes would darken, his lips would pull into a hard line, and that was the end of it.

Now, all that was left was the gnawing ache in your chest and the cold coffee sitting forgotten on the kitchen counter.

You moved away from the window, your bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor as you made your way to the kitchen.

The cabin was small, just one room with a bed shoved into the corner, a tiny kitchen, and a table that was always cluttered with Logan’s stuff—his dog tags, an old lighter, a few half-crushed cigarette packs he never bothered to throw away.

The air smelled faintly of pine, mixed with the lingering scent of his leather jacket that hung off the back of one of the chairs.

You picked up the mug of coffee, but it was stone cold now, a bitter reminder of how long he’d been gone.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, setting it back down with a little more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the empty space.

Logan was always like this—coming and going like the damn tide, slipping away when things got too heavy, when the world felt too much for him to carry.

You knew that about him when you got together, knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy who could be tied down. But that didn’t make it any easier when he left without a word.

You grabbed the edge of the counter, leaning forward, your breath fogging up the window just in front of you. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the trees outside.

He said he’d be back in a couple of days, but you knew better. Logan never kept promises like that, not when he was running from his own demons.

The sun was setting now, the golden light filtering through the trees, casting shadows across the cabin floor. You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers through your hair, feeling the weight of the quiet press down on you.

He wasn’t coming back tonight. You knew it in your gut.

As the light faded, you moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge, your hands falling into your lap. The silence was deafening, but your mind was louder—spinning through all the possibilities, all the reasons why he needed to be alone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but Logan’s caring was jagged, full of rough edges and broken promises.

You remembered the way he looked at you that morning before he left, eyes distant, his jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed his jacket and his keys.

That was Logan—never any grand speeches, no promises of forever. He just existed, did what he needed to do to survive, and you had learned to live with that. Most days, anyway.

The bed creaked as you lay back, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. You could almost hear the sound of his truck, the low growl of the engine as it disappeared down the dirt road. And in the stillness of the cabin, you realized how damn lonely it felt without him here.

You reached for your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. A part of you wanted to call, to hear his gruff voice on the other end of the line, even if it was just to get a grumbled, “I’m fine.”

But you knew better. Logan wouldn’t answer, not when he was out there in the mountains, trying to outrun whatever was eating him alive this time.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, listening to it thud softly against the pillow.

Another night alone. Another fucking night wondering if he’d come back at all.

On the third day, you woke to rain. Heavy, unrelenting rain that beat against the roof, a steady rhythm that only added to the weight in your chest.

You threw on one of Logan’s flannels, the fabric soft and worn, hanging off your frame in a way that made you feel like he was still here. But it wasn’t enough—not this time.

The cabin felt smaller, suffocating in its emptiness. You couldn’t sit still anymore, couldn’t keep pacing between the kitchen and the bed, waiting for the sound of his truck.

So you grabbed your jacket, shoving your arms through the sleeves with quick, frustrated movements, and stepped outside.

The rain hit you like a wall, cold and sharp, soaking through your jeans almost immediately. But you didn’t care. You needed to get out, to breathe, to feel something other than the gnawing anxiety that had been eating at you since he left.

The forest around you was dark, the trees swaying in the wind, their branches creaking like old bones. The dirt road stretched out in front of you, winding its way into the mountains, disappearing into the mist that hung low over the treetops.

You stood there for a moment, the rain pouring down, soaking you to the bone, and for the first time in days, you let yourself feel the anger.

“Where the hell are you?” you whispered, voice breaking, the words barely audible over the rain.

He always did this. He always fucking did this. Disappeared when things got tough, when you needed him the most. It was like clockwork—Logan running off to the mountains, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.

And every time, you told yourself you’d had enough. That this would be the last time you let him break your heart. But then he’d come back, all bruised knuckles and soft apologies, and you’d fall right back into his arms like a goddamn fool.

But this time? This time felt different.

[innorogers]

Dusk

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Wait, WHAT? After everything you’ve been through, you thought he wasn’t serious about you? Oh no, Steve had to make sure you understood how committed he was.

Warning: Angst but then Fluff? / Sad Steve / Angry Steve / Protective Steve / Past Revelations / Hurt & Comfort / Past Trauma / Happy Ending / Comfort Steve / This one is actually funny

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening

The compound is silent, bathed in the faint silver glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. Soft lights illuminate the hallways, leading the way. Steve’s steps echo through the room as he opens the training room door.

His insomnia hits again, harder and stronger than ever before. The adrenaline runs through his veins. His mind is restless. Burning. And this time, there was no bedtime story that could soothe the pain or anger he was going through. He doesn’t bother with gloves or wraps. He’s too pissed for that, too lost in his thoughts. All he wants to do is hit something.

His fists make contact with the heavy bag, sending it swinging in response. The sound of the impact echoes in the empty room, but it’s not enough. Not even close.

The image of you, standing alone against Frazer, fists clenched, blood dripping between your fingers, glass embedded in your palms. You were fighting back so hard against the control Hydra still held over you with those damn keywords. You were panting, agonizing, trying to survive. And the only thing he could do was watch.

He hits the bag harder, faster. The chains holding it creak from the force.

You were kneeling before a laughing Agent Frazer, desperately looking for the tranquilizer and pressing it into your neck before he could stop you. Before he could do anything. 

Your body going limp in his arms, your eyes closed, and your breath going soft for what felt like an eternity as you slipped away from him.

He growls through gritted teeth, his punches landing with brutal strength.

This… horrendous lab. Children—your siblings—taken. Sacrificed. Experimented on. Killed. Their golden threads snuffed out as you hoped you were helping them. Steve’s heart clenches painfully, his vision narrowing. The memory of your voice, the anguish in it when you told him how you’d watched each of them fade, haunts him. You were forced to be part of it. They lied to you—how could they.

His punches grow more erratic, fueled by the rising storm inside him. Sweat drips from his brow, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. His knuckles split open, blood streaking the bag, but the pain barely registers. He isn’t stopping. Not until he can soothe these invisible scars in you.

Your soft voice, telling him how you watched helplessly as your siblings died around you. Your power shut down in self-defense, a last-ditch effort to survive the nightmare Hydra forced on you.

Steve clenches his jaw, his breaths coming in ragged gasps now. His fists slam against the bag like hammer strikes.

Each punch is harder, faster, more desperate. He can’t stop. He can’t fight the guilt, the rage, the sorrow. You had been through hell, and he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t protect you. He couldn’t save your siblings. He failed.

Your words, soft and kind despite everything. You caress his cheek, smiling in his arms, trying to comfort him.

"What happened to me isn’t a burden for you to carry, you know that, right?”

His rage peaks, spiraling out of control. He roars in frustration and punches the bag with all the strength he can muster. His fist collides with it, sending shockwaves through the air.

The bag explodes.

The canvas tears apart, sand spilling out in all directions like dust from a broken hourglass. The chains snap, and the bag slams into the floor, rolling limply as Steve stumbles back, chest heaving, fists bleeding.

He stares down at the mess he’s made, panting, his mind racing. But the anger doesn’t fade. It lingers, burning beneath his skin. Cause he knows…no matter how hard he hits, how much he punishes himself, it won’t change what happened to you.

It won’t change a fucking thing. 

Not the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most, nor the fact that he failed in the first attempt at eliminating Hydra, or the second. You only escaped because the fucking popsicle machine ran out of power. Tony and Natasha rescued you. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t even remember where the fuck he was.

He drops to his knees, fists still clenched, blood dripping onto the floor. His breathing slows, and the silence creeps back into the room.

Grateful. The word echoes in his mind, like a bitter reminder. You were so grateful, so kind. To be alive. To be here, seeing everything. You loved every breath you took, and you loved him, with every glitter of your own golden thread.

But Steve couldn’t be grateful. Not yet. Not a bit. Not with all the pain, all the suffering, you had endured. 

It’s so fucked up. It’s so wrong. It’s so terribly, terribly wrong. He couldn’t be grateful for something so broken. And he wasn’t going to be. He wasn’t stopping until he crushed the last being on this fucking earth that would hurt you like Agent Frazer. He wasn’t stopping until he’d made sure of that.

"Your girlfriend told me once that we should invent some kind of power-resistant punching bag, especially for you. At least to help with your sleeping issues when it's late, and you'd hang around the campus looking for bags to hit." A voice behind him. Tony leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

"Then one day, she told me that you slept well every night, so maybe you didn’t need them anymore." He chuckled. "I didn’t even know where to start to ask—like, why, when, how’d she know how Steve sleeps? But I didn’t, of course, because she blushed, and I just… didn’t want to tease her."

Steve didn’t turn back. He stayed quiet for a while. "She’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t asked."

"Oh, so… she’s your ‘I’ll make all the best gear for my baby so he won’t get hurt’ genius engineer, and you’re her ‘you touch my girl, and I’ll mash you with the new shield she just made for me' kind of relationship?”

Tony nodded. "And also, you both have this ‘I’d sacrifice myself for you’ vibe that makes you a great couple. I think it’s cute, actually."

Steve sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the couch. "Why are you here, Tony?"

"Maybe you won’t believe it, but I’m here for a friend." Tony sighed and sat next to him, keeping a safe distance, so as not to invade his space. "Just checked on her. Vital signs are fine. Injuries are starting to heal. She’s tough, and you don’t hear it, but… this is nothing compared to how we found her."

"You’re right." Steve frowned, looking down at his knuckles, the bleeding already stopped. "I don’t want to hear it."

They sat in silence for a while until Steve shook his head with a mixture of resignation and frustration.

"Why didn’t I know?"

Tony glanced over at Steve, sympathy softening his usual sharp edges.

“How would you? She never let anyone see the cracks. And that’s something we’ve been working on for the past few years. Hiding her. Blending her in. So no one would noticed, so she could be safe.”

Tony took a breath, weighing his words carefully.

“You’ve only met her due to an unexpected, and beautiful surprise. A sleepless night, I believe?” 

Tony smiled. He pauses for a moment.“She thinks that was a gift, you know? Some kind of universe retribution for all the years of suffering and torture...and…” He patted Steve’s shoulder. “I think that too.”

“If you weren’t with her... what would have happened today?” Tony softened his voice. “If you hadn’t ended Hydra… maybe we’d never have found her, and she would have died... alone, in the dark, frozen, and without knowing that she was meant to be cherished, cared for, or loved. And…”

He glared at Steve as his expression shifted. “And no one would ever know that she even existed. Her siblings gone, all the memories about her would be…nothing, she would have been a file number. Lost within thousands of archives.”

Steve felt his whole body tense as Tony’s words landed. The mere thought of it was like a blast of icy water rushing down his spine, numbing him. A world where you were nothing but a forgotten experiment, a nameless file in some dusty Hydra archives, erased from existence. It twisted something in his chest. 

The image of you dying cold and alone in some abandoned Hydra lab. No one to mourn you, no one to even know that you were gone. No trace left behind. It clawed at him, settling like a vice around his heart, tightening with every beat.

“Stop with this self-pity and self-destruction mode, Steve.” Reading his expression, Tony knew his words had an effect. “It’s in the past. She made it, she survived, and she’s happy. Put yourself together and stop bringing it up in the present.” 

He grunted as he stood up and looked at Captain America with seriousness. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Someone out there is trying to get and hurt your girl, Cap. Are you going to let them?”

Steve looked at the silent floor and the exploded bags for a while, then nodded. “You’re damn right.” He held Tony’s hand to stand up.

“Yup, I always am.” Tony smirked at him. “Go and get some sleep because tomorrow…” He clicked his tongue. “We have a briefing meeting since Nat is going to spend the night interrogating this guys and probably... you know, just a little bit of tango. Then analysis with Hill—shit, I shouldn’t have accepted that—and we have only 1,278 security protocols to discuss if you and your ‘not-my-girlfriend’ are going public or whatever.”

“And…” Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “Clean up this fucking mess, Steve, this is a 12 million training room for gods’ sake.”

Steve chuckled reluctantly. “Fine.” As he started tidying up the debris, he muttered: “This thing today, this agent, was straight after her.”

Tony was already at the door when he turned back. “Clearly. But I’m not gonna discuss this with you now at…” He looked at his watch. “3:22. My brain’s checked out. Unless it’s another half-the-universe-disappearing disaster, we’ve got this under control.”

Steve nodded, the weight of Tony's words settling into him. But it was more than that—your words still echoed louder. The reminder of how you wanted to move forward, how much you needed new memories. He knew Tony was right, but you... you were the one who truly brought him back from the edge. He inhaled deep, and started to pick up the mess he made.

“This is the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen…” says a cross-armed Sam, standing in front of a glass wall, observing a room filled with white lab coat experts. Led by the only two people wearing regular shirts: Tony and Bruce.

“That’s because you’re not a regular on this side of the compound.” Natasha tilts her head towards the unified silence and the steady room full of geniuses. “This is just… a normal Tuesday.”

“They haven’t moved for 15 minutes!” Sam says with an incredulous look. “You can’t tell me this is normal. Look at Bruce, he’s not even blinking.”

Both Maria and Natasha chuckled before Commander Hill explained, “Their brains are working. They’re deciphering that code.” She gestured toward the screen displaying the tangled mess of numbers and symbols. “Until they crack it, they won’t move.”

“If you turn on the neuro-transmission scan right now...” Natasha grinned, “it’s like the Fourth of July in there.”

“So, what exactly are they doing?” Sam considered turning on the scan just to see what was happening inside their heads.

“The guy that attacked us yesterday had this retinal lens used as spyware; it was transmitting everything he saw. We cracked the code and followed it to the hub where it was connected and transmitting data,” Hill finished her coffee and said, “And of course, it’s encrypted. There’s the source code…” She gestures towards the huge screen filled with numbers and letters that reads as Asgardian to Sam.

“That’s… one code?” Sam is shocked. “How’d they look if there were ten?”

“Technically… that’s one piece of the code. Not the complete…” Natasha begins to explain, then gives up. “Never mind.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just… asked the dude?”

“I did. And… it got messy…” Black Widow answers as she pours some coffee and hands another mug to the Commander, which she accepts gratefully.

“You killed him?! Are we allowed to do that?” Sam’s eyes widen, not entirely in disaproval.

“No! Of course not!” Natasha thinks about it for a second, then replies, “No. We can’t do that.” Although Steve would’ve loved to. She pauses. “He got, um… it looks like his brain was programmed. After he woke up, he was entirely a different person. He didn’t remember anything. He was… is, actually, Charles Frazer. A normal MI6 agent who lives in London with a beautiful family and was sent here to respect the New Era Project. He doesn’t remember anything from yesterday.”

“What?” The Falcon is stunned. “Can they do that now? Program someone’s brain?!”

“We talk to a tree that calls a raccoon his father, so…” Hill comments without taking her eyes off the screens.

“And the raccoon shoots big guns.” Natasha adds, as if that’s a valid point. “Well… the thing is, we don’t know when this programming thing happened. Has he always been like this? A spy with sleeper cells that suddenly woke up? Is he really a normal agent who underwent modification just before coming here? We’re doing a lot of background checks, but this guy is… immaculate. Clean. Like this glass.”

“That’s… even more suspicious.” Sam frowns. “But Dr. Lancaster said he looked just like her brother, and… I’ve seen the files. He does look like Four. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Probably his face was altered too. We just have to figure out when.”

“In any case, I don’t think the guy is normal.” Shaking his head, the Falcon isn’t buying it for a second. “No regular person takes a punch like that from Cap and wakes up. I thought the dude’s skull was broken.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Natasha starts typing on the screen. “I think Steve should be part of this conversation. Where is he? Making the windows foggy?”

“Unfortunately, no,” says Steve as he walks into the room, resignation in his voice, though his steps are steady and recovered. “She’s in R&D3 already. Back to work.”

He shakes his head. There was no way you’d go home and rest after being discharged, and honestly, he wasn’t comfortable leaving you alone. So, the best place for you (after promising for the 26th time you wouldn’t do any heavy work) was a lab full of people where you could put your mind elsewhere.

“As we all should.” Natasha raises an eyebrow at Steve. “No one here can afford to be a porcelain doll, y’know?” She’s not easy to break and far from being easily corrupted. She doesn’t say it, but her expression makes it clear.

“I know.” Steve nods with a serious expression. Yesterday, you had shown remarkable strength, remaining composed even when restlessness set in.

“Since we’re on the same page…” Commander Hill approaches the table and leans with a professional smile. She really doesn’t have time to waste. “We need to talk about the 1,278 security protocols that Stark wanted me to discuss with you.”

“Ugh,” Steve says with irritation. But then, this is your security they’re talking about, so he surrenders. “Fine.”

You didn’t know about the struggles Steve was going through as he listened to the extensive, detailed, laser-focused report Maria was giving him regarding ‘how many scans people had to pass just to approach you or your lab’ or ‘the perfect plan for your girlfriend to walk through the campus with you holding hands without being posted on social media’.

No, you were in another state of pink haze because the man you loved had said, “I love you.”

Ahh, the sky was blue, the clouds were like cotton candy (not that you’d know because you’d never tasted it before), your plants were growing strong, and yes, you had a terrible past. There was this guy who had leaked information to God knows who super dark organization, letting them know you were an ex-Hydra agent blended within the Avengers.

And by the way, that guy looked just like your dead brother and he tried to manipulate you through brainwashing. You had stitches in your knees and arms, and you shot yourself enough tranquilizer to kill a cow…but ha… who gives a shit, the most perfect, gorgeous man has said that he loves you. Like, priorities, right?

“Someone is in a good mood…” Your colleague slash friend Dr. Lin observed you and swirled around in the chair. “Alright, alright, so the mysterious date has become…a boyfriend?”

“Oh no, he is not…” You were caught off guard, and that made you think for a moment.

Wait…

What are the social protocols for calling Steve your boyfriend? Is that something people would assume after some steps of development in their relationship? Or was it a conclusion people would reach after certain premises: like intimacy, living in the same house, or having to face some dude who tried to brainwash you together?

Is it something that you or he would be entitled to call each other after those steps were fulfilled? And also, there’s this thing about… are you the only one? Yes, you live in a society that has historically been monogamous in most cultures. But things are different now. Polygamy is becoming more accepted. You wouldn’t like that, but of course, you couldn’t force him into that. Like, there are gorgeous women around him, that’s true…

“Honey…” Dr. Lin could see the ‘loading…’ sign on your forehead now that you were frozen in thought. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

“I have some questions, Dr. Lin… no, Robert.” You put the computer in sleep mode and turned around. “Would the fact that he said ‘I love you’ make him my boyfriend?”

“Well… did he introduce you to his friends as his ‘girlfriend’?”

“Um… no.”

“Did you talk about it? Like, in which place are you standing? Or where are you heading?”

“Um…” You looked up as you remembered. “No. But we did talk about ‘making more beautiful memories’ together”.

“Oh shit.” Robert’s face shifted to ‘Gurrlllll…’ He carefully chose his words but wanted to be really clear: “And, uh… did he mention or hint that he wanted to be your boyfriend?”

“Mmm… no.” You shook your head. Not literally, at least.

“And you’re sure there’s no one else in his life?”

“Well. Yeah.” You made an obvious face. It’s not like he has the time; he is with you (or inside you) every night.

“I’m just saying…” Robert raised his hands. “There are a lot of dudes who’ll say anything to keep their bed warm.”

“Well… he is special.” You felt compelled to defend Steve. “He never lies.”

Robert almost choked. “Alright, darling… look, just make sure he’s not just banging you and planning to break your heart, okay? There are a lot of assholes out there, and trust me… you’re like a blank canvas for them, which makes you incredibly hot and attractive, but still… there are a lot of douchebags…”

“Mmm.” You were immersed in your thoughts again, analyzing what Dr. Lin had said, and as your “Loading…” sign appeared on your forehead, Robert just left you to it.

You had this way of getting so lost in your thoughts that the outside world faded away. You operated on autopilot, so you didn’t even realize how you’d gotten up at lunchtime and wandered into the common area where Steve was waiting. You didn’t notice the worried look on his face, nor the glance he exchanged with his teammates when you all sat down at the table, ready for lunch.

‘Ask her if she’s okay.’ Natasha’s eyes silently urged Steve.

‘Of course she’s not okay. After everything she’s been through.’ Steve replied with his glare.

‘Maybe she is just tired?’ Said Maria from the other corner. 

‘She does look sad…or confused.’ Observed Tony too.

‘Can you pass me the salt, please?’ Sam added to the silent conversation.

While the Avengers exchanged silent signals, you made up your mind to ask the questions that had been gnawing at you directly.

“What does it mean when people say that ‘you’re just banging me’?” You turned to Steve and asked.

Natasha spat her water out in Clint’s face, and Sam choked on a peanut.

"And I’m not against polygamy, but I think I’d be better in a monogamous relationship. If… we’re not just ‘banging.’" You nodded, speaking with honesty.

“I…” Steve tried to respond, but was interrupted by the hysterical laughter from Tony and Natasha as they rushed to save Sam from choking. (“Why would you have peanuts at lunchtime?!” Black Widow asked in a mix of laughter and disbelief.) Steve didn't know what to say, but a smile finally spread across his face as he looked at you in awe.

After the nightmare you’d all gone through yesterday, it felt like a lifetime since he’d actually smiled or felt any joy. Yet here you were, as you always are when he’s with you, with your clever, unexpected comebacks that washed away all his anger, anxiety, and rage. And your strange yet brilliant mind made him feel… so happy.

“Babe…” he chuckled, squeezing your hand and using a word he never imagined he’d use: “We’re not just banging…”

“We’re not?” You looked at him, a little confused, noticing his ears turning red. Lowering your voice, you added, “But that’s what we do every night… isn’t it?”

“OMG!” Clint stood up, covering his ears, trying not to burst out laughing. “Dr. Lancaster, may I kindly remind you this is a room full of people with extraordinary powers, including super-sensitive hearing… something we can’t exactly control?”

“Oh.” You blushed slightly, realizing how blunt you’d been, and leaned closer to Steve. “So ‘making love’ would be the right word?”

Steve chuckled as the rest of the team erupted in laughter. He squeezed your hand and smiled. “Yes, honey, that would be correct.” he said, amidst laughs and coughing.

Of course, you weren’t just banging. Steve had made up his mind to ensure you had no doubts about that. After the hilarious, "we'll talk about this for years" lunch, he gathered everything he needed to prove it to you and headed to the lab.

It was well past dinner when he arrived, and the place was empty, the only light coming from your desk. You knew he'd be late, so you waited for him to pick you up.

Leaning against the doorway, Steve watched you quietly for a moment, a soft smile forming on his face. You were completely absorbed in your work, brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t want to interrupt, captivated by the focus you showed, his heart swelled as he took a few steps toward you.

"Hey… just… one minute…" You noticed his footsteps and quickened your typing. "I’ll wrap this up."

"There’s no rush at all." Steve sat in the chair beside you, smirking, though you didn’t notice, still immersed in your work.

"Just… borrow your hand, please?" he asked softly, knowing you were on autopilot. Without looking away from the screen, you automatically lifted your hand.

You felt something delicate wrap around your ring finger. Glancing up, you saw a slender golden thread circling it, secured by a tiny knot. Your eyes followed the thread as a delicate silver ring slid down, fitting perfectly. Startled, you looked up to see Steve raise his hand, revealing the other end of the thread tied around his own ring finger.

"What… what is this?" you asked softly, surprised.

"Well… I didn’t get the exact ‘sparkling glitter golden thread’ like you described, but… you get the idea." Steve smiled, standing up to kiss the back of your hand. "This is proof that I’m not just banging you, or…" He chuckled, "something that asks if I could bang you for the rest of our lives."

He paused, trying to remember Tony’s exact words.

"And it’s also a 'high-frequency, multi-sensorial ring capable of real-time biometric and geospatial transmission. Embedded with micro-electromechanical systems that continuously monitor and broadcast vital stats—heart rate variability, galvanic skin response, and core temperature—with GPS coordinates. Plus, a predictive analytics algorithm to interpret physiological fluctuations, allowing for real-time detection of anomalies in health and emotional state.'"

"Oh wow…" you breathed, genuinely shocked. "Did you memorize all that?"

Steve laughed and nodded. "Tony insisted you should know exactly what you were wearing."

"Awww, babe…" You couldn’t stop laughing. "This is the most romantic stalker device I've ever had."

He let out a hearty laugh and showed you his ring. "It’s connected to mine," he said, pulling you closer, his hands settling at your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours. "And I used a golden thread—the one that represents life—because you’re my life now."

"Steve…" You gently caressed his face, looking down at your hands, the rings connected by the golden thread. Really in shocked.

"And… you’re sure? Won’t people notice?"

"Trust me, I went through 1,278 protocols before deciding on this. Honestly, I made up my mind long before that. Hill said I could've spared her the torture of explaining all those, and she wanted to punch me right in the face afterward, but…" His voice softened. 

"I don’t want you living in shadows or secrets anymore. I’ll be with you, always, by your side. And…"

"And since whoever our enemy is already knows about me, they’ll think twice before coming after us, seeing that I’m with the Captain of the Avengers." You nodded.

"Yeah, that. But more importantly…" He kissed you softly after laughing. 

"Because I don’t know how to live without you. This ring… it’s just a way of showing how serious I am. How much I love you." 

He smiled suddenly, a memory flashing in his eyes. "Do you remember what you asked me the first day we met?"

"I think so…?" You hesitated, unsure which moment he was referring to. "We talked for like 10 hours that night."

"You asked me, when you added your number to my phone, 'What do you want me to be, for you?' And I answered…"

"‘My Everything,’" you whispered.

"That’s right." He sealed it with a kiss. 

"You are my everything."

You were quiet, and in awe. Just like the night you met him. For so long, you’d been searching, drifting in and out of the shadows, living in the remnants of broken fairy tales. But now, standing here with him, you realized those tales had never really been broken. They’d just been waiting — for this. 

You were no longer lost, no longer broken and sifting through the ashes of old stories. You’ve found this. Your own spectacular fairy tale, and the best part? It’s real. You had been given the right to love, to be loved, to finally be someone’s everything.

And for the first time, you truly believed it.

End

Continue to:

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Andddd I'm sorry I'm posting so late today, but having two full time jobs is hitting really hard, will try to maintain regularity as I can. But its getting hard! Thanks for reading thus far and I hope you enjoyed the chapter, mayb posting a different story next friday ;) See you then!

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim

Love.,

Moon.

[rootedinrevisions]

Hard Shell, Soft Heart

SUMMARY: Scott Miller has a reputation. He's tough, no-nonsense, and all business when it comes to storm chasing. But when the season winds down and his team finds themselves stranded without a place to stay, Scott shocks everyone by inviting them to his home just north of the Missouri border. What they don’t expect is the man he turns into when he's home - a devoted husband, soon-to-be father, and complete softie for his wife. As the team settles in for the night, they witness a side of Scott they never imagined, proving that even the hardest shells can hold the softest hearts.

WARNING: None. This one's pretty fluffy.

A/N: Thank you to @h-ngm-nssluttt for sending in the request for this! I really hope you enjoy it and I appreciate your patience and udnerstanding as I know it's taken a while for me to get it finished!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

TAGS: I just realized I don't have a tag list for Scott. I have one for Tyler, Javi, and Boone. So feel free if you'd like to be tagged in any future Scott stuff!

The sun hung high in the sky as the Storm Par team pulled off the highway, the rumble of their vehicles echoing into the late afternoon. The excitement of the day’s chase had faded into the tired satisfaction of another successful, albeit exhausting, storm hunt. Scott Miller parked the van near the gas station, his eyes scanning the horizon as the rest of the team filtered out.

"Alright," Manny, one of the guys said, his voice clipped as he pulled out his phone. "Let’s figure out where we’re staying tonight."

Javi stretched, grinning as he looked around. "Anyone else craving a cheeseburger and fries? We could just camp out on this gas station floor for the night. There’s a diner right there if we get hungry."

Kate rolled her eyes, popping her trunk to grab her bag. "We’ve been on the road for hours, Javi. Let’s find a proper place to sleep. Then we’ll think about food. The last thing I need is to wake up with gravel in my back."

"Fine," Javi chuckled, following her toward the convenience store. "Alright, someone find us a hotel."

The rest of the team gathered around the gas station’s picnic table, pulling out phones to search for vacancies. The mood shifted from lighthearted to mildly frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Hotel after hotel in the area showed "No Vacancy" or "Fully Booked."

"What’s going on?" Kate asked, holding up her phone. "The whole county’s sold out."

Javi leaned over her shoulder, frowning at the screen. "There’s got to be something open. We’re in southern Missouri, not downtown New York."

"State fair," Scott muttered, not bothering to look up from his own search. "And it’s the weekend. Everyone and their dog’s in town."

Javi groaned, sinking into the seat next to Scott. "Of course. The damn fair’s going on. That’s why everything’s packed. Guess we’re sleeping in the vans tonight."

Scott’s eyes flicked over to Javi, a hint of something softer behind his usual professional stare. "We’ll figure something out. Hold on."

The others continued scrolling through their phones, muttering about motels, campgrounds, and any other possible option that might have an opening. After another moment of searching, Scott looked up with a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he got the text back he was waiting on.

"Actually," he began, his tone steady, "I’ve got a place nearby."

Everyone paused, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously?" Javi’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You? Got a place? Like, you found a hotel or—?"

"No, my house," Scott replied with a shrug, completely nonchalant. "It’s about an hour north of here. I’ve got plenty of room. It’s closer than any of the hotels I’ve found that are at least an hour and a half out."

A beat of silence followed before Kate burst out laughing. "Wait, you? You have a house? And you’re offering to let us crash there?"

Scott’s lips twitched slightly, and he shoved his phone into his pocket. "Yeah. What’s so surprising about that?"

The others exchanged puzzled looks.

"You’re not pulling our leg, right? You live in a real house? With a roof and everything?" Javi added, eyeing Scott with newfound suspicion. 

Scott glanced up at him, unamused. "I don’t have time for jokes, Javi. My wife’s expecting us. I already called ahead."

"Wife?" Kate echoed, her eyes widening. "You have a wife?"

"Yeah," Scott said flatly, clearly enjoying their surprise. "And a dog."

"Okay, now I’m confused," Javi muttered. "The Scott Miller we know lives for the storms and hates anything that resembles...normal life. And yet, here we are, hearing about a wife and a dog? And a house? What’s next? A picket fence?"

Scott smirked. "The house is in the middle of nowhere, we don’t need a fence. It’s got a wraparound porch though, a few acres of land, and yeah, a dog. His name’s Ben."

"Well," Kate said, her arms crossed, "I’m in. I’m dying to see this home of yours."

Scott turned to face them, his expression settling into its usual businesslike demeanor. "I’ll give you the directions. Don’t make me regret this."

The team exchanged glances, the disbelief starting to settle into genuine curiosity. As they piled back into the vehicles, Javi leaned over to Kate.

"So, who’s taking bets on whether he actually has a wife or if he’s just trying to be mysterious? I’m guessing it’s a secret sister or something."

Kate rolled her eyes, her lips twitching into a smile. "I’m more interested in this dog. A golden retriever, maybe?"

Scott drove ahead, his car kicking up dust as they followed in the rearview mirror. The rest of the team settled into a quieter, more contemplative mood as they cruised through the winding roads, each of them trying to picture the kind of life Scott Miller could be hiding behind his tough exterior.

* * * * *

The rumble of engines grew louder as the vehicles made their way up the gravel drive, the sound of tires on the country road familiar and comforting. You stood on the porch, your hand resting lightly on your round bump, a smile spreading across your face. You’d been keeping busy inside the house, preparing for their arrival, but now, with Scott finally home after a long storm season, the weight of the day’s tasks seemed a little lighter.

It had been a hectic few weeks, but the timing couldn’t have been better. The "off season" had lined up perfectly with your due date, and Scott would be able to be home for the birth. The thought made your heart swell—he’d be there for all the sleepless nights, the early morning feedings, the first steps, and all the moments in between. And right now, you couldn’t wait to have him home to help finish getting the nursery ready and tie up all the little details before the big day arrived.

You stepped to the top of the porch steps, the humid evening air brushing across your skin. The golden light from the setting sun made everything feel warm and welcoming, just the way you had always imagined your life with Scott would be.

As the vehicles slowed, you could see the team glancing around in awe, clearly taken aback by the farmhouse’s charm. The house itself was just as you had always dreamed it would be—big, cozy, and full of life. You could already picture the future in every corner. A few acres of land, the wraparound porch where Scott would sit after long days, the backyard where you’d let the baby play once they were old enough. The possibilities felt endless, and it all felt so right.

You glanced back toward the door as Scott’s truck came into view. His face usually all business, broke into a wide grin when he saw you. He threw the truck into park before stepping out, his long strides quickly closing the distance between you. His eyes softened as he reached you, and before you could even say a word, he was right there, his hand gently resting on your belly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice low but filled with concern as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against your forehead, then lightly against your lips.

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. "I’m more than okay," you whispered back. "I’m just happy you’re home."

Scott’s hand lingered on your bump as he leaned back, his smile widening at the sight of you standing there, glowing with happiness. He placed a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin. "I’m happy I’m home, too. And I’ll be here for all of it, you know that, right?" His voice was thick with emotion.

You nodded, your heart full. "I know. We’re really doing this, Scott."

The sound of the team’s voices coming up the drive drew your attention, and you turned to see them stepping out of the vehicles. The realization of how different this was for Scott—the man who spent so much of his life chasing storms, always on the move—was not lost on you. This was his home. And now, with you, it was your home too.

"Alright," Scott said, turning to the team with a teasing grin. "You all ready to meet the wife and... the bump?"

The team’s jaws dropped, clearly surprised by the sight of you.

“Scott really has a wife?" Javi asked, his voice full of incredulity.

"You didn’t tell us she was this... this..." Kate trailed off, clearly struggling for the right words, her eyes flicking back and forth between you, your bump, and Scott.

Scott shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Figured I’d surprise you."

Javi laughed, clearly recovering from his shock. "I gotta say, Miller, didn’t see this one coming. You’re hiding a whole family."

"Not hiding," Scott corrected, looking down at you with soft affection. "Just keeping it private."

"Well, we definitely didn’t expect the 'American dream' to come with the storm-chaser package," Kate teased, her eyes twinkling as she turned toward the team.

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your bump. "You get used to it, trust me."

As the team slowly made their way inside, Scott slipped his hand into yours, leading you into the house. "Dinner will be ready in an hour or so," you said.

Scott’s eyes sparkled with appreciation. "Perfect. I appreciate you, sweetheart."

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, with the smell of homemade food filling the air. The space was exactly what you’d hoped for—a family home, comfortable and cozy, with soft lighting and the quiet hum of a life shared between two people and soon, a little one.

The team slowly made their way toward the front door, still trying to process the fact that Scott Miller the tough, no-nonsense storm-chaser, was married and about to be a dad. You smiled to yourself, your heart full as you followed Scott inside, feeling that comforting weight of being at home.

After everyone had settled in, you got to work, eager to make the most of this time with Scott and his team. Since getting the text from Scott, you’d been preparing a hearty meal for everyone. 

The sounds of laughter and light conversation from the living room filled the air as you checked the temperature on the pork roast and prepped the bread to go in the oven. It was nice to have a moment to yourself, even with the others around, and you savored the feeling of being in your own kitchen.

Every now and then, you’d hear Scott’s voice in the other room, a comforting presence you hadn’t realized you missed so much. The team seemed to be loosening up now that they were off the road, chatting about the chase and the season winding down. Every once in a while, Scott would pop his head in to check on you, offering a quick kiss on the cheek or asking if you needed help.

"Need anything?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, eyes soft but still carrying that rugged edge.

You shook your head with a smile. "I’m good, babe. Go relax. I’ve got this."

He hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between offering help and leaving you to your own rhythm, but then he shrugged and backed out of the kitchen. "Alright. If you need me, just holler."

As Scott disappeared, Kate wandered in, glancing around at the food. "Need a hand?" she asked, a friendly smile tugging at her lips.

"No, I think I’ve got it handled, thank you though," you replied, giving her a smile of your own. "You go relax, I’ll call you when it’s ready."

A while later supper was ready but you needed ot finish the sides. But the table also needed to be set. You glanced towards the living room, not wanting to bother Scott but also not wanting to asks your guests for help either.

"Hey Scott, can you set the table on the back deck?" you asked, shouting towards the living room over your shoulder. "Dinner’s almost ready."

Scott’s eyes lit up with that familiar mischievous glint. He flashed a quick smile before walking over to where you stood. "Yes, dear," he said, his voice dripping with a playful tone that immediately caught the attention of the rest of the team.

The guys, who had been quietly milling around, shot each other surprised looks, clearly trying to keep from laughing.

"Did he just say 'Yes, dear'?" Javi asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Kate snickered, nudging Javi with her elbow. "I think he did. Didn’t know Scott had it in him."

Scott, not missing a beat, gave them a look over his shoulder. "Happy wife, happy life, fellas," he said with a knowing grin, before turning to you with a wink. "Right, sweetheart?"

You chuckled, a warm, affectionate feeling washing over you as you watched Scott seamlessly switch from the hard-ass storm-chaser to the loving, supportive husband.

"Of course," you replied, your voice full of adoration. "Thanks, babe."

With that, he walked out through the back door, the sound of him moving toward the deck cutting through the light banter between the team. You smiled to yourself, feeling that contentment you’d been missing when Scott had been gone on the road for so long. Everything felt right in this moment.

You moved back to the kitchen, checking the vegetable and pork roast that were in the oven to make sure everything was cooking evenly. The rest of the team slowly trickled into the dining room, chatting amongst themselves, their teasing continuing in the background.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and when you turned, you found Scott standing behind you, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he gestured to the back deck. "Table’s set," he said, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

You walked over to him, resting your hand lightly on his chest. "Thanks, babe," you said, your heart swelling with warmth. "You really are the best."

Scott grinned down at you, his fingers brushing against your bump. "Anything for you, sweetheart.”

*****

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, despite the initial shock from the team at seeing Scott so at ease in his own home. The teasing had been relentless, but Scott took it all in stride, offering nothing more than a smirk and a casual arm around your shoulders. Now, with the meal finished and the dishes put away, the team had trickled off to their respective spaces for the evening, exhaustion from the long chase finally settling in.

The night air was warm but carried the faintest breeze, rustling through the trees surrounding the house. Crickets chirped in the distance, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional quiet murmur of conversation from inside. You stood on the back porch, letting the stillness settle over you, one hand absentmindedly resting on your belly.

The sound of the screen door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. A moment later, Scott stepped beside you, a cold glass of sweet tea in one hand, the other immediately finding its way to the small of your back.

“Tired?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You let out a slow breath, smiling as you leaned into his side. “A little. But I’m just glad you’re home.”

Scott hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your temple before guiding you over to the porch swing. He sat down first, pulling you gently into his side so you could rest against him. His hand found your belly without hesitation, thumb brushing lazily over the fabric of your dress.

“I still can’t believe the baby's going to be here soon. I'm glad I'll be able to be here for all of it,” he murmured. His voice was thick with a more vulnerable tone, something you didn't hear from Scott often.

You glanced up at him, catching the way his usual hardened expression had softened. “I was worried you’d miss it,” you admitted quietly.

Scott let out a breath, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t let that happen. The second I knew the due date, I made damn sure I’d be here.” His fingers traced gentle circles across your bump, as if grounding himself in the reality of it all. “Storm chasing is one thing, but this… this is the biggest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you reached up, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, you know that?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Only because you’ll be an amazing mom.”

You smiled, shifting just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “Guess our kid's gonna be pretty lucky then.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, swaying gently in the night air, wrapped up in each other and the life you were building together. The storm chasing season was over—for now—and for the first time in a long time, Scott Miller wasn’t thinking about the next chase. He was thinking about home.

And as far as he was concerned, he was exactly where he belonged.

[realcube]

WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, slut-shaming (both ways)

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

your friends call it 'inexplicable hatred', 'misdirected anger' and 'envy' but they couldn't be more wrong.

your feelings towards tsukishima kei were completely rational in your mind. he carried himself as though he was better than everyone and treated those around him like filth, yet he's still tolerated and his shitty attitude is even deemed charming by some self-loathing girls at your college.

it irritates you to no end how he behaves. too cocksure and too sassy; no dignified man should never act in such a manner, you believe. you could go on about other reasons you dislike him — his style atrocities and his punchable face, to name a couple — but you shan't.

you intended on going about your life, simply hating him from afar as you didn't see the need to stir up petty drama. but he made it impossible for you to do so.

one day he was sat behind you in a maths lecture. the seats are tiered so he is slightly higher up than you are. while making notes, his pen slips out of his hand and tumbles forward, landing somewhere under your desk.

you do the polite thing by making an attempt to search for it, but it is dark under the table you can't seem to find it.

a couple moments pass, and he remarks lowly, "are you just going to stare it?"

white hot rage courses through you at his comment. what ever happened to 'please'? to 'would you mind'? you were about to do him a favour by fetching his pencil and he still has the audacity to be snarky.

fuck that, he can pick up his own damn pen. you leave it alone and try to focus on the lecture.

you make it through the whole thing without him bothering you again, probably using a spare or borrowed pen. once the class has been dismissed, you gather your things and wait for the people in your row to start filtering out so you can leave, that is when you feel a gentle tap on the shoulder.

you turn around and lock eyes with a tan, freckled boy with mousy brown hair, he wears an awkward smile and point to your desk, "excuse me, my friend dropped his pencil and i think it landed under your desk. could you get it, please?"

his voice is meek and demeanour similar to that of a shy puppy, which is why it almost pained you to scoff at him and say, "tell your friend to stop being such a cunt, then maybe."

you rush out of the door, keen to get as far away from those two boys as you can. yet as you leave you hear the blonde's voice mutter in your wake, "what a moron."

after marinating on the situation during the retelling to your friend group, and a group vote, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your response to yamaguchi — you learned his name from one your friends — might have been a bit severe. but in your defence, you were peeved by the comment tsukishima had made prior.

it's as though manners and etiquette are totally lost on him.

ೃ⁀➷

two weeks passed since your last little altercation with tsukishima, and you were proud to say you haven't been involved in any conflict with him since then. mostly making snide remarks in passing or exchanging dirty looks in the hall.

however, that all changed when your professor was late to one of your classes. they expressed in the past that they prefer students to wait outside the lecture theatre when they aren't present, so naturally this caused many people to be clogging the hallways.

there was a long queue of people waiting to enter, you stood far away from the door, while tsukishima and yamaguchi happened to be standing opposite. you couldn't help but notice the outfit tsukishima had on: skinny light brown trousers with a black belt, and a pressed short-sleeve white shirt, that was a bit see-through.

you didn't know much about this guy but from his slightly toned figure, which was made apparent by his choice in clothes, you could tell he does some sort of sport. probably basketball, considering how tall he is, but maybe golf. he acts like a golf player.

lost in thought for too long, your finally yanked out of your own internal monologue by a familiar voice snapping, "what are you staring at?"

you blink, and before you even have time to process what he just accused you of, you blurt out, "has anyone told you that you're dressed like a slut today?"

yamaguchi must slap a hand over his mouth to suppress his burgeoning laughter. tsukishima's eyes narrow at his friend's offensive display, before they snap back to you and he argues, "really? me? i'm dressed appropriately. take a look at what you're wearing."

he motions to your outfit: jorts and a tank top. maybe not the most stylish choice but definitely not as whorish as his attire. "it might be more revealing but still not as slutty as you."

he rolls his eyes like what you said was contradictory, wearing smug smile. he wants you to believe what you said is nonsensical and 'proved his point' but all it does it anger you to no end.

not fond of his facial expressions, you retort, "don't pull stupid faces and play dumb. you're already dumb enough as is, so it isn't a very becoming look on you."

with furrowed brows, he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, "and i can see your chest through your shirt. no one wants to see that!"

"you say that while your tits are out, have some self-respect."

"at least i have tits. you're wearing a short sleeve to show off the muscles you don't even have!"

yamaguchi is thoroughly entertained by this squabble, which is why it pains him to chime in, "uh, tsukki. the lecturer is here, let's go."

as much as he wanted to get the last word in, tsukishima glances between tadashi and the empty halls before he decides his education is actually kinda important and begins to make his way inside the theatre. it was good timing because he didn't have a witty response anyway.

your heart is beating rapidly, though you're unsure why. you gaze at the empty walls for a minute to collect yourself before heading into class as well. you totally won that fight, is what you tell yourself.

ೃ⁀➷

ever since the disagreement you had with tsukishima in hallways of the maths building, what was once comments and glares has escalated to threats and insults being made boldly in each other's face.

despite the fact you ate him up the first time, you've been on a losing streak since then. you feel as though nothing you say gets under his skin anymore.

you've tried belittling his face, his smarts, his personality, his mother but nothing seems to work. you even tried to ridicule his glasses but that didn't work either!

"hey, four eyes!"

"hey, five guys."

what the fuck? you weren't sure if that was a dig at your diet, your weight or your quantity of sexual partners but regardless, you could not let that slide.

verbal abuse wasn't working so naturally the next option was physical. you attempted to trip him in the halls but his legs were so long he stepped over you without even noticing. you attempted to pour milk over him but tadashi noticed and pulled him out of the way. you considered pushing his knees while he was standing in front of you but you realised that if he fell backwards his weight would crush you and you'd probably die.

all of that was so elementary and childish though; high school bullying at best. you need college level bullying. you thought about planting weed in his bag and calling the campus police on him but your friends said that was 'too far'. you thought about leaking his nudes but firstly you don't have them and secondly, he's already walking around college half naked anyway so he likely wouldn't be phased by it.

the hard thing about trying to torture a boy like tsukishima is you don't know enough about him to know what will truly drive him insane. you know he cares about his grades but sabotaging his test scores is beyond your means. he doesn't have any dignity so you can't humiliate him. even if you tried, his little gremlin of a best friend would probably catch onto you anyway.

that green haired boy was just as bad as his handler. always gawking at you to make sure you don't try anything; literally glued to tsukishima's ass at all times — it's so gross. and it gave you the most disgustingly perfect idea.

[requiemforthepoets]

the proposal ⟢ FA14

⟢ part four of this time, i’ll love you much better

𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part five ☽

PAIRINGS: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: the twins thought that they have all the time in the world to devise a plan on how they would get you and fernando back together. that is until fernando had told the news to jullianna, prompting to put their plan in motion.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named character (except for reader), parent trap inspired fic + plot, google translated spanish and french, single dad!nando and single mom!reader (for the time being), evil fiancé, twin switching, inaccuracies with information, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: part four of the series!! i have a lot of things going on, so that’s why it always takes a long time for me to update my series/post new parts to fics. as always, this series is open for taglist, so just comment or message me if you wanted to be tagged, and your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, i hope you’ll enjoy this new part of the series! :)

The sunlight filtered through the curtains as Jullianna pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, already dressed in a crisp white tennis outfit. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of the polo shirt she wore. Jullianna’s focus, however, was more on the bubbling frustration in her chest. It was not just about the day ahead or the tennis session with Fernando—it was about everything Sofia had dropped into her lap without any warning.

As if on cue, Jullianna’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She picked it up and saw Sofia’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Narrowing her eyes, she swiped to answer, voice immediately sharp.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jullianna began, tone clipped. “I’ve been waiting for you to call, and now you finally do.”

Sofia’s tone was light, almost too casual. “Why good morning to you too, Disney princess. How’s it going?”

“How’s it going? How’s it going?” Jullianna repeated incredulously. “Comment ça va? Vraiment? Tu es sérieusement en train de te moquer de moi?! Sofia, do you have any idea of what you’ve put me through?”

There was a pause on the other end. “What are you even talking about? You know how I can’t understand any of what you’re saying, right?”

“Oh don’t you play innocent with me,” Jullianna snapped. “Karting, Sofia. Karting! You didn’t even bother to tell me how to drive the freaking damn thing! I had to watch youtube videos just to figure out what I was supposed to do. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Sofia chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would be a big deal, papá would’ve helped you.”

“He did,” Jullianna admitted begrudgingly. “But that’s not the point! You could’ve warned me!”

“Fine, I’ll make it up to you,” Sofia said, tone placating. “But seriously, Jules, it’s only karting. You survived, right?”

“Barely,” Jullianna muttered, crossing her arms. “And you’re lucky I did, because I would’ve switched back and made you deal with the mess.”

The line went quiet for a moment, and then Sofia’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t really mean to make things harder for you. I’ll give you all the details next time, okay?”

Jullianna exhaled, some of her frustration easing. “Fine. Alright. But that’s not all we need to talk about.”

“Oh?” Sofia sounded wary. “What now?”

“Stephanie.”

“Stepha-who now?”

“Exactly,” Jullianna said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “She’s some woman papá had apparently been seeing, and she keeps on coming over to the house like she owns the place. I had to deal with her the other day, and let me tell you, she’s awful.”

Sofia’s voice hardened. “I haven’t heard of her before. When did this start?”

“Eh, probably while we're at camp,” Jullianna said bitterly. “Alejandra told me this woman had been coming around, and from what I’ve seen, she’s trouble. Fake, loud, annoying—you name it, she got it. The worst part? Papá seems completely oblivious to it.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Sofia said. “Keep an eye on that woman. If she’s really as bad as you say, we’ll figure something out. But don’t let that woman get to you, okay? She’s not worth your energy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jullianna muttered.

The twins were so engrossed in their conversation that Jullianna barely registered Fernando calling out for her downstairs. “Sofia! ¡Vamos! It’s time to go!

Jullianna jumped up, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got to go, papá’s waiting for me. We’re going to play a few rounds of tennis.”

“Alrighty. Good luck, Sofia,” Sofia teased.

“Oh shut up.” Jullianna rolled her eyes.

“But seriously though, keep me updated about Stanley.”

“Fia, it’s Stephanie,” Jullianna replied, and Sofia just blew raspberries at her. “And will do. Talk to you later, ugly.”

“Hey! We look just th—” Jullianna ended the call before Sofia could even respond.

Jullianna stuffed her phone into the tennis bag and grabbed Sofia’s tennis racket from where it leaned against the wall, and headed downstairs. Fernando was waiting by the front door, dressed in an equally sporty outfit like Jullianna and holding his own tennis racket.

“Finally,” he said with a smile. “You ready?”

Jullianna nodded with a smile. “Ready.”

The sun was high overhead when Jullianna and Fernando stepped onto the private tennis court—air was warm but pleasant, with a light breeze that rustled the nearby trees. Jullianna adjusted the grip on the racket, movements fluid and confident. Playing tennis was her forté, and it was surely worlds away from the stress and confusion of karting or dealing with unwelcome houseguests like Stephanie.

Fernando took his place on the opposite side of the court, bouncing the tennis ball a couple of times before looking up at Jullianna with a grin. “You ready, chiquita?”

Jullianna smirked. “Yup!”

Fernando laughed, tossing the ball into the and served with precision. The ball zipped over the net, and Jullianna moved quickly, her racket connecting with a satisfying thwack! as she returned the shot.

The rally began, and for the first few minutes, the only sounds were the rhythmic hits of the ball against the racket, quick and hurried footsteps against the clay surface, and the occasional grunt of effort. Jullianna found herself smiling as she played, thoughts drifting briefly to when her and Sofia had shared a match back at camp walden. It was an intense match, filled with playful trash-talking and endless determination to outdo each other.

But then, Fernando broke the silence, tone casual yet curious. “So,” he began, returning a particularly fast shot, “what do you think of Stephanie?”

Jullianna hesitated, her focus briefly faltering before she sent the ball back over the net. “Stephanie?” she repeated, trying to buy herself some time.

“Yes, Stephanie,” Fernando said, voice light but persistent. “You’ve spent some time with her now. I just want to know what you think of her.”

Jullianna tightened her grip on the racket, her mind racing. She couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that she finds Stephanie insufferable, fake, and most certainly not the right woman for Fernando. Instead, she decided to tread carefully, masking her irritation with forced politeness.

“Well,” she began, returning another shot, “she’s…very put-together. Always dressed nicely, very stylish.” she paused, muttering just loudly enough for herself, not my style, though. Mamá’s much better.

Fernando chuckled, clearly amused by Jullianna’s side comment. “So, you think she’s stylish. That’s good to hear, and it seems like you two are getting along.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jullianna murmured, keeping her tone neutral. She didn’t elaborate further, focusing instead on the ball.

Just when Jullianna thought that the conversation about Stephanie is done, turns out that it’s not. Fernando wasn’t done. As the rally continued, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious.

“Sofia,” Fernando said, eyes following the ball as it sailed over the net, “I’ve been thinking about the future, and you know that I’m not getting any younger. Sooner or later I’m about to retire soon from Formula 1, and I want to know what you think about Stephanie joining the family.”

Jullianna froze for a split second, the racket nearly slipping from her hands. The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. She knew exactly what he meant, but she decided to play dumb, her voice laced with forced confusion.

“Joining the family? What do you mean, papá? Are you planning to adopt her or something?” Jullianna said jokingly.

Fernando let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Jullianna’s sarcasm. “No, chiquita. Not adoption.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing, tone filled with quiet excitement. “What I mean is that I proposed to her.”

The words hit Jullianna like a freight train. For a brief moment, she stood frozen in place, staring at her father as if she had not heard him correctly. Then, as the reality of his statement sank in, something inside her snapped. Jullianna’s next hit was ferocious, with the ball rocketing past Fernando so fast that he barely had time to react. He turned to watch it bounce out of bounds, a look of surprise on his face.

“Wow,” Fernando said with a laugh, jogging to retrieve the ball. “That was quite the shot, eh?”

But Jullianna was not done. Her hits became more aggressive, each one more powerful than the last. She was not just playing tennis anymore, she was channeling all of her anger and frustration into every swing. Fernando was struggling to keep up, missing shot after shot as the intensity of the game escalated.

“Sofia, mi vida,” he called out, tone now tinged with concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Jullianna didn’t answer, her jaw clenched, and eyes burning with a mix of anger and betrayal. Finally, after one last blistering shot that Fernando couldn’t even attempt to return, she threw the racket with force—destroying it in the process and turned on her heel.

“Sofia!” Fernando called after her, voice filled with confusion as to why his daughter was acting up. “Where are you going?”

But Jullianna didn’t look back. She walked briskly off the court, chest heaving with unspoken words, and tears of frustration stinging her eyes. When Jullianna reached the front door of the house—still angry and frustrated, she grabbed the handle and turned it open, but in her haste and anger, she twisted it the wrong way. The door didn’t budge.

“¡Por favor!” she hissed, shaking the handle violently.

When it still refused to open, Jullianna growled in frustration, yanking the door with all her strength. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, muttering to herself. She glanced at the door handle, relieved to see it hadn’t broken. Once inside, she marched into the living room, pacing back and forth, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the floor.

“Comment peut-il penser que c’est une bonne idée?” she muttered, throwing her hands in the air. “Who even is she? Elle est insupportable!”

Jullianna’s rant alternated between languages—English, French, and Spanish, as her thoughts tumbled out uncontrollably. “He proposed? To her? ¡Dios mío, papá, estás loco!”

She stopped pacing momentarily, pressing her hands to her forehead. “This is not happening. This cannot be happening. I can’t handle this alone, I’m only one kid.”

Lost in her tirade, Alejandra peeks around the corner of the armchair she’s been sitting in with a cup of coffee in her hands. Alejandra initially assumed Sofia was in one of her usual moods, but the erratic pacing and the odd blend of languages caught Alejandra’s attention.

When Jullianna finally turned around, Alejandra cleared her throat gently. “¿Tienes algo que quieras compartir con la clase, mi chica?”

Jullianna froze mid-step, head snapping up—to which she immediately regretted because of the strain of her action. Her eyes widened in shock, the usually composed façade already slipping. Her heart was racing so fast, and quickly straightened her posture, smoothing her tennis skirt and forcing a smile.

“Alejandra! I didn’t see you there, you gave me a fright!” she said, tone overly bright.

Alejandra sat her coffee cup down at the side table, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stood up from the armchair and slowly approached Jullianna.

“You didn’t see me? Gave you a fright? I’ve been sitting here the whole time, chica. You were so lost in your own thoughts, or rather, in frustration, that you didn’t notice.” Alejandra folded her arms, studying Jullianna closely. “¿Qué está pasando? En serio.”

“Nothing, I swear!” Jullianna replied too quickly, smile tightening. “Just…a lot on my mind lately.”

Alejandra tilted her head, gaze sharpening. “¿Seguro que no hay nada de lo que quieras hablarme?” she asked for the second time. “You’ve been acting strange, mi niña.”

“Strange?” Jullianna echoed nervously, the forced smile on her face faltering. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Alejandra took a step closer, expression skeptical. “Sí, extraño. For one, you’re acting too proper—using expressions like you gave me a fright, the way you eat—you barely touch your food now, and even the way you speak sometimes, it’s different. I didn’t even know you speak French.”

Jullianna opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. She tried to come up with some silly excuse, anything to divert Alejandra’s growing suspicion, but her mind went completely blank.

“Alejandra,” she trailed off, “I changed a lot over the summer, that’s all.”

Alejandra’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “Si no lo supiera, diría que es casi como si estuvieras…” she paused for a little bit, “Ay dios mío, no importa, eso es demasiado imposible.”

Jullianna hesitated, the weight of the secret she had been carrying threatening to crush her. “Almost as if I were who, Alejandra?”

“Nadie, nadie. Chica tonta, olvida que lo mencioné.” Alejandra chuckled. “Why don’t I make your favorite food, huh? I think that tennis session with your papá had made you hungry.”

Finally, Jullianna sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She couldn’t take it any longer, so she’ll take the chance now. “¿Casi como si fuera Jullianna?”

Alejandra’s eyes widened. “What?” her breath hitched. “You know about Jullianna?”

“I am Jullianna.” Jullianna breathed out.

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Alejandra stared at her, mouth opening and closing as she’s trying to process what was happening. Then, tears welled up in Alejandra’s eyes.

“¿De verdad eres Jullianna?” Alejandra asked, voice trembling.

Jullianna nodded, her own eyes glistening. “Yes, it’s me.”

Alejandra’s hands flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her. “¡Mi niña!” she cried, rushing forward to embrace Jullianna.

The hug was tight, almost crushing, but Jullianna didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around Alejandra, feeling an unexpected wave of comfort.

“No puedo creerlo!” Alejandra said through her tears. “The last time I saw and held you, you were just a baby—barely a year old. You and your mother left for France after the divorce. I thought that I would never see you again.”

Jullianna blinked back tears. “I’ve missed you too, Alejandra.”

Alejandra pulled back slightly, cupping Jullianna’s face in her hands. “¡Oh, mírate!” she said, voice filled with awe. “All grown up, but still the same little girl that I used to hold in my arms. But why are you here in Spain? Where is Sofí?”

Jullianna hesitated, unsure how much to more of her and Sofia’s plan she could reveal. “It’s…complicated,” she said finally.

Alejandra nodded, sensing that Jullianna wasn’t ready to share everything just yet. “Alright,” she said gently. “But you have to be careful, mi niña. If your papá finds out—”

“I know,” Jullianna interrupted, voice firm. “That’s why I need you to keep this between us. Please, Alejandra.”

“Of course,” Alejandra nodded. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

Fernando stepped inside of the house, chest heaving as he called out, “Sofia! ¿Dónde estás?” his voice echoed through the house with urgency.

The sounds of Fernando’s footsteps grew louder as he entered the living room, and Jullianna stiffened, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. Alejandra had sensed the tension, so she placed a comforting hand on Jullianna’s shoulder.

“Está bien,” Alejandra whispered gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk, I’ll be at the kitchen and prepare you some snacks.”

Jullianna nodded, watching as Alejandra quietly exited the living room and headed towards the kitchen. She barely had a moment to collect her thoughts before Fernando appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking left and right for Jullianna. When he saw her, he paused, hands on his hips, exhaling deeply as though trying to steady himself.

“Sofí,” he said softly, tone coaxing. “Come, sit with me, princesa.” Fernando gestured to the couch.

She hesitated but eventually walked over and perched on the edge of the couch, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Jullianna’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

Fernando sat beside her, leaving a careful distance between them. “Why did you run off like that mi vida?” he asked, voice gentler now.

Jullianna did not respond, jaw tightening.

“Sofía,” Fernando pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I proposed to Stephanie the other night. It was a very special moment for us—”

“Stop. I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jullianna cut in sharply, standing abruptly. The words struck a huge nerve within her, and she could not hold back any longer. “Just stop, papá, please.”

Fernando blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “¿Qué te pasa? Why are you acting like this?”

Jullianna turned to face Fernando, eyes blazing with nothing but anger. “Because it is outrageous!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re marrying her? That woman? Marrying Stephanie?”

He frowned. “And what is so outrageous about that?”

“Oh my god, papá! That woman’s practically young enough to be my sister!” Jullianna shot back, pacing back and forth as her emotions spilled over. “Do you not see how absurd this is? All of it!”

“I never knew you would be reacting like this,” Fernando stood, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Sofía, calm down, por favor. There’s no need to—”

“Je suis calme!” Jullianna shouted like a maniac, clearly not calm at all. She began to switch to French again without even realizing it, her words tumbling out in a torrent. “Comment peux-tu faire ça? As-tu même pensé à ce que cela signifierait pour nous? C’est insensé! Je ne peux pas croire que tu ferais ça. Elle n’est pas la bonne pour toi, papa. Pas du tout!”

Fernando furrowed his eyebrows, stepping in closer towards Jullianna. “What…French? Desde cuándo hablas francés?”

Jullianna stopped pacing, momentarily caught off guard. “I-I um, uh, learned it at camp,” she said quickly, brushing past the question. “But that’s not the point!”

She faced Fernando. Taking a deep breath, she began, voice softening slightly. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face. “But we need to talk about this rationally.”

Fernando nodded, motioning for her to sit again, but Jullianna preferred standing. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Let’s talk. But in a language we can both understand, por favor mi vida.”

He sighed, patience already visibly thinning. “Sofía, I don’t understand why this is upsetting you so much. Stephanie has been kind to you, hasn’t she? She’s made every effort to—”

“Kind?” Jullianna scoffed, cutting him off. “That’s not the issue, papá. This isn’t about her being nice, this is about you thinking you can just bring someone into our lives and marry them without even considering how it affects everything!”

Feenando’s brows furrowed deeply. “I have considered it. Stephanie is someone I care about, and I thought you would—”

“Well you thought wrong!” Jullianna interrupted, voice rising again. She felt the heat of tears threatening to spill but blinked them back furiously. “You can’t do this, papa. You can’t marry her—or anyone else! It will ruin everything!”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before Fernando could even say a word, Jullianna already turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her tennis shoes squeaking against the floor.

“Sofía!” Fernando called after her, voice tinged with frustration and confusion. But she didn’t stop despite how many times Fernando called out for her.

Jullianna slumped into the St. Anthony’s face-to-face swing, letting her head fall back against the smooth wood. She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest, still reeling from what she had just learned. Fernando had proposed to Stephanie. Proposed. The word itself made her stomach churn.

This was worse than she and Sofia had imagined. They had time, or so they thought. But now, with a ring on Stephanie’s finger, the entire course of action had been changed—everything was moving too fast. Jullianna and Sofia had to quickly put their plan into motion if they even want to stop this wedding from happening, they need to act now. But there was only one viable solution: they had to get you and Fernando back together.

Jullianna was deep in thought, brainstorming ways to subtly, but not-so-subtly, bring you to Spain or maybe one of his races so that she and Sofia can just push you both back towards each other, when a sudden knock against the wooden frame of the swing had startled Jullianna. Her head snapped up, and saw Stephanie.

“Mind if I join you?” Stephanie asked, voice light and airy, as if she had just wandered into the garden without a care in the world.

Before Jullianna could even answer, Stephanie lowered herself onto the vacant seat of the swing, facing her directly. Jullianna barely stopped herself from grimacing, just looking at Stephanie made her want to barf.

Stephanie clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly. “I can imagine how surprised you must have been by the engagement news.”

Jullianna forced a tight-lipped smile, words laced with passive aggression. “Oh, shock doesn’t even begin to cover it, honestly.”

Stephanie just chuckled, completely oblivious to the sharp edge in Jullianna’s tone. She relaxed herself on the seat, movements elegant and poised, as if this were just another casual afternoon chat. Forcing herself not to groan, Jullianna braced herself for whatever nonsense Stephanie was about to spew.

“You know,” Stephanie began, leaning slightly forward, “eleven is such a very wonderful age.”

Jullianna arched an eyebrow. What in the actual world does that have to do with any of this?

Stephanie smiled wistfully, as if she was reminiscing about something so precious. “When I was eleven, I had my first beau.” She let out a soft laugh, eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

“It was the first time I really started to feel like a woman.” she sighed dramatically. “That’s when I realized love was this fantastic, exhilarating mystery, one that takes a man and a woman on the most magical journey.”

Jullianna’s hand was tightly gripping the armrest of the swing, jaw now clenched, and resisting the great force of rolling her eyes. Oh, for the love of all things holy. She kept her expression neutral, pretending to listen, but internally, Jullianna was already pulling her hair out and screaming.

Stephanie continued, completely unaware of Jullianna’s growing irritation. “And believe it or not, you’ll understand that feeling soon,” she said with a knowing smile.

Jullianna just stared at Stephanie, fingers curled slightly now against her arms. She was not sure what was more annoying—Stephanie’s patronizing tone, or the fact that she spoke as if she had somehow unlocked the secrets of the universe. She certainly did not want to sit there, listening to this woman yap on about love like she was some kind of modern day Aristotle.

Before Stephanie could continue her sickly sweet monologue about love and magical journeys, Jullianna lifted a hand slightly, cutting Stephanie off.

“You know, I don’t want to sound all jerky or anything, because, from what I can tell, you’re trying really hard to be all mushy and sentimental.” she tilted her head slightly, letting her eyes linger on Stephanie’s with something close to amusement. “And I think I finally got it.”

Stephanie blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Get what, exactly?”

Jullianna leaned forward slightly, lips curling into a knowing smile. “What my papá sees in you.” she continued, voice still laced with that same passive aggressiveness, but now there was something else woven into it—a challenge. “You’re a beautiful woman. Sexy, even, and my papá? Well, he’s only human, after all.”

Stephanie’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out just yet. Jullianna’s smile widened just a little, though her eyes were sharp.

“But if you ask me, marriage is supposed to be based on something more, don’t you agree?” Jullianna let the question hang in the air for a moment before her smile turned almost innocent. “Something more than just…fornication. If you don’t know what fornication is, it means sex.”

Stephanie’s entire expression shifted. Gone was the light, airy persona. Her posture stiffened just slightly, and the sweetness in her eyes dimmed, now replaced with something sharper, something calculated. Jullianna didn’t flinch though, in fact, she was thoroughly enjoying every bit of it.

She smiled, but it was a whole lot different now. “Oh boy, your papá really underestimates you, doesn’t he?”

Jullianna let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Oh?” she mused, cocking her head slightly, as if intrigued. “And you don’t?”

Stephanie studied her closely, lips still curved, but her eyes darkened. Jullianna could feel it now—she was starting to get on Stephanie’s nerves. It was a beautiful sight and symphony for Jullianna. Good. People always tend to overlook her, underestimated her. People would assume that she was just a kid who did not know any better. She liked it that way. Because nothing thrilled Jullianna more than a good challenge, and judging by the way Stephanie was staring her down, she had just found herself a new one.

She then let out a light laugh, though there was no real humor behind it. Stephanie tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she studied Jullianna with thinly veiled annoyance.

“So what if I’m young and beautiful?” Stephanie mused, voice airy but carrying an undertone of sharpness. “Last time I checked, being young and beautiful isn’t a crime.”

Jullianna simply raised an eyebrow, keeping her smirk firmly in place, which only seemed to annoy the hell out of Stephanie even more.

“And for the record, I know what fornication means, thank you very much. I love your father, I adore him. Your father is exactly the kind of man I’ve always envisioned myself marrying. This—” she gestured between herself and Jullianna as if making some kind of grand declaration, “is the real deal, honey. Nothing, and I say nothing, is going to come between us.”

Jullianna barely blinked at Stephanie’s words. She just leaned back against the wooden swing, one arm lazily draped over the armrest, completely unbothered, and yawning out of boredom to piss off Stephanie more.

While Stephanie, on the other hand, was growing impatient. She leaned forward slightly, gaze piercing as she said, “you need to understand something, sweetheart. This is the reality now, you have to accept the fact that you’re no longer the only girl in Fernando Alonso’s life. You need to get over it.”

That did it. Jullianna’s lips curled into an even bigger smirk, one that was almost too smug, too knowing. It made Stephanie’s fingers twitch slightly, as if she were resisting the urge to wipe the expression right off her face. She leaned in slightly as well, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared Stephanie down.

“Oh? That’s the reality, huh?” she drawled, voice dripping with amusement.

Jullianna continued, her smirk never wavering. “So, just to be clear that we’re on the same page here, papá’s money has nothing to do with any of this? No part of you thinks that marrying him just so happens to come with a very very comfortable lifestyle?”

Stephanie’s expressions had immediately tightened, but she quickly schooled her features back into something neutral. “Are you insinuating that I’m marrying your father for his money?” she asked, feigning offense, though her voice was just a little too even to be genuine.

Jullianna simply shrugged, the smirk on her face never fading. “I’m not insinuating anything, but if that’s what you think, then feel free to think of such things,” she said innocently, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen this in a film before. I mean, come on, I’ve watched cinderella more times than I can count.”

Stephanie’s brows furrowed slightly, unsure of where this was going. Jullianna sighed dramatically and shook her head. “And if this whole shazam isn’t about money, then great! But personally? I’d rather not end up scrubbing the floors and befriending the neighborhood birds while you have breakfast in bed, smiling down at me from your throne in papá’s house.”

Her entire face stiffened at what Jullianna just said, lips pressing together tightly as the words settled between them. For the first time in their entire conversation, Stephanie had no response at all, and that? That brought nothing but pure, unadulterated joy.

However, Stephanie’s entire demeanor changed the moment Jullianna’s words sank in. Her perfectly poised expression faltered, just for a second, before her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. It was the exact reaction that Jullianna had been hoping for. She had successfully gotten under Stephanie’s skin, and now? Now she was really starting to see the cracks in the woman her father wanted to marry.

Stephanie inhaled sharply, composing herself before leaning forward again, but this time, her face was mere inches from Jullianna’s. She locked eyes with her, the intensity of her gaze enough to make most people shrink under the pressure. But not Jullianna.

“You are unbelievably out of line, jovencita,” Stephanie said in a low voice, tone dripping with controlled frustration.

Jullianna simply blinked up at her, her smirk never faltering. Stephanie exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to keep herself from snapping. Then, with slow precision, she spoke, enunciating each word carefully.

“Listen to me, and you listen good,” she began, voice dangerously soft. “I’m marrying your father whether you like it or not. So if I were you, I’d quit playing whatever little game you think you’re playing and stay out of my way.”

Jullianna raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating Stephanie’s words, but said nothing. Stephanie leaned more closer, voice dropping even more lower.

“You are way in over your head, sweetheart,” she continued, tone carrying a hint of condescension. “So I suggest you don’t tangle yourself up in things you clearly don’t understand.”

There was a heavy pause. Stephanie studied Jullianna’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction, for her to look intimidated, or at least acknowledge the warning, and Stephanie took Jullianna’s silence as an agreement, she leaned back on the swing, arm draping over the armrest.

Instead, Jullianna just smiled. Not a polite smile, not a nervous smile. But a slow, teasing, infuriating smirk. Then, she shrugged, Stephanie’s eye twitching. Before the woman could say another word, Jullianna stood up, stretching slightly as if this whole conversation had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience for her. Without a warning, she bent down so that she was now the one at Stephanie’s eye level.

“Je comprends parfaitement, Cruella.” she said smoothly. Stephanie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Jullianna smiled again, that same mischievous, knowing grin that had been pushing all of Stephanie’s buttons. Then, because Jullianna was still eleven after all, and feeling particularly childish, she blew raspberries right in Stephanie’s face, wherein the woman recoiled, visibly appalled. Jullianna giggled, straightening up before giving her soon-to-be stepmother a playful wink.

“Au revoir, Stéphanie,” she said cheerfully.

Jullianna turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the woman completely dumbfounded.

taglist : @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09 , @tallrock35 , @madnesstaking0ver , @akulici , @scopeiguess , @ferakillia , @exactlycoralfox , @iambored24601 , @mx13sworld , @tibadi , @chainsawangel

[eliaah]

they realize their feelings for you !

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, & william vangeance

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i made this one based on that brigade question like what's their type? yami = someone strong | fuegoleon = someone passionate | nozel = someone who can give their all to the house silva | william = someone who doesn't bother the face of his. I don't know if all of these will be accurate but i tried my best !

💜 YAMI SUKEHIRO

It was another usual day at the Black Bulls' hideout, and as always, chaos was in full swing. Noelle and Asta were at it again, Magna and Luck were bickering over something that probably didn’t matter, and Vanessa was drinking alcohol like nothing was going on. Yami, however, was focused on you.

You were sparring with Gauche, and as usual, you were kicking ass. The way you fought, with that quiet intensity and controlled power, made him pause for a moment. You weren’t just strong, Yami had seen strength before, plenty of times, but with you, it wasn’t just about raw power. It was about the precision, the strategy, the way you carried yourself. You weren’t one to back down or second-guess yourself, and that was something he couldn’t help but admire.

When the spar ended, you wiped your brow, catching Yami’s eye from across the room. He had been watching you, and you knew it. But instead of looking away, you held his gaze, that confident, knowing smile spreading across your face.

Yami sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying to hide the sudden unease creeping in. "Oi." he called out, voice gruff. "Don’t go making those damn faces at me. It’s distracting."

You tilted your head slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Why? Is it too gorgeous?” you teased, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him.

Yami scoffed, looking away quickly. “Tch. Just keep your face to yourself, alright?” he muttered, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt that tightness in his chest. That smile, that confidence, it wasn’t just the strength that had caught his attention anymore. It was everything about you.

You weren’t just a powerful member of his squad. You were something more. And that realization... hit him harder than he’d expected.

💜 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The Vermillion estate library was calm, its shelves lined with ancient tomes and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the tall windows. You sat across from Leopold, a quill in hand as you carefully sketched a diagram to explain the finer points of mana stabilization. Leopold leaned forward, his expression intense as he tried to follow along.

“Focus here.” you said gently, pointing to a rune in the diagram. “This is where the mana flow converges. If you don’t stabilize it, the spell will collapse before it can take form.”

Leopold groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “You make it sound so easy, y/n. How do you even keep all this in your head?”

“It’s not about memorizing.” you said with a small smile. “It’s about understanding. Think of it like a puzzle, every piece has its place. You just have to figure out how they connect.”

Fuegoleon stood silently by the doorway, his arms crossed as he observed the two of you. He had only meant to check on Leopold’s progress, but once again, he found himself captivated by the way you carried yourself.

You weren’t just teaching Leopold spell theory, you were patient, encouraging, and passionate. It was clear in every word you spoke, every gesture you made. You cared deeply, not just about the results but about the process.

Leopold grinned as he tried again, his flames flickering to life. This time, the spell formed steadily, its edges sharp and controlled. “I did it!” he exclaimed, turning to you with wide eyes. “It actually worked!”

You beamed at him, clapping your hands lightly. “I knew you could do it! All it takes is focus and practice.”

Fuegoleon’s chest tightened. That smile of yours, so full of pride and warmth, it struck something deep within him. For a man who valued control and discipline, the intensity of his feelings for you caught him off guard. It was as if you had quietly set his heart ablaze, and he hadn’t noticed until the fire had consumed him completely.

When Leopold excused himself to test the spell further in the training grounds, you began tidying up the books and parchment scattered across the table. Fuegoleon stepped forward, clearing his throat softly.

“You’ve done excellent work with Leopold.” he said, his voice even yet warm.

You glanced up, startled by his presence, but your lips curved into a smile. “He’s a fast learner. He just needed a little guidance.”

Fuegoleon’s gaze lingered on you longer than he intended. “Your guidance is exceptional.” he said, stepping closer. “You have a gift for teaching, not just in what you know, but in how you inspire others. It is... rare.”

The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your hands stilling over the stack of papers. “That’s high praise coming from you, Captain.” you replied softly, a faint blush warming your cheeks.

He gave a small nod, his composure intact, though his thoughts were anything but. You aren't just intelligent or skilled, you're someone who lived with purpose, someone who gave everything their all. It was that fire in you, that unwavering passion, that he found himself drawn to in ways he hadn’t expected.

Fuegoleon had always believed in discipline, control, and focus. But now, standing here with you, he realized that no amount of discipline could quell the warmth growing in his chest. He admired you deeply, respected you completely, and, most surprising of all, cared for you in a way he hadn’t thought himself capable of.

When you gathered the last of the papers and stood, he stepped aside, his usual composure returning. “I’ll be outside.” he said, his tone steady despite the chaos in his chest. “Leopold will benefit from your guidance, as he always does.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course, Captain.”

As you walked past him, the faint scent of parchment and the subtle warmth of your magic lingering in the air, Fuegoleon couldn’t help but watch you go. He stood there for a moment, silent, letting the weight of his realization settle over him.

You aren't just someone he admired. You’re someone who had ignited something within him, something that burned brighter and fiercer than any flame he had ever conjured.

And for the first time, Fuegoleon allowed himself to hold on to that fire, even if only quietly.

💜 NOZEL SILVA

The halls of the Silva estate were peaceful, the soft sound of Nozel's footsteps echoing through the corridors as he walked quietly down to Noelle’s room. Nozel had been making his rounds, checking on his family’s well-being, when he heard something that made him pause, a small, melodic sound.

Laughter.

He didn’t often hear laughter within these stone walls, and the sound piqued his interest. Moving towards Noelle’s door, he listened for a moment, curious.

He quietly cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there he saw you, kneeling beside Noelle’s bed, reading her a story. Noelle, still a little child, looked up at you with wide eyes, her silver hair slightly disheveled as she grinned at something you’d said. You spoke with such a natural warmth, your voice soft and soothing as you held her attention.

“...And the knight swore to protect the kingdom, no matter the cost.” you said, your voice gentle, your words full of encouragement.

Noelle giggled softly. “You’re like that knight, y/n. Strong and brave!”

You smiled, your heart clearly fond of her. “Well, I’m glad you think so, Noelle. One day, you'll be like that knight too.”

The tenderness in your voice, the patience you showed as you tucked Noelle into bed and kissed her forehead, made Nozel pause. You were kind, more than just a caretaker, more than just someone who worked for House Silva. There was a quiet strength about you, a warmth that Noelle clearly felt.

You tucked the blanket around Noelle gently, whispering, “Sleep well, Noelle. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, you stood up and moved toward the door, careful not to disturb the little one’s slumber. Nozel, standing just outside, watched you as you quietly stepped away from the room, making sure everything was in order before leaving.

As you opened the door, you bumped into someone. You blinked in surprise, your eyes softening when you recognized him.

“Captain Silva.” you said with a warm smile, your voice calm. “I didn’t realize you were up this late.”

Nozel straightened slightly, his expression as composed as ever. “I came to check on Noelle.” he said, his tone even. “She seems... content.”

You nodded. “She’s been through a lot. I just wanted to make sure she had a peaceful night.”

Nozel’s eyes softened as he took a moment to truly observe you. You caught Nozel's attention, it was the way you carried yourself with such quiet dignity, the way you cared for Noelle with such genuine affection.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice more sincere than usual. “For everything you do for her. It’s... not easy to care for someone with such a spirited nature.”

You chuckled softly. “Noelle is strong. She just needs a little guidance and reassurance.”

Nozel nodded, his eyes lingering on you as he considered your words. You weren’t just fulfilling your duties, you were giving Noelle something she needed desperately, your unwavering support and care.

You gave him a polite smile before continuing on your way, your footsteps light as you disappeared down the hall. Nozel watched you for a moment, his mind wandering.

For all his discipline and control, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart felt a little lighter whenever he saw you. You had captured his attention not by your status or strength, but by the quiet, steadfast way you showed care for others, something he realized he respected deeply.

He stood in the hall for a long moment, his thoughts on you, before turning back to his duties. It was clear now that you were someone he couldn’t easily forget.

💜 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

The Golden Dawn headquarters was eerily quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Everyone had been sent out on missions, leaving the grand halls empty—except for one person.

William Vangeance sat alone in the library, surrounded by shelves of books and the faint scent of parchment. He exhaled, leaning back in his chair as he finally removed his mask, placing it carefully on the table. The air was warm, and without the suffocating weight of the mask, he could finally breathe freely.

He ran a hand over his face, fingers brushing the scars he rarely allowed anyone to see. This was a rare moment of solitude, one he thought would go uninterrupted.

But then, the door creaked open.

William turned sharply, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze landed on you.

You froze, standing in the doorway with a book in hand, your wide eyes meeting his.

“y/n.” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Captain Vangeance?” you said, softly.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The warm hues of the setting sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden light on the two of you. William’s first instinct was to reach for his mask, but something about the way you were looking at him made him pause.

You didn’t flinch. Your expression didn’t shift into discomfort or pity. Instead, you stepped forward, setting your book down on the table.

“I’m sorry.” you said gently. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought everyone was out on missions.”

William’s throat tightened. “I… thought so too.”

You offered him a small smile, your gaze unwavering as you sat down across from him. “I came back early.” you explained, your tone casual, as if this moment wasn’t extraordinary. “I thought I’d relax here for a while. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

He nodded, still unsure of what to say. His scarred face felt exposed, vulnerable, but you hadn’t reacted the way he had feared.

After a moment, you spoke again, your voice steady. “You know, this light suits you.”

William blinked, startled. “What?”

“The sunlight.” you said, gesturing to the way it caught the angles of his face. “It makes you look... peaceful.”

A lump formed in William’s throat as he studied you. There was no hesitation in your expression, no trace of the judgment he had grown accustomed to fearing. Instead, there was warmth, genuine and unyielding, in your gaze.

“You’re not bothered?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing the edges of his mask.

“Why would I be?” you replied simply. “It’s just you, Captain Vangeance.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it held a weight that made William’s chest tighten. For so long, he had hidden behind the mask, letting others see only the perfect leader of the Golden Dawn. But here you were, looking at him as though the scars didn’t matter, as though he was just another person to you.

And in that moment, something shifted within him.

For someone who had always carried the burden of his dual existence, this newfound warmth and acceptance caught him off guard. He realized then how deeply your presence had come to mean to him. You aren't just another squad member. You're someone who saw beyond his scars, someone who didn’t let the world’s expectations dictate your view of him.

The setting sun bathed the room in golden light as you stood to return to the shelves, leaving William sitting in silence, his thoughts spiraling.

For the first time in a long while, his heart felt full—not with duty or burden, but with something far more profound.

[here-there-were-dragons]

eh, it's not really *changing* so much as people are just getting more skillfully passive-aggressive and oddly specific about it, and a lot of the people who were big on that sort of thing back then have since either threw a tantrum and left when the eye vials came back, left the game in general just because it was nearly 10 years ago, hoarded all the big-ticked items and got bored because they felt like there wasn't anything else to do anymore, felt like they won and so haven't thought about it in quite so explicit terms in awhile, have gotten bored with the idea and/or the game after it slowly became more and more the case that no one could afford to buy their Rare Collectibles tm anymore and the fever-pitch of "the final mandatory achievement to be a real fr player is to have all the sprites" culture and basically sprite collecting culture in general died off as a result, or have moved from exclusively that to being more interested in a more varied, subtle, and esoteric blend of ways to signal that they're a real, proper, acceptable player. it's a beast that's very much not dead, only lying in wait, and these people would absolutely groggily wake and come shrieking out of the woodwork anew at the mere suggestion of anything happening to one single fraction of a cent of the hypothetical resale value of their precious sprites that even they can't sell or buy anymore and no one but them even cares about ever since we all realized it was pointlessly impossible to even long-term goal for one.

The most frustrating part of the conversation about retired items is that the people who really want to push for more things to retire so that they'll "appreciate in value" don't seem to understand that if there isn't enough supply for the demand, it just means that no one gets anything.

It means that the player selling the Light Sprite for more than what my mortgage is worth...doesn't sell the Light Sprite, because most people can't fucking pay for it. And it means that players who want the Light Sprite can't have it because its only listing is beyond the definition of expensive, or that saving up for years is a race against other people trying to save up fast enough to buy it first. Either way, most players go without.

It means that, with enough retired items, you end up like GaiaOnline. Yeah, there's tons of limited items that may "appreciate in value" but the truth of that...is actually this:

Some of these items have been on my wishlist for a decade.

These items have no value because not enough of them even exist.

GaiaOnline used to be a place where "Questing" for an item was something that tons of people loved doing. Even I did it. I quested for a Fallen Wish back in the day, I quested for Inari's Beads, I quested for monthly collectibles every time one I liked dropped.

Now I'm not questing. Because the items I want simply don't circulate. This is what too many retired items does to an economy. I watched GaiaOnline die this way. Which is why I strongly oppose any retired items in any other site. Flight Rising doesn't need this.

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Your Voice (Jude Jazza x Reader)

Jude Jazza x Fem!Reader (Jude's POV/Perspective)

SFW -- WC: 1765

Fluffy, sweet indulgent nonsense that I thought of whilst avoiding sleep at 3 in the morning about a week and change ago lol.

Alright, so this is my first reader insert in thirteen years! I have been working on this for the last few days in between work and whatnot and most of the time was like, 10% writing and 90% worrying if I was writing this bastard man that I have grown to love very rapidly correctly or not. I'm open to suggestions on how to improve, I just ask that it be kind/respectful, please. :)

Thanks a million to @judejazza for inspiring me to work on this! You're awesome and I hope you like this!

Also! No beta, we die like the dude in the prologue.

Today had been long and irritating.

You had tagged along with me and Ellis today, as usual. An early morning of routine business turned into a busy afternoon of hunting down people who had broken contracts and taking them to task. That quickly escalated, and you nearly got yourself hurt. Again.

We had just gotten back to Crown Castle a few hours ago and had gone about our business. It had been a couple of months since your initial one-month tenure had come and gone, and you had stupidly decided that you were going to stay.

I couldn’t understand why. Crown wasn’t a place for someone like you—soft, kind-hearted, and ridiculously naive. You belonged somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by the dark and violent world I—and all of us—were steeped in. Yet, here you were, stubborn as hell, refusing to leave. Maybe you thought you could change us, make us better. Foolish. But damned if it wasn’t… endearing. Tch. I must be getting soft.

As I walked through the halls of the castle, I noticed light peeking out from under your door. You were still awake? It was definitely past midnight at this point. Curious, I approached the door and knocked with the knuckle of my index finger.

“Oi, Princess! The fuck ya still up for?”

“Oh! Come in, Jude!”

I opened your door and stepped inside, pushing the door shut with my foot, my hands in my pockets.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your head cocked to the side curiously.

I raised an eyebrow and spoke, “I asked first.”

“I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a book from the library and try to read myself asleep but… then I got sucked into the story.” You admitted as light pink dusted your cheeks, returning your attention to your book. You were sitting on your bed, atop your covers, eyes scanning the pages of an open book in your hands. Your room was lit by the lamp on your desk near your typewriter, casting a dim warm glow over everything, including you. Your hair framed your face, and you were dressed in your nightclothes like you had started getting ready for bed but never actually went to sleep.

I strolled up to your bed and plucked the book from your hands.

“Hey! Give that back!” You swung your legs under you, trying to swipe the book from me. “Jude!”

Ah, that cute little face and the way you said my name when you were all frustrated would never get old.

“Why? Ya readin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?” I teased, holding the book just out of reach. I took a step back, skimming through the pages. “Is that why ya can’t sleep? Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered?” My eyes scanned the words.

She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral, where the moonlight filtered through the cracks and bathed her in a silvery glow, her heart pounding with the weight of forbidden love.

I rolled my eyes. Tch. How boring. Just some romantic penny dreadful. Figures. You would be into this kind of shit. Star-crossed lovers and all that nonsense.

“Ya realize none of this is realistic, yeah?” I asked, waving the book dismissively. Your cheeks puffed into an adorable pout, and I chuckled.

“I don’t read it for the realism, Jude,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “I read it because it’s entertaining. Fun.”

“What’s so fun about somethin’ so obviously false?” I asked, flipping through a few more pages while you leaned over, trying to grab your book again. I held it out of reach. “Yer gonna get it back when I decide ya can have it back, got it?”

You sighed, crawling back into bed, sitting against the headboard. “That’s better.”

“Why are you playing keep away with my book?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Repayment for nearly gettin’ yer clumsy ass hurt again.”

You growled lightly. Adorable. “But I didn’t! You were there!”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, well, ya shouldn’t need me to save ya all the time. Learn to stay outta trouble.”

You gave me a defiant look, your chin lifting slightly. “I’m not helpless, Jude. I can take care of myself.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah? Then why were ya about to get skewered earlier?”

Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening. “I was just… distracted.”

“By what? Thinkin’ of garbage like this?” I asked, holding up the book and waving it lightly.

“It’s not garbage!” you shot back, your eyes blazing with a fire I rarely saw. “It’s a good story, and I like it.”

“Tch. It’s drivel, Princess.” I glanced at the open pages, scanning a few more lines with a sneer. “Moonlight, forbidden love... absolute nonsense.”

You crossed your arms, a stubborn set to your jaw. “If it’s so bad, then why don’t you prove it by reading some of it?”

I raised an eyebrow, a chuckle rumbling in my chest. “Ya want me to read this crap? To ya?”

“Yeah, I do.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I bet you can’t get through a single page without falling asleep.”

My tongue ran along my bottom teeth beneath my lip as I walked closer to you and leaned down, towering over you. “Is that a dare, Princess?” I looked at you, my smirk widening into a grin. “Alright, but don’t blame me when ya realize how bad it is.”

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a satisfied smile. “But you have to read it properly. Like you mean it.” You shifted, laying down on your side, facing me, your head cushioned perfectly by your pillow.

I snorted. “Fine. But if I read this and prove it’s trash, ya gotta stop readin’ this stuff.” I lightly tapped the spine of the book to your forehead. “It’ll rot yer little brain even more than it already is. Got it?”

Your eyes sparkled. “Deal.”

I sighed, sitting down unceremoniously into a chair that was by your bedside, my ankle crossed over my knee. “Alright, let’s see what has ya stayin’ up all night.” I cleared my throat, holding the book up to catch the dim light. “She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral…”

My mind drifted through the pages at first, words blurring together without much meaning. But then, something in the story caught my attention, and I found myself tuning in, focusing on the text. Gradually, I realized my voice had softened, losing its earlier sarcasm. It settled into a steady rhythm, low and even, as I read for a few more pages.

Every so often, I glanced up at you. Your expression, once filled with intense focus, began to relax. I watched as your eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. You looked so determined to stay awake.

I trailed off mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow, my lips curling in another smile. “Oi. Sleepyhead. Still there?”

I got a mumbled affirmation in response, to which I chuckled through my nose and nodded. I set the book down before getting to my feet, careful that I didn’t make too much noise doing so. Well, at least you were about to finally get some much-needed shut-eye.

Before I could move away, you reached out and grasped my fingers with a gentle hold. My eyes widened as I looked between you and our hands.

“Wait. Don’t go yet.” Your eyes were trained on our hands, another faint blush spreading across your cheeks. “I want to hear more of the story.” Your voice was low and shy.

“Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head as I observed you, another smirk lifting my lips. “Can’t get enough garbage, can ya, Princess?”

“No, it’s not that.” Your blush deepened. “I just… I like the sound of your voice.”

Damn. Didn't see that coming. You’re clueless. Who the hell would say something like that? My voice—harsh, grating, like broken glass or nails on a chalkboard and that's what you wanted to hear? But of course, it’d be you, wouldn’t it? Blind to every possible warning, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes. Damn you. And damn me for sticking around.

My hand was still in yours, your skin soft and warm against my calloused fingers. Your gaze lifted to mine, and you looked so… pitiful. Pleading.

I sighed. “Yer daft, ya know that?” I moved to sit back down, your hand still holding mine. Crossing my ankle back over my knee, I reopened your book, propping it up on my thigh. I glanced at you; some of your energy had returned, your eyes shining with that dumb happy look as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“Thank you, Jude.” Your voice was soft and sweet, making my heart lurch. I kept my face impassive.

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet ‘n listen.” My tone lacked most of its usual bite as I found the last page I had read.

My fingers were still in your grasp. Strange. I could’ve pulled away at any point, but I didn’t. Maybe you thought if you let go, I’d leave. While reading, I moved my hand, lacing my fingers around yours. I didn’t look up, focused on the page, but I heard a small gasp before you squeezed my hand slightly. Damn. Almost enough to make a man melt.

Without pausing, my thumb began rubbing yours absentmindedly. Your skin was soft, untouched by the harshness of this world. What a novel thing in a place like this.

It wasn’t long before I heard your gentle snoring. I chuckled softly, watching you for a moment. So peaceful. Dreaming without a care while a man you knew was dangerous held your hand and read you to sleep. You were insane.

I stood, marking the page I had stopped on, and set the book down on your nightstand. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from yours and shrugged off my coat, covering your sleeping form. You immediately melted into the warmth, your shoulders relaxing as a lock of hair fell across your cheek. My fingers hovered above you.

Do I dare?

Taking a breath, I gently moved the errant lock from your cheek without touching your face. You scrunched your nose, muttering softly before settling back into sleep. My hands found their way into my pockets as I gazed at you a moment longer.

“Sleep well, Princess,” I murmured under my breath. I crossed the room to turn your lamp off and then made my way to the door, pausing at the doorframe for one last look over my shoulder before exiting and closing the door quietly behind me.

This was fun! It was nice to slip into old shoes again and write something that I used to do so frequently. I may do more of these! Lemme know if you want to be tagged, should I decide to do more in the future!

Thank you, all! Have a great day!

[1800naveen]

Making that post because I don't give a fuck. I don't bother with hiding your user because fuck your privacy.

I checked your profile and you ship Feysand, that tells me everything I need to know about you. Now, let's look at this paragraph again! The whole thing!

"Starting with meeting with the governors of the palaces and getting them to agree never to serve, shelter, or entertain Keir or ANYONE from the court of nightmares." Did you get that? I hope so.

When Rhysand said anyone, he didn't only mean Keir and his soldiers, he meant anyone who was born from Hewn City. Women, men, children. Anyone who hails from Hewn City will not experience the same comfort as the citizens of Velaris.

The inner circle believes that everyone down there is evil and vile but that can't be true, can't it? If someone like Mor came from there and was a dreamer, that means there are more dreamers. There are innocent women and children who suffer in the court of nightmares but Rhysand and his inner circle leaves them to rot. Mor hasn't done anything for the women and she left centuries ago.

You want to know why I said they would like Jim Crow? It's because of shit like that. People were denied shelter, service, entertainment, get opportunities, etc. That's exactly what Rhysand said about anyone from Hewn City coming into Velaris. They had to deal with Rhysand coming down to Hewn City only to torment them so more in their miserable lives. That little stunt Feysand did in ACOMAF was straight up disgusting. Getting freaky in front of your people? Can you imagine the women seeing that? That Rhysand is acting like this with his lady? They also had to watch Rhysand break Keir's arm for calling Feyre a whore which is well deserved but Rhys doing that but not helping the women who had suffered at the hands of men for many years? Some high lord he is. Here's the racism part I was talking about:

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. Shadows gathered around his wings, trailing off him and onto the thick red rug. "They train and train as warriors, and yet when they don't come home, their families make us into villains for sending them to war?" "Their families have lost something irreplaceable," I said carefully. Azriel waved a scared hand, his cobalt Siphons glinting with the movement as his fingers cut through the air. "They're hypocrites." This is from A court of frost and starlight. Azriel is talking like that about the Illyrians even though HE IS A ILLYRIAN. That is internalized racism in my eyes. Because why would talk about your own people like that?

"Get your facts checked." I got my shit checked, I won't be making posts on this app if I DIDN'T have my facts. I have read the series, I wouldn't make posts like this if I didn't read it. Do yourself a favor and block me.

I hate Rhysand, Feysand (as a ship), the inner circle, and I love to talk shit about them. That shit that Rhysand did to Feyre UTM is one of the reasons I hate that bat bastard. "He had me dance until I was sick, and once I was done retching, told me to begin dancing again." ACOTAR, Chapter 39. He never gave her a true apology for what he did to her and that's fucking horrid. He had no reason to do that. That isn't protection, that's abusing a innocent woman. Don't act like he's a good guy when he did all of this to his "Feyre Darling".

Hating this series is awesome, give it a try. And you didn't reply to my comment, how come? I was hoping we would start a argument. I don't need people like YOU in my damn comments. Please do yourself a favor and block me now, save yourself the pain. Try filtering out the anti Rhysand and anti inner circle tags if you don't want to see shit like that. I saw a little post on your blog about seeing a post from a Rhysand and IC hater. I know it's about me, I be lurking at times.

I do hope you see this and I hope you give me a good ol' block!🙂 Either you block me or I block you. Any comment from a pro Rhysand or pro inner circle, I am not taking it seriously. I don't need bitches like YOU around and I'm sure you don't want a bitch like ME around.

READ THE FUCKING TAGS, YOU FUCKTARD. YOU AIN'T WELCOME HERE. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE YOURSELF SUFFER BY READING FROM ANTI FEYSAND OR ANTI IC PEOPLE? IF YOU'RE A FAN OF EITHER, YOU STAY AWAY FROM IT. I want you to know that I compared Rhysand and Feyre to Donald and Melania Trump, called him and the inner circle fascists, and compared him to Bill Cosby!🥰 Here's one, here's another, and the last one!

🎵Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Rhysand. Then you had to open your mouth with a motherfucking opinion. Well, this is how we gonna do this; Fuck Feysand (Feyre deserves better), fuck Rhysand, fuck the inner circle as a staff, family, and a motherfucking crew! And if you want to be down with this, then fuck you too!🎵

Be sure to read the tags this time, much love and take care! No but seriously, just block me. Make it better for yourself. I say this with genuine.

Made a post, just for you and your dumbass comment.

[sydsaint]

Silly glow stick man, I love you <3

Summary: The reader is Hikuleo's little sister, who's stuck around in New Japan to help out him and Riley. Riley and the reader flirt a bunch, but things don't get serious until Shane Haste starts running his mouth about her.

"Knock knock." You stand in the hallway in front of the G.O.D locker room door and announce yourself. "Am I free to come in?" You ask with the door cracked open slightly so the occupants can hear you.

"You're good, dollface!" You hear Riley shout from inside the locker room.

With confirmation from Riley, you open the door fully and slip inside. Riley is busy lacing up his boots, but you notice the blatant absence of your brother.

"Where's Hikuleo at?" You shut the locker room door and plop down in a chair next to Riley.

"Nice to see you too, sweetness." Riley chuckles and turns around to face you. "He lumbered off to catering for a quick bite to eat before our match." He explains.

You nod and notice Riley's signature light-up glasses sitting on the table next to you. You pluck them off the table and slip them onto your face.

"How do I look?" You ask Riley playfully and fish your phone out of your pocket to take some pictures of yourself.

"Like on rocking babe, gorgeous." Riley muses as he watches you take a few pictures with his glasses on. "Mind if I join?" He walks around the back of your chair and leans down over your shoulder with a grin.

You laugh and take a couple of pictures with Riley. You hand him back his glasses and turn your attention to your phone so you can post some of the photos.

Riley takes his glasses and sits down next to you so the two of you can chat while you wait for Hikuleo to return from catering. You are busy on your phone looking for a good filter for your pictures so Riley grabs his phone and decides to look at his socials for a bit.

It doesn't take Riley long while scrolling through Twitter to come across a post from Shane Haste, one of the men he and Hikuleo are challenging for their tag championships later tonight.

"Ugh, Haste is such a loser," Riley grumbles to himself as he reads the post from Shane regarding Haste hoping to see you tonight during the tag match.

"Shane Haste?" You look up from your phone. "Got that right." You agree with Riley's loser comment. "I ran into him yesterday at the hotel and he told me my ass looked good in the jeans I was wearing." You scoff to yourself.

Riley sets his phone down with a grimace and matches your scoff. "Damn, are you serious?" He asks you.

You nod and go back to looking for a good photo filter, blissfully unaware of the sour expression on Riley's face.

A few minutes later, Hikuleo comes back from catering and greets you and Riley.

"Hey! There she is." Hikuleo smiles at you as he comes through the door. "I was beginning to think that you weren't going to bother to show up." He jokes with you.

"Well with Tama and Tanga gone, someone has to be here to annoy you, right?" You laugh. "Plus, Riley would miss me too much. Right, Riley?" You tease him playfully.

Riley laughs with you and nods. "My poor heart would shatter into a million pieces if I didn't get to see my beloved YN at least once a week" He clutches at his heart jokingly.

Hikuleo rolls his eyes and everyone does some last-minute checks before it's time for Riley and Hikuleo's tag match.

The time comes for the match to start so you head out with the boys down to the ring. Riley gets up to his usual shenanigans once he's out in the ring and you laugh at his antics. You take up a spot in Riley and Hikuleo's corner and Riley comes bouncing over to you after messing around with the crowd a bit.

"Hold these for me, please, pretty lady." Riley stops in front of you and places his glasses on your head from his spot perched on the ring apron above you.

You secure his glasses on your head and settle into the corner of your team for the match. The TMDK theme starts blasting through the arena a few seconds later and you roll your eyes. You watch Shane and Mikey saunter down to the ring with their usual confident swagger.

Shane spots you hanging out in your brother's corner and can't help himself. He comes skipping up to you with a smug grin. "YN! Well, my day just got 100 times better." He winks at you. "Damn. How is it you are looking even hotter than when I saw you earlier today?" He asks you.

"Ugh. Get lost, Haste." You roll your eyes and turn away from him.

"Tsk, come on, YN." Haste pursues you.

You turn back around to tell Shane off but your brother comes to your rescue. You crack an amused smile as Hikuleo towers over Shane and mean-mugs his opponent until Shane is forced to back off.

"Thanks, Hikuleo." You turn around and thank your brother for his help.

Hikuleo nods and steps back up into the ring. The bell sounds and the match gets underway. Riley and Shane start the bout off and waste no time in getting at one another.

You hang back and stay out of the way for the most part. But toward the end of the match, Shane comes back around to bother you while Mikey is in the ring with Hikuleo and Riley is lying on the floor near the opposite side of the ring.

"Oh, YN!" Shane sing-songs as he comes around the corner.

"Do you know what 'no' means, Shane?" You scoff as he approaches you. "It's not going to happen, Haste. So get lost!" You scowl at him.

Shane is yet to be deterred by your blatant disdain for him. He keeps on coming toward you and you back away from him. Suddenly, Riley comes flying through the ropes from inside the ring and crashes right into Shane. The two men go flying into the barricade and you rush over to them to help Riley up.

"Thanks, fly-boy." You grab Riley's arm and haul him off the floor next to Shane.

"Happy to help, gorgeous." Riley winks at you playfully. "The only person allowed to shoot bad pick-up lines at you is me." He insists.

You laugh and Riley heads back into the ring to finish up the tag match. He works in tandem with Hikuleo and the pair manage to pull the win out from under TMDK. Hikuleo makes the winning pin and you jump for joy.

You snag the titles from their place over in the time-keepers area and rush back to the ring with them. You present one belt to your brother before turning to Riley and handing him the other.

"Congrats to the new tag champions!" You raise Hikuleo and Riley's hands in the air. "Hikuleo and El Phantasmo! G.O.D!"

The three of you celebrate in the ring for a few minutes before everyone heads backstage again. You are walking past Shane and Mikey when an idea pops into Riley's head. He grabs your arm out of the blue to stop you from moving past Shane and Mikey on the ramp.

"Hey! Shane!" Riley catches Haste's attention. "You see her?" He points to you. "YN is my girl, playboy! So screw off and quit bothering her!"

Shane scoffs, intent on ignoring Riley's claim. But before Haste can make a comment, Riley yanks you forward and into his chest. Your eyes go wide for a split second before Riley crashes his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

"My girl! Capiche?" Riley snakes an arm around your waist and glares at Shane.

"Man, whatever." Shane scoffs and storms off.

You turn to the side, still in Riley's arms, and confront him. "Your girl?" You question him with a quirked brow.

"What?" Riley cracks a grin. "Come on, YN. You know you love me." He teases you and leans forward to place a kiss on your cheek.

You giggle and nod. "Well, I guess dating the great, El Phantasmo, doesn't seem so bad." You give in and lean in for another kiss.

[egogogirl]

intro

name: Ego

age: 19 years old

gender n pronouns: ftm girlyboy. i use he/her and he/him pronouns seriously and privately, but i am okay with she/her for kink/roleplay purposes 👍

i'm bisexual 🥰

this is an 18+ blog for me to express my kinky side. i'm a very sexual person and it's a very important part of my life/identity ❤️

(i'm alt/emo, so that may pop up, too, on occasion ^_^)

i'm not looking for any long-term partners on here; this is just for funsies. i love getting asks n dms n chatting/roleplaying, but i'm not looking to commit seriously to anything. feel free to send me messages n pics <3333

i'm a switch. i can be your baby or your mistress <33

i wanna get bred like a true girl <33

dms / asks always open 4 chatting ❤️

(i'm not always super active but i'll try to get back to you as soon as i can <3333)

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW: i tag basically everything for blocking purposes, so if there's a topic you want to avoid, i can always give you a tag to help you filter my blog.

my original post tag is #gogo og !

some common themes/topics/kinks you'll find here: (large) age gaps, power imbalances, daddy kink, fauxcest, ageplay, petplay, cnc, non-con roleplay, breeding, pregnancy, cum, corruption, (relatively light) detrans, (relatively light) violence/blood/sado-masochism, piss/omorashi

maybe/ask before bringing up with me in asks and dms: extreme gore/violence/pain (including hardcore spanking/impact play).

HARD NOS/MY LIMITS/THINGS YOU WON'T SEE HERE: scat, racism/white supremacy kinks, irl snuff, irl pedo/philia, irl zoo.

i do not plan on posting my face, either, so it's probably best not to ask me for face pics!

MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT! I BLOCK ALL MINORS. i'll block anyone i suspect of being a minor. it is for everyone's safety and comfort that i do this.

PEOPLE I BLOCK ON SIGHT: irl pedos, irl zoo, racists/'all lives matter'/antisemites, zionists, irl homophobes, irl transphobes (like if outside of a kink space you do not respect trans/lgbtq+ rights), lgbtq+ exclusionists, pronoun policers. and basically anyone i damn well please! if you piss me off, i will just block you.

if you don't like this blog or are upset by its contents, please just block me. if you see me genuinely step out of line, i am fine with talking it over civilly, but if my mere existence bothers you, just block me.

my uncensored pics / OF (18+)

ALL MY LINKS (18+ UNCENSORED CONTENT)

dm me for my $app.

[rainofaugustsith]

So it seems like the Jedi Wars are heating up again, sigh. I have fandom sheriffs blocked instantly here. I am leaving reblogs on this open but I am warning in advance that you do not want to come at me on this post because the response will be an immediate block with no engagement. So you should really save yourself the trouble of typing it out. But I feel like some of the essential points are being missed. Namely:

Nobody has to like the Jedi.

Nobody has to approve of the Jedi.

Fans really are entitled to think the Jedi are terrible and their tactics are terrible.

All of this is about a work of fiction.

People, again, are entitled to have opinions about the media they consume.

None of that, in any way, affects people who are Jedi fans/apologists unless they actively choose to make it their problem.

Most of the time those of us who don't dig the Jedi are in our corner and don't give a damn what you're doing as long as you don't bother us.

It would be really nice if some those who liked the Jedi would remember those basic principles - but they have to Fandom Sheriff things and to loudly and aggressively let everyone else know They're Wrong. They come storming into posts, even when the OP has warned they do not want discourse, to try to engage and argue to tell people They're Wrong. They accuse people who Are Wrong!! with having sympathies for real-world fascism and Nazis, which is offensive on more levels than I can even articulate. They insist that if you don't share their opinion you must have issues with "Eastern Religion" (which is a pretty damn vague way to consider not only multiple streams of Buddhism but the many MANY other religions practiced in the "East" that have a very wide range of beliefs. As well as a big damned stretch considering it was all written by a Protestant white man from the USA. As well as the fact that we are again talking about a piece of fictional media and not a real world long established religion). Their way is apparently the only way one can possibly believe about a piece of fiction and they will aggressively butt into your conversations and posts to tell you.

All of which, at the end of the day, is a lot like evangelism/fundamentalism.

If you like the Jedi, there are ways to actively avoid those of us who do not agree with you. Filter tags. Block. Cultivate your fandom experience to surround yourself with people who have similar views. Associate with people who are mature enough to realize a mutual can disagree with their interpretation of a work of fiction without accusing them of being a Nazi. Hell, that's what we all do to avoid you whenever possible.

But grow the hell up and realize that not everyone will share your opinions on your favorites in fictional media, people with differences of opinion are entitled to them, and they are also entitled to their own fandom experience without you yipping at their heels and squeaking indignantly in their conversations.

[voxofthevoid]

Hi! I've been a long time reader of your works and we have like 3 fandoms in common (jjk, yuri on ice, mcu) which is the Dream for an average fic reader like me. Thank you for putting all these out to see. I love the way you write, it really pulls me in no matter the genre. Your mind is amazing.

On to the questions:

1.I kind of want to start writing myself, do you any advice for a beginner?

2.On average, for how long are you into fandoms? How much time does it take for the brainrot to take root in your mind?

3.What kind of media do you usually enjoy?

I hope I didn't bother you. Please stay healthy and safe!

That's delightful on my end too! Love seeing cross-fandom readers. And thanks so much ❤️

1. The advice I have is mostly social and technical. In terms of the writing itself, all the reading you do is likely to give you an idea of what you want to write and how to go about it, and practice will refine the process.

Given the fandoms you've listed, you're likely already familiar with how rancid fandom spaces can get. This depends on your disposition, but being braced to deal with shitheads is important, whether that comes in the form of puriteens or entitled assholes without a brain-to-fingers filter. This is mostly a case of "do as I say, not as I do" because *gestures* you know what my online presence is like, but I'd recommend the following:

(a) Make an account just for writing that's entirely divorced from any and all IRL information or even previous fandom shenanigans. It reduces chances of people digging through your history and other such demented things.

(b) Block liberally and, failing that, be enough of a dick that people will think twice about picking a fight—the more accommodating you are, the more these fuckers will act like sharks scenting blood. There's a reason I stopped accepting tag requests, slapped CNTW on everything, and generally adopted a "my way or the highway" stance toward everything I post. The alternative isn't worth it. YMMV, of course.

(c) Write whatever you want however you want, and don't show an ounce of shame or guilt. Even if you feel it, don't show it. Fake it till you make it. Like above, it's safer than the alternative.

The technical advice is to get a copy of the Chicago Manual of Style; there's an online version, a paper version, and also good old pirating. It may look intimidating, but it's got a beautifully indexed list of damn near every grammar and punctuation element (and a lot of other stuff). I started using it for work, and while I'm way more lax with my own writing than I am with editing, the CMOS still did wonders for my general understanding of the technical side of creative writing.

2. It varies based on a bunch of factors, but my usual pattern is to spend several months just reading while the obsession grows stronger and stronger, to the point I start getting ideas. And we know what happens when I get ideas 🤣. I generally don't stay in a fandom for more than a year. But there are exceptions! I was in the MCU for some three years. I started writing for JJK less than a month after watching it (though this is mostly because I couldn't find much to read—not because fics were low in number but because I was and am extremely picky), and I'm rapidly approaching my 1.5-year mark.

3. A mix of things, but so far, fantasy is the most common theme across various media. I enjoy most subgenres of it too.

And absolutely no bother! I had fun answering, though I may have gone overboard with #1. I feel a little protective of new writers these days because I keep seeing so much vile shit happening online.