#to the tiktok people who are liking everything i write without reblogging anything ever

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Ten

ao3 - masterpost

hello there! i have been gone for many moons because i have a big girl job and am getting an MA. but here is chapter ten!

---

The sun hid behind clouds the day Nesta was born; terrified, her grandmother had once told her, of seeing her. It fled the same way the day of her funeral.

Cassian, however, does not shirk. He holds her hand tightly, walking with ease and confidence across the field he had flown her to, to the grey slab already waiting for them. Etched with an N, it sits unmoving among the anemones blowing with the wind. Stuck, forever.

“Do you want to start?” he asks her after a minute. She shakes her head once, too much caught in her throat to speak. He clears his throat. “This headstone is in memory of Nesta Archeron, a human girl whose life was cut short by a world she never asked to be part of. Even though her body was weaker than her oppressors’, they were still frightened of her because they knew how strong the fire inside of her was. She deserved more and if she had lived longer, she would have taken what she wanted herself.”

Nesta’s eyes narrow at a petal that has flown up against the stone, keeping her gaze steady. Cassian isn’t finished.

“Everyone who knew her knew there was something powerful about her. Most couldn’t handle it. The few who could loved her so much.”

Nesta’s eyes shut tight.

“She died how she lived: trying to protect her sister.”

She’s going to be sick.

“I wasted the time I had with her. I’ll always be sorry I couldn’t show her how beautiful the world can be. She’ll never know. But I hope she can rest in peace now regardless.”

Nesta focuses only on her breathing. Cassian puts his arm around her, at some point, or maybe it was always there. At any rate, it’s a while before she finally says, roughly, “I had no one.”

Cassian squeezes her shoulders. “You were never made for that world.” It isn’t cruel or mocking. He says it gently, truthfully.

“Do you believe I was always destined--”

“I told you I’ve never been very religious. I don’t claim to know what we’re destined for or who decides. We do the best we can with what we have.”

“I didn’t always.” She stops then, not hesitating, but as though something is stopping her. Then she forces out, “You hated me when we first met.”

“I didn’t,” he says immediately. “Of course I didn’t. I’ve never--I could never hate you, Nesta.”

It burns inside her, though--perhaps some dying ember of the fire Cassian had mentioned, or perhaps it is different, new, wicked. But she says, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. And I won’t let you talk that way about the part of you we’re mourning. Don’t do that--fine, I was an ass. So were you. We were scared. We both know it. Don’t we?”

Perhaps the confession is grand enough that it should echo, but it doesn’t. The words dull into nothing in the air, leaving Nesta only with the imprint of them in her mind. Does she? Is that what it was?

“We knew what we felt and we were scared. And I felt it for that human girl, Nes, so don’t talk shit about her.”

Nesta’s eyes burn. Not in anger this time. She knows. She had not been perfect, but she was something. Something enough that Elain and Feyre had loved her, something that had captivated Cassian. Not nice or sweet or lovely but something, and now...

“You know, when I first came to see you alone, I thought about it. And I tried to push myself off you. I told myself there’d be no point; we’d only have a few decades.”

Nesta forgets to stifle her surprise. The heat of his confession drowns out her demons for a moment. That early, he had thought...he had truly thought...

“But you know I couldn’t stay away. And I...I wondered. If we had...if I had met you in Velaris, or if you had truly come from Spring. What it would look like then.”

Cassian’s voice drops; not husky, not sexual, but almost timid. No, that would never be Cassian. Not frightened. Impossible.

“I never wanted it to happen the way it did, Nesta. Never. Not even when I...because I never wanted to see you hurt. Especially not that way. And to have your whole life tied with that pain...I never, ever wanted that.”

When you what? she wants to ask, but he continues, unaware or uncaring of how she is overturning every word of his.

“Even though I had thought about it--wanted it--I was still scared. And I was furious at you--sorry, sweetheart--for making a coward out of me.”

Nesta doesn’t look up at his face. “I don’t know if...I know I wasn’t always rotten.”

“You’re not--”

“Things were getting better but I was never fully there before the Cauldron,” she continues, unperturbed. She doesn’t even stutter on her most well-kept secret. “I thought I could get by after. You kept visiting me and I felt I had something to live for with Elain and I was still trying, then. Because I had no choice. And even when--when Rhysand offered me that stupid position, I actually thought about it, and I don’t know what I would have said, but I thought about it.” Cassian waits for her to finish now, which is good, because if he interrupted her she would simply stop. “But after the war I went down again. It’s like--it’s like--there’s this afterlife belief,” she says, suddenly recalling something Agata had mentioned offhand one lesson, “that an ancient society had. The entire world rests upon the back of an elephant, and the elephant is on top of a turtle, and the turtle on top of another turtle, and it’s all turtles, all the way down. And I’m fears, all the way down. And if I was all right after the Cauldron, and then I wasn’t...then that means it’s me. And I’m going to keep falling and falling and there’s nothing anyone can do--”

“What do you mean, there’s nothing anyone can do?” he says, grabbing her arms and making her, for the first time since they arrived, look at him. Silver shines in his eyes. “Nesta, you’ll fall. And then you’ll get up. You are not fears all the way down. There’s so much more to you. And there’s me. And your friends, and the priestesses, and your sisters.”

His right hand moves to cup her face. They stay there, like that, taking each other in. Thoughts, roaring in Nesta’s mind, dull to a whisper, and then, as though he can tell, he pulls her to the ground. They lay side-by side at her gravestone, and when night falls, he points at the sky and tells her of the Illyrians in the stars, immortalized in the heavens above and brought to life again in the ink on his chest.

---

Neither of them says anything for longer than a while when they arrive back at the House, but for once, the silence doesn’t drown her. She isn’t going over her wrongs, or her demons, or anything in particular. Just a faint, gentle melody she can hear in the back of her mind. Perhaps she’ll put it to keys later tonight.

When dinner—quiet, too—ends, he asks, “Combat tomorrow? We can start a little earlier so we can have regular defense with the others.”

“I’ll see you there.”

His answering smile is brief, and he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. His fingers linger longer than they would have a few weeks ago, and the feel of them stay pleasantly, not in burning punishment, when she walks away.

Nesta takes her time in the bath that night, staring at herself in the mirror. She traces paths along her skin; her thighs, stomach, breasts, arms. Fae magic smooths it over unnaturally, but her light-ribbons dance along where stretch marks once had. A part of her, filling in the gaps the Cauldron had taken from her.

Beyond those, there is muscle, fat, where a few months ago had been bones and sallow skin. Her limbs are strong, her curves soft. Under the surface, she is not exhausted for lack of sleep; her head does not pound for a drink. She is alone and not afraid of the female she sees before her.

That night, she sleeps with her hair unbound.

---

Cassian is waiting for Nesta outside her bedroom half an hour before their normal defense time. He grins at her. “Ready?”

She doesn’t answer, walking past him and leading the way to the roof. She thinks back on the time she had seen him in combat: practicing, and in battle. Will this look like that?

“Your form is decent and you’ve got an adequate base of defense,” he starts, and her lips quirk. High praise. But secretly, she’s thrilled he isn’t coddling her. Perhaps he’s noticed a change, thinks she’s more capable now.

“And you’ve got those,” he continues, nodding at her ribbons, which twirl around her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with having extra magic, but we’re not going to start with that. We’ll only build on what you have.”

Nesta sizes him up. The near foot-and-a-half he has on her, the bulk in his arms and thighs, the hard muscle everywhere. “Is that even worthwhile?” She doesn’t ask to complain, only to know.

“Yes,” he says seriously. “Just because you’re smaller and thinner than any male doesn’t mean you can’t best them in a fight. I won’t pretend it’s not a disadvantage, but you can be smarter and faster and take them. If you can’t incapacitate someone with brawn, you can do it with brains. Remember when I showed you how to break out of someone’s grip from behind?”

She turns, so he can wrap one arm around her waist and hold her hands behind her back. He squeezes, tighter than he does in defense, but not enough to hurt. She goes through motions: head, elbow, then kicking away.

“Good,” he says. “Now, in just defense, here is where you run. But now we’re going to do it again, and you’re going to turn around, and you’re going to punch me in my neck. Why?”

Defense never came with quizzes, but Nesta’s quick on her feet. “Fastest way to knock someone out.”

“When you’re smaller than your opponent. Make a fist.”

Nesta does, thumb below the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, like she had read once in a book, but Cassian isn’t impressed. “Don’t drop your ring and pinky,” he instructs, straightening her fingers. “The line from your wrist to your fingers needs to be straight. Like that. Why are you standing like that? Move this leg back.”

Nesta follows his instructions, and the half hour finishes quickly. He morphs into a more subdued version when the  other girls arrive, and she hides a smile. That’s surely a version of him only she gets.

Milling around after defense, Emerie starts chatting about the new Sellyn Drake novel she has brought to loan Nesta. She’d like teasing Gwyn with her, but today she changes the subject, and says, “You know, I never did get to meet your friends or your cousin in Ironcrest.”

Cassian and Azriel don’t try to be discreet as they eavesdrop, but Nesta ignores them.

“You don’t really want to go back there,” Gwyn says.

“Why do you want to see them?” Emerie says, skeptical.

Nesta shrugs. “Just from what you’ve told me, I’d like to meet them.”

Emerie raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly. She knows what Nesta’s up to. “All right,” she says. “You’re welcome whenever you can get someone to bring you.”

Gwyn looks over at Cassian and Azriel. “I don’t think you should go.”

“Oh, she’s fine, she’s got combat training now. Plus she’ll have her entourage. And her secret entourage.”

“Exactly,” Nesta replies. She turns to Cassian. “Sometime soon?”

“Why?” he demands.

“We’re thinking of starting a book club,” Emerie answers for her. “What do you care?”

“What do I care?”

“Just an hour or so,” Nesta says. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just visit Em’s cousin.” She waves off the rest of Cassian’s protests. “I’m going to bathe. We’ll talk, Em.”

---

No one takes Cassian’s side when he tells them of Nesta’s death wish. Azriel, who had been as taken aback as he was to hear Nesta bring it up, is now pretending like he expected it all along. Amren claims to not want to hear anything to do with Nesta unless it’s that she’s starting magic lessons again--another lie, as she stays to hear Cassian’s argument with Feyre when she firmly tells him Nesta can make decisions for herself.

“Not all of them, she can’t,” he shoots back. “Or have you forgotten why she’s at the library in the first place? She’s got a bit of a destructive streak, if you haven’t realized.”

“I’m surprised at you,” Az says. “You generally trust her.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust her,” he says for what feels like the tenth time this conversation. “It’s that there are rebels out to get her, who have previously attacked her in this camp.”

Amren breaks her ignoring to snort, and Cassian snarls at her.

“Enough,” Feyre says sharply. “Nesta wants to go, so you’ll take her. You can be her escort. Take whomever you’d like.”

“Rhys,” he says instantly, and the male nods once. “And Amren,” he adds, as an afterthought. They had assaulted Nesta with Rhys there, after all, but he’s sure they’ll all make themselves scarce when they catch their first whiff of Amren.

“What makes you think--”

“I said enough.” Feyre glares at all of them--even Cassian. As though he’s done something wrong. “What more have you discovered this week?”

Az’s turn to speak. “Nothing novel on Briallyn, but my spies have been hearing talk about the Blood Rite.”

Rhys and Cassian both speak sharply. “What about the Blood Rite?”

“We think they’ll be sneaking in weapons.” Azriel’s face doesn’t betray anything, but Cassian knows what he’s thinking: cancel it.

Rhys sighs. “All right. We’ll...gather more intelligence. We’ll raid their stashes a few nights before. No point in warning them we’re watching.”

Az nods once, but Cass doesn’t accept that. And anyway, the Blood Rite is his jurisdiction. “The boys are young. They can be taught. If we raid now, we can show them how we treat traitors. Remind them what they’re going to prove in the Rite. We’ll even scare off potential rebels.”

“That’s a touch optimistic,” Mor says gently, speaking for the first time.

Cassian doesn’t answer. Optimistic, to think Illyrians can be saved.

“No raid for now,” Rhys decides. “When we take Nesta, we’ll join the trainings.”

“Is that wise?” Feyre asks.

Rhys looks to Cassian. “Yeah,” he answers. “It’ll be good for the recruits to see Rhys. Watch me pummel him. Good for morale.”

Rhys laughs. “What about the trade deal with Summer, Mor?”

None of the rest of the conversation, which glosses in and out of business, captures Cassian’s attention. He’s too busy thinking about Nesta, about what she could possibly have to prove by going back to Illyria, to Ironcrest of all places. A matter of pride? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Her dignity, he has come to learn, is a quiet sort. She does not care what others think of her; certainly not rebel Illyrians. Who want her dead. And she’s brilliant--she can’t think that one combat lesson is enough to take...well, anyone.

Though she had been good. Fierce and determined and precise and lithe and soft again, finally, with her breasts and her thighs, pushing into him as she matched his every step, a few stray wisps of golden brown hair escaping her crown, framing her cheek, beckoning him to reach his fingers out and tuck them back behind her ear--

“Right, Cass?” Rhys says, making his eyes snap up. What had he missed? Oh, tomorrow. At Ironcrest.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Azriel pays Cassian’s mood no mind, and neither does Nesta the next day as Az winnows the pair of them to Ironcrest. Rhys greets Nesta, but Amren ignores her--how long will that last?--and she pushes past all of them to follow Emerie a distance away, waving her over.

“They’ll both be fine,” Rhys assures him, as Az disappears into shadow to tail them silently. Cassian doesn’t answer this, scowling at both Rhys and Amren’s backs instead as they lead him to wear the new recruits are training. He shrugs off his own irritation to concentrate on what he sees and what they know: someone is planning on compromising the Rite. Why? What could they have to gain--more bloodshed? Anyone seasoned knows that they don’t have soldiers to spare, and surely the recruits themselves are eager to prove their own capabilities, without the help of magic they may possess or weapons. Stupid, sure, but that’s what young males are. There are low-ranking boys here; the Rite is their chance to rise above their station. Only a siphon upon his hand can prove that a bastard is as worthy as prince--Cassian would know.

When Rhys walks among the training boys, he doesn’t greet them as he does the people of Velaris. They aren’t expecting that, wouldn’t want it. But he isn’t cold or harsh, either. He steps in to correct form, with littering in enough silent approval for them to secretly be proud of. It’s charismatic, it’s smart, it’s winning favor, and it surprises Cassian after when Rhys answers him laughingly, saying, “I was imitating you.”

His role as leader of the military is more of an afterthought of commander of the military. Not to him, obviously, but Illyrians don’t want a bastard to look up to. They’ll never deny his strength, his prowess, but the kind of respect Rhys commands is impossible for someone like him to have. That’s why the Rite is so important to him--younger soldiers don’t have to think that way. Things are better now than they were five hundred years ago, and can improve still. It won’t be easy or fast but it’s possible, and the way to do it will be through Illyrian tradition. Nudging them in the right direction slowly, over time--Devlon had let him participate in the Rite, hadn’t he? And now every male in Illyria can. That’s progress.

“How was it?” he asks Nesta, distractedly, as she approaches.

“Fine,” she says, but her voice is nearly trilling, and when he looks at her, she’s glowing. Cassian almost thinks the light ribbons are the culprit, but they are hidden wherever she keeps them--this is just Nesta.

“Let’s go, then,” she says, stepping closer to him.

Azriel, behind her, gives Cassian an amused glance--laughing at him, no doubt--, and as Cassian wraps an arm around Nesta’s waist, Az reaches out and touches Cassian’s shoulder and winnows them over the House. Cassian tightens his grip on Nesta as he lowers them, slowly, to the ground, where Gwyn is already waiting for them. Well, for Nesta, he presumes.

She bounds up and down, hood lowered and shining copper hair flying. Hands covering her mouth, she leans in to whisper something to Nesta.

She tilts her head, not quite turning to see him, and gives him a secretive smile. “See you later,” she says, taking Gwyn’s arm and ushering her into the House.

Cassian looks to Az. “What the hell is that about?”

Az shrugs. “I don’t know what she and Emerie did. I gave them their privacy.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t’ve,” he mumbles. He’s never seen her so...girlish. But he can't follow them into the library, obviously, so he’ll just have to wait till he catches her again. Probably tomorrow morning. 

Az catches his thought process and laughs. “I can give you something to keep you occupied, if you need it.”

“I have enough to do,” he snaps, and jumps off the veranda, letting the wind catch him as he falls.

---

Cassian does not find much to occupy him beyond flying to the Court of Nightmares--unprompted; a first--to bark at the Darkbringers. He’s allowed to; he heads this army too, but it’s not as though he takes any pride in it. It is, however, an excellent way to make him appreciate how far he’s come with the Illyrians: the response his surprise visit gets from Keir’s soldiers is enough to make Ironcrest seem like a lover welcoming him back to bed.

But it does its job; banishing Nesta from his mind and tiring him out enough that when he flies back to the townhouse to sleep, he passes out quickly.

The next morning, Cassian trains by himself for an hour before Nesta arrives. He can hear her climbing the stairs to the roof, her delicate footfalls like the drumbeat to his heart.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks in greeting.

He jumps out of his lunge. “I don’t have time for chitchat, Archeron. Get in position.”

He doesn’t mean to snap at her--will she be hurt, angry? What had come over him?--but she only laughs a little, like she’s trying not to, and crosses the ring. “What position?”

None of this, he tells himself. This is training. Sacred. There’s no place for anything else.

But something had changed with her. He’s not stupid enough to believe it was a magical cure-all, but the funeral had helped. She had shed something she didn’t want to carry; she was lighter now, freer. She was Nesta and had not been friendly with Rhys or Amren, but with Gwyn, with Emerie, she had been quicker to laugh, fonder. She has been teasing him, he realizes, almostly absentmindedly straightening her arm in a punch. Her small smiles, her little quips--she’s doing them on purpose.

It’s too much for him to handle, this revelation. As their session ends, he opens his mouth to ask her what she did yesterday, but the priestesses arrive. He bites back a curse. Later, he determines.

But as he and Az demonstrate the practice for the day, walking around and checking the females’ movements, he realizes later may be sooner than he thought.

“So, you did it?” Lorelei asks Nesta eagerly.

She’s on her team, under Calliope’s instruction, Cassian remembers. Perhaps they are somewhat close; she has confided in her. Pretending to be invested in Deirdre and Ilana’s thrusts, Cassian listens hard.

“Yes,” Nesta says, breathless from her movements. “Nowhere anyone else would see, so it’s really just for me. But I love knowing it's there. I definitely recommend thinking about it.”

“I can’t believe you just did it,” Gwyn says, envious and awed. “I don’t know if I would ever.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Like needles, and kind of burning,” Nesta says, and Cassian’s heart drops. “But not nearly as bad as I was expecting. Definitely manageable. And it doesn’t linger much.”

Cassian forces his legs to move him to the other side of the roof. There’s only one thing she can be talking about. How long till this session ends? When can he talk to her?

Az senses there’s something off, so he instructs the priestesses for the rest of the hour. They mill when it ends--it had never bothered him before; on the contrary, he thought it must be good for them to step out into the sunlight and chatter with their friends, but now, Mother above, would they not let him get a spare minute with Nesta?

“Nesta,” he calls to her, voice gruff, before she turns to head back down into the House.

She turns--another smile on her face. Small, secretive, faintly amused. More in her eyes than her lips. She knows what she’s doing.

“Yes?” she asks, polite. As though she’s a pupil and he’s her instructor, and nothing more.

Cassian waits for her to wave off Gwyn, for Az to disappear into the day.

“What did you do yesterday?” he blurts out when they are alone.

“You mean at Ironcrest?”

She’s playing games with him. She knows he knows.

Nowhere anyone else would see, he hears her say. What is he supposed to respond to that?

Tilting her head back, her smile grows for a moment, then fades. Her voice is low, almost somber, when she says, “I have you to thank, actually, for the idea.”

“What idea?” he asks, wanting it confirmed.

The lighter look is back. “I got a tattoo.”

He bites his tongue to keep from asking what, where. Be what she needs. This is clearly important to her. “What gave you the idea?”

“Well, Thalia’s always telling me I need to reclaim myself, and that she can’t tell me exactly how to do that.” Nesta takes a step closer, playing with her skirt. “But then you told me about the constellations, and how Illyrian tattoos mimic them, and I thought...well, if this body will last forever...this would be a way to leave my own mark on it.”

Cassian nods once as she takes another step. “Seems more your idea than mine or Thalia’s.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. I still thought of you.”

His hands fist at his side. Here she is. His opponent, his perfect match, awakened from the depths of her slumber. She’s not scared of life anymore; she can live all of it.

“Where is it?” he asks, not bothering to keep his voice casual. She can handle it.

It’s only seductive, the way she raises her neck slowly, slowly, and tilts her head. Her hand, fingers moving as though they’re playing keys, tuck back the perfectly braided crown. “Here.”

Cassian blinks. Then he sees it. “Oh.”

She stays there, unmoving, waiting. He reaches his own hand out now and touches his fingertips to the spot behind her right ear. Hidden between it and her hairline is a small, single note. He traces the outline once, twice, again, again, again.

Nesta pulls her head back to look at him. “Not very Illyrian,” she says, almost chuckling. “But I like it.”

He huffs a laugh. Was he really expecting a constellation on her inner thigh? Of course not. It’s Nesta. “It’s perfect,” he tells her. “You like it?”

“I love it. I feel like myself every time I think about it.”

He grins. “Good.”

She nods once, slowly, looking at him. “It is.”

#nessian #acosf #nesta archeron #acotar #again whatever with the tags #if you're meant to see it you will #to the tiktok people who are liking everything i write without reblogging anything ever #my darlings i cannot begin to tell you how weird that is #drop a line it's free

[dimepdf]

★  𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. Joel couldn't help it, he was infatuated with the way you looked, and he would think about you so vividly that it would keep him up to the point of tossing and turning in his bed at night.

─── ☆ notes. I have been stuck in a bit of a funk for awhile, which kind of stinks because a lot of my writing really doesn't reflect how I’ve been feeling lately. I hope this brainrot parts ways with me very soon, but in meantime here is a totally down bad ventfic. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 2.9k (24 min read)

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | angsty | vent fic | dilf Joel | pre-apocalypse | black coded fem reader | mentions of mental illness | mentions of sexual partners | longing and yearning | realizing feelings | commitment issues | insecurities | legal age gap | older man/younger woman | very self indulgent | Tommy being the best wingman | kinda obsessive | masterbating(m) | touch deprived | intimacy starved | praise be desperate and needy men | not beta'd real men have typos | title inspired by this song trending on my tiktok fyp .

Because he had grown up as a single parent, Joel liked to think he had been built with a natural bullshit detector built in. 

Having been thrown into the lifestyle of unexpected parenthood by raising the little mischievous girl that was his daughter Sarah for 12 years of his life, he learned the highs and lows that came with raising a child with little to no moral compass.

He had to learn that it was best to go through life being stressed about absolutely everything while also being prepared for everything; that was just his life motto.

It came from the years of hiding the very real emotions he had hidden under his true exterior, from the love of his life leaving him with a baby to somehow floating through his 20s. 

Keeping his screws tight and pushing through without taking any handouts from the people that would peer at him with pity in their eyes.

Joel was the type of man to never talk about his troubles to bottle up all his emotions, nor had he ever talked about anything that bothered him outwardly. 

Not even to his little brother Tommy, who had certainly made it his mission to lift Joel out of the funk he had always seemed to find himself in. 

Joel knew that his lifestyle wasn't that hard, he felt blessed to even have the amount of support and family that he did have left. Sure, he had to live from check to check, but that was the same for most underpaid workers who lived to achieve the American dream.

So, like most, he just sucked it up and did his best to keep his mouth shut and to go about his day as drama-free as he possibly could.

Joel didn't think that he was living a miserable life. He felt it was better to be constantly on edge, knowing the trouble Sarah would get into every time he turned his back to the girl.

In fact, he had many things troubling him in his life, silently adding more and more to his plate as the days unfolded beneath him.

The newest addition was about how he was just on the brink of losing the second job that Tommy had helped him get too, and that just added to how he was supposed to keep a roof over Sarah’s head if he wasn't able to get paid enough to keep food in the fridge.

the last thing Joel wanted for Sarah was for her to feel forced to pick up some slack around the house, knowing her idea of help was using her bad sticky fingers habit. 

Remembering how just last spring, when he had let it slip that they might have to cut back on leaving the lights on. 

Joel had a rude awakening the next morning to a lengthy lecture over the phone from Sarah's principal about how the little girl had gotten caught scavenging through her classmate's backpacks. 

Learning that his daughter was busy pawning anything that she could get her hands on after school wasn't something Joel expected to hear.

So as much as he wished he could give up at times, Joel had made it his mission to raise Sarah so she would not feel like she had to lift even a finger, teaching her that with a bit of hard work, even bigger awards would come.

Though the completely different side of his life, Joel would be busy swatting Tommy away like the pestering little brother that he made himself out to be. 

"You just need to get back in the game.” Tommy would insist boldly on wild the suggestion, claiming how Joel wouldn't be so high-strung if he had an actual lady friend to keep him company the nights he had found so difficult to keep his bed warm. 

It took a lot of convincing after some years for Joel to finally just bite the bullet, agreeing to go on a few double date nights with Tommy's guidance. 

The younger sibling was personally assigned as his overly charismatic wingman, making it his task to saddle whichever poor woman he laid his eyes on across the bar to squeeze next to them for the night. 

Many women have met the unfortunate fate, most coming up with an excuse to part ways after they failed to crack Joel from his awkward shell. 

It was a constant cycle of nothingness, and the older man returned home at night alone just in time to tuck Sarah into bed. Date after date, Joel had just about given up on seeking out "the one", just in time for the universe to throw him another thing to add onto his plate: new annoying neighbors. 

You weren't even allowed to introduce yourself before your dog had made himself at home and snuck into Joel's backyard through the hole in the gate he keeps putting off fixing. 

Your little pooch kicking up dirt all over his patio and chewing up all the toys Sarah had left outside that he could get his little paws on, the little girl scared at the sight of her prized dolls all chewed up in pieces, screaming as if she had witnessed a murder happen right in front of her own eyes.

The last thing he had wanted to have to do right after getting off work was chewing out some insolent dog owner for not being to keep a watchful eye on their pet. 

Just as he was about to beat down your dog and give you an earful, he halted once your front door had swung open and had been welcomed by the sight of you.

Stumbling a bit over his words, you had managed to piece together the issues, seeing Joel had your dog by its collar and Sarah's look of absolute heartbreak holding pieces of her toys still in hand.

An apology was the first thing you introduced yourself to your new neighbor as your dog was returned. 

You explained how you just turned and made the mistake of thinking that the gate that separated your two homes would be enough to keep the puppy out of trouble. You were even kind enough to replace some of the toys Sarah had lost as a nice peace offering.

the two of you even getting closer, giving Sarah something to do over the long weekends, the little girl would slip out of the house to go next door to come to pester you to hang out for the day.

Joel hadn't complained much seeing Sarah become so close to you, though when it came to talking to you himself, his stiff personality would always get in the way of forming a proper conversation with you.

Just being around you made him so suddenly nervous, wanting to have at least some type of friendship with the woman that his daughter found such a delight to be around without turning into some stumbling and bumbling fool. 

The situation had only seemed to become even more embarrassing the moment that Tommy had been added to the equation.

It was as if Tommy could read every little expression and problem that was happening in Joel's mind like it was some type of sibling telepathy spilling everything that was clouding his older brother's mind. 

It only took one look at how Joel looked at you to finish the entire puzzle piece, and before you knew it, Tommy was setting Joel up to fix the leak in your sink.

Being the best wingman he could be, Tommy took Sarah out on one of their rare movie nights with a wink and a wave to Joel, leaving just the two of you alone for the moment in hopes of something unfolding without any intrusion.

Unfortunately, the rest of the evening alone wasn't as smooth sailing as he had thought it to be, with Joel thinking he was practically torturing you by wriggling into your life in a manner somewhat like an annoying tapeworm.

Joel liked to think of himself as a bit of a gentleman, giving you as much respect as he could while you two were alone in your home. Though he would never admit it, since his last relationship ended, he has grown to have an awkward relationship with any female that isn't his daughter.

His overbearing awakeness comes between holding an actual conversation with you and still learning how to utter the words "no thank you!" as if he were some nervous child.  

Like how he couldn’t tell Sarah no every time she would ask to stay up just a few more minutes before her bedtime (those minutes usually leading up to hours) or how every time one of his old flings would come knocking on his front door just magically appearing mostly likely from Tommy's influence on his doorstep holding up some food dish he knew was filled with something vile enough to sit untouched in his fridge for the following week until he would secretly passing it to your dog.

There was another issue that had Joel dodging your eyes—a sudden wave of shame always seemed to follow at just the mere thought of bringing a woman home, knowing there would always be the possibility of you peering through your front curtains and seeing him kissing up against someone else at his doorstep.

Let alone having to explain to both you and Sarah the type of relationship that he had with said woman, it was more than enough anxiety to make him back out of hooking up as a whole.

Joel just couldn't do relationships. 

And heaven knows it wasn’t anyone else's fault but his own. It all just makes Joel feel like such a shit person for constantly comparing all the women he has met to everything you do.

Feeling like he was leading all the poor women on, knowing that his heart was completely somewhere else and that no amount of people that he would talk to or hook up with would amount to the emotions and feelings he had for you. 

He just couldn't do it. 

Not with any of them at least.

Joel was convinced he was a bad person from the moment Tommy and Sarah had left, and he could not stop imagining the very adult things that you both could have been doing instead of fixing your plumbing.

There was just something about your presence that seemed to be so alluring, so intoxicating, to the point where Joel just had to get to work quickly, wanting to fix your sink as fast as he possibly could just to have something to do with his fidgeting, nervous hands.

Squatting down with a grunt to get a better look at the pipes, you had filled the silence with your own sense of conversation, full of that new adult stress that had you bouncing off the walls worrying about finding an ear within Joel, who would on occasion speak up with his own blunt sense of advice.

You were so similar to him, and Joel just loved that about you, and it was scary how he had found someone as troubled as he was.

Not only that, but you were also freaking pretty. It was strange because he had never felt the way he did in such a long time.

You were pretty in the weird way that would make him so nervous to be in the same room as you, how he would stumble his sentences, and how your conversations would always fall awkwardly silent. 

Not knowing how to talk to you because he would be too busy trying not to stare or say the wrong thing.

Joel couldn't help it, he was just infatuated with the way you looked, from your glistening brown skin that always looked so soft to the touch to the curls and coils in your hair that looked like it would feel like small little clouds or sugary spun cotton candy in between his fingertips, he wanted so badly to just reach out and touch it—to touch you even.

It was all so wrong, the way he would think about you so vividly that it would keep him up to the point of tossing and turning in his bed at night. 

Joel had let your one-sided conversation die down in the air, assuming that your attention had been pulled to something more interesting than watching him work. The last thing he had expected was for you to have noticed him struggling with the stray longer hairs that poked his face.

Making your way over to his side of the cabinets, he hadn't even noticed you leaning down next to him until he flinched at the tap of your fingers against his, trying to grab back his attention.

The position in which you had stood beside him was a heart-hammering sight. He was peering up at you with his mouth slightly gaping.

Joel swore that the way that the kitchen light had glewed through your curls made you seem like some kind of angel trying to bless the sinful thoughts he was having.

The moment wasn't short-lived, watching your hands hesitate before reaching to use one of the scrunchies you had around your wrist to pull his hair away from his face into a small ponytail.

After that exchange, Joel swore that the rest of the day just seemed to continue on with his body moving on autopilot all the way until he was back home resting in his bed.

Just the mere memory of the moment playing over and over in his mind on a loop, laying in his bed with an untouched erection as if he was some sort of pulsing like he was an out of control teenage boy that just discovered what jerking off felt like. 

Joel was convinced that his dick was just sort of broken until now. Sure, he would get the occasional morning wood. 

Nothing could compare to the feeling of pure arousal that had clouded his mind and left him feeling brick hard, and the worst part was that it was all your fault.

He couldn't believe that he had gotten so spun up about you, thinking about how your fingers had combed through his hair, how those same hands would feel if you just tangled them in his locks and tugged just a bit harder. 

His thoughts trailed farther on their own, how your full lips would feel pressed against his own, how they would look all glossed up and wrapped about his dick. 

How your voice would sound whimpering out his name under him, having you laid spread out naked in his bed within his own four walls. 

It was all your fault for how you had smitten him so easily, with his mind being so fogged that he could barely think about anything but you as he touched himself. 

How you had dared to be so much prettier than any of the other women he would meet on Tommy's double dates—which was such a fucked up thing to compare you to—you just had such a personality that made Joel feel so flustered to the point where he ached to have you in his embrace.

to have you close enough that all his senses were taken up by you—how badly he wanted to be held by you, to be smothered in your arms, to bury his face against your chest and melt into an embrace until he smelled like you. 

Joel felt like he had to be sick, he had to have fallen ill over the course of meeting you. 

It was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with about how just the mere thought of you would make him so hot and heavy. 

It was almost agonizing how distracting you were to him at night, the wandering thoughts of you leaving his cock aching against his thigh. 

Joel wouldn't even realize he was palming himself through his sweats, recalling how you had practically ruined the entirety of his trajectory. He was already tugging down his joggers, and his hand was crawling under his waistband.

The selfish and completely deprived thoughts would flood his mind at the moment he wrapped his hand around his length.

His hand jerked at his hilt as the other combed through the knotting hair at the base of his scalp, trying to ground himself from the tension that started to knot in his stomach.

The selfish act of pleasure would continue on with no end, all he could think about was how good you were making him feel without even being in the same room as him.

How badly he wanted to press trails of kisses up and down your body, leaving dark little greedy marks against your plush skin. 

Joel imagined seeing all of you, all your naked curves and folds, how your plump thighs would look pressed against your chest, how big his hand would look pressing against your stomach pudge. 

He was a fucking mess. 

His fantasies of you playing out in his mind had him biting his knuckles to keep quiet as he couldn't remember if he had locked his bedroom door or not, and the last thing he needed was Sarah rushing in and killing the mood. 

The thin walls don't keep him from unloading all over his hands and pants, bent up strings finally being released with a strained groan parting from his lips as his muscles twitch and his mind finally gets released from the horny rotting intrusion for just a moment he’s floating on a cloud of bliss. 

God, how he hated the heart thumping feeling that followed, the minute everything would come back and click into place realizing what he had done and the troubled feelings he had for you.

Joel was convinced he was never going to be able to wrench his heart from your hands anytime soon.

🔖 @adison-smart27

comment below or tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ] #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[armoricaroyalty]

the 90-9-1 rule, or A Partial Answer to the Eternal Question of 'Why Don't My Posts Get More Notes?'

In the small amount of time I’ve been on Al Gore’s internet, I have acquired a small amount of wisdom, which I now share with you: 90% of people don’t engage.

This theory of internet engagement has been floating around online since at least 2006, and as such, it goes by a lot of different names: participation inequality, the 1% rule, the 90-9-1 principle. Whatever name you encounter it under, the principle is the same: on any given website, most of the content is generated by only 1% of the user base.

This theory divides internet users into three camps:

Heavy Contributors are people who use the website every day and generate the vast majority of its content. In earlier eras of the internet, these were people posting in forums, maintaining their own geocity or angelfire pages, and setting up webrings to link related content and form communities of like-minded people. In the current age, the category of ‘heavy contributors’ includes influencers and content creators on platforms like YouTube and TikTok, but it also includes the people who remember to like, subscribe, and smash that bell icon. On websites like Tumblr, a heavy contributor is more likely to be a person who likes and reblogs without generating original content or adding commentary to others’ posts. But heavy contributors are also the big-time posters, the ones making gifsets, fic, viral shitposts, and other kinds of content. For these people, the internet is a social, creative place, and they go online to socialize and create. They generate the vast majority of the content everyone consumes and enjoys. And according to the 90-9-1 principle, these users represent only 1% of the people who use the internet.

Intermittent Contributors are people who use the website frequently and occasionally post. In modern times, this might be someone who mostly engages through likes and the occasional reblog. In fan communities and on websites like AO3, they might be an avid consumer of content, reading every fic with their OTP, but that passion doesn’t usually motivate them to leave comments, write fic of their own, or share recommendations. The intermittent contributors might be just as active as the heavy contributors, but their online presence is smaller. They make less of a splash than their noisier counterparts in the 1%. According to the theory, these users represent 9% of the people who use the internet.

Infrequent Contributors (lurkers) are everyone else. Because they don’t generate much (or any) content, it’s difficult to track their presence and behavior. Some sign on every day and read everything that’s posted without ever adding to the conversation. They might check Tumblr on their phones during breaks at work and never think about it otherwise. They might have an account they use once every three months when they remember it exists. They might never create an account, and just browse the front pages of sites like Reddit. According to the theory, these users represent 90% of the people who use the internet.

To people in the 1%, the behavior of the lurkers and intermittent contributors feels absolutely outlandish. Why bother signing on if you’re not going to make anything or contribute to the conversation? Why follow an account if you’re never going to like or reblog? Human beings have a tendency to see their behavior as “normal” and assume everyone else is doing the same, and that tendency toward generalization can be really blinding for people who exist in tiny, exceptional categories like the 1% of ‘active’ users.

The assumption that everyone uses the internet like they do can often make the people in the 1% feel very, very lonely, especially the creatives. You work for hours on a story or an illustration, hit ‘post,’ and get only a few comments and likes. You’ve got followers, you’ve got an audience, why is your work being met with crickets? If you’re posting in the hopes that other people will engage with your content, it can be very disheartening to create something and be met with silence by the vast majority of your followers.

The truth is that 90% of your followers just won’t engage. That doesn’t mean they’re not reading your stuff. That doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy your stories. That doesn’t mean they’re not looking forward to your next update or they’re not turning your story over in their heads while they wait for the bus. It just means that they’re not engaging with it in a way that is visible to you.

Think about it. You might be very active on one platform and quiet on another. You have read many books in your life, but how many letters have you written to authors? When you see a movie in theaters, is your first instinct to get online and tweet at the actors and directors? When you watch YouTube videos and TikToks, do you feel the urge to make your own, or do you just think “cool video!” and move on with your life?

I’ve been afflicted with Chats-Too-Much since birth, so I am inordinately active on talky platforms like Tumblr and Discord. But on YouTube, I’m an internet ghost. I have a few creators whose videos I watch avidly (and often multiple times). I follow them, I have the bell dinged, I even support a few on patreon. But I don’t comment on videos and rarely ever like them because that’s just not how I engage on that platform.

The 90-9-1 rule isn’t an absolute. Actual studies have found that the real percentages of different types of users varies from site-to-site. In the 1990’s and early 2000’s, online participation required a much greater degree of expertise and technical know-how. In the modern era, with the almost-universal implementation of like buttons, voting systems, and internal bookmarking features like AO3’s, more users fall into that middle category of intermittent contributors. Social media completely changed the way we use the internet to communicate, and the social distancing and isolation of the pandemic further reshaped our ways of engagement. I’m not even going to get into the subject of engagement as currency and the monetization of everything, because those are a) immensely depressing to me and b) outside of the scope of this essay, but the idea that anyone can become a celebrity online has also radically altered the way we exist on the internet.

This essay is only meant to say: on hobby sites and in fandom spaces, try to divorce your self-worth and desire to create from the amount of engagement your content gets. Each and every one of us loves to see the numbers go up, but the numbers can’t be why you’re engaging in social spaces and sharing your work. It’s not easy, but if your only drive to create is to get attention, you will never be satisfied. You’ll get 50 followers and wish you had 100. You’ll get 1,000 followers and wish you had 10,000. You’ll always be chasing more, and you’ll never be able to enjoy the followers you do have and the engagement you do get -- you’ll always be stuck staring at your analytics page, resenting the silent 90% for not doing more to boost your content and validate your worth in the eyes of the immortal algorithm.

It’s not easy to decouple your desire to create from your desire for attention. But it’s ultimately necessary for the good of your mental wellbeing and the good of your art. Enjoy your hobbies and enjoy your posting. If neither are bringing you any joy, ask yourself why and be willing to accept that you might need to let go of something or else shift your mode of engagement. You might even be happier as a lurker, creating only for yourself.

#armorica tips #this is a revision of a thing i posted about a year ago but significantly clarified slash streamlined #anyway dont stress about engagement post for yourself and enjoy the interaction you receive #interact with others if you want them to interact with your stuff #be kind and focus on being part of a creative community instead of fixating on growing your following

[nekoannie-chan]

Secrets Chapter 9: Nightmares part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC, Brock Rumlow X OFC.

Word count: 1120 words.

Summary: Sometimes keeping secrets can be dangerous or a heavy burden, which is what Kathleen has been doing for years. She will also be in charge of guiding Steve Rogers into this century; meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be looking for a way to kick-start the Avengers Initiative by integrating her as one of the superheroes, but that won't be the only danger they face.

Warnings: Nightmares.

A/N: After long time working on this longfic, I finally post it. If you wanna be added to the taglist, let me know.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too. Secrets masterlist. Previous chapter. Next chapter.

A group of guys were beating Steve when Bucky came to beat them and help Steve get home and heal his wounds.

"You should stop looking for fights. Your mother is going to go crazy again when she sees you like this. "She tries too hard to get you into trouble," Bucky scolded.

"I know, but they were bothering a girl, and I couldn't."

"And she didn't even thank you," Bucky reproached. Steve looked down, embarrassed.

Suddenly, the image was distorted. They were on the train, trying to get to Zola. Bucky hung dangerously from a tube; he had been shot in an attack by the enemy. Steve tried to reach him to get him on the train again, but he did not succeed. His friend fell. The uneasiness was terrible.

He woke up in a dark room. He was sweating. Suddenly, he seemed to see Bucky's shadow coming out of the room. He kept trying to reach him and call him, but he didn't stop until he seemed to hear Peggy's voice from the other side. He tried to walk to the voice.

He was in another room, which was empty. He continued walking. He did not know where he was, nor had he found his shield, so he was more alert than ever. He had no idea what he was going to find. He saw Bucky's silhouette again, this time entering another room. She followed him until she heard a scream. It looked like Kathleen's voice. She finally trusted her after everything that had led up to that moment. She couldn't stand there doing anything. She had to rescue her.

Kathleen! Where are you? "Where are you from?" He heard another scream again and ran to where the noise prevented him. When he entered, he found her on the ground, in a large pool of blood, dying. He approached her side and took her in his arms. "No, don't do this to me." What happened? "Who did this to you?" He asked without letting go. She began to close her eyes without saying a word. He promised, "You're going to be fine; I'm going to take care of you."

He didn't realize there was anyone in front of him until he looked up. It was Bucky in his sergeant's uniform.

"You can't save anyone. You didn't save me. You don't save me. You know you're damned," his friend said, then vanished.

As soon as she started hearing screams, she got worried and went to see the super soldier’s room to know what was going on. After several attempts, she finally managed to wake him up. She didn't want anyone to enter her mind without her permission. He opened his eyes, very scared.

"Are you okay?" Steve questioned taking her by the arms and turning on the lamp that was on the bedside table to make sure.

"Yes, I'm fine; you had a nightmare; that's all that happened," Kath replied, and unexpectedly, he hugged her. She opened her eyes in surprise. He had never hugged her until that moment. However, he reciprocated. She was not a very affectionate person, more so with her parents and very close friends, but somehow what she felt for him was special. He remembered something he used to do when he had nightmares. She couldn't deny that she was nervous because she didn't know if he trusted her completely.

Steve nodded. He found the proposal strange. However, he trusted her; he knew it wouldn't hurt him. At no point had he done anything to make him distrustful. So, if he said that was going to help him, be it. The mutant put one of her hands on his forehead and closed his eyes.

"Let all the pain go away," he seemed to hear in his head, and he looked at her somewhat confused. "Yes, another of my powers is telepathy. How do you think I can read my mind? Now relax," she continued to communicate that way.

Suddenly, he felt invaded by incredible tranquillity that he had not had since he woke up, and the next thing he began to see in his head were memories: the moments when he felt happiest when his mother was alive, and many others with Bucky. It was like watching a movie inside his head, so he continued until he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was frightened to see her in his arms. They had slept and hugged, but... Had something else happened? He suddenly remembered what had happened the night before and was relieved. At least he had not made a mistake. It had simply been a bad dream and a bad moment, although he still felt that everything that was happening was a dream and that when he woke up, he would still be at war. Probably during one of the attacks, he had become unconscious and was in the camp infirmary.

He was still not very clear about many things, such as what the true powers of the girl were, why they were not all in the file, the real reasons why she helped him, and a host of other things. He could not even believe yet that he had survived all that time on the ice. However, he liked her company but wanted to know more about Kath, so whenever he could, he would check things around the house, although he couldn't find details about Kath's past.

At the Triskelion, Kath checked the files she could access from her computer, none of which contained the information she required. He went straight to Brock's office. Before knocking, he opened the door.

"Do you also have powers, or how did you know I was going to knock?" he questioned.

"No, it's a coincidence. I have to train. Do you need something?"

"Do you know if Rogers' documents are in the archive?"

"It should. I don't think you have problems with your level, but why do you need it?"

"I think he'd like to read it," Kath replied.

"Are you still in charge of him?"

She nodded, and Brock let out a growl. She didn't like what was happening at all.

"Did you have no training?"

"Yes, I do… I’ll see you later."

Steve was in the living room drawing in his new notebook when Kathleen arrived with several files. He stared at her. It was rare for him to bring work into the house.

"I looked in all the files. They are the files of your comrades in war.” I imagine you want to know what happened to them after all this time." She handed him the folders and started looking in her bag. She took out the compass and said, "We found it the same day as you, but I had forgotten to give it to you.” I think it's something important to you." She left it on the table while smiling at him with a hint of sadness. She hadn't forgotten it; she just hadn't wanted to, and deep down she knew she felt jealous, which had begun when she saw the photo inside, although she did not understand the reasons.

Ꭲꭺꮐꮮꮖꮪꭲ:

@saiyanprincessswanie  @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad

@navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight  @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi  @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​  @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​  @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @caplanbuckybarnes​  @sapphire-rogers​ @lizzieolseniskinda​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @hallecarey1​  @nana1000night​ @talia-rumlow​ @mylifeispainandiloveit​  @writingshae​ @alexxavicry​ @azulatodoryuga​ @daemonslittlebitch​  @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​  @jtargaryen18​ @chaoticcollectivenightmare​ @endlesstwanted​  @chemtrails-club​  @marigoldreamer​  @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @here4thefanfics​ @theestorm​

#Secrets #steve rogers x oc #Steve Rogers x OFC #brock rumlow x oc #brock rumlow x ofc

[mscattitude]

I've been going over on how to write this tens of times in my head, and afraid to post this even more. I am still unsure about it.

I was hoping to avoid this as this platform was supposed to be a safe space of writing and escapism for me, that has nothing to do with politics and the likes, but when things hit home—they hit hard.

Let me start off by saying that I am physically safe. Mentally, I am not okay. Have not been since the beginning of all of this on October 7.

My heart goes out to all innocent victims, on both sides.

I long for the day we see the kidnapped come back home, all of them, safe and sound.

When you make claims and shout slogans that you do not understand regarding Israel, Gaza and/or Palestine, when you use about bombastic terms and proclamations without realizing the full destructive nature of their meaning, when you relog posts about "genocide", "ethnic cleansing" and more alike that are clearly uneducated and debasing, you are not doing yourself, your agenda or anyone else any justice.

You are being part of the problem.

For me and my mental health and safety, I have unfollowed and/or blocked users who post such content. I want to keep my dashboard safe for me to browse through.

Educate yourself first. Especially on facts (people seem to have forgotten how much those matter). There are great resources from professionals and academics out there that do a spectacular job at explaining things much better than I ever can.

Read articles and books, watch videos, learn the history of both past and current events, listen to witness interviews and first hand accounts, ones unbiased or skewed by news and political agendas. CHECK YOUR RESOURCES. Tumblr, X, Facebook, Instagram, Youtube and Tiktok are great social media platforms to spread information, but if you rely solely on mass culture and viral posts to educate you, you are insulting your intellect. Even then, do not expect to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation when you are not here experiencing it first hand. War is hell, and the best weapon you can wield is knowledge and education.

Whichever side you pick after you do all that is your own. And it's okay to not pick a side too; this whole topic can get complicated, traverse and messy and it extends far beyond Israel, Gaza or Palestine. You are not obliged to speak up and you are not a bad person if you choose to stay quiet. You do whatever makes you feel safe on this platform.

If you do choose to speak up, check yourself and the content you post and reblog so freely before doing it. Don't try to be a keyboard hero with minimal or zero knowledge about what you post about. Don't lend a hand to the spread of misinformation. Stay informed and form your own opinion based on facts and research, not on viral opinions formed for you from half truths. Nuance and complexity seem to have lost meaning in this social media age, but don't be fooled—not everything that goes viral is true.

Please note that this is a PERSONAL post of update and it is NOT meant for reblogging, external use or anything else alike without my explicit permission.

You are more than welcome to unfollow or block me if you do not wish to see my content or talk to me anymore, as I have the right to do the same.

Stay safe out there. Stay educated.

Love and appreciate all of you, and thank you for taking the time to read this.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Take Your Feelings, Put Them Into a Song (A.I)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Wallows! Fem! Reader

Requested: yes!

Summary: Y/N Sixx, bassist from the famous band Wallows, is helping 5SOS write their latest album CALM. If only she could keep her crush on the drummer under control…

Warnings: Fluff. Language. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 4.6 k

Author’s Note: IM BACK! Remember that Reblogs, Likes, Comments and Feedback are very important! You have no idea how much they help 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

anon: Can you do a one-shot where the reader was born on 1996 and she’s the daughter of Nikki Sixx and Brandi Brandt and it’s the bassist and songwriter of Wallows (…) and she helps 5sos write songs for the album CALM and starts dating Ashton and the fans go nuts (in a good way) with shipping? There’s no drama like it was in EUH

It was another boring day in the studio and you would literally prefer to do anything else than to listen to Cole talk about the last date he had instead of working on your new song. But inspiration was lacking between you and your bandmates and you really had no other choice since you already took that time on the studio’s schedule.

One would believe that you would be used to dull times in the studio, having spent a lot of time on them while growing up with your parents, but boredom was a cruel crime inside your head and today your patience was running thin.

“Hey, peanut!” Dylan called your attention “Everything good there?”

You were laying on the sofa, looking at the ceiling for some kind of saving grace, but Dylan’s voice brought you back to your reality.

“Are we going to get something done today?” You asked with a sigh, with your eyes still glued to the ceiling “Cause we are really just wasting time by now and I don’t think Cole’s last fling will bring any kind of inspo into our little group”

“Hey!” Cole protested, earning a chuckle from Braeden.

“Whatever,” You said, already getting up from your spot “I’m going to take a walk”

You took a deep breath once you closed the door to your private room. You loved the guys, you really do, but sometimes people can be too much, especially people who you spend every single day and hour with.

Memories from the past year started to fill your mind and you smiled when thinking about how much your little band has grown. Wallows was now everywhere, you created a name for yourself without using your parent’s influence and you were so damn proud of that, yet when moments like these come around - the moments where you just need to breathe to escape the reality for just a while - you start to reflect on every choice you made and if they were the right ones.

It’s the overthinking that got you to write those first lyrics in the first place, the ones that were put into songs and now were, somehow, all over TikTok with thousands of people relating to them. So maybe, overthinking now might not be such a bad idea after all.

“It’s a terrible idea if you think about it for more than one minute, mate”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that voice, thinking that maybe you were finally going crazy or someone could’ve read your mind. But it wasn’t until you heard someone else answer that you realized it was a conversation.

“Well, I don’t know what to do with it anymore!”

You turned your head to the left and smiled when you saw the little sign that said “5SOS now in session. DO NOT DISTURB” And realized that your other favorite boys were back in town.

Of course you ignored the sign and knocked on the door a couple of times before opening it shamelessly.

“Well, well, well…” You said with a teasing smile as you leaned over the door frame “If it isn’t my second favorite Aussie band”

The faces of two of the members of said band light up once they realize it was you, quickly getting up to wrap you in a hug.

“Mini Sixx!” Calum said, ruffling his hand through your hair “About time you came to visit us”

You pushed him and Luke away from you “And you should’ve told me you’re back from your break! I could’ve escaped Dylan and the other minions earlier”

“Rough session?” Luke asked, seating down and patting the place next to him for you to sit on.

“Oh, you have no idea”

You loved the 5sos guys, it was impossible not to. Ever since you met them at a label party in 2015 when you were introduced to them because you were the same age as half of the group, you knew that they were made to be on the stage.

It was easy to become their friend, given their welcoming attitude and easy-going smiles even before they found out who your parents were. It was nice for a change not to be Y/N Sixx, daughter of the famous bassist of Mötley Crüe and famous Playboy doll Brandi Brandt, for a moment and just be Y/N, a bassist that had a lot to give to the world. And with the boys you didn’t even have to try to be someone you were not, with them everything was just so… real.

Just like now, where you were allowed to complain about your lovely bandmates to them and they would complain just as well, with no judgment nor responsibilities, just three friends letting out some steam due to the stress of your careers.

“-And basically we don’t know what else to do with the song” Luke finished his rant on the missing piece of their new song for their next album.

“And you have the lyrics ready?”

“Yeah, me and my girl wrote it a few weeks ago but the melody is just…”

“It’s missing something” Calum finished for him with a sigh.

You hummed “Can I see it?”

The two Australians got to work, playing the song with the piano and the guitar and you came to the conclusion that they were right: there was something big missing.

“So it’s a ballad,” You said, thinking of ways to fix it.

“Technically yes, but when you play it like that it sounds incomplete and the lyrics won’t work with another type of rhythm” Luke sighed “We’ve been at it for days now.”

You stayed quiet for a while, reviewing the lyrics and melody more carefully now, analyzing the situation with different approaches but without getting anywhere. It was a beautiful song, it truly was, but it needed something else, something that could create a “boom” sensation for whoever was listening.

Something like…

“Hey guys, have you finished with the- Oh, Hey, Y/N/N!” Ashton said, opening the door and finding you with his bandmates in deep concentration.

Bingo.

“Uh, why are you smiling at me like that?” Ashton asked you with a chuckle, but you didn’t even address him as you turned to Luke and Calum.

“It needs drums”

“What?” The three men said in unison. You rolled your eyes and snatched the notes from Calum’s lap and started to sing the melody.

“Here!” You pointed out “In this part, before finishing the first chorus: I already made, already made that…” And then you started to make drum noises and movements with your arms for them to get the idea.

In a matter of seconds, Luke got up from his seat and walked towards you, taking the notes from you and reviewing them with new eyes, smiling as he got the idea.

“Ha!” He laughed loudly, “You’re a fucking genius!”

“Thank you,” You said with a smug smile as you, Calum and Luke started to discuss the arrangements.

“Wait, hold up” Ashton interrupted the chatter “Y/N, I appreciate you trying to help and no offense and all but I think this isn’t your place to just decide something like that,” He said, pointing to the three of you.

You rolled your eyes. You’ve dealt with stubborn people before, but Ashton did take a spot on your top three and you knew just how to handle him.

“Wow,” You said sarcastically with a teasing smile “One would think that by being half of the rhythm section you would have more… I don’t know, rhythm?”

Ashton crooked an eyebrow and you and you knew you had him in the bag “I just don’t think-”

“You don’t think?” You said, getting up from your chair and walking up to him to be almost chest to chest. You looked up to his eyes and challenged him “Or you just can’t handle the fact that I might’ve had a better idea than you”

You could see by the sparkle in his eyes that he has taken the challenge to heart. He took a step closer to you, almost pressing his body completely against yours, and smirked.

“Want me to prove you wrong, princess?” He teased but you didn’t back up.

“I’d like to see you try, darling”

Ashton’s smirk widened as he took a step back, turning his head towards Luke and Calum who were watching the scene with intrigued eyes and knowing smiles “Get your asses back in the recording booth”

He followed them as they walked into the big recording space they had, but not before sending you a wink seconds after he closed the door.

You were thankful he didn’t see you blush.

Once they were all set with their instruments - Calum on the keys, Luke on the guitar, and Ashton behind his drum set - You pressed the buttons of the console that would make it possible for you to hear them at the other side of the mirrored glass.

“Okay boys, show me what you got”

*

You became an official 5SOS songwriter after that day and even Ashton had to admit that you were adding so much more to the band lyrics and melodies since you started to work with them.

Every day you would find yourself walking towards their studio after your band’s session and you start to work wherever they left off. It was a simple dynamic that worked wonders for everyone and after every session, you would get even more inspired to write your own music for Wallows, so it was a win-win situation, not to mention, spending time with your new co-workers; especially a particular drummer that grew closer to you that you would’ve ever imagined.

When you first met the band you hit it off pretty quickly with Luke and Calum, them being the same age as you and having pretty much the same interests; then came Michael that shared a similar sense of humor with you and with whom you discussed videogames with. But Ashton was always the one that you consciously tried to not get too close to.

In all honesty, he intimidated you but not in a bad way. He was smart, talented, and super funny, not to mention also ridiculously handsome. But he was also stubborn, a little bit egotistical, and the only one that could keep up with you in a battle of wits, teasing, and sarcasm. And you knew that if you mixed that all together it might mean trouble, especially when he smiled at you like that.

Of course you had a crush on him, who wouldn’t? But the fact is that you know what it is like to date in the industry and having feelings for a member of another pretty famous band might bring some tension to the table, so it was safer to play the crushing card and just stay friends. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself every day since you started to see him regularly and spend more time with him than with any other of the two bands.

Speaking of…

“Earth to Y/N?” Called Braeden waving a hand in front of your face “Is anybody there?”

You blinked a few times before pushing his hand away with a scoff “Very funny, B. What’s up?”

“You spaced out again” Cole added, fidgeting with his drumsticks “Just when we were going to start complimenting you on that bass line you wrote the other day…”

You smiled as you threw a pillow at him that he was able to easily dodge “Sorry, I was just-”

“Thinking about a particular drummer again?” Dylan teased, to which Cole added.

“I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to fall in love with me”

You searched for other pillows and started to throw them at your band members, giggling as they started to throw them back at you and starting an improvised pillow fight in the middle of the recording booth.

“Hey, Y/N/N! I was wondering if you-” Ashton’s sentence was cut short as he opened the door and took in the scene that was in front of him.

You were so busy chasing Breaden with a pillow on each hand and a devilish smile that you didn’t even notice when the door opened or that Ashton was standing there, smiling at you with his arms crossed as you aimed at your bandmate's head.

“Oh look, peanut!” Dylan said teasingly “You knight in shiny armor is here to-” But before he could say anything more embarrassing, you threw a pillow directly at his face to shut him out.

You quickly turned your head to Ashton who was fairly amused by your battle skills and smiled at him.

“Hey!” You said breathlessly after chasing down the others.

“Hi,” He smiled back “Am I interrupting something or?”

“Nah, you’re good,” You said, throwing one last pillow at your three friends that stood in a corner blowing teasing kisses and puppy eyes at the two of you “These assholes and I are done for the day” You commented before said assholes started to pout and complain, but you were already out the door before they could say something embarrassing again.

“So…” Ashton trailed off, starting to walk alongside you with his hands in his front pockets.

“So,” You said, drifting your eyes from him and praying to the universe that he didn’t hear anything or else it would make the blush on your face even pinker “You needed me for something?”

You wanted to get the topic of work right there in the open as soon as possible, not wanting him to notice how nervous you got when you were alone with him. At least when you were talking about work you leveled the ground in some parts.

“Actually, I’m going home early today” He smiled softly “Luke and the guys are working on a love song that’s just way too happy and butterflies - in - your -stomach like and I didn’t think they needed me there if I can’t bring nothing to the table”

“You’re not a lovey-dovey feeling kinda guy?” You teased by bumping your arm with his, earning a “hey” from him “I actually get it, I’m not that kind of person either”

“It’s not like I don’t like it, it’s just that-”

“You process your emotions differently, and it’s easier to write those when you think of love in other stages and/or mixed with other complex emotions because-”

“Love is not just one-sided! Yes!” Ashton celebrated, amazed that you could understand what he was saying “I knew you would get it”

That comment made your cheeks heat up as you looked at him, all dimpled smiles and light chuckled as he looked at you with sparkly hazel eyes. Oh no…

“Well,” You said, breaking that little moment “If they are going to work on that all day then I guess I would head home, too. I don’t think I’ll be able to provide anything else either”

“Actually,” Ashton said as he stopped in the middle of the hall leading to the exit, making you stop as well and turn to him “I was wondering if you would want to get some coffee with me now that we are both free. Of course, if you really are free and have nothing else to do and want to actually drink coffee or tea… or maybe not and you’re not that type of person and-”

“Are you asking me out?”

Ashton stopped his rambling and looked at you with an incredulous smile and lightly blushed cheeks.

“I- well, yeah,” He said shyly “Yeah, I am”

You smiled and softly chuckled “Look at the famous drummer all nervous” You teasingly took a step closer to him, not knowing where this confidence was coming from, and he did the same “It’s just me, you know?”

“And that’s exactly the reason why”

“Do I make you nervous, darling?”

“Let’s say that if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have rambled like that, princess”

You pressed your lips in a thin line and smiled as you looked away from him, blushing like a teenager on her first date.

“So…” You trailed off.

“So?”

“Lead the way”

*

From that moment both of your routines changed once again. Now you took time off the studio at least two times a week to go with Ashton on those small friendly dates as he took you out for coffee or just simple but meaningful talks.

Soon enough you lost all the doubts that made you nervous around him, seeing how easy it was to talk to him and how much you had in common in more aspects than just music. You became more comfortable around him and your level of teasing and playing grew alongside your relationship, not to mention the level of teasing and playing you received from your band members and the other 3 Aussies who joined in on all the fun.

You were used to blushing and dismissing comments about your - undeniable - crush on the drummer, but Ashton didn’t seem to be affected by them at all. On the contrary, Ashton played along and even seemed like he was enjoying it. Like in one particular occasion where you were working on a song together and Michael said:

“Oh my god, date her already!”

Ashton didn’t blink an eye before responding “I’m trying! But she just wants to focus on the harmonies”

And you’d be lying if you said that didn’t put a smile on your face.

Yet, you kept it all professional while being in the studio; no need to mix your personal lives with whatever was going on down there, that’s why those coffee runs were your favorites.

It was an unspoken rule between the two of you that “work-talk” was forever banned from those outings.

“So what are we going to talk about?” You asked him the first time you went into his favorite coffee shop.

“Us” He simply answered, unaware of the butterflies he just set in your stomach.

“Us?”

“Yeah, I want to get to know you better, princess. Who is Y/N Sixx?”

“Who is Ashton Irwin?”

“I asked first”

“I asked second” You countered

Ashton smiled widely “You think you’re clever…”

“It doesn’t matter what I think” You answered, casually sipping on your coffee “I know I’m clever just like I know you like me that way”

You were testing the waters back then, hiding the shaking of your knees under the table as you longed to know how he felt about it. But the way he smiled and how he blushed a little bit made all your fears go away.

“Yeah, that I do”

Your cheeks turned red whenever you reminisced about that moment - or any moment that you spent with Ashton for that matter - which gave you the perfect idea for a song.

“I don’t want to kill my time with somebody else…” You hummed to yourself as you wrote down what you think is the chorus to a new song.

You told Ashton that you were not the type to write silly love songs or very uplifting songs; but there was something in that memory, something in that feeling that you couldn't ignore or just let it be without doing something about it. So, you started to write it.

You couldn't separate the feeling from the art, after all, feelings were what led you to dedicate your life to music. People would say it was because of your parent’s influence but they had little to nothing to do with your decision. This was you, the authentical you writing whatever came to mind and then sharing it with the world and only a few people will get it in its entirety. And surely Ashton was one of them.

“Dadadada something, want you all to myself”

“Wacha doing there, princess?”

Speaking of the devil.

Ashton smiled at you as he hunched over the table you were working on, trying to peek at what you were writing. You lifted the notebook and pressed it against your chest faking offense as he giggled.

“Didn’t your mother taught you not to sneak up on people, darling?” You asked as he walked around your workspace and sat himself down on the chair next to you “Besides, you’re late. You were supposed to meet me here like half an hour ago!”

“Aww, sorry Sixx” Ashton pouted “But there were no chocolate chip cookies left in the shop so I had to go around town to get you some” He then put a bag of freshly made cookies on top of the table with a cup filled with coffee.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?”

“Of course I did! You always only eat chocolate chips cookies in the afternoon”

He started to giggle again, ignoring the way you were looking at him “How did you know that?”

“C’mon, Y/N/N, every time we go for coffee you order two, one for the coffee and another one for the road. And every time we cater something you never touch anything but those cookies”

“I never knew you were so observant”

Ashton shrugged “I just pay attention if I like what I see,” He said nonchalantly with a wink, making you blush instantly, but you covered it up with an eye roll.

“God, you’re terrible” You scoffed.

“I’m honest!” You shook your head and went back to writing, but Ashton was not going to let that go so easily. “Look, how else could I know that you always put an extra bag of sugar in your coffee?”

“‘Cause I always drink the same thing,” You said without looking up from your notebook.

“Yeah, a mocha latte with extra chocolate drizzle and no foam. Honestly, how can you handle that much sugar?” You were about to answer but he caught you off. “But that’s not all you drink, whenever you have a bad day you always order a cup of mango and ginger tea because that’s your mother’s favorite drink and it helps you calm down. You also don’t want anyone to know that you’re having a bad day but the minute someone looks away your smile starts to flatter until you’re back in the conversation”

You stopped the writing completely as you turned to him, suddenly feeling how your heart started to jump all over your chest as he kept talking, eyes never leaving yours as he gave you a soft smile, almost as if he was remembering all those moments with you.

“You draw flowers on the corner of your notebooks whenever you feel bored. You love the sad songs on the radio and you know every single word to Lorde’s Melodrama, yet every time you have to choose a playlist you put 2000’s pop and R&B songs because it hypes you up. You hate awkward silences unless you are the one being quiet. You help Dylan dye his hair every time he asks you to because you would trust each other with your lives, you give Cole relationship advice because you care about him and he always appreciates your advice more than anyone’s and Braeden is your best friend because you always say that he is one of the few people that could make you laugh in a bad day and you have no idea how much I want to be included in that list”

“Ashton-”

“You write better with dim light, it helps you concentrate on your work. You say you don’t believe in astrology yet you check your horoscope every day. You want to make sure that everyone has a good time and feels included, that’s why you always make conversations with Micahel about games you never even heard before or let Luke braid your hair when he’s bored or how you switched topics when you noticed that Calum was not engaging as much in a conversation. You literally take care of everyone but you never let anyone take care of you, and when we do you get all shy and you blush as you say thank you and you have no idea how fucking adorable you look”

You sat there speechless as he spoke. You felt the back of your throat dry as you tried to find the right words to answer all of that.

It was too much. The fact that he knew all of that and how he said it like he was just talking about his favorite things in the world, it was just too much but at the same time, you want to hear him say that again.

A weird sense of joy and shyness came over you as he set his hazel eyes on yours. You gave him a small smile as you averted your gaze to the floor.

“Wow, I-” You started “I never thought someone noticed all that”

“How could I not?” You heard him say “You’re all I can think about and to say that I don’t notice you is like saying I don’t notice the sun in the sky or the stars at night. You’re the brightest light out there, Y/N, you shine everywhere you go”

You noticed how he pulled his chair closer to you and suddenly you felt how your chair started to slowly turn his way until you were face to face.

Ashton carefully placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your head until you were finally looking into his eyes again.

“There she is!” He smiled when he noticed your blushing cheeks and gleaming eyes.

“What do you mean when you say I’m all you think about?” You asked expectantly, curling your fingers nervously on top of your thighs.

Ashton chuckled. “Well, if you didn’t notice, I really fucking like you, Y/N”

You looked up at him, smiling with hopeful eyes and feeling as if a weight was lifted off your chest thanks to the joy you were experiencing while hearing those words.

“You do?”

“Unless you don’t like me back and I just spilled my feelings for nothing-” You smacked him playfully in the arm “Ouch! I’m kidding! Of course I like you! Fuck, Y/N I’ve been falling for years now and I thought I was being pretty obvious”

You laughed “I thought you were just playing!”

In an instant, Ashton pulled your chair closer and grabbed you by the hip, lifting you up and making you sit on his lap as he hugged you by the waist and you placed your arms around his neck.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” He said, “I’ll do anything to prove it”

“Well,” You said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and knocking your forehead to his “How about you help me finish this song and then you take me on a date? Cause I’ve been falling for you, too and I don’t want to waste any more time”

Ashton hummed as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, kissing it softly as he murmured “Will I get to kiss my princess at midnight?”

“Maybe… or you can take your chances now if you’d like”

He smiled.

“I like those odds”

And just before you know it, he softly pressed his lips against yours; finally creating a happy beginning for the two of you.

Instagram Posts

*

*

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @hoplessromantic727 @fivesecondsofonedirection @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @major5sosstan @5sos-imagine @SunflowerAngel2123 @perfectnouis @in-superbloom @lukeisstillapenguin @sadcupofcoffee @superstarmarvel @personalmuyverypersonal @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-luke @alltimesos @girlwhosimps @wontlastimokwiththat @ttinahood @lukespitinmymouth @perfectnouis

#ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #5sos #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #suchalonelysunflower #5sos ashton #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfiction #5sos writing #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5 seconds of summer ashton #ashton fletcher irwin #wallows #wallows! reader #ashton x reader #ashton x you #fanfic #ashton fic #luke hemmings #calum hood #michael clifford

[nekoannie-chan]

Love confessions

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 643 words.

Summary: Brock confess his feelings in the middle of the snow.

Warnings: Little angst.

A/N: This is my entry to @there-goes-thefighter  Bri’s 200 (almost) Follower Celebration with prompt #7:

"Love confessions in the snow."

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @hallecarey1  @nana1000night​ @talia-rumlow​ @mylifeispainandiloveit​ @writingshae​ @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga​

You saw the snow falling through the window; it was falling faster than predicted, and surely soon it would become a storm. You sighed; you ran to grab your bag; you had to go to the store as soon as possible, or else you would not have supplies for the rest of the week and probably could not leave if the snow kept falling like that.

You were saying the snowfall would last for a week; surely around closing time, everything would be crazy.

You just hoped you wouldn't get stuck in the middle of the snowfall. Warnings were starting to appear on the street sign screens, and you also indicated that businesses would close at six o'clock at night and roads at seven o'clock to avoid accidents or people getting stuck in the middle of the storm.

You had almost four hours to buy everything and return to the compound, and you hoped that the others would also return on time.

You managed to get out just before the supermarket went crazy. You were just paying for the groceries when a lot of people started to come in just to buy enough groceries. You quickly packed the groceries in the car.

The amount of snow was a lot more than when you arrived at the supermarket, but you could probably make it back without any problems. It was two blocks to the compound when the car stopped; you saw on the dashboard that there wasn't even anything on; in fact, the car was completely turned off.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening," you said in frustration. You didn't plan to carry everything you had bought all the way to the compound; you called everyone on their mobile phones, but no one answered.

You opened the hood to see if you could find the problem. You were startled to hear the sound of a horn, and when you saw who it was, you felt relieved.

"Brock!" you exclaimed happily.

"What happened to you?" he asked with concern.

"Well... I have no idea; it just went out," you answered.

He checked quickly and went to his truck to get some chains so he could drag your car.

"I can't fix it here with the snow, but at the compound, I will," he told you.

After he fixed your car, you gave him a cup of hot chocolate. It was freezing outside, but you used to walk in the snow-covered yard every winter.

"There's something I've always wanted to tell you, well, ever since our first mission together," Brock commented.

"What? "Don't tell me you're coming to save me in the middle of a snowfall," you joked.

Brock laughed. Your sense of humor was one of the things Brock liked so much.

"No, not exactly." I think you're very smart, and you always care about others.

"You all are my family; I don't know what I would do if I wasn't part of the team." "Not after the X-men disappeared," you said.

"It must have been hard, but there's something else I want to tell you; it's something I wasn't sure I could feel at some point, and you're someone very important to me...

"I like you, Brock," you interrupted.

Since he saved you on that mission, you started to have feelings for him, although you were also confused. You had never felt something like that before.

"And you like me," he answered.

You looked at each other for a few seconds, then kissed, but the kiss was interrupted by snow falling from a roof.

"Okay, that was unexpected," you said, and you started laughing.

"We'd better hurry back; you don't want us to get stuck and freeze," he said, taking your hand. Despite the snow, you could feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric of the gloves.

#bri's 200 followers celebration #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brockrumlow #brock fanfic #brock rumlow fanfiction #mcu brock rumlow #mcu crossbones

[nekoannie-chan]

Not my world part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Captain America/Captain HYDRA) X OFC (Aryah Rumlow)

Word count: 1166 words. 

Summary: The intrusion of a certain being will wreak havoc on Steve's life, will Aryah be able to solve it?

Warnings: Mentions of smut, nothing explicit, mentions of alcohol. 

A/N: This is my entry to the @holylulusworld ‘s 10,000 Followers Celebration with the tropes:

“Parallel universes switching”.

Also my entry to @arrowsandmixtapes’ A better love story than Twilight with the prompt #10:

“What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Main masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou  @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz

Universe A

  Aryah stretched out and then saw the clock on the wall of her brother's office. Soon, the Helicarrier would arrive. That day, there was no training because most of the team had gone on a mission.

She got up and arrived a second before the helicopter landed. As soon as she saw her brother and her boyfriend come down from the helicopter, she smiled. By the expression on their faces, it seemed that everything had gone well on the mission.

"How was your day without me, shorty?" Brock said. 

"It was good; I already organized all the documentation you were supposed to do, idiot," she replied. The siblings looked at each other and then laughed. "I guess the mission was successful; will we celebrate tonight?"

"Sure, the same place as always."

After Brock left, Steve approached Aryah and kissed her on the forehead, making sure no one saw them.

"Did he ask you anything?" Steve asked, "No, not yet, but I think he suspects about our relationship; he'll probably keep an eye on us."

"Is the hero afraid of the ‘bad boy’?" Aryah asked.

"What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?"

"Steve, please, you're the nicest person I’ve ever known and a hero. Whatever my brother knows that I have a boyfriend; he just doesn't know who it is."

"Doll, maybe you should stop drinking; you're already very drunk," Steve said as he tried to take the drink out of his girlfriend's hand.

"It's just not fair," she complained.

"What's not fair?"

"You don't get drunk. How about we go to my house and..."

"Aryah..." 

She let out a giggle and hugged Steve tightly as if she wanted to prevent him from escaping.

"Come on, Steve, it's not the first time you..."

"Can you give me back my sister?" Brock said, who appeared behind them.

"Sure, I just..."

"Big bro’! Can you buy me a real-size stuffed Steve?" Aryah asked with amusement. Brock raised an eyebrow and shook his head as he grabbed his sister by the shoulder. "Then we take the real one to our home."

"No, Aryah, leave him; we're leaving; you're very drunk; I have to get you back to the house before you start using your powers like crazy," Brock said as she tried to get her to let Rogers go, but she hugged Steve tighter, and they continued like that for a few minutes. "Okay, Rogers, you come with us. "

"You'll sleep in the living room," Brock ordered.

"Nooooooooo, he will sleep with me."

"Anyway, just make sure she doesn't use her powers."

No one had an unexpected visit from Kang at night, which no one managed to detect at the time, but if he caused some alterations, which they noticed until the next day,

Aryah opened her eyes slowly; the headache was killing her. She turned around and didn't see Steve; she remembered everything that happened the night before.

"Oh no. Surely Brock must be interrogating him."

She left her room and headed to the kitchen. Brock, upon seeing her, offered her a cup of coffee without removing his unfriendly face.

"Where is Steve?" Aryah asked. 

"I guess in your bedroom, and I need explanations."

"He wasn't there when I woke up."

"Then he runs away."

"I don't think so; he's always very responsible."

Aryah shut up before giving more details and dialed his mobile phone several times, but Steve didn't answer.

"Steve's the boyfriend you refused to say his name to, isn't he?"

"Hmm. Well, you're my favorite brother," Aryah replied, avoiding seeing him.

"Shorty, I'm your only brother."

Universe B

  Steve opened his eyes; Aryah was not by his side; however, he observed his surroundings; it was not her room; the place where he had awakened was very different; he could even say that grim. He went out; he wasn't in the building where she lived or on his own; the place looked like a compound.

"You woke up late," Aryah said.

"How are you feeling? It looks like you don't have a hangover."

"Hangover?" 

"Yesterday, we were celebrating and..."

"The only ones who were celebrating in his room were my brother and Sinthea; the disadvantage of having him as a neighbor is that I heard everything."

"Sinthea?       Who's Sinthea?"       Steve questioned me confusedly.

"Brock's girlfriend, Steve, you're acting weird. I think yesterday's training headshot affects you; maybe you need to be subjected to another ‘treatment’."

"Treatment?"  

"Stop joking; we have a meeting with Zemo in ten minutes." Aryah left after saying that.

Steve started following her, but he stopped when, on one of the walls, he saw the Hydra symbol. Had he been deceived? How did it end up in that place?

"Aren't you going to put on your uniform?"

"HYDRA? Aryah, what does all this mean?"

"What do you mean? We work for Hydra, Steve; you're Captain Hydra; did you expect us to be on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s side? You know they don't want to save the world," Aryah replied.

Steve was perplexed; there was a chance he was dreaming, and it also meant that maybe the Avengers counterpart was there too.

The woman had already turned around and walked back into the boardroom.

"Aryah, where's Natasha?" Steve inquired, and then Aryah suddenly stopped and returned to Steve's threatening way.

"Don't repeat the name of that fucking traitor bitch, Steven."

"Here you are!" Rachel exclaimed when she saw them in the hallway. "I decided to pick you up in case you were busy; I didn't want Zemo to interrupt you again."

"Who are you?" Steve asked. For him, everything was getting too confusing; he had to somehow find out what was going on.

"Rachel Leighton..."

"I think yesterday's hit affected him," Aryah whispered.

After Aryah and Brock spoke for a few seconds, Steve kept seeing around him.

"Cap, we have to go on a mission," Brock said.

"A, are you sure everything's okay?" Rachel questioned him before getting on the ship.

"There's nothing to worry about; we'll soon find out what's going on. I'm sure that's not my Steve but a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy."

Rachel smiled; she knew what her friend was referring to. They both got on the ship, and Aryah sat next to Steve and hugged his arm.

"So, what did you think of my proposal last night?" Aryah whispered in Steve's ear.

"Of course, whatever you want," Steve replied, trying not to sound nervous, yet he had no idea what he meant.

Steve also didn't notice when she signaled to his brother, and soon everything went dark for him.

Universe A

  When the brothers arrived at the Triskelion's gymnasium, Aryah immediately noticed something strange; he went to the dressing rooms.

"Steve?" Aryah waited a few seconds in silence. "Steve, get out wherever you are."

Steve showed up, grabbed Aryah by the arm to bring her closer to him, and kissed her passionately.

"You're not Steve; who are you?" Aryah was questioned when she separated from him.

Part II

#lulu's 10k follower challenge #betterthantwilightwc #lulu's10kfollowerchallenge #better than twilight wc #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x ofc