#this is only okay because they are fictional

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her�� you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would���ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours�� and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It���s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[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

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so dead after all

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘rose’

rated m | 367 words | cw: blood drinking, technically temporary MCD | tags: came back wrong, vampire Eddie Munson, pre-relationship, first kiss, robin is the only one with any sense

🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛🧛

“This feels very…Dracula.”

“You’re making jokes? Eddie’s standing in front of us dead and you’re making jokes?!” Steve feels insane. Robin is referencing a fictional vampire while Eddie, who has definitely been dead for six months, is standing right there, watching them.

“I don’t think he’s so dead after all,” Robin says.

“No shit!”

Eddie hasn’t said anything since they first opened the door and shrieked in his face. That’s understandable since they…shrieked in his face.

They dragged him into Steve’s house and they’ve been staring at him since, waiting to see if he dissolves into nothing or they wake up from this shared dream. Neither of those things happen.

“So…you…rose from the dead?” Robin asks Eddie.

“I don’t know if I’m alive,” Eddie admits.

“Okay. Cool. So you’re a ghost?” Steve thinks that’s a fair assumption to make based on how pale he is and also the fact that he was previously dead.

“No. Definitely more vampire craving your blood,” Eddie says calmly.

“Steve’s blood? My blood? Anyone’s?” Robin takes a few steps back even though she’s kept her distance since he walked inside.

“Steve’s. I guess anyone’s would do, but his smells best.” Eddie sniffs the air. “Like wine and honey and chocolate.”

“My blood smells like that?” Steve winces. “Gross.”

“Far from it, big boy,” Eddie laughs. “But I have self control so. You’re safe.”

“How do you know?” Robin asks. A good question since it looks like this is the first place Eddie stopped when he came back to life.

“Because I’ve been smelling it for months and haven’t attacked him yet. Pretty sure I would’ve by now.”

“Months?” Robin and Steve ask at the same time.

“It’s been torture.”

“So will it…help?”

Robin smacks his arm. “You cannot offer your blood to Eddie until we figure out what’s going on!”

“Maybe it’ll help us figure it out! Just call Hop so he can be on his way if something goes wrong.”

“You’re serious?” Eddie steps closer.

“Might as well. Hope I taste as good as I smell.”

Robin fusses. Eddie bites Steve’s neck.

Steve’s knees buckle. Eddie holds him.

“Feeling very alive right now,” Eddie says when he’s done.

Steve kisses him.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twenty Five)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty Five: Y/N has been in the UK with Cillian for a few days as he continues the final leg of filming. She's supportive, but her symptoms persist and she's keen to find out why. When Cillian gives her an inch of an attitude, she offers him twice the impact back - and shakes him entirely. [Adult themes]

@meadowshelby @strangeions @lavender-haze-01 @watermeezer @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

--------

Four days into your ’tour’ with Cillian in the UK, and you're miserable. Nausea and fatigue follow you daily, and when you do find respite from the constant feeling you might throw up, it is only because you do, in fact, throw up. You don't know what it is that Cillian has said to Steven and Tom Harper, but being invited to actually stay around the set on the first day in Wales feels like you've been allowed to step through the looking glass. While Cillian is almost constantly busy, alongside Packy, you do love that you've been allowed to park up a chair, with a heater, and can watch him from afar whilst listening to Tom and Steven - who flits in and out - as they film. The cool air is soothing enough that your nausea is kept at a minimum, but you've reached your limit in just accepting it. Having to be quiet but needing to occupy yourself, you tap into Google with a laundry list of complaints.

Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, light period, frequent peeing, migraines.

Your heart quickens when you're immediately greeted with multiple options all giving the same answer. Pregnancy. You smirk, then shake your head, then laugh quietly to yourself and swipe the page away. No way. Not a chance. No. Not even possible! Not a single condom has split, and you've not been without one for weeks and weeks. It's impossible - and your previous test had been very clearly negative. You tell yourself to stop stressing the impossible, but it stays firmly there in your mind. Surely it's just women's issues, you consider; fibroids, or PCOS, or perimenopausal symptoms, maybe. You know that can go on for years. But it sits there - in your head and as a pit in your stomach - and you try to work mentally forwards from the occasions around your birthday to figure if there has even been a single slip up in your safety. You hold your phone tightly between both hands and focus ahead, able to see Cillian in his full Tommy get-up, and wonder when they're going to call lunch. Then it dawns on your like a sickening wave - after the Dublin premiere, he'd finished on you and you hadn't exactly moved quickly to clean up. Okay, so he hadn't ejaculated into you, but you aren't so stupid that you don't know how sperm works. Fuck. …could it be? Could you be?!

Right at that moment, a break is called, and you rise from your seat as Cillian, looking very cold, begins walking towards you with Packy a couple of steps behind. You swallow it all down and smile as he grins at you, and you open your arms out as he approaches. When he openly hugs you tightly and gives you a soft kiss, you're actually surprised. He's Tommy right now, but he sees you and that makes you feel important. “Your face is freezing!” You laugh awkwardly as he pushes his cheek against yours whilst hugging you tightly again. “Stand here - Tom gave me a heater.” You pull him back towards the camp chair you'd been perched on. He does as he's told, not that you've stopped dragging him to allow him to protest, and he smiles as the low blower warms his ankles and calves.

“Will we get some lunch?” He says, nodding off into the distance. You can hear a slight edge go his accent, where Tommy still remains, and you both love it and loathe it entirely. You smile past Cillian as Packy comes up beside him and delights in the warmth of the heater.

“Hiya,” you welcome him. “Come on, it's a tad warmer here!” You laugh as he shakes off his cold body before the blower.

“Jeez, it's fucking Baltic.” Packy shakes his head. “Are y'alright, Y/N? Listening in there to Tom, are ya?” He laughs.

You smirk, “I wish! I don't understand half of what he's saying.”

“C'mon,” Cillian jerks his head, “Tea and food,” he insists with a spark of a mood on his face, and you feel bad when you realise he'd asked you a question just as Packy came over, and you'd unintentionally left him ignored.

“Sorry, love,” you apologise quickly, and place your hand onto his chest, over the thick material of his coat. “Yeah, okay.” You smile as you nod, “Coming?” You check with Packy.

“Ah, g'on ahead, I'll see you in a minute.” He says, before walking away from you both and over towards Tom.

“I'm sorry, Cill,” you apologise again, “I didn't mean to not answer. I didn't want to ignore Packy either.” He sort of rolls his eyes, raising his eyebrows at the same time, and he places his arm around your back as you both begin to walk. You're not sure if he's just full of Tommy, or if you've really dented him with your accidental ignorance. Whatever it is, you definitely don't feel like mentioning what Google seems to think is going on with you, nor that it might well be right thanks to his own actions that fatefully tipsy evening - he definitely wouldn't find it amusing right now. But your anxiety can't stick the not knowing with his mood, and your nerves are already shot. You bite, unfortunately. “Cill, don't be arsey with me, please.” You say as he sort of pushes you towards the catering truck.

“I'm not arsey,” he draws back his head and pulls a face at your comment, before glancing around as you both cross a paved section of pathway. “I'm just…it's work, Y/N, alright. I'm just focusing on work. Don't be taking things to fucking heart.” He's snappy and it makes your stomach sink a little, he sounds bothered by your presence even with his arm around you - even though he'd come over to you happily, smiling, and hugged and kissed you openly. He was pissed that you'd ignored him, but you can't work out if it's Cillian that's pissed at you - or fucking Tommy.

“Is there any need to be so sharp?” You challenge, and shrug yourself out of his arm. You come to a stop a couple of feet before the catering truck and the growling sigh he emits behind you makes you feel more annoyed by his reaction. You're edgy already and he's just making it worse. You're aware you're probably feeding this yourself, but it won't go away.

“Is there any fucking need for attitude?” He matches your piqued anger. “I'm fucking working,” he tries to whisper through gritted teeth. “I asked you a question and you didn't answer me, you apologised because it wasn't intentional. So what the fuck is all this about?” He holds his arms out at his sides. Tommy's twang is gone from his voice and replaced, instead, by a slowly thickening Cork accent. “Sure you're the one dragging this into something.”

“Because you're being an arsey prick, Cillian!” You raise your voice higher. It doesn't occur to you that everyone in the truck, through the open door, can hear every word and shift in your tones to one another. All you're focused on is how he's made you feel even worse. Somewhere in your mind you know you're probably making things worse for both of you, but your lid is off and it's not going back on.

“I'm working, Y/N!” He raises his voice so high you actually startle - you're not afraid of him, but you're surprised he's doing this so openly. “And if ye are going to make this fucking difficult, then you're as well going back to the fucking hotel!”

You fold your arms across your chest and stare back at him with your face set in a deep frown. “I apologised, Cillian. I didn't mean to not answer you. You're rolling your eyes and pulling faces like I didn't apologise or like I did it on purpose. I'm fucking sorry, okay? But you're the one being unreasonable here. Okay, I could have just shut up but why? Because Cillian almighty doesn't want me to speak?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He snaps loudly again, his accent thick and words singing. “This is my job, Y/N. I'm busy, I've to focus, be fucking professional… I have to focus. I'm sorry if that isn't something you can fucking deal with.” He kicks his foot into the gravel beneath his feet. “Fuck sake, what are we fucking doing this for? It's ridiculous.”

You drop your arms back down at your sides and push your hands into the pockets of your coat. “I'll go,” you say in a falsely calm voice. “Being here was a stupid idea.” You sniff. “And just so you know, I'm going to go and buy a pregnancy test.” you add, loudly. You turn your back and inside you're dying that then words have left your lips at all. Fuck! Fuck! He's going to be fucking fuming. Why did you do it? He's working, you stupid woman!

“Hey! Oi, Y/N what the fuck. Stop, for fucks sake..” You hear his feet on the gravel behind you, quick to catch your storming steps, and his hand grabs your elbow and whips you around to him. “What the fuck?” He doesn't remove his hand, but with his other hand he drags his cap from his head. “This isn't the fucking place,” he hisses.

“Get off,” you warn him.

He glances around quickly, aware you're not alone at all, and raises both eyebrows as he looks back at you. He sounds softer, calmer, maybe even worried when he speaks again. “Y/N…you don't…? How?” he sighs and shakes his head. “Are you being serious?”

You bite your bottom lip momentarily then nod your head as you let it go. “The feeling sick, I'm exhausted, I'm peeing every ten minutes…” you shrug.

“But…” he shakes his head again. He looks terrified.

“If I am,” you say and take a sharp breath, “I think it was after the Small Things premiere, when we got back home.” You shrug your shoulders. “You were three sheets to the wind, and you eat me out. Then you decorated my outers…” you say crudely. “If I am pregnant, then your little swimmers…swam. We didn't exactly rush to ensure they couldn't.”

You watch it dawn on him, slowly but surely, and his face goes pale while he shakes his head slowly. “Fuck!” He whispers. He lets go of your arms and paces on the spot for a moment. “Fuck.” He turns back to you.

“I'm sorry…” you mumble, like it's all your fault, like you did this alone.

“Stay.” He says quietly, and moves to stand directly before you. He cups his right hand against your cheek. “Stay here; we'll get a test on the way home later and…” he sighs. “Whatever happens, remember? I mean …fuck, but-but… Jesus Christ. Y/N, you're not doing it alone.”

You frown slightly, “It's just peeing on a stick, Cill.”

“I don't care.” He shakes his head. He moves his thumb across your cheek. “I'm sorry.” he sighs heavily again. “You really think…?”

Feeling a sudden wave of shock, your eyes begin to feel warm as tears swell. “Yeah, I do.” Your chin quivers. “I'm sorry, I know we…”

He shushes you softly, and his thumb pad swipes the tears that drift down towards his hand on your chin. “No, no,” he whispers. He removes his hand from your face but pulls you close to hold you against him. His arms wrap tightly around you and you burrow into the prop coat. “Don't say sorry.” He continues to whisper. He shushes softly again, his right hand moves up and down your back lovingly.

“Everyone must have heard,” you sniffle against him. You don't know what he thinks of that - you can't see his face - but he continues to whisper his gentle shushing sounds into your ear. There's a relief of some kind that is starting to come over you, but it doesn't outweigh the ever-present anxiety that grows bigger for what comes next. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept pecking at you,” you say and lift your head. He slowly loosens his arms and then stands before you, with his right hand resting on your bicep. “I know it matters to you, being a certain person on your jobs, I'm sorry if I've made you look bad.”

He shakes his head, “It's okay. It's fine.”

“None of this is fine, is it?” You scoff. “You don't want this.” you gesture towards your abdomen.

“Y/N, stop.” He cuts you off. “How many times do I have to say it? Whatever happens.”

“Yeah, love, I know. But you didn't mean a baby. I know you didn't. You know you didn't.” You shake your head.

“Stop,” he says firmly. “Please.” He looks like he might cry for a moment. “Y/N, we'll deal with what comes. Okay? I told you before, it isn't that I don't want a baby - it's that I don't want things becoming something else. But if that test is positive then… then we're having a fucking baby.”

“You look petrified.” You say, shaking your head.

“I fucking am!” He smirks, “Jesus Christ, I am fucking scared. But I told you I'd never see you go through what you went through before. Yeah, I'm scared of all the stuff that can change too. I'm so fucking scared.” He moves his hand from your arm to your waist, and slowly moves around to your stomach. “But if there's a wee you and me in there…” he blows a deep breath from puffed cheeks noisily. He shakes his head and you know he doesn't know what he's thinking, or feeling. “Please stay,” he says, dropping his hand. “Come with me now, we'll get a cup of tea and we'll probably have to bow our heads in shame for giving out in front of everyone.” He holds out his hand to you, waiting for you to hold tight and walk with him. You reach out and lace your fingers in his, and walk with him slowly. You know there's so much more to say, but he has to work. He has to focus, he has to do his job. Right now, sadly, you know that you're second in line. It won't be like that soon, but right now it is.

[olderthannetfic]

whiny confession time: I do not care about being morally consistent one way or the other!!! it annoys the shit out of me when people are like “why are you so critical of (adult x minor, incest, abusive etc etc etc) ship when you like (extremely problematic ship in other fandom)??? you’re throwing stones from glass houses!!!” and other such bleating. 

dude, the reason I hate YOUR ship is because IT’S OUT OF CHARACTER you stupid sack of shit!!! my one and only criteria for whether a ship is “okay” is: Would he fucking say or do that? No? He would not? Then it’s shit!!! It’s actually really simple!!! The entire appeal is in the context of the canonical characterization, even if there’s an AU or crossover or dark premise or whatever else in play!! The characters should still feel like the actual characters, not some randos shambling around in their skins!!! otherwise make an OC and stop subjecting the rest of us to your flanderized bullshit!!!

It doesn’t matter if you age one of them up or make it wholesome or whatever other asinine thing you think will make it “morally correct” to me, it is INTELLECTUALLY WRONG not MORALLY WRONG because its FICTION and based off of inherently shallow portrayals of the characters in question. The ages or familial status or what have you have nothing to do with it!!! Stop trying to deflect my criticism of your bad writing and interpretation by saying I’m being moralistic!!! I don’t give a shit about that!!!

MY problematic ships are so blatantly homoerotic in the source material you would have to be willfully blind not to see it. YOUR problematic ships are based off of nothing but shit you made up because you’re trying to force romance where there is none, and obnoxious fanon mischaracterizaton. We Are Not The Same

(should note that I never actually say this to anyone unless they start getting real up my ass, i’m not that much of an asshole, but god i think it all the time. i am that person that your social anxiety is conjuring. i am such a judgmental bitch. i pray for the downfall of people like this. i hope they get a flat tire.)

--

[achaotichuman]

ACOTAR Discussion

Okay, so recently my mutual @sonics-atelier posted this fic Perfect To Me (which is so fucking amazing, I cried, go read it rn) and in this fic, they write about Tamlin developing an eating disorder (specifically anorexia) since his body changed after starting to get Spring back on its feet. And it started me down a whole rant about fictional characters being the pinnacle of beauty standards, specifically in relation to what they're bodies look like. So, to save my mutuals the long spam texts about my thoughts, I'm gonna post em here.

General trigger warning- Discussion of a variety of eating disorders, body dysmorphia and Cassian.

SJM covers disordered eating within ACOTAR, it happens specifically to the female characters. And this is something, I have a huge problem with. That might seem like a massive asshole sentence, but let me explain my thought process.

These eating disorders are not well respresented, they do not further affect the plot, they only serve to be an outward appearance to the male saviour characters that something is wrong, and they never appear on the female characters in a way that makes them any less pretty, in fact, I would say, the resulting skinniness from said disordered eating, is the desired result. By that I mean, yes I think SJM writes her female characters starving themselves to make them fit the female beauty standard.

This is very evident with Nesta, who somehow miraculously only grows thinner in the waist and hips when she is starving herself. But still has massive breasts which Cassian makes a point of oogling, despite noticing how thin she is everywhere else. Instead of taking Nesta's not wanting to eat anything and turning it into a plot point for her character in which she learns to take care of and eventually love her new Fae body, SJM decides to further starve Nesta, but Cassian limiting her sugar intake, so she reminds the same 000 size in the waist.

Now, onto what really, truly makes me angry within SJM's series. Character's gaining weight, rather than losing it.

This happens once in the series. It is one singular comment, that put me off Cassian forever.

"You need to get out in the practice ring, brother. Don't want your mate to find any soft bits."

This comment was from Cassian to Rhysand in the third chapter of ACOSF, after looking Rhys up and down pretty much.

May seem like a harmless jab to a lot of people, but take into account all of the context around it.

Cassian had just been eyeing Nesta's body-clearly suffering from the effects of long-term starvation, like a hunk of meat.

They had just won a war not long ago-still coming down from the stress highs that would have no doubt been enough to put any normal person in bed for a month.

Rhysand had only recently found out about Feyre's pregnancy, if I remember correctly-would have also found out about the risks, and would be dealing the extreme stress that would be causing.

It would be incredibly normal for Rhysand to gain weight because of all these factors. Not to mention this being the first (and I'm fairly certain) only time, SJM's mentions a male character gaining weight, and it being in such a negative light, could only suggest she, and thus Cassian, find the idea unappealing or perhaps downright abhorrent.

Which really fucking pisses me off.

Most of her female characters have experienced a form of anorexia throughout the books as a trauma or stress response. And it never exists to go further than making them more conventionally attractive.

Now further on her male characters, not a single one of them ever has an ounce of fat on their body. Weight gain is entirely out of the question, even when it should be the obvious occurrence due to whatever change in their situation.

Now this also brings me to another problem I have, which also leeches into fandom behaviour.

We all love Tamlin's tits, ofc, ofc, but muscle behaves like fat if its not being actively flexed. Tamlin's pectoral muscles are no doubt incredibly strong, and would, probably be able to crack a nut (no pun intended) if flexed. But if they werent, they would be soft and squishy. No one talks about THAT THOUGH DO YOU???

Not to mention, that, Tamlin is a beast creature, wandering the forests, not training or exercising properly, and is only gouging on the carcasses of animals he kills. This could be an excellent time to lean into weight gain, and the intense feelings of guilt, and body dysmorphia that it brings.

Lets also discuss Gwyn, a traumatised young woman who fled to the Library in order to live a life of peace. She has never trained a day in her life before becoming a Valkyrie, why is she so skinny?

It's never mentioned Gwyn having any kind of reaction to her trauma that affects her eating (as far as I remember) and I think it would be far more interesting to delve into the effects grief and the lose of a dear loved one has on the body and ones eating habits.

Lets talk about Elain, who is said to use baking a coping mechanism, why is she skinny? This is the perfect opportunity to delve into a character binge eating, then extreme guilt from the times where they were in poverty, and purging. But finding comfort in food because food = wealth, wealth =safety.

And in the end, a character can be fat and be happy. Why do we have so many characters that are so thin at the end of their books?

So many of these characters also have near no stability, their diet would not doubt be changing constantly from the inconsistency in their living situations. Which should to lead to drastic changes in their body. This could be a very interesting way to explore body dysphoria. Hating seeing yourself in the mirror even if you just survived battle, because you can hardly recognise yourself. Changing so much in the mind and not even having the comfort of your body being the same. Especially with Nesta and Elain being Made against their will. I honestly believe Nesta's starvation should have been her hating her new Fae body so much that she just wants to destroy it. Her healing, should have been learning to love herself, no matter what body she is in.

In the end, your body is you, but you are more than your body. Bodies are such incredibly fascinating tool, and people don't always have to like what it looks like to care for it. Bodies can be smaller, bigger, stronger, they take your brain wherever it wants to go. But they are not all of you. And that should have been what especially Nesta's journey could have been.

Anyway, this is incredibly sensitive topic for a lot of people, so I do really want to open this up to everyone. What are your thoughts on this topic? Do you think SJM's portrayal of eating disorders is justified, or do you think I'm wrong on any of these points? Let me know in either the comments or the reblogs, I would be happy to discuss it.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you have any thoughts about the Love square Ship? I just realized that a huge reason why they are happening is because they are 'fated to be together' just cuz they're ladybug and chat noir. Aren't the writers shooting themselves on their feet? 'Cause it just means that Adrienette only love each other because they're LadyNoir.

The love square has fallen into a trope I like to call the Sk8er Boi trap. This is a reference to the opening question of Avril Lavigne's famous song:

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it any more obvious?

Yes. Yes you can make it more obvious! I'm not going to ship these two based on gender alone! Give them depth! Give them substance! Make me care.

To be fair, Miraculous didn't start this way. The first two seasons of the show did a decent job setting up the crushes. It wasn't amazing, but it was enough to see the potential, especially when you paired it with the fun of identity shenanigans. Those early seasons also felt like a promise that more depth would come with time as is typical in a slow burn.

Instead, as time went on, the crushes became ever more superficial because the show has committed to maintaining a status quo that doesn't allow for a deep, meaningful romance. Without that depth to really sell the ship, Miraculous is relying on the audience shipping the love square because Adrien and Marinette are the endgame couple and that's about it. The quality of the relationship doesn't matter. All that matters is that the show says that they're meant to be. It's disappointing, but annoyingly common.

For reasons beyond my understanding, there is a decent subset of the population who are happy to play this game. If the writing says, "these two are meant to be," then this audience is happy accept that no matter how little substance the couple has. Heck, they'll ship couples that are straight up toxic!

The audience in question seems to be here for the drama and the passion, not the love and depth. Give them twists that come out of no where! Give them ridiculous miscommunication! Give them poor characterization! They'll take it all so long as it's shocking and dramatic. I don't get it, but it's not a fringe preference. It's straight up popular right now. Couples like this dominate mainstream romance, YA, NA, and romantasy. They're all obsessed with drama over depth, but that's the opposite of what I want. I will take depth over drama every day.

My ideal romance is a cute boring couple made interesting by the extraordinary circumstances they're dealing with. I thought that's what the love square was going to be, but I have given up on that hope. It started to really die in season four and season five straight up killed it.

You'd think that a show aimed at kids would be free of unhealthy romances since there are a lot of topics a Y-7 show can't touch, but apparently not! Season five's love square feels like it's an awkward, kiddified version of the kind of trends that have made me avoid mainstream Romance, YA, New Adult, and Romantasy for the past few years. Every book I've tried made me rage (insert reductive "are the allos okay" joke here). So, to answer your question:

Aren't the writers shooting themselves in their feet?

Not really. They're not writing a deep nuanced romance, but they are writing the type of frustrating, drama-laden romance that some people adore. As long as a subset of those people are willing to watch Miraculous, the show will be successful. I don't get it, but Goodreads has shown me that people love this shit, so I'm stuck waiting for the current trends to die off or for a new genre to pop up that leans towards what I like. Such is life. It's not like there's nothing good out there. It's just harder to find since it's not on trend right now. Plus there's always fanfic! That's my main source of romance. I look for other things in original fiction.

[star-lights-up]

OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT: Cherik "The Martian" AU

So I'm rereading the martian today because i am sick again, so obviously I need hard science fiction to combat the existential dread, and my brain just kept latching onto dialogue bits and going "CHERIK! MAKE IT CHERIK"

My thoughts are:

Charles and Erik were friends at one point, maybe during college, maybe at the beginning of training, IDK, at some point they had a bit of a falling out. They're civil enough to still get put on the mission together but it's well known they don't get along.

Though there was that one night, where they were both kinda drunk, and they got together......... ("We can't do this again." Erik said, angrily, in the morning. Charles left without so much as glancing at him, let alone responding.)

There's a sandstorm on sol 6, and the team is trying to evacuate (probably the first class team because that's just easy. Hank = pilot. I bet you moira is the leader lady, lewis, military trained or whatever. And everyone else is there too, but i'm on my asthma medication so I can't think clearly, so they don't get specific roles)

The radio dish comes off, impales Charles, he blows backward while unconscious (lower gravity or some shit idk physics) and crashes into Erik, who then gets hit by more debris. The thing that impaled Charles also impaled his biotelemetry reader, and Erik's got crushed on impact/by the debris, so both of them read as dead to their crew members, who have to leave or else they die too.

Erik wakes up first, since he's not actively bleeding and his suit's not impaled and loosing air. The sandstorm is over, the HAB (think space station/tent) is intact (yay!), but the MAV (think small spaceship good for like, a round trip to and from a larger vessel) is gone (fuck).

He tries to wake Charles up, but ends up dragging him back to the HAB on his own. He takes out the antenna that impaled him and sews up and bandages the cut, while Charles is semi-conscious. It's painful for now, but he'll live. Erik's exhausted, so he goes back to his own bunk and falls asleep, kinda hoping this is all a nightmare.

It's not gone in the morning. He's still stuck on mars in a glorified tent with limited resources and his least favorite person on the team.

They talk to each other, Charles thanks him for helping him, and they decide that they're just going to have to work together to get off of mars alive.

Charles = botanist, erik is the engineer (basically gonna have them split the original main guy's braincell. They already share one anyway).

Potato farming

Along the way, they kinda sorta start becoming friends again. They're relying on each other to survive, they're the only people each other can talk to... They play chess on the computers and watch Moira's awful 70's television and listen to disco that she brought along with her. They farm potatoes and jerry rig rovers and then oops, they fell asleep in the same tiny bunk watching tv together. Oops, they hugged after the potatoes germinated. Oops, they kissed in celebration when they finally made contact with NASA again.

Just like that, they've fallen into a new rhythm. They still argue a lot, but now there's also a good amount of kissing and little fleeting touches while they work together and they put their bunks together and fall asleep in each other's arms ("Do you realize," Charles says one night, Erik curled against his chest, pressing slow kisses to his collarbone, "We're the only people to have made love on a planet other than Earth?" Erik snorts softly, "NASA's not going to be hearing about that, if I can help it." "You realize that the HAB's always recording us, yes? They'll get the footage when we get back to Earth." "...Right. Huh." Erik frowns, then shrugs, "Worth it." Charles laughs.)

Erik gets stuck inside the airlock when the HAB deflates and they loose all their potatoes. Charles is in the rover and, for a while, was convinced Erik was dead. Until he saw the airlock start to roll towards the HAB, and then he started steering the rover over.

After they got the HAB back up, NASA tells them they're sending a supply probe called "Iris." (Transmission goes like this: [08:31] JPL: Keep us posted on any mechanical or electric problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending is Iris. Named after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. She's also the goddess of rainbows. [08:47] LEN/XAV: Gay probe coming to save us. Got it. Erik heads back to the HAB. "Hello, darling. How's Houston?" Charles says, not turning from his soil samples or whatever the fuck he's been doing for three days. "They're sending us a pride-themed probe full of granola bars." Erik answers, shoving off his EVA suit. Charles turns to give him a quizzical, are-you-joking kind of look, then bursts out laughing upon seeing Erik's dead serious face. "Well, it's certainly fitting," He says, walking up to Erik and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.)

Anyways. Iris doesn't make it, shit keeps going wrong, BUT eventually their team catches wind of a plan -- a risky plan, but one that could save cherik. So, without houston's permission, they pilot their ship on a course back to mars. They'll do a flyby, and if Charles and Erik can get to the site of Ares 5 and the MAV for that mission, retrofit the MAV, make it to their team's ship without dying/miscalculating and shooting off into the depths of outer space, they can get to that ship and on a course back to earth by sol 549.

They spend a bunch of time retrofitting their rovers for the trip, and so begins the classic cherik roadtrip -- martian style!! (I just want to mention that there's like no space, so just picture them cuddled up for a good night's sleep on the front bench of the rover. there. cuteness among the science).

They flip at one point. I could add details but it's been a while of me writing this and my brain is slowly dying and i'm tired so. that's it.

They make it to ares 5, they retrofit the MAV, then they do The Riskiest Space Flight of All Time. Random shit goes wrong, everyone's improvising, it pretty much seems like they're done for...

They get back to the big ship. They're safe!! (well, as safe as you can be in space.) But they get a hot shower and full meals and much more comfortable bunks (in separate rooms, technically, but Erik refuses to leave Charles's side so they end up in one bunk that first night. Usually they'd try to be a bit more discreet, but what the fuck. They've been stuck on mars. They almost just died. They deserve to fall asleep in each other's arms.)

They are HEROS back on earth. They get married almost immediately -- it seems quick to a lot of people, but they're so trauma bonded that, like, it's necessary. they go to paris on their honeymoon and get lots of free stuff. They never go to space again lol (and gladly)

THE END (fucking finally, it's 12:00 am on the dot and i've been writing this for 45 minutes.)

EDIT: some art I did for this au

EDIT: I fucking did it. I started writing it. Oops.

[darcytaylor]

When “Just Looking at the Evidence” Becomes a Problem

Before I get into this, I want to be clear - this is not directed at shippers who simply enjoy Luke and Nicola’s chemistry, those who appreciate them as people, or those who respect their private lives.

Shipping is a natural part of fandoms, and when done respectfully, I think it’s fine.

This post is directed at the people who have taken shipping to an extreme - those who have convinced themselves they are "just looking at the evidence" while weaving together wild, invasive, and often insensitive theories. At that point, it’s no longer shipping - it’s something entirely different.

Shipping vs. Fantasizing: Know the Difference

There’s a huge difference between harmlessly shipping people - whether fictional characters or even co-stars - and creating elaborate fantasies about real individuals. While shipping can be a fun way to engage with a story or fandom, projecting detailed, speculative narratives onto real people can cross into invasive territory.

Shipping: Enjoying the chemistry, friendship, or dynamic between people, often in a fictional or lighthearted context.

Fantasizing: Constructing speculative stories about real people’s private lives, often based on incomplete information (and flawed so-called "evidence") without regard for their boundaries.

Why Fantasizing About Real People Crosses the Line

When fans create elaborate narratives about real people, it can:

Blur the line between fiction and reality: Making it harder for others to separate speculation from truth.

Perpetuate false narratives: Leading to harassment or invasions of privacy.

Disrespect individuals: By reducing their lives to a storyline crafted for entertainment.

People are far more nuanced than the curated glimpses we get online or in public. Social media posts, photos, or even patterns of behaviour aren’t a roadmap to someone’s inner life or relationships. They’re just snapshots - fragments of a much larger, unseen picture. And often, those fragments don’t connect the way people want them to.

The Loophole That Isn't a Loophole

I’ve seen some people claim that Nicola saying "If you have an opinion about me, that's ok. I understand I'm on TV and people will have things to think and say, but I beg you not to send them to me directly" somehow gives them permission to speculate about things like pregnancy.

Let’s be real - that is absolutely not what she meant. She’s literally acknowledging that people will have opinions, but she’s also making it clear that things like that make her uncomfortable. Saying "Don’t bring it to me" doesn’t mean she’s fine with people debating her body - it means she knows shitty people exist, but she’d rather not be subjected to it.

And sure, maybe you’re not sending it to her directly - but you are still doing the exact thing that makes her uncomfortable. And by putting it out into public spaces, you’re making it far more likely that it gets back to her indirectly. So whatever justification people think they’ve found? It’s fucking moot. It’s still insensitive.

Belief Doesn’t Equal Truth

Believing you’ve pieced together the “truth” because some moments appear to align is misguided. It overlooks the unknowns - the context we’re missing and the layers that exist in people’s lives. Just because something can seem a certain way doesn’t mean it is that way.

Humility matters. Recognizing that no matter how much you think you know, you actually know very little. Taking a step back and saying, “I don’t know what’s really going on” is not only more truthful but also shows respect for the people involved.

It’s okay to want people to be together - innocent shipping of loving chemistry between people is okay - but it’s not okay to create wildly speculative stories that exist only in your own mind.

Humility in Speculation: Knowing What We Don’t Know

Here’s the truth - I don’t know the full picture. None of us do. I don’t know Luke and Nicola as people, and I don’t know the ins and outs of their personal lives. And that’s okay. I'm not going to piece together and come up with my own flawed story about other peoples lives.

What I do know is that certain theories and speculation can be harmful, even when people think they’re harmless. Just because something is being discussed publicly, or even “positively,” doesn’t mean it isn’t invasive. (Cough spreading invasive pregnancy rumors cough). It doesn't mean it is kind. The line between curiosity and intrusion is thinner than people think.

Even if you think you've “figured something out,” there is always so much more you will never see, hear, or understand. Just because an idea feels compelling or fits a certain pattern doesn’t mean it reflects the truth.

So before engaging in deep speculation, it’s worth asking:

Am I respecting their privacy?

Am I letting curiosity turn into entitlement?

Am I remembering that these are real people, not fictional characters?

On the Idea of “Being Duped”

I’ve also noticed some frustration in the fandom, with people feeling like Luke and Nicola somehow “duped” the public with their behaviour on tour.

What we saw on tour was not unusual for two people who:

Are comfortable with each other.

Work together (and especially in the acting world).

Have shared an intense, career-defining experience.

This kind of dynamic isn’t uncommon in the entertainment industry or in any field where people work closely together (I know from personal experience). Their bond is unique, but that doesn’t mean it has to be romantic. To me, it’s always read as a deep friendship, a strong professional partnership, and two people who genuinely enjoy working together. And it really is beautiful!

I think some people wanted their interactions to confirm a specific narrative, and now that things aren’t aligning with that, they feel misled. But that’s not on Luke or Nicola. It’s a reminder that interpretation is subjective, and that sometimes, we project our own expectations onto things rather than seeing them for what they are.

The Consequences of Unchecked Fantasies

Making up stories about real people and treating those stories as fact (even when you say that you are okay if you are wrong, or if you say that you are just speculating) adds to:

Noise and confusion: Amplifying drama and misinterpretation.

Unnecessary pressure: On the individuals involved, complicating their personal lives further.

Public harassment: Rumours often escalate, influencing others to unfairly judge or attack. Bringing it indirectly to the main people in your fantasies.

Sure, you can feel like you’ve pieced together a narrative in your mind that makes sense to you. But actors are human beings, not characters in a fan-fiction. They shouldn’t be stripped down to an idea of what you think they should or shouldn’t be doing.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again - people are nuanced. People are dimensional. If you don’t know them personally, you have no idea what goes on in their day-to-day lives. A few curated moments from interviews or social media will never give anyone the full picture.

I’ve seen a lot of people build theories around what they believe is evidence. But if you really looked at it critically, you would find that much of it is based on assumptions rather than actual confirmation. It’s worth asking - are you trying to make reality fit the story you want to believe?

Public speculation/fantasizing can have consequences that extend beyond the screen - impacting the real people you claim to support.

[shaanks]

every time you speak of shanks an angel gains back its wings. your latest post about shanks and how the fandom depicts him badly... like yes you get it.

I would like to think this side of the fandom, that yk contributes with fan work and shares a safe place, understands and loves one piece's themes and depth of the characters better than well, power scalers for example. Like I'm pretty sure everyone dislikes power scaling because it excludes the themes, plot and characters' personalities and thoughts, only making it about 'feats' and strength.

But ironically the same happens on this side of the fandom with characters' fanon archetypes. Watering down characters' personalities into a few 'main'' features and making them almost as shallow as power scalers do. And dear god does Shanks' 'incompetent' -archetype piss me off. When Shanks is exclusively portrayed as just an alcoholic, not taking anything seriously, bad at reading emotions and his crew is always exasperated with him. This depiction is just so frustrating because it doesn't feel like Shanks at all??? Like where do people get this interpretation of him??

1. Alcohol abuse. Do we ever even see Shanks drunk? Yes we see him drinking and partying (with Mihawk, Makino and Ace at least) but in these moments it seems like he's genuinely just having fun, he's celebrating Luffy. No one calls Zoro an alcoholic even though he is drinking Sake for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But bcs Shanks drinks beer when partying or IN A BAR and Sake in like that one scene with Becks he has alcohol problems. ok. cool.

2. Not taking anything seriously. Bruh. Again I feel like there's more moments where Shanks is serious than where he isn't. I don't even know what to say to this bcs the material speaks for itself.

3. Bad at reading emotions/just incompetent. Kinda going together with the previous point. I think this comes from that scene with Buggy where they were literally kids that just lost their whole family. How was Shanks supposed to know what to do there when Buggy didn't know either. Idk how people can blame Shanks in that situation, NEITHER ONE was at fault. To me he is one of the most competent characters in the whole show. He's an emperor of the sea yet not ruthless and evil like Kaido and Big Mom (or the WG). He handles situations maturely and ends more fights than starts them. Let's a lot of bullshit slide by the next generation like with Kidd and Bart. People seem to love him and be comfortable with him (that one lady hugging him sigh im jealous). Whitebeard pirates trusting him with Whitebeard and Ace's burial. etc.

4. His crew is always exasperated with him/He's a bad captain. Bro howwww HOW. Beck has like one line that's something like "Shanks is a lot" and to me that's just teasing. No one says that Luffy and Roger are bad captains even though they seem more chaotic than Shanks, but again it's an issue only when Shanks' crew teases him bruh!! He has a healthy relationship with his crew like Luffy cmon guys. But ig this headcanon only exists if you already think that Shanks is an alcoholic or something. Bcs I just can't understand it otherwise.

Okay this has gotten insanely long I'm so sorry LOL. I really needed to rant this out it seems... and I could've ranted even more. Ik he's just a fictional character and it's not that serious yada yada. Buuuuut I just wish we could see his character be explored more in the fandom!! I feel like this archetype is just misunderstanding his character so badly it genuinely hurts my brain. Anyways. Thank you for always blessing us with amazing Shanks headcanons. Genuinely like a breath of fresh air. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG SJKFHSK

Okay so first PLEEEEASE never apologize for sending me long impassioned messages I love hearing from people and I love talkin about Shanks (or anything anyone wants to talk about!) together!

I wanna go through this point by point so I don't miss anything so i'm gonna put this under the cut for ease of viewing but for your primary point I REALLY agree. I feel like a lot of people selectively ignore character nuance unless its about their faves, or easy to digest, and so especially people who have already kind of written Shanks off will just take the top 2 surface level traits we see of him--carefree and silly--and just throw everything else out with the bathwater.

Which like. To a degree I understand there are like 70 relevant and recurring characters outside the Strawhats and nobody is gonna put max brain power into all of them, but I feel like there's a difference between skimming a character and totally mischaracterizing them--and then dunking on or hating that character BASED on said mischaracterization. Weird work, to say the least. But okay, the rest under the cut --

You put the points by numbers so I will too just for the sake of organization.

Okay, so, Shanks' alcohol usage is implied in canon to be a dependency issue, but NOT in the way fandom tends to want to write him. We have actually seen Shanks drunk several times--the manga does a better job of depicting that clearly than the anime does but it's whatever--but generally when him being intoxicated is getting focus, it's to parallel Rayleigh, Rayleigh's drinking problem, and the implied reasons for said drinking problem. Shanks has spent the better part of 25 years pretty regularly intoxicated, but because it's implied that he knows things about the world, about the war that's coming, about what Roger saw and learned, perhaps about his own lineage, and the stress of that knowledge is driving him to drink. There is a major tonal difference between the times where he's shown drinking with his friends and having a party, and the times when he's shown actively drunk, but the parts of the fandom who have chosen him to shit all over for no reason tend to throw out both the context of him having fun with his friends AND the context of him drinking to deal with the stress of his position and just chalk it up to "dumb irresponsible alcoholic who is lazy and drinks constantly expecting to have his messes cleaned up for him" which is like soooooooooooooooooooooo endlessly infuriating lmfao.

This one gets under my skin all the time. Shanks puts on a silly goofy exterior and acts like he's too laid back to be bothered about things on purpose!!!! Either to make his friends and the people around him feel more comfortable, or to stop stupid disputes in bars from escalating to violence all the time. Shanks, in generally, is a really kind and laid back guy. He wants to have fun with his friends without them being uncomfortable around him due to his stature or status, and also doesn't want to have to end up fighting idiots left right and center. The fact that he's laid back most of the time is a SIGN of how seriously he takes his responsibilities, both as captain and as an emperor. Shanks will be like "I'm not gonna pick a fight with these people over a little spilled liquor lol" and people will really be like "look he's so stupid and lazy he won't even fight back" and i'm like. Y'all just drew the same conclusions as an 8 year old. Like surely y'all realize how sad that is right?? He's dedicated his entire adult life to being responsible for the world, it's fate, the new generation, and whatever job Roger left him saddled with, stopped a war, stopped Kaido and Big Mom from going on a rampage, tried his damndest to get Whitebeard to recall Ace before things went south, lost his ARM to make sure Luffy was safe and people will just like close their eyes and plug their ears about it. Sighs.

Shanks is both deeply observant and incredibly emotionally competent, and that's part of why he plays things so close to his chest!!! He purposefully makes his public persona a little flighty and vague because it's better for everyone if he's not honed directly in on everything. His internal monologue and thoughts are always apt, perceptive, thoughtful, and compassionate, but as always those things get swept under the rug bc applying nuance to this man makes it harder for people to write him off as a dumb drunk slut. :/ Also the people who put the blame on him for the miscommunication after Roger's death boggle my mind. Shanks and Buggy were 14 years old, had just watched their father figure be killed by marines after having spent a year watching his health deteriorate and their crew fall apart, and suddenly found themselves totally alone in a hostile world. They were children. Buggy was terrified because it seemed like the last tie he had to a stable life--his best friend--was giving up before his eyes, and Shanks was overwhelmed by loss and fear and the burden of whatever Roger left at his feet to accomplish. Of course they fucked up that interaction. Most adults wouldn't have probably handled that very well. Idk what people wanted out of them exactly but whatever lol.

This one is so crazy because if you look with your eyes for even one second at the Red Hair Pirates it's CLEAR that they all fucking adore him. Everyone is always looking at him with so much fondness, affection, and respect, they tease him about things sure but it's always playful and in good fun!!! Benn has a bit of resting serious man face and a dry sense of humor, but it's really clear when he's just teasing Shanks to get a rise out of him, and how much affection and mutual respect is there. And yet there's a really dedicated part of the fandom that constantly writes like his crew and everyone who has ever cared for him is just faking it ig?? And can hardly tolerate him?? Or think he's a bad captain? Like they could have made it that far if his crew didn't respect him lmfao. IDK how they all mesh how universally adored he is by his crew and subordinate crews in canon with their world view because it is not subtle at ALL.

Okay I think that covers all your points!!! tl;dr is I fully agree, I think people are really determined to dislike and misunderstand him for reasons that boggle my mind, and it's frustrating to see lmfao.

Thank you so much for your message and your kind words, I'm glad I can offer a little bit of a Shanks Sanctuary here!!

[bucktitties]

writers of 911 STOP MAKING ME NOT HATE THE BUCKLEY PARENTS T___T

[spitedemon]

i really don’t think it’s “typical dragon age fandom nonsense” for people to be genuinely upset about the world state choices. combat, level design, art direction, gameplay gimmicks, those have all varied across each dragon age game. the one thing that’s remained constant are nods to our previous choices.

i wasn’t expecting my HoF to come riding in on a griffon, but i can’t find a monument dedicated to warden tabris somewhere around the anderfels? lucanis couldn’t have some lines about the time that one arainai boy was stirring up trouble in antiva city? you’re gonna tell me that making a mage the new divine wouldn’t have some impact on nevarra and antiva? on the anderfels, the supposed most devout militant andrastian nation in thedas? you’re saying nobody in the north is paying attention to who rules orlais or ferelden? come on.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Let's Pretend for a Second it's Still Wednesday

I know it's not technically Wednesday, but my Wednesday ended up going in all kinds of directions I had not anticipated, so we're pretending for a second. Mental time travel.

I'm working on four different projects right now. I know, I know, but they're collaborations, and collaborations are my very favorite way to create things. Seriously, I've been looking forward to this stuff all year!

Three of those projects are for @carryon-reverse-bang. I get to work with three extremely cool and talented writers, and it's so much fun getting into the projects with them.

These snips are from the sketches I initially posted for the fest. We'll see what happens going forward XD

I'm also working on something for @carryonthroughtheages. (Which, btw, if you haven't noticed, is in ONE MONTH!) I'm not going to share a clip from that because there isn't much I could share that wouldn't give it all away. I'm very excited, though. Also nervous. Mostly excited.

Personal update: In between art endeavors, I've been very busy. Just made a huuuuge life change uh... exactly two weeks ago. I'm still adjusting to that and it's taking a lot of time, energy, and spoons. But I think/hope it will all be worth it. Also hoping to find my presence on Tumblr again after being a bit absent of late. Missed you all!

Since Wednesday is past, I'm going to tag all the awesome people who have tagged me even though I've been super absent the past couple of months! (Under the cut)

Thank you for not forgetting my existence even when I wasn't around to remind you of it <3 <3 <3 @monbons, @mooncello, @thewholelemon, @fiend-for-culture, @youarenevertooold,

@whatevertheweather, @blackberrysummerblog, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @that-disabled-princess, @imagineacoolusername,

@orange-peony, @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @bazzybelle, @drowninginships,

@hushed-chorus, @bookish-bogwitch, @shrekgogurt, @roomwithanopenfire, @alexalexinii,

@noblecorgi, @best--dress, @artsyunderstudy, @prettygoododds, @ic3-que3n,

@emeryhall, @tender-ministrations, @supercutedinosaurs, @leithillustration

[itsdefinitely]

do girl jeri and boy jerry exist explicitly to torment me

[greensaplinggrace]

sorry but like, as someone who doesn't vibe with fem!sub stuff and always ends up dislking fandom obsession with the man in any relationship being a Dominant Daddy Top containing more macho tendencies than personality . . i do also think that framing people liking violence in their sexual fantasies as worrying is um. worrying in and of itself.

like yeah logan being Like That in 'x reader' Old Man Logan stuff seems very ooc to me, too. but i also like animalism and brutality and violence in sex as well, and these things are not inherently abusive or "near rapist" by themselves in fictional portrayals of kink.

i don't hc logan as the macho dom! a lot of fandom for some reason considers "common consensus fanon" lmfao, but i also think that the fine line of fighting and fucking and violence and animalism is something viscerally satisfying to explore in fiction and especially kink. and characters like logan - who do actually have some solid connections to such themes - are some of the best outlets for that.