#art isn't something you Get over with i need to stop that

[quitealotofsodapop]

Posting something silly before getting into some deeper AU stuff! >:3

Naming Ref.

"Six Monkie Kids" idea got away from me and I made this monstrosity:

Here's details of the boys going left to right!

Xiaotian/"MK":

The Eldest? No one is really sure tbh, but he takes responsibility like he is.

Just as obsessed with stories of the Monkey King. Tang used to read Journey to West, and other traditional stories to the kids to send them off to sleep - MK always tried the hardest to stay awake.

Though all the brothers can carry Ruyi Jingu Bang - only MK can wield and command it. They chalk it up to the Staff recognising birth (hatching) order.

The ADHD still kicking his butt.

Has a small crisis of identity related to being 1 of 6 brothers. Loves art, cooking, music like in canon, but isn't sure if he'd ever be able to persue his passions professionally.

Still self-sacrificing to a detrimental degree!

Has a half/heart shaped face marking like certain monkey demons.

Xǐ Qìng/"Porty":

Works as a DJ/host for a local anti-gravity bar, and does freelance gigs on the side.

Practically nocturnal. You ain't seeing this boy up at 8am for nothing.

Baby Porty had no sleep cycle At All. He was the baby who was jumping on the bed at 4am. Tang eventually found a work-around by sticking on a compilation of music videos for the kids to rock out to before bedtime (my parents did the same to us with a Gloria Estafan vhs).

Covered in piercings and a few tattoos. First time he got either of them was without permission. Pigsy nearly exploded on Porty when he found out about it - not just for getting a body mod without permission, but for not cleaning it correctly! This old rockstar raised you better!

Has an embarassing nickname for everyone. Half of his bros got their nicknames from him.

Facial marking has a spiky pattern.

Xìn Shǐ/"Delivery":

Happily eats his brother's + customer's leftovers if no one catches him. Is violently against food waste.

Is the most diligent worker of the family; hence his nickname. Hopes to take over the restaurant someday or open a second location.

Has inherited many physical habits from dear Dadsy. Instinctively reaches for the wooden spoon when angry/threatened.

The tallest of his siblings! Chalks it up to his appetitie.

Openly worries the most out of all of his siblings.

Indentified by his face marking having darker "blush stickers" on his cheeks.

Zhèn Jìng/ "Apathy" & "Backup":

Works as a busboy/cashier for Pigsy's. Isn't sure if he wants to be anything else.

Extreme Middle Child Syndrome.

Has Resting B_tch Face. Will ignore anyone telling him to smile.

Is a bit of an otaku. Whereas MK loves the literary Monkey King, Apathy loves him some Son Goku anime. Prized possession is a Dragon Ball noodle bowl he won in a giveaway.

When he's not working, he's online playing video games and chatting to his discord friends. Often has to be reminded to stretch his legs and eat.

Is the brother most often mistaken for MK; only physical difference is that his face marking is inverted.

Jié Zuò/"Artist" & "Arty":

Freelance artist. Works on commission mostly for local businesses needing their buildings touched up and/or new logo designs. Sold exactly one original painting in his entire life, and is still convinced that he wasn't finished.

Inherited his sense of perfectionism from Pigsy.

ANGER ISSUES. Has been working on mangement therapy with Sandy.

As a cub, every wall of the restuarant and the apartment was covered in his drawings. Pigsy agreed to stop washing them off as long as Arty kept to a theme. There's still crayon drawings of noodle ingredients on a wall of Pigsy's 15+ years later.

Face marking is a rounded butterfly, though it has white splotches from vitiligo.

Mòzhī/"Inky":

Working on a degree in Psychology, with a particular interest in the function of memories.

Biggest. Gossip. Ever!! Has the tea on everyone.

Has a pretty big friend group from college that he hangs out with. He's a little embarassed that he's the son of a noodle-maker and a "professional book nerd", since a few of his friends come from affluent backgrounds.

Might initially be a pile of ink from the Scroll of Memory that was used to make a baby monkey. (Nüwa was running low on materials).

Most visually distinct baby! Has black fur opposed to dark-brown. Face marking is "raccoon eyes"-shaped.

Bonus:

First time Pigsy found the boys, he thought he was being pranked or was dreaming. Who's kids are these?! Why are they all muddy? Sweet Guanyin, how is he gonna find clothes for all of them?! Eventually he calmed the babies all down (most were crying), and gave them their first ever baths and bowls of noodles. The resulting call to Tang was... eventful to say the least.

Pigsy got advice from his grandmother, and his other relatives, about how to wrangle so many piglets at once. Pigs do have large litters after all!

Pigsy and Tang got legally married when the boys were young, mostly so they could pool finances. Six little piglets aren't cheap!

Wukong treats MK's brother like his little monkeys. Since he's only the eldest brother's mentor, he's able to let his guard down more around them, albeit awkwardly.

Each brother had differing reactions to meeting the Monkey King; from anger, amazement, to indifference. Selfies were taken.

A number of characters initially think MK is using his duplication power when they meet his brothers for the first time. Red Son attempted vengence on the other 5 before he learned that they were all different Noodle Boys!

Since they are all still creations of Nuwa, at least two or three take after her as lil half-snake/naga demons! Delivery I feel has an unhinged jaw, while a few of the boys have slited pupils. MK is still the most monkey of the boys tho!

[eebie]

my bro gave me his old drawing stylus after he heard i lost mine i gotta start animating again i have no more excuses!!

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[lolitalovess]

thinking about vi as your wife ♡ (multiple recs put into one, nsfw under cut)

wife vi who cooks for you everyday. it's one of her love languages, taking time out of her day to make yours better with something she made for you. she has many cook books in her nerd collection, every recipe in there has been made by her and she's written down her overall rating of each recipe on every page. mention it to her momma and she'll show you videos of pow and vi making cheese toasties together my shaylas 🙁

wife vi who can't let go of you in the mornings. she is a super heavy sleeper and it doesn't matter what either of you have to do today, how important your job is or who you have plans to see. she WILL be hiding her face into your neck with her leg slung over you, or will be tucking you, the blanket and her childhood bunny plushie into her chest. especially when it's winter. you literally can't escape her.

wife vi who is never seen not wearing her ring and gives you the most baffled look when you're not wearing yours.

wife vi who pulls up in her 1966 cherry red ford mustang to pick you up, her ring shining from the reflection against the sun with i just died in your arms by cutting crew (DON'T laugh at me) playing and her heart shaped lips curling up into a smile when she sees your pretty face before you lean over to give her kisses.

wife vi who is good at art and buys and makes you gifts and gift baskets like this or this or this every time she feels like it. it doesn't even need to be valentines or your birthday or any occasion, she just wants to give.

wife vi who wants a rottweiler with you so fucking bad (to have a baby with you, and to protect you when shes not around even if you can handle yourself) but she knows that they're a massive responsibility and alot of work needs to be put into dogs, so you two settle on rescuing an old kitty from a shelter, a ginger one with a few missing teeth and sass as bad as vi's. his name is screwdriver. screwdriver sleeps in bed with you two every night.

wife vi who would lowkey be your house wife if you made big money... i can't stop thinking about this.

wife vi who would fall asleep on the couch like a dad while watching tv with you almost every single night, and when she's not doing that she's most definitely 110% passing out after you eat her pussy after you two finish dinner.

wife vi who is super into public sex because she likes the idea of it and also just needs you all the time that she should be locked away.

wife vi who would beg for you to let her eat you out under a table or in the bathroom of her dads bar when you're sitting in the car outside and about to go in, or would press the softest little kisses to your jaw, giving you her puppy eyes and asking you if you can put a vibrator on her clit when you two are about to leave the house.

wife vi who loves shower sex. sometimes when you two can't see eachother alot because you two leave for work at different times, both get home late and sometimes there just isn't enough time to fuck like how you both want. so she starts tongue fucking your pussy when you're washing your hair, and you do the exact same when she's washing hers!!

wife vi who's ceo of giving you back messages in the bath after sex. she's got you on her lap, face resting on her chest while her skilled hands search for your sore muscles, massaging the knots out when you press kisses to her collarbone.

this isnt very freaky pls don't kill me i'm just tired and need a lobotomy. but if you do want more freaky shit with wife vi lmk (mischievously rubs hands together 😈) i just know this is gonna flop miserably

@h0neymiel

[tarotbyjam24]

messages from your future spouse

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Masterlist \pick a cards

If you like my work you can now tip me on kofi too ,leave 🖤 emoji while tipping me because @winisayswhat and I both share same accounts and it'll help us distinguish our tips ♡

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ? Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pile 1

Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful .

Some people don't change no matter how hard you try.

But we can not simply sit and stare at our wonds forever .

You spread joy because you're joy that's what I admire most about you .

First love teaches us what love isn't .

It's better to feel the hurt of honesty then to live in a false comfort of lie .

The secret of life is to be obsessed with yourself and be kind to everyone around you.

Some days are just heavy .

Everything you lost will be replaced with something better.

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 2

You haven't met the best version of yourself yet don't give up

when you choose yourself everything around you will choose you too

remember you can start again over and over as often as you need

people don't cry because they're weak it's because they've been strong for too long

the little things ? little moments ? they aren't little

perhaps we should learn to love ourselves so loudly , it silences our insecurities

I love seeing you happy

it happened so that you could grow

you will forever be my always

do it for your future self

Pile 3

You can't go back and change the beginning but you can start where you're and change the ending

expect nothing appreciate everything

you can also comit injustice by doing nothing

be patient. Sometimes you've to go through the worst to get best

how many time can the same thing break your heart ? As long as you love it

find joy in simple things life will always be fulfilling

In the end, I realized the hurt never turned to hate. No matter how much my emotions led me to feel so. I never stopped loving people. I stopped trusting them.

The art of observing and not absorbing

Not liking me is fine, but making up lies to destroy my character is weird.

Keep it private until you know it's permanent

Imagine being loved the way you love .

Pile 4

First love teaches us what love isn't .

Discipline is the strongest form of self love .

She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind

people talk about me behind my back and i just sit here like damn i got myself a fan club

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations .

Forgive yourself for the mask you wore when you didn't feel safe enough to be yourself

YOU DON'T NEED EVERYONE TO love you, JUST A FEW GOOD PEOPLE

may every hour in your soul be golden, may it be filled with endless magic .

Vibes to carry through out the week

You're not sensitive. You're not overreacting. If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don't let anyone invalidate your feelings. Ever

Please leave 🖤 if you tip for @tarotbyjam24 and leave 💗 if you tip for @winisayswhat as we both share same kofi account

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[ghost-proofbaby]

Okay hear me out, Eddie nervous on your first valentines day together wanting to make it special and only knowing how to valentines from what he's seen at school and he panics and is very eddie about the whole thing 👀

please my heart almost couldn't take this. i swore nothing over 1k but nervous and panicking eddie being all cute?? yeah i couldn't help myself. this isn't edited, sorry in advance. no warnings, just fluff.

wc: 2.2k

He feels stupid.

It's the only thought ringing through his head as he sits at the Munson's dining table, scraps of construction paper strewn over the worn wood, glue stick drying out to the side and scissors digging into his knuckles. 

It had started as a prophetic vision after a few hits from his blunt; it was quickly souring into the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done. 

The high had worn off, Eddie had glued his fingers together thrice now (seriously, how was this glue stick approved for children?), and the end product…. Well, he hated it. 

The card was tacky. The flowers were uneven. He didn’t even have the willpower nor time to make a full bouquet as he had originally wanted to while under the influence. Pink glitter was now overtaking the trailer, and he’s never seen his uncle look so damn entertained. 

“Boy, what on God’s green Earth are you going?” 

Normally, the twang of Wayne’s accent would be comforting. But right now, all Eddie could hear was held back laughter choking up his old man’s throat, and a glint in his eye that felt a lot like a taunt, and he felt the farthest from comforted in a very long time. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Eddie grumbles, tongue sticking out as he tries to reglue a corner of a paper heart he had cut out, needing it to stick down properly. He probably should have purchased glue, in hindsight. 

“Where did you get all this paper?”

“I said mind your business.”

“Is that pink glitter?” 

“Don’t you have work?” Eddie huffs, grabbing at the Valentine card he was attempting to salvage, cheeks blushing more vibrant than any of the arts and crafts supplies spread about. 

He didn’t want to admit how embarrassed he was. He didn’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction. It was his own damn fault, really – he had offered for your nightly diner dates to be on him one too many times this last month, and entirely forgotten to put away any extra cash to get you a proper Valentine. And this was his last resort. 

He’d tried to convince the local florist to discount the flowers missing one too many petals for him, he’d tried to scope out the cheapest cards available at Melvald’s. He’d begged and bartered with every option in town to simply get you something for the day of love, and in the end, he’d simply fallen short.

So now, all he had was a palm full of gritty glitter and homemade items that looked worse for wear. 

One of the kinder ladies that lived two trailers down had been happy to offer Eddie some of her scrapbooking papers, throwing in the glitter for good measure, and he still had an old glue stick from when he’d built one of his custom tabletop maps for a D&D campaign. With five hours and a dream, he was now the not-so-proud creator of three handmade paper roses, and a card hardly large enough to fit in his palm. 

When he took a step back to look at it all, Wayne was right to be snickering on the couch over it all. 

“They’re going to hate it,” Eddie laments, glaring down at his creations, “They’re going to hate it, and I’m going to get dumped on our first Valentine’s day together.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, son,” Wayne tries to genuinely comfort Eddie now, leaning forward to get a better look at his last five hours of work, “I’m sure they’re gon’ be happy that you just thought of the-”

“My life is over,” Eddie interrupts, walking over to the couch to collapse dramatically.

Wayne stops him, however, throwing up a hand, “Nope. You’re not gettin’ that damn pink glitter all over my couch. Go mope in your room.”

After a brief stare-off, a whole ten seconds wasted when Eddie could be wallowing in his self-pity, Eddie does exactly that.

He hopes Wayne is right, for all their sakes. There’ll be bigger things to worry about than just glitter if you really do hate Eddie’s attempt at a sincere Valentine. 

—

It takes nearly a full minute of knocking on the Munson’s trailer’s front door before Eddie opens it for you – that’s your first sign that something is terribly wrong. 

Your next sign is when Eddie hardly adds any enthusiasm into your welcome kiss, so reserved, as though he might be in a constant state of cringing; a constant state of preparing for the worst. 

“Is something the matter?” you ask innocently enough, toeing off your shoes and shifting your bag in hand. You’d picked up a few movies for the night, a variety of cheesy rom-coms Eddie expressed a slightest bit of interest in along with a few more up his alley. A horror film that neither of you had seen that looked to have a budget of $10 and a dream, and Labyrinth. 

The latter, you’d both already seen. Neither of you would pass up seeing David Bowie in his full glory, though. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs out, still refusing to meet your gaze, “Want me to put on some popcorn?” 

You can’t help but light up as you follow him in his rush to the kitchen, “God – yes, please. I also got some sour patch kids, your favorite, and-”

You cut off when you catch sight of the dining room table. 

Eddie doesn’t glance back as he reaches up to the cabinet holding the stash of popcorn he keeps around for your movie nights, “And?” 

“Eddie…” you slowly draw out in a questioning tone, looking at the mess before you, “What, uh, happened here?” 

It’s an explosion of quintessential Valentine’s day. Pink paper hearts, strips of deep reds discarded messily. A shimmering glitter covers the table, and you can’t recall any DIY projects of Eddie’s for Hellfire that might involve that. 

“What?” He’s quick to turn around at that, and you watch as all the blood drains from his face, “Oh, fuck, I-” he launches himself back around the kitchen counter frantically, grabbing at any piece of paper he can find, “Shit, I meant to clean this up earlier, I’m sorr-”

“What were you making?” 

Eddie pauses all movement, glancing up at you in fear. 

You’re not even sure what he’s afraid of. All you can do is furrow your brows, twist your lips, scrunch your nose. 

Was it meant to be a surprise of some sort?

He swallows hard, standing up straight as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “I….”

When no words follow, you raise a brow, trying to silently encourage him to continue on. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And oh, he’s such a bad liar. A pretty one, but a terrible one. 

There’s no sign of the stellar poker face you’ve seen him wear during Hellfire sessions, no impeccable cockiness to cover up the obvious. His wringing hands draw your attention to his knuckles, all the drying glue and glitter peeling off bit by bit.  

“You sure about that?” you press, grin slow spreading as you take a step closer to him, eyeing the mess he tries to shift in front of to block from your sights.

“Positive.”

“Has anyone told you you’re an awful liar, Munson?”

“I’m not ly-” 

You scooch around him effortless, dropping your bag in the process and making him yelp out as he tries to catch you. His arms are quick to wrap around your waist as you try to get a clearer view of what he had been so desperate to conceal, but even his best efforts can’t stop you. 

It’s all a bit childish from the outside. Reckless giggles, flailing limbs – even Eddie is smiling in his panic. 

“Let go of me!” 

“Then leave it alone!”

“I wanna see what you made!” 

Each screech between the two of you is overcome with laughter as he pulls you flush to his chest, caging you in and yet failing to cover your eyes. 

You spot what he was trying to hide, and all attempts to escape his hold cease. 

“Are those…” you start, a little breathless as you stare in awe. You swear, you could burn up from the warmth blooming in your chest. When his arms go the slightest bit limp, you have your answer before finishing the question, “Are those for me?” 

A small jar, one that had once held some of Eddie’s pick collection, now holds three handmade paper roses. Mingling petals of two different shades of red, with tightly rolled pieces of green paper servings at their stems. Two even have leaves, cut jagged and true to nature. 

Leaning against the small paper flower display is a card.

It’s a messier ordeal than the flowers, but you’re still prying Eddie’s forearms from your stomach in a rush to grab it. 

“Hold on,” he rushes out, no longer laughing as you get a hold of the card, “Wait, listen, I can explain. I just- I spent most of my money when we went to Benny’s for shakes last week, and I forgot I wouldn’t get any more cash before today, and I just-” he’s stumbling over his words, a mess of flying hands and wide eyes as you turn to face him, “I… I’m sorry, okay? I swear, they’re just placeholders until I get you a real gift for Valentine’s Day.” 

You’re hardly listening to him as you look down at the small paper, folded over fairly impressively to mimic one of the fancy cards from Melvard’s. It’s thinner, sure, but you’re mesmerized as you trace over the heart cut out of the center. It’s filled with pink glitter that clings to your fingertip as it passes, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh. 

And then you open the card. 

The outside was plain white save for the heart, but the inside is gorgeous. Hand drawn vines and flowers fill the empty space inside. Roses, mums, lillies – every flower you can think of is amongst the bunch. All etched out in ink, an ink you recognize from Eddie’s favorite pen, and every gentle line sketched out to make the larger picture sends your heart racing a few beats faster.

Underneath the glitter heart is a large bee, made with a speech bubble. 

“Placeholder?” you laugh breathlessly, biting your lip to stop from smiling like a fool. “You call all this a placeholder?” 

Bee mine? 

It’s so cheesy, it aches. 

Written in makeshift cursive, not quite as neat as it could have been, but clearly a valiant effort from the shy man standing before you. You can’t fathom how he’s embarrassed about this when you look up at him with fluttering lashes and a chest full of fizzling love. 

“I thought you were going to hate them,” he hoarsely whispers as he reaches a hand to the nape of his neck. 

“Hate them?” you repeat in disbelief, turning your attention back to the handmade flowers. “In what fuckin’ world would I hate these?”

You lift one of the roses from the mini jar, and sniff it on instinct. It should only smell like paper and glue, but it doesn’t – Eddie’s obviously spritzed his cologne onto the flowers.

The miniscule detail has your heart bursting. 

He’s still petrified as he stares at you, shrugging hopelessly, “I just know it’s our first Valentine’s together, and people usually go all out-”

“This is going all out, Eddie.”

You can’t imagine being capable of any more love for the boy in front of you. Genuinely – you don’t believe your bones could handle the weight of it, that your heart could take it. You’re filled to the brim with it, buzzing like summertime cicadas beneath your skin from all the vibrant emotions you have for him. For every blemish across his skin and every kink in his curls, for those big brown eyes simply staring at you now. Those knuckles covered in glue and glitter. Those lips that you can’t handle another second not kissing. 

And so you don’t. Not another second is wasted as you fling yourself forward, nearly dropping the paper flower in hand as you grab each side of his face, bringing him to you in a hard kiss. 

You hope he feels all that love. You hope the weight of it presses down on his shoulders, even if just a little, so he gets it. 

“I fucking love it, Eds,” you laugh into the kiss, pressing your forehead, “I- Honestly? I think this is the nicest Valentine I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Really?” his eyes pop open, pulling back from you slightly until you simply won’t allow it. You want him close – you need him pressed against you. “Well, shit. I thought you were going to hate them and break up with me.” 

“Me, breaking up with you? After this?” you parrot back in disbelief, shaking your head, tip of your nose rubbing against his through the action, “God, you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson. My idiot, but still.” 

He finally cracks a smile, and you lose yourself in the dimples that appear as he asks, “Does this mean you’ll be my Valentine?”

“Absolutely.”

[i-arch-my-backula]

Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Their Reaction to Your Spotify Wrapped

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in honor of wrapped day!!! this idea came when talking with @axel-skz one of my fave friendships made in 2024. i hope yall enjoy cuz it was hella fun making this.

Warnings: Slight suggestiveness, Slight cussing, mention of afab! reader (ovulation), mention of pornography (in a joking manner).

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Chan

The minute you pulled up your Spotify Wrapped, Chan was leaning over to be nosy.

"I bet it all Stray Kids." He said, as the animations started playing." You gave a small nervous laugh, knowing that it wasn't going to be them.

"And I was rig- Billie? Eilish?" His face froze. "Billie Eilish, Tyler, the Creator...Stray Kids. We're third?" His brows furrowed and the corners of his smile twitched downwards. "Oh..." His voice was defeated and he looked at you with unreadable eyes.

"Yeah! Isn't that great! You guys are in my top five!" You said pinching his cheek lightly, trying to brighten the look painted on his face.

But it was no use since he was already spiraling.

"So do you- well, is it our music? Do you not like it anymore? Is it too repetitive? Or is it my production? Should I switch things up- like should I make more ballad? Add more orchestral elements? Or maybe-"

"Chris-"

"-more collabs? Maybe Billie would be open to- are our lyrics not deep enough?"

"Christopher-"

"I think maybe we need less-"

"CHRISTOPHER BANG!" You shouted through a fit of laughter.

He pulled back in surprise and looked at you with eyes as wide as saucers.

You took your hands, placing them on either side of his face. "It's not you or the boys, baby."

"Then what was it? Why weren't we number one?" He asked with a pout.

"You're third because I live with you." You lips upturned and Chan searched your face. "I don't need Spotify to listen to Stray Kids. I've got the worlds best producer humming in my ear while we fold laundry and wash the dishes. Billie and Tyler don't do that."

His lips parted into a sheepish grin, a small "hehe" slipping out of his mouth as his face scrunched into a boyish excitement.

"You think I'm the best producer."

"Without a doubt." You replied, kissing his cheek softly. "So stop overthinking. What matters is that your my number one where it actually matters."

Chan's ears flushed pink when you said those words, and he surrendered, opting to cuddle next to you on the couch as you turned on the TV.

"Alright..." He said as you clicked on a random drama. "But I'm still going to add some features on our next album. Just for you."

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Minho

"Y/N. You're a virgin."

You sputtered on your tea, getting it on to the pages of your book. "And?! What does that have to do with anything-" You asked as you turned around to see your boyfriend dangling your phone like it was contaminated.

Your Spotify Wrapped illuminated the screen.

"Minnie-" You reached to snatch your phone but he held it out of arms reach, his eyebrows raised in mock incredulity.

"What the hell are your top five songs Y/N?! CupcakKe?! Unironically?!" He looked at your screen. "Deepthroat...Its Hard to Say I Love You, parentheses, while you're sitting on my face...Slob On My Knob- and another CupcakKe song, Y/N are you trying to manifest something?! Because this is not the way!" He said in horror.

You gave up trying to reach for your phone and crossed your arms and huffed. "As my friend always says- celibacy either leads to being asexual or a freak. Its a closed way of thinking but can be rather true sometimes..." You muttered, turning away to hide the blush creeping up your face.

"I'm shocked." He said, looking through the songs again.

"Why? It's art."

"Art. Art? Stray Kids is art, kitten. Wanting to eat dick but not wanting to fuck up your nails so - and I quote - 'i pick it up with chopsticks' is not art. Thats basically audio porn."

"More like audio smut."

"More like absolutely fucking terrfying." He said looking at the rest of your wrapped in morbid curiosity. "Where do you even listen to this freakiness? At the gym? While cooking? In public?"

"Sometimes..." You said shrugging and deciding to own it. "Its empowering."

Minho dramatically handed your phone back to you, giving you the longest and hardest side eye ever. "Your a completley different person. I've never been more afraid of you in my entire life. And I've seen you drive."

You took your phone, his words giving you and idea.

A devious smirk lit up your face.

Minho watched you in curiosity as you set your phone down. "Baby..." You started to laugh, heading to the living room. "What are you plotting-" Your eyes zoned in on the Alexa and Minho's eyes widened as he replayed his words.

"Alexa-"

"Baby no-"

"Play Drive by Stray Kids"

"Jagiya no-"

"Now playing Drive, by Bangchan and Lee Know-"

"Alexa no! Stop don't play that!"

"-feel the heat inside. Baby, baby we gon' do this day and night-"

"Enjoy your own art, baby!" You said kissing, him which in habit he leaned into before yelling at Alexa frantically.

"Alexa! Stop! Cancel- Delete Y/N's existence!"

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Changbin

"So..ITZY is your number one?" Changbin asked you, an unreadable look on his face as he stared at your phone. "Then NewJeans, TWICE, Blackpink, and aespa?"

"Yes..."

"And Stray Kids didn't even make it to your top five?"

"Yes...?"

There was a moment of silence, and Changbin looked up at you.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and your mouth felt dry. "Are...are you mad?"

Changbin set your phone face down and stepped towards you. "Mad? Mad?" He asked, his voice slightly elevated.

You opened your mouth to say something- to apologize or ask him to not be too angry but instead you were shocked when he trapped you in a hug and lifted you; spinning you around in a tight hug.

"I'M ECSTATIC!" He said, setting you down, and almost vibrating from happy energy. "Why would I have reason to be upset?"

"Because you weren't on my top five. Since your my boyfriend I thought that would make you-"

He shook his head, placing his hand out and closing his eyes. "Its a sign." He said in a philsophical whimsy.

"...What?"

He opened his eyes looking into the distance romantically. Then extending his arms in a dramatic flourish he painted the picture.

"You like girl groups. Meaning you're clearly meant to be with me."

You looked at him in a confused wonder.

"Think about it. I'm the ultimate baby girl. ITZY was number one. Who is close to ITZY? Me, Seo Changbin, your boyfriend. Subconciously, your soul has been telling you I'm the one for you all along." He said looking at you with a cheeky grin.

That made you laugh, your nerves leaving you.

"Binnie I think that has to be the most unhinged logic I have ever heard!"

"But it makes sense. The music reminds you of me. The energy scream 'Changbin'." You could almost imagine the sparkles around his name. "Cute, charismatic, adorable. The visuals- the duality. Me. Changbin." He looked at you with an exaggerated smolder.

He pushed you onto the couch gently, attacking you with tickles.

"Bin- you're- riDICuLOUS-" You squealed, as his fingers flew around you.

"No I'm not!"

"DelusionAL-"

"Never!"

He strengthened his attack until you could barely breathe you were laughing so loud- wondering why you thought someone like Changbin would be upset at something so meaningless.

"Even if I was, you would love me nonetheless!" He stopped his tickles, he blew a rapsberry on your neck and peppered you face with a few kisses. "And you'd have to deal with it 'cause your stuck with me forever."

"Forever?" You asked, a radiant smile on your face as the last of your giggles died out.

"Yes forever." Changbin replied, plopping down on top of you, planting one last firm kiss on your lips. "ITZY said so."

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Hyunjin

"Beethoven? BEETHOVEN?"

Hyunjin looked at you, his jaw nearly on the floor. When he asked you who your most listened to artist of the year was, he wasn't expecting to hear a classical composer leave you lips.

"Yes. Beethoven. Followed by you guys."

"N-n-n-n-no. No. Nope, no. Nnnnnn...nono." Hyunjin said shaking his head. "Run that back."

"Beethoven then-"

"Y/N-ah." He said with a serious look. "You mean to tell me...Beethoven- an old dead guy - was favorite over the band your loving, hard-working ALIVE and BREATHING boyfriend is a part of?!" His eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Well if you put it like that-"

He flopped dramtically onto the couch. "How am I supposed to tell the guys you chose a decomposing man who sits there- uh...metaphorically- and collects streams; over your boyfriend and his bandmates who work day and night, through blood, sweat and tears." He throws his hand over his forehead. "Its such a disgrace."

"Hyunnie, I think that Beethoven would have words for you if he was here." You say through a chuckle.

"Well he may have words for me, but I have no words for you." He said huffing dramatically, zoning in on Kkami who was sleeping peacefully. Hyunjin stands and scoops him up, burying his face in the poor, startled dog's fur.

"I can't believe you and your dramatics." You say walking up to him and putting your hand on the top of his head.

"C'mon Kkami. It's just me and you now buddy. We're boycotting Y/N-ie."

You rolled your eyes, letting out a snort. "You're a drama king, Hyunjin." You said, your eyes trailing to Kkami who looked between you and Hyunjin in an unconcerned sleepiness.

"Y/N clearly doesn't love us anymore."

Kkami looked at Hyunjin, then looked at you and then back at Hyunjin, then cocked his head; almost as if he understood the absurdity of the situation.

"You're insufferable." You flicked your boyfriend's nose, and stole the dog from his arms. "Beethoven is my study music. It helps me focus."

"So you're saying we're distracting?" Hyunjin takes Kkami out of your arms. "Don't talk to me or my dog ever again." He flips his hair and buries his face once more in the small dogs fur, the later shooting a look that seemed like an SOS.

"You're being so extra." You sat on the couch, patting the spot Hyunjin occupied only a minute ago.

"Oh, am I?" He asked, lowering himself next to you, a playful pout on his lips. Kkami immediately rushing towards the far end to resume his nap.

"Unbearably so." You whispered against his lips. "And for the record, Beethoven doesn't make songs that make me want to cry like 'Cover Me' or songs I want to scream at the top of lungs like 'God's Menu'."

"You really like Cover Me that much?"

"Mm. Obviously."

"Fine, fine. I forgive you. But only because I'm way to pretty to hold grudges."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that forms.

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Han

Han peered over your shoulder, his eyes widening as he looked at your Spotify Wrapped.

“Y/N... baby, angel, love of my life...this... this...is your Wrapped?” he asked, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice.

You glanced at him, not anticipating the reaction. “Yeah, it’s my Wrapped. What’s wrong with it?”

Han let out an exaggerated gasp.

"Jagiya...Taylor Swift? Olivia Rodrigo? Sabrina Carpenter?” He placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You’re telling me I’m dating someone who has these as their top artists?” He blinks at you.

You blinked at him back incredulously. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” Han said, his voice playful but slightly elevated. “I thought you were cooler than this, Y/N! You’re too good for this mainstream pop stuff. You deserve better! To think you've never experienced more than that bubble...my heart is breaking."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his intense reaction. “I listen to your music as well! Besides...I like what I like? Why do you care so much?” You retorted.

“Because,” he said, suddenly serious, “I’m trying to help you, babe. Spotify Wrapped is like a doctor basically, it gives you a diagnosis. You’re... basic. Heartbreakingly basic. I'd be okay if you had at least one quirky artist but your last artist is Playboi Carti which knowing you, you played his music on repeat while you slept so your wrapped could seem at least a little cool."

You let your eyes land anywhere but him, knowing he clocked you on that one.

"I’m going to save you from this madness.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I really that boring?”

Han shook his head, his expression turning playful again. “No, no. Not boring, just undiscovered. You could be listening to something way cooler- something with depth! I’m dating someone who only listens to pop queens when you should be out here vibing to underground, avant-garde...I don’t know, maybe like, 90s rock or something? You seem like you could rock with that to be honest?”

“90s rock?” you echoed, trying not to burst out laughing.

“Yes! You need to broaden your horizons!” Han continued, clearly loving the moment. “I’m not mad that Stray Kids aren’t number one, I mean, that’s whatever, you literally can have a private show whenever you want. BUT I’m honestly a little teensy weensy upset I’m dating someone with such a copy and paste taste. Come on, babe! I expected better! Especially when you're dating a member of a band that has a wide range of talent. I mean you can literally ask me or any of the guys and you'd get a shit ton of different recs. You have an entire library of musical knowledge at your disposal. That's like having 100 flavors of icecream and choosing vanilla.”

You grinned, poking him lightly. “Okay, I get, I get it. But just so you know, you're still number one in my life, even if its not represented in my music choices."

Han’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in, ruffling your hair with a grin. “I’ll fix that, don’t worry. We’re going to go on a musical journey. I’m making you a new playlist. And I'll have the rest of the memebers make you playlists as well. You’re going to listen to some cool stuff, baby, and by next year’s Wrapped, you’ll be so hip that even I’ll be jealous.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” you said, laughing. “I kind of like my basic pop playlists.”

“Well, you will like my playlists,” Han said confidently, leaning back with a smug smile. “Trust me, love. I’ve got you covered. You’ll thank me later, once you realize just how much better music can be than the top 40."

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, alright, I’ll give it a shot. But only if you don’t judge me when I still go back to my pop queen playlist sometimes.”

“I’ll never judge you,” Han said, giving you a sweet smile. “I’m just here to help you reach your full potential as a music lover. Open your world up a bit. Change your life.”

You poked his side playfully. “You’re so dramatic, but I love you.”

“I know you do,” he said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Now, get ready to say goodbye to those mainstream artists and hello to your new musical future.”

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Felix

Felix is sprawled on the living room floor, legs stretched out in front of him as he pulls up your Spotify Wrapped on his phone. His excitement is palpable- eyes glowing, lips curved into a soft smile.

That is, until he starts scrolling.

“Baby,” he says slowly, his voice gentle but undeniably concerned. “Why is ‘Meow Meow Meow Meow’ your number one song this year?”

You blink at him from your spot on the couch. “Because it’s a bop?”

“A bop?” he echoes in a strained tone, as if the words physically pained him. He turns the phone to you, the incriminating title glowing on the screen. “It’s literally just someone meowing to 'What Was I Made For'. Why not just listen to the original version?”

“Actually it's AI.” you reply, in a matter of fact tone. “And because it’s genius. I love cats, and I love Billie. Win-win."

He tilts his head, blinking at you like you’ve just confessed to a crime. “Um...okay. Maybe Minh-hyung would like it, I guess? ‘Skibidi Toilet, Minion version’? Why is that number two?”

You shrug, trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s catchy.”

“Catchy?!” Felix’s mouth falls open as he sits up straighter, his freckled face a picture of disbelief. “Do you…do you listen to this unironically? Like...for your enjoyment rather than being funny?” His voice hold even more concern now, it wavering slightly.

“I guess you'll never know,” you reply smugly.

He groans, laying back down and holding your phone way above his face. “Let me guess, number three is-” He cuts himself off with a noise that’s somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. “Ten hours of washing machine noises?”

Now you’re laughing, tears forming in your eyes as he glares at you. “It’s calming!” you explain between giggles.

“And who’s number four?” He face morphing with increasing horror. “Laufey…cat version?”

You shrug again, biting your lip to stifle your amusement. “It’s Laufey but, you know…with meows. It’s cute!”

Felix places the phone face down on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting a migraine.

“And finally, number five. Let’s see which masterpiece you deemed worthy to round out this absolutely deranged top five.”

The moment he reads it, he freezes. His expression morphs into something unreadable- equal parts betrayal and comedic disbelief.

“KSI,” he mutters, his voice flat. He sits up slowly and releases a breath. “Behind… the washing machine and cat Laufey.” He releases his words with a click of his tongue.

You can’t hold it in anymore, bursting into uncontrollable laughter as he stares at you like you’ve just kicked his puppy.

“You’re number six, though!” you manage between gasps, tears streaming down your face. As you joined him on the floor.

Felix clasps his chest, like your words physically hurt him. “Six?! Y/N, I’ve cooked for you. I’ve baked brownies. I’ve stayed up late listening to you rant about coworkers! And I’m sixth place? Under meme songs? I mean your entire wrapped in a compilation of memes. I'm surprised Symphony didn't make it on there.”

“It’s not personal,” you tease, wiping your eyes. “It’s just Spotify.”

“Just Spotify?” he repeats incredulously, propping himself up on his elbows. “I sing you to sleep on facetime, Y/N. I text you good morning and good night every single day. And you’re telling me I lost to Skibidi Toilet?”

You crawl onto the floor next to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Lix,” you coo, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe next year you’ll beat the washing machine.”

“Oh, I’m beating it,” he mutters, determination flickering behind his eyes. He grabs his phone, pulling up his notes app. “I’m writing a song that will sound good with Cat AI. With a bridge. And a rap section. And violins. There will be no way you won't like it."

You double over with laughter, and Felix can’t help but grin despite himself, his pout softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbles, pulling you into his lap.

“You’re my most listened to, most loved, and most wanted in real life, Lixxie.” you assure him, smiling up at him sweetly.

Felix sighs, but leans to kiss your forehead anyway. “Yeah, well, I know that.”

"Then why do you look so down, hmm?"

"Because I'm concerned, I might need to find you a therapist."

(<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>)

Seungmin

You sat on Seungmin’s bed, tapping through your Spotify Wrapped with a satisfied grin.

Just how you thought it'd be. Predicatable, but represntative of how your musical year went.

You were minding your business, about to share your results to insta when Seungmin sat himself on the bed next to you, snatching the phone from your hands.

The moment he saw the screen, though, Seungmin let out a surprised huff.

"Ateez?" he said slowly, his voice tinged with amusement and a slight possessiveness. You knew how he was when you stanned other Kpop groups. You had been with him for a while, of course you knew. “Oh, I get it now. You’re one of those people."

You sat up and looked at him. "What do you mean one of those people?"

Seungmin shrugged. "Its okay, you can admit that you like bands that perform like they're auditioning for a Korean rendition of Magic Mike."

Your eyes widened, but before you could protest, he fell back on the bed, holding your phone up like a damning piece of evidence.

“Don’t even try to defend yourself, Y/N,” he continued, the smirk growing on his lips. “This Wrapped is telling me everything I need to know. It’s basically the modern-day Rorschach test you know; and what it’s screaming is that you’re letting your ovulation and hormonal spikes curate your playlists. I bet you’re one of those people who stream music videos on mute, too, aren’t you? Just vibing to the abs and body rolls in crop tops.” His eyebrows quirk in curiosity.

Your jaw dropped as you threw a pillow at him, but he dodged effortlessly, tossing your phone onto the bed carelessly.

He quickly got up, maneuvering himself so he was in front of you.

“Don’t act so scandalized.” He leaned closer, his dark eyes glinting with mischief, as you leaned back slightly. “You can admit it- you like watching them dance half-naked on stage, huh? I mean, who wouldn’t? Factually speaking they’re...talented.” he said, dragging the last word with exaggerated emphasis. “Really skilled performers. Without a doubt. But it’s cute. You’ve got a thing for guys showing a little skin. It’s very...telling.” He gave you a small, smirk.

You fell back on your elbows, your face warm from his teasing, but Seungmin wasn’t done. He shifted closer, hovering inches above you, the bed dipping under his weight as he planted one arm beside you, effectively caging you in. The other hand rested on your waist.

“But here’s the real question,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “If you’re so into that, what are you doing here with me? Fully clothed, tragically modest... just a genius who writes incredible music and doesn’t need to flash his abs to be appealing. What a shame for you, huh?”

The corner of his lips twitched upward as he leaned even closer, the air between you charged. “Tell me, Y/N,” he whispered, his breathe tickling the shell of your ear. “Do I need to take my shirt off to compete with them? Or should I just show you what real...talent looks like? Would you like that?”

"I..." Your heart was nearly leaping out your chest, a warmth overcoming your body as Seungmin spoke. You couldn't deny how flustered you were.

"Listened to them for 1000 minutes? How 'bout I double that. You'd enjoy every second."

Your breath hitched, you, nearly caving in; but before you could respond, Seungmin nipped your ear lightly and sat back with a sly grin, leaving you flustered.

“Ah, I was right. Hormones. But don't worry,” he said lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “I’ll forgive you for now. But only because I find it hilarious that my perfectly curated playlists are competing with your...uh,..primal needs?” He shot you a wink, his smugness on full display.

And just like that, he stood up, stretching leisurely as if he hadn’t just thrown you into emotional- and hormonal- chaos.

With that, he walked to the door, pausing to glance back with a knowing smirk. "If you ever get bored of half-naked performances let me know. I'm here, fully clothed yet still 10 times more attractive. I could teach you what good taste in music looks like. I’d hate for your Spotify Wrapped next year to be just as embarrassing.”

He winked again, blowing you a kiss, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you a flustered, blushing mess on his bed.

(<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>)

Jeongin

You handed your phone to Jeongin, proud of your Spotify Wrapped results. “Look! Stray Kids is my number one artist.”

Jeongin barely glanced at the screen before freezing mid-scroll. His eyes darted back up to meet yours, wide with disbelief. “Wait... what?”

“Stray Kids is my number one! My boyfriend is my most listened to artist!” you repeated, grinning like it was the best news he could hear all day.

But Jeongin, to your utter confusion, looked horrified.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head as he sat back on the couch. “This...this is all wrong. Utter sacrilege.”

“Sacrilege?” you echoed, frowning. “You’re in the group. Shouldn’t you be happy about this?”

“Y/N-ah.” Jeongin said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were physically in pain. “Do you not see what you’ve done? Look at your other top artists!” He gestured wildly to the screen. “It’s TROT. Literal legends of trot music. Song Ga In, Jang Yoon Jeong, and Na Hoon-a!”

“Yeah?” you said hesitantly, unsure of where this was going. “What about them?”

“What about them? What about them!?” Jeongin’s jaw dropped like you’d just said the sky was green. “They should be above us! Above me! Above Stray Kids! This is trot. TROT.” He pronounced it with the reverence of someone naming a sacred art form.

“But I like Stray Kids,” you said, laughing nervously.

“That’s not the point!” Jeongin stood up, pacing back and forth like a professor about to give a lecture. “Trot is timeless. It’s emotional. It’s pure, unfiltered storytelling in music. And you’re telling me you put us- a bunch of chaotic twenty-somethings who write songs about cheese and screaming—above the actual foundation of Korean music?” He stared at you as if you had 6 heads growing from you.

“It’s not like I ranked it!” you protested. “Spotify Wrapped did that for me! Blame them!”

Jeongin spun back to you, pointing an accusing finger. “Don’t blame Spotify. This is your fault Y/N-ah. You’re clearly not listening to enough trot if us noisy Gen Z - minus Channie-hyung he's like an old grandpa- beat out legends like Na Hoon-a. Do you even know how much soul that man has? How many hearts he’s broken with his voice?” He looked at you in complete seriousness. "Countless." His eyes shone with admiration.

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain your laughter now. “Innie, are you seriously upset that I listen to Stray Kids more than trot music?”

“Yes!” he declared with absolute conviction. Then, after a pause, he added, “Well...no. I mean, I love that you like our music, because that means you love me and my dream but...this is trot! It’s a different category entirely!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I need to fix this.”

“Fix it? Jeongin I already listen to a lot of trot. You see it on my top artists.”

He nodded solemnly, sitting back down beside you and grabbing your phone. “But you don't listen to it enough. From now on, we’re having mandatory trot listening sessions. Every week. Twice a week, actually.”

“Twice a week?” you repeated incredulously.

“At least,” he said, scrolling through your Spotify, curating a new playlist on the spot. “You need to understand why this is a crime against music. Stray Kids shouldn’t even be in the same league as these legends. We’re fun, sure, but we don’t make people cry the way trot does. I mean, do you cry when you listen to ‘Thunderous’? No. But Jang Yoon Jeong’s ‘First Marriage’ could make a grown man bawl. I'm that grown man, Y/N. I'm that grown man." He said his voice dropping to a rueful whisper.

You couldn’t stop laughing as Jeongin grew more and more animated, his passion for trot completely overshadowing any pride he might’ve felt about his own group’s success.

Finally, he looked at you with a small, satisfied smile. “Don’t worry. By next year, I’ll make sure your Wrapped is perfect. Stray Kids can stay on the list, but trot will reign supreme. It’s the least I can do for your musical education.”

“And if I still prefer you guys?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongin huffed, pretending to think for a moment. “Then I guess I’ll forgive you...eventually. But we’re playing trot at our wedding, okay?”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Jeongin, are you seriously bashing your own group right now?”

“Yah, yah,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “They’ll understand. And if they don’t, they love me anyway. They literally wrote a whole song for me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shook your head, still laughing. “Unreal.”

Jeongin grinned, adding a song to your new playlist.

“What’s unreal is how lucky you are to have a boyfriend who’s the best of both worlds- trot connoisseur and K-pop icon. You’re welcome.”

*edit*: but why is trot actually good...??? like i listened to it while writing this and...MYTRO...gonna stan when they debut frfr

(<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

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[sailorblossoms-rankane]

We know Ranma falls first and hard, so what about Akane? When does it start? unlike Ranma, I think it's a couple of things adding up in the background... and why wouldn't it start... here? walk with me

Doctor Tofu is kind to Akane, but I'd say the main reason she had a crush on him was: he was the one male figure outside of her family who made her feel safe. Taking care of her injuries would feel like a form of protection, and Akane wants to feel protected.

It's not just that Akane shows her fiery personality in fights... I recently noticed that while other fighters can show themselves cool and confident in the face of danger (like Ranma). But with Akane, she fights as if she never feels safe in a fight, you can see it. Even when she's the strongest and is winning every morning...

Winning every day could have made her approach these guys looking more "confident" or "relaxed," but she's never relaxed. She always sends Kuno flying, but notice how there's an air of uneasiness (even if she sees him as a buffoon) that doesn't disappear until Ranma comes into the picture.

Ranma showing up as a girl helps Akane relax and reach out as she's too used to being harassed by guys (so she keeps her distance). But even if she finds out his secret in the worst way, she doesn't beat his ass until he's picking on her.

Akane is the one offering the friendly match (connection) but Ranma is also doing something likely no one has ever done with her before: he's being soft, maybe even tender, with her... making her relax. he's making her feel safe (Ranma doesn't fight any other girl like this)

The bathroom incident makes her feel afraid, but when boy Ranma shows himself again, it's clear by the way she stops any attempt of violence to study him (and argue childishly) that the fear is gone. She's tested in the worst way (a way that plays into her worst fears about men, which is hard to shake)... but this tells you she still feels safe, even if she doesn't realize it.

If someone like Kuno had made fun of her proportions, Akane would've beaten him up and moved on. The fact that she's still thinking about it long after the fact tells you he's already stirring something (it's even connected with Ranma thinking about her because he too is also feeling something)

Part of Ranma "falling first" is that he sees her best very straightforwardly from the get-go (and is confused after). With Akane, she isn't even sure of what she's seeing, she's still dealing with her complicated feelings connected to the doc and constant harassment... but she's already interested.

It's obvious that Akane lives rent-free 24/7 in Ranma's head from the moment he meets her, but Akane is not exactly unaffected. It isn't accurate to say he only annoys her at this stage. She pays attention, confides with him, worries, goes after/covers for him... that's interest

You need to pull a rope from both ends to create tension.

Romantic tension requires both parties to feel something, and they already have plenty when Akane tries to help Ranma, and he is protecting her during the fight against Ryoga. Even if she still hasn't sorted out her old crush...

Akane wishes for and values normalcy (she actually has a life) but she only feels normal when compared to the clowns that arrive after Ranma. It's clear by the way her classmates see her that she's an extraordinary girl...

She loves martial arts, but doesn't have the sort of ambitions the insane fighters around Ranma have. She sees it more as a fun outlet, comparable to having a favorite sport. She only holds on to power when someone pisses her off (spite lol) but always chooses normalcy over it

Ranma brings both craziness and safety into her life. You can really see that with Kuno and the guys challenging her: Akane is comfortable supporting Ranma as he navigates the craziness around him, but she isn't comfortable when SHE is at the center of it

Ranma either stands by her side during the madness or straight-up redirects the focus on him (starting from the moment Kuno throws that rose to Akane and Ranma is immediately by her side, ending taking the challenge against Kuno himself). Akane might complain about Ranma "fighting her fights" here, but she quickly gives in to his protection (unless someone is pissing her off... spite, she's just like me fr etc)

In true gag fashion, when Ranma picks on her for her attention, he’s both giving her an outlet and making fighting, which she connected to danger and harassment, a very safe and childish thing. It allows her to relax in a way she hasn’t before he meets him.

When Ranma complimenting her smiles gets to her to the point she's still thinking about it hours after, or that Ranma essentially saying he likes her better as her true self makes her genuinely happy... it doesn't come out of nowhere. She's already been feeling something for him

[angelplummie]

here for revenge.

being lily's best friend - you grow up with her - you're in the donaldsons orbit for all your formative years. you develop a crush on art that turns into love as you grow older. your home life isn't so glamorous. you spend lots of weekends at the donaldsons. art has tucked you in. brought you snacks when you stayed up late for movie nights, making you and lily promise not to tell tashi. you were there when art and tashi got divored, held lilys hand and pretended not to be happy inside at the thought of getting closer to art.

lily gets into college - a big smart one because she has tashi's ambition and leaves you behind, you're still stuck at home because your dreams have always been smaller.

maybe its not appropriate, to still spend time with art. but he's lonely. tashi left, and now his daughter has and you're the only one left in his life that actually wants to be around him, that has always looked at him with stars in your eyes. its probably not healthy. there should be a boundary there. your lilies, not his.

but you like being around him and he likes having someone to take care of. you come over and he makes you eat something healthy and you needle him about spending all his time at home and how he should get out more, and he rolls his eyes, tells you he should be saying the same to you, you're young and beautiful and you should be dating around.

but how can you date around when art donaldson is your dream man? when you're happiest at his side, eating what he makes you. you want more though. you want to share his bed, warm it for him, you want to make him not so lonely, you want him to stop seeing you as a little girl and as the adult you've grown up to be - so you start wearing less and less around him. start acting more and more like a housewife.

art accepts it without even realizing. now you just need to find the right opportunity to pounce.

WHEW. this one is long so buckle up

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

you roll your eyes.

“mr donaldson, how come you never started dating again?”

he chopped the lemon with a deft clunk, eyes never leaving the knife.

“never felt the urge.”

“what does that mean?”

“what i just said. never felt the need to.”

“hm.”

you sat on the island, next to the chopping board. your legs swung haphazardly, and you watched art as he chopped.

why was he playing this game? he could’ve told you to leave, to stop coming back and bothering him, that this was inappropriate. and yet. he didn’t even tell you to get your sorry butt off the counter, or some such dad-ism. the low glow of the many warm lamps that adorned such a luxurious house illuminated art so softly, he looked as young as the day lily was born. he was as fit as back then, if not meatier. he didn’t have the pouch your dad had, but the years had given him a thickness. instead of wasting away like most lean men did, he struggled to the other side. he got broader. layer upon layer of muscle encased in a thin finishing of fat. he was skinnier when you were a kid, but he had no reason to be lean now. under his chin a tiny hammock of pudge rested as his head tilted down, kissed by light stubble. his blonde hair was streaked in silver, but that somehow made him younger looking. made him glow. he had grown it out, by your suggestion. he was everything in the world a man should be.

“what about you?”

“i hate boys. they’re all stupid.”

“you got that right. you’re too good for all of them, never settle.”

“maybe it’s just boys my own age. theyre so immature.”

arts wide chest heaves. his eyes flick to you then flick back down. you see it all, and cross one leg over the other.

“maybe.”

“what were you like when you were my age?”

he laughs at the memory.

“stupid, immature, evil. if i was anything to go by you should swear off men entirely until menopause.”

air left your chest cavity.

“i don’t wanna wait. i want a fully formed one.”

you watched the muscles in arts forearms flex as he squeezed the lemon onto salad. the main course was cooking, was singing loudly on the stove. art had gotten into cooking after the divorce. it took all his attention and put it in one place, something complex and delicate and time consuming. it helped to clear his head. it wasn’t helping right this second.

“i shouldn’t say that,” he said curtly,”boys your age aren’t so bad. give them a go and quit hanging out with an old man.”

“but i like you, old man.”

art was so harsh on himself. he really wasn’t that old. and you really weren’t that young.

he pressed his lips together and kept squeezing. his pink lips, that gave his face the everlasting youth it held. he shrugged his shoulders in that way he did when he was confronted with the truth of your arrangement. there was something going on. something very, very, very wrong. you were the same age as his daughter. 3 months younger. he was the worst man in the world. the worst person to ever breathe. what could he do though? tell you to go? tell you to leave his house and never come back? what would become of you then? without him, what pillar of paternity would you rely upon? what new low would you reach? what men would you come across, and what would you do to please them? while he gingerly entertained you, you dangled something in front of his face that others would not have the restraint or morality to resist. if you had to move to another target, your next victim might not care so deeply for your wellbeing. were you not altogether safer, sitting in his kitchen, eating his caesar salad, rather than inhaling second hand cigarettes from old wrinkled fucks who might murder you, or worse-

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

“you got a bunch of lemon pips in the salad.”

“oh.”

he set down the lemon.

“are you ok? you seem tense.”

“i’m good. are you cold? i can turn on the heating if you like.”

“no. it’s actually quite warm in here.”

he hears the zip of your hoodie and starts away from the island, under the pretence of getting a paper towel to deposit the lemon seeds on. your jumper clatters to the counter, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. low cut top. he knows that’s what you’re wearing. because that’s all it’s been for the past 2 months. your mini skirt flowers around you as you sit, but when you stand each swish and sway of the fabric is a death sentence. god forbid you take the stairs for some ungodly reason.

“hey, you know what you said about never having the urge?”

oh, fuck off, he thought. fuck off. leave him be. leave him alone. release him.

“yes.”

“you can’t really mean that can you?”

“sure i can.”

“i mean, you can. but i don’t think you do.”

you twirled a strand of hair in between your fingers. your stomach grumbled, loud enough that he could hear. you were so hungry you could die, but if you ate what art was frying your breath would smell like fish all night.

“let me check the salmon.”

“i’m not that hungry. you can’t mean that you never had the urge to. everyone has urges.”

“well sure. but after tashi, i needed a breather. a grace period, if you will. you can’t go from marriage with a woman like her right into dating.”

“but it’s been 3 years. you must be over it by now?”

he ignored the hope in your voice. ignore, ignore, ignore.

“i am over it. but. women scare me.”

he walked languidly over the salmon. it was ready.

“i don’t scare you, i’m a woman.”

a woman. he turned off the stove, and turned to fix you with a stare for the first time tonight. a woman. that was not the word he would use to describe you. your eyes were the size of saucers, and you bat your lashes languidly, like you knew how much you were making him suffer. you sat up pin straight, and twisted your spine to make eye contact with him. your body. he tried not to look. tried not to look in front of you and see the twisted grin come across your lips. but he was a weak man. the weakest of men, and his eyes dragged over where a fatherly view should never cross. your perky new tits, the press and curve of your ass against the counter, the plush of your thighs. it seemed you had grown up overnight, and didn’t know you were still a baby. you’re a baby. you knew what you were doing to him. you knew. he blushed involuntarily.

“you scare me most of all.”

his voice trembled. he hadn’t meant to say that. hadn’t meant to dignify you will any response at all. it had crossed his mind and then it crossed his lips.

your eyes lit up with extreme delight. he liked to make you happy, but his stomach churned with the thought of why.

“why?”

he turned back around, and plated up your salmon, adding potatos and asparagus from the same pan, drizzling it all in the residual oil.

“why art?”

“mr donaldson.”

a twinge of irritation tickles your stomach. what was he fighting this for? you’re all grown up now. you both knew what was going to happen. he was resisting fate, the inevitable.

all your life you had known he was the man you were meant to be with. from that first time he kissed your forehead as you dozed off on the couch, thinking you were asleep. when his strong arms would carry both you and his daughter, flinging you around, threatening to dunk you in their backyard pool. when he would catch your eye in the rear view mirror as he drove you around and winked. he was so nice. so nice and brave and kind and warm, and if you had to be with any man it should be him because you’ve loved him since you were 8, and now you’re old enough to claim it. you’re not just a dumb kid with a crush. you love him. you understand it being one sided back then. but it isn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t let him deny it. with gliding footsteps you approached him, drawing closer every second he didn’t turn around. a hand rests on his shoulder blade.

“just stop,” you breathed after a pause.

his spatula clattered to the pan with a metallic thunk. you pull your hand away like he burnt you. he gripped the counter with a sigh and hung his head.

“you stop. stop it now,” his voice was stern. you felt yourself shrink. art was never stern.

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen. this has gone on far too long and it stops right now.”

a mere few paces from his wide curved back, you blink. the urge to touch him is overwhelming. you want to press your hand to his back, feel him under your palm and tell him you know he wants this. you know he wants this just as bad as you do.

but you don’t, because he’s angry at you, and he’s never been angry at you before.

“i’ve let you come here and cooked you food and watched movies with you because you’re a good kid. because i knew you as a kid and i know your problems with your father and i wanted to be there for you when lily is away. but you have taken this too far. you’re my daughters best friend. i have cleaned up your vomit twice, i baked you a cake for your 13th birthday- it’s not right. i’ve tried to be understanding, i’ve tried to ignore it, but you never drop it. never. your lack of self respect is staggering. you have to drop it right now or, im sorry but you can’t come back here anymore.”

every muscle fibre was clenched. if the counter top wasn’t marble it would’ve crunch and fell away under his grip. he couldn’t take it anymore. he didn’t know how much longer he could be good. didn’t know how much longer he could take resisting you.

maybe he was harsh. but it was the right thing to do. the only thing to do. he rested his elbow on the counter, and between his forefinger and his thumb held the bridge of his nose. he exhaled loudly. he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t planned it. but now it was out. he had stared the elephant in the room dead in its eyes. he felt lighter, somewhat liberated.

until he turned around after a few too many seconds of silence to see you turned away from him, slightly hunched over. he stepped closer, and saw your hands covering your mouth. you body jolted, and you drew in quick, grasping breaths. you were crying. he said your name, and you didn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry mr donaldson.”

all the relief he felt was replaced by swift, acute, crushing guilt. your hair fell over your face, shielding you from him. he said your name once more. you sniffed.

“hey, hey hey hey.”

against his better judgement, and because of the aching of his heart, he took you gently by the shoulders, and turned you to face him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

tears spill from your eyes and you wipe them away with a heavy hand, refusing to meet his eyes. his neck craned down to your eye level, his thumbs began tracing circle in your shoulders. a thoughtless gesture but one that made you cry even harder.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. im just so sorry.”

“hey, it’s ok. it’s alright.”

“it’s not alright. i’ve ruined everything. i’ve made it- so- weird. i just thought that you- you wanted me. i’m so stupid.”

your mascara runs, painting your face with your turmoil.

how could you be so dense? you had been making him uncomfortable. he didn’t want you. the only reason he even let you hang around was obligation. because of what you meant to lily. you didn’t mean anything to him. you were just some kid. did he even think you’re pretty? you bet he didn’t.

worse than that, you had disappointed him. him. he was supposed to be everything your dad wasn’t. and now he was disappointed. you had failed. you had ruined everything. what even were you? were you even human?

“don’t. you’re not stupid. don’t say that.”

“i’m sorry. i just- i wanted to make you happy. that’s all i ever wanted. i wanted you to be happy with me. you were so- so- so crushed after the divorce, i-i just-“

he guides you over to the bar stool, and you let him. you sit across from each other. his hand touches your cheek, the other holds you shoulder still. the touch of his hand quietens your babbling, your eyes round and wet and open.

“you do make me happy.”

your lips parted, plump with crying.

“i do?”

he cringes at the hope in your voice, at the feeling in his chest that it stirs. the feeling in his whole body at touching, after so many years, your soft skin. the last time he held your face you were 8, crying over a bumped knee. he had very different feelings now than he did then. sympathy and concern had ebbed, making way for much darker, much more corrosive emotions. he felt guilt and want broil in the chambers of his stomach, and the evilness inside him told him how easy to would be to get what he wanted. how close he was.

“yes. you’re my favourite buddy, we have a great time together,” he ruffled your shoulder like you pat a dog, speaking quick to placate you.

the hope in your eyes dwindled.

“so,” you sniffled, “you don’t feel anything for me? you don’t-don’t want me at all?”

with your convulsive sobbing your chest rose and fell, and with each jolt you spilled further out of your thread bare top. he closed his eyes, and swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. inhaling deeply, his fingers released your shoulder.

“it doesn’t matter what i want.”

“yes it does, it matters the most,” you answer immediately, tears gone from your eyes, now sliding down from your water line and down your cheek, “what do you want?”

what does art want? when was the last time he asked himself that question? years. at least. he drew away from you. you felt sick.

he turned on the stool, ducking his head and cradling his face in his hands

“i want…”

what the fuck was he saying? he couldn’t say this to you. he couldn’t. but he was.

“i… you’re a very gorgeous girl. you’re sweet. you’re smart. you’re funny. i like you very much.”

he said it like he was confessing to murder. elbow resting on his knee, his hand covered his eyes with splayed fingers. god, he was going to hell for this. even saying the words felt like the deepest sin imaginable, and he was sanitising his truth extensively. what he thought about at night, when you went home and his house became cold again, when he got into the shower and mechanically relieved himself into the drain, that was truly deplorable. when he touched himself, it was you he thought of. invariably. everything a man could possibly do to a girl, everything a girl could possibly do to a man, he had laid up in his bed and touched himself to with you in mind. ropes and ropes and ropes of cum in your honour, so gently splattered on shower walls and bedsheets he needed to wash anyway. sometimes he came on his torso, just to feel young and frivolous, like you were. and when he did his brain would turn back on, and he would feel so guilty that he would lay there to soak up his guilt, a punishment for himself from himself. so yes. he wanted you. he wanted you very, very badly. with every fibre of his being, he craved you. and with every fibre of his soul, he hated himself for it. but apparently he was still talking. what his morality urged him his mouth couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t obey.

“so don’t think you’re delusional. you had every reason to think i might reciprocate.”

you watched him, glossy eyes wide as ever. he peeked from beneath his fingers, immediately covering his eyes again when he saw you watch him. he shouldn’t have said that. he shouldn’t have. that was bad, it’s only giving you hope, and there is no hope. he can’t, he can’t. he want to so badly but he can’t. god, no he can’t. it would be so easy but easy isn’t right and how could he ever look his daughter in the eyes again if he did? how could he look at tashi?

“mr donaldson?”

“mm,” he replied miserably.

“kiss me.”

slowly, exhausted, he lifted up his head. mistake. now he was thinking about it as he looked at your face, puffy and damp and shining like a star.

why did he look so disgusted? what was so wrong with you? you couldn’t stop yourself from barreling ahead, feeling his premature rejection like a rock in your stomach.

“just once. then i’ll leave and i’ll never bother you and you won’t see me anymore and i’ll go to church and ill get a therapist, but just once.”

he looks so tired. so tired and so fucking good. his eyes smouldered with deep thought, the thought only a mature man can have. he was so mature. he was so much larger than you. he could hurt you if he wanted to. he could make you do anything but all he did was look at you so tired it made you squirm inside. as your sobs died in your throat, regret and embarrassment become indistinguishable from desire.

he blinked slowly, and opened his mouth. the white of his teeth glittered. his tongue pawed the inside of his cheek. he was thinking about it.

how could he be thinking about it? he was the worst person in the world. and yet. and yet. one kiss. he could control it with one kiss. one kiss wouldn’t hurt. one kiss. he had kissed your head before. your cheek. what was so different about this?

wordlessly, he moved off the stool. heart in your mouth you waited. a tremulous breath shuddered from your chest as he took one step. two steps. three steps. until he was stood above you. his face was unreadable. not cold. not warm. just looking, appraising from above his brown lower lashes, down his strong kissable nose.

“one kiss?”

his hand rose slowly, palm facing upwards. his finger tips grazed your jaw, your chin, tilting your head up. fireworks burst in your stomach, and you resisted the urge to moan.

“one. that’s all.”

one. that would be all. one kiss and he would put this silly fascination away for good. a kiss is deniable. a kiss is nothing.

he stoops down, can feel the nerves vibrating from your skin. his head tilts slightly, and your eyes lock as he descends to your level. his hand moves into your hair, a combing hold. and you kiss. no tongue. your lips connect, mush and expand over the others. his nose touched your cheek. your arms remained stiff by your side as they gripped the stool. you felt the pinkness of his lips, felt the edge of his cupids bow. and then he pulled away.

there. one kiss. he had done what he had to to get you to drop it. had fulfilled your criteria, and now you could move on. now he could move on.

but if that was true, why was he leaning in again? why did almost tasting your saliva, a substance he had thought about in great detail, make him hungrier for it? why was almost having it worse than never coming close? why did he pull gently on your hair, making your head tip back, opening you mouth so he could kiss the part of you he craved; the inside part? why was he hard if it was over?

his tongue flicked gently inside, asking permission. your mouths closed together, making the kiss noise you hate hearing but love making. they open quickly and in sequence. your hands rise up to gently hover over his chest, barely grazing his shirt. you didn’t want to touch him too hard in case he dissipated into a cloud of smoke, an illusion.

but he was very real, and under your timid girlish touch he was undone. a soft exhalation like a groan into your mouth, and his tongue protruded. it touched yours and you tasted the salt on it, shivering. his other hand fell back to your shoulder, gripping so hard it was like had no idea what he was doing. feeling your mouth against his was all that there was. there wasn’t right, there wasn’t wrong, there was only sensation.

all the want he had saved for solitary and depressing masturbation now burst through his veins, into his actions and he kissed you with all the passion in him. with everything he’s never said, with all the times he held back with you, with tashi. he kissed you like if he didn’t he would die, breathing and groaning and grunting involuntarily. he mashed his face to yours, crushing your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before recapturing your mouth in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. it felt like steam evaporated from where your met, so hot and wet.

you didn’t know what was your and what was art, where you finished and art began. you meshed like the broken pieces of a vase slotted against each other. his tongue became so wild it clipped the side of your mouth in its frantic exploration, and you sighed.

ultimately it was you who had to pull away. you pulled your hands into your own chest, gasping for breath. he didn’t move an inch. he gripped your shoulder still, cradled your face the same. he opened his eyes, chest rising and falling graciously.

he surveyed you, still too high from your touch to feel guilt, with lazy eyes. he was so fucked. your eyes sparkled like glitter. your lips shined pearly with his spit. his.

“art?”

“yes?”

“it’s not just one kiss is it?”

despite himself, despite everything, he smiled.

“no. i don’t think it is.”

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls Lore Concept- The Oracle and Bill

The Oracle:

I was initially inspired by the Twitter user @SUwu159's depiction of the Oracle in their take on Relativity Falls, and made my own adaptation as I learned about her in canon.

(Assume she can change colors because I couldn't pick what I liked most)

This version of The Oracle isn't malicious per se, and does not desire the same conquest or chaos sought out by Bill. But she likes universes to be organized and quaint (or answers to another high power that demands it), and finds fulfillment in achieving these goals through any means necessary.

The Oracle and Dipper:

(Sorry if this dialogue tastes like a corndog in your mouth. I just needed to write a semi-resolution to Dipper's side of the relationship, ha.)

Getting into the real struggle with the Pines family. Dipper and Mabel don't fight and hold grudges like the Stans (that we've seen of), so my opinion is that they drifted apart in their late teens and twenties, both feeling pressured to be less attached at the hip. My current belief (though I'm very willing to rewrite this section) is that Mabel and Dipper both poured a lot of energy into pretty niche fields, and being very busy meant very short and rare windows to reach out. Both assumed the other was doing bigger and better things and felt self conscious / childish for wanting eachother's company.

I'm still considering Mabel's backstory, since I think she probably hit lower points than Dipper. You know. Starving artist, lol. But Dipper entered into paranormal investigation, pest control, etc. before his ghost + monster catching went far enough for his name to gain some notoriety. Hell, maybe Pacifica's family reached out to him to take care of "rats" that were actually ghosts, cementing his interest in Gravity Falls and giving him a window inter supernatural work.

Dipper was taken on as something of an apprentice to the Oracle 30ish years before canon as word of his good and dangerous deeds spread. However, what was at first a personal dream come true (saving lives with nerd magic) soon became a personal hell as the Oracle began to overwhelm Dipper with knowledge of various futures and universes where everything he cared about could be destroyed. He's always been over prepared and incredibly paranoid, and became obsessed with protecting the world by acting as a partner to the Oracle.

He ends up doing- or not doing- a lot of morally ambiguous things and gaining a lot of enemies. He is too ashamed to face his family- especially Mabel- with what he's done and burden them, giving the Oracle more to use against him to keep him working for her. Basically "you've already done all this and risked it all, there's nowhere to go if you stop now." Eventually this ends in her seeing him fit for her work and convincing him to hide out in and save other universes, which he gets trapped doing for the next three decades.

Little throw away idea: Pacifica could have been an investor or partner, but left as they uncovered secrets about the Northwest family. Maybe she wanted to undo something (debating making any of the Oracle's powers time related just because I hate time travel) or stop a current show of corruption, but Dipper had to stop her for the "greater good."

In the main universe, Mabel goes to Gravity Falls upon news of her brother's disappearance, searching for any loose end to trace back to him.

I love that in canon, Dipper is willing to do anything for Mabel, and Mabel gives it back. Dipper here spends all of his life keeping as many versions of her as safe as he can, and she spends all her life trying go seek him out- maybe even dropping a larger opportunity outside of Gravity Falls for her art and settling on business at the shack. Dipper wants Mabel alive, Mabel wants them both happy. I like the idea that it's Dipper and Mable vs. The Future but the future is a demon, alien thing.

Which leads me to...

Bill Cipher:

I'm actually gonna cover a couple versions of Bill I think are fitting for this AU, because I initially wasn't sure if I wanted him here at all.

Child Bill:

Pretty straight forward. Bill as a baby, child thing is tempting and this is the au where he'd exist. Personally though, I think Ford's friendship with Fidds would be more enriching to his growth, and Bill's personality is so close to Stan's they would likely be competing to fill very similiar roles. (If Bill behaves differenty as kid, I don't know about it.) Honestly, Bill is super similiar to Ford and Stan, and works better as a kind of foil or antagonist because of that (imo). I do find the mental image of Ford carrying Bill around funny. I do not enjoy human bill like, conceptually, so I'm probably never gonna design one as an adult or child, lol.

It would be cool to see a world where Bill didn't accidentally kill his parents though.

Bill - Reincarnated Original

Technically I guess they could all be reincarneted (especially baby Bill), but this version of Bill experienced and holds memories of the original canon events in GF. Beings like Bill and the Oracle can remember recent/soon approaching lives, and catch glimpses of more distant cycles as well.

What I like about Bill's recent role as an antagonist to Ford and Stan is that he constantly describes them in the terms of their worst traits, and sees them through the lens of the roles the world placed on them. In this AU, Bill is the epitome of the past (in this case a past life) coming back to bite the twins. He rattles their progress in communication as well as their sense of inner peace by bringing old Glass Shard Beach issues into Gravity Falls.

(Depicted here-> moments after Ford summons Bill using the same ritual as Gideon.)

The drawback to this is that it feels a lot like covering old ground.

Simply Bill:

This is pretty much just regular old Bill with the same fresh perspective as everyone else, and also the one I'm going with. He tried and failed to get Dipper's trust in the past and had to lay low at the arrival of the Oracle. Once they left, Bill targeted Mabel. I think it could be very interesting for Mabel and Bill to either have a fresh relationship wherein Bill is actively taking advantage of her desperation to find Dipper, or for Bill to be an old betrayal (not romantic, but not dissimilar to the opportunistic exes Stan and Ford have to be wary of and beat back under the rug regardless).

Either he shows himself to Mable early on, or decides that Gravity Falls is both Oracle-free and worth the time after either Ford or Mable summon him. Afterall, 30 years isn't much to him.

Maybe he exists in the background like he's always done, or the kids (being snoopy and disrespectful of Mabel's secrets) discover what Mabel's doing and run into him on their own.

Whether Bill is aware of the original series or not, I think he could be neat to stick in between Stan and Ford again for conflict. My favorite aspect about Relativity Falls is the prospects of the Stans having a larger support system and better tools to help themselves with. Beating Bill faster and better would be the ultimate testament to Mabel and Dipper's skills as functioning role models, even if Mabel is currently blinded by her focus on Dipper.

Stan and Ford will fight and they will make up, but this time maybe they can overcome it on their own.

I also think a good idea is having Ford and Stan's issues be completely Bill free (outside of like an episode or two's worth of relevance, unless he put them into a particularly stinging situation). It would feel fresher and also streamline the plot, lol.

Overview:

- Dipper is stuck travelling the multiverse with the Oracle and keeps himself sane by thinking of Mabel and protecting various versions of her.

- Mabel is investigating his disappearance in Gravity Falls and is working on a portal/portal equivalent with Bill to bring him back.

- The kids may or may not be aware of this.

Looking at the main series of events, I think it'd be neat go back to the apprenticeship conflict, where Ford could be approached by the Oracle (or something else that makes sense) with the promise of being a "hero," but knows better now because of Dipper and his experiences with Bill. It's kind of a more convoluted version of Ford's proposal to Dipper in canon, and they basically learn the same thing, lol. You can hang out with ghosts if you want, but demons are gonna get you. Maybe being a child with siblings is all you need.

(Stan could also be offered this, given the Oracle already knew he- or at least someone with his face- would beat Bill, but I think it's well established he isn't very interested in doing anything without family.)

All in all, things might be a bit crowded with two antagonists. But I do like the concept of Bill's arrival and subsequent chaos triggering Dipper and the Oracle's return to Mabel's dimension. I also love the idea of Bill, the Oracle, and some secret third thing all trying to pull the Pines family apart, and it's like a Man vs. God turned into a Family vs. Destiny thing, idk. Just trying to make it feel bigger.

Thank you for reading all this. It was a lot to draw. Next time I do anything for Relativity Falls, I'm gonna go back to the smaller things like Mabel bonding with the kids and stuff like that.

[parkerluvsu]

need some virgin! art x touch starved! reader who really fucking needs some action and he just DOESN’T KNOW HOW so it’s a lot of laughter but both of them kiss so desperately…

I'D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU..

(virgin art donaldson x touch starved! fem reader)

art has been your best friend since forever.. from sharing ice cream cones as kids to sharing homework answers in high school. you didn't want to lose him when he went all the way to stanford for college, so you went with him, stating that you already wanted to go to school there, it was just a coincidence that they had a tennis program for art. it was no secret that you two liked each other, it was obvious since you were young, and once you decided to follow art to college it was clear to him that he wanted to do something about it.

it was a normal sunny day at school, you made your way down the winding paths to the tennis courts like you usually do after class, knowing art is probably there practicing. he greets you with his usual smile and wave, walking over to say hi, spitting out his gum on the way. "hey, you're here earlier than usual" he says, "not that im complaining" you look away to hide the light blush forming on your face. "yeah well my lecture ended early, i thought i'd come surprise you" you smile, admiring the thin sheen of sweat on arts face, the moisture turning his hair curlier than usual. art says that his practice isn't over yet, but he'll come hang out at your dorm after. you nod, leaving and heading to your room to prepare. you know it's not normal to feel this pressure to be perfect for your friend, but you can't help but take a quick shower, slathering your body and hair in sweet smelling soap and spraying some perfume around the room.

you feel your stomach jump when art knocks on your door (you should really just give him a key), walking over and looking back at your room to make sure everything looked good, before opening the door. art immediately notices the sweet smell of you, his eyes fluttering shut as he greets you. "hi.. you smell nice" he says shyly, a big change from his demeanor earlier. you smile, waving him into your room and sitting cross legged on the bed. art sits next to you, on the edge of the bed, which you find strange, usually he gets comfortable right away. "are you okay art? you don't seem like yourself.." tilting your head to the side you try to meet arts eyes, but he doesn't look at you. "you know you can talk to me art, we've been friends since forever, you know?" he nods slowly, taking a deep breath before turning and facing you, sitting cross legged like you are. "okay.. ill tell you, but promise not to laugh at me okay?" you nod, urging him to speak more. "well.. patrick has been making fun of me a lot lately, you know how he is.. when he found out i was a virgin in college he couldn't believe it.. and- and i know we've been friends forever so i was wondering if you could help" he blurts it out so fast you have to take as second to actually understand what he means. "art.. are you sure? i mean wouldn't you want your first time to be with someone you like?" you ask, hoping you'll get the answer you're looking for. "i- it would be, if it was with you" he says, hanging his head down. he knows it's putting you in an awkward situation but it's now or never. you don't know why it happens, but you start to giggle, your heart filling with happiness after art confessed. "listen, art you know i'd do anything for you yeah? i just wanna make sure you actually want this.. with me, i don't want you to regret it" art looks toward you, finally meeting your eyes with his watery blue ones. "i could never regret anything i do with you" he says, leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours, sighing happily when you take control of the kiss, deepening it as you climb into his lap. pulling away and cupping his flushed face with your hands you press your forehead against his. "tell me if you want to stop okay art? ill take care of you i promise" he nods slowly, only looking at your lips and wishing they were on his again. you kiss him, more aggressively than before as you let your fingers wander down his chest, gently tugging at the hem of his shirt, feeling his flushed skin underneath. art gets the message, pulling off his shirt as he lets you do what you want to him, shifting from kissing him to sucking down his neck, leaving blooming purple marks in your wake that are sure to get art in trouble. he welcomes it though, he needs a reminder that you were actually here with him, that he wasn't imagining it. when you make your way back to arts mouth he whines softly, pulling at your shirt, "wanna see more of you.." you laugh softly, leaning back and pulling off your shirt, happy to press your own heated skin against arts. his head is reeling, the first girl he ever liked is kissing him, not just that but she's gonna take his virginity, art almost can't believe it, but feeling of you in his lap pulls him into reality.

after a few minutes you lean up on your elbows, telling art to take his finger out. "did i do something wrong?" he immediately asks, scared that he hurt you. "no no it's okay, i just think that im ready to have you inside of me okay?" he nods quickly and makes his way back up the bed, his hips hanging over yours. you fumble around on your nightstand to find a condom, taking it and handing it to art (who only knows how to put one on due to his embarrassing sex ed classes in high school) and spreading your legs wider to accommodate his frame. art looks quite anxious for someone who's about to lose his virginity with a girl he's liked his whole life, so you take his mind off of it by kissing him softly, not aggressively like before. when he starts to slowly enter you have to close your eyes at the stretch, he's not uncomfortably thick but he's definitely the longest you've taken. opening your eyes you're faced with art in the same situation, fully inside of you but not moving, his eyes scrunched closed. finding his hand white-knuckling the sheets next to your head, you replace the sheets with your own hand, lacing your fingers together. "art are you okay?" he nods, taking a deep breath. "yeah im fine it's just.. you're so warm and tight.. feels like i can't move" he almost whines, slowly dragging his hips out before pressing balls deep inside of you again. "fuck.." art swears he's in heaven when you clench around him, his forehead dropping to touch yours as he starts a steady pace, keeping in mind he could cum pretty much anytime. he can tell he's too nervous to get closer to you, so, making the move first you wrap your arms and legs loosely around him, feeling him actually relax and stop tensing his body. the closeness spurs him on as art sets a faster pace with his hips, now not even pulling out all the way, mostly just humping his hips into you. you weren't expecting him to perform as well as he is, feeling yourself clenching around him as you get closer. "art.. art im close.." you whine out to him and he nods, his eyes still closed as he squeezes your hand. as he gets closer you notice he also gets much louder, whines and moans escaping his lips with no sign of stopping, mostly utterings of "fuck you're so warm" and "please keep squeezing me like that" and though you love hearing him you know your neighbors will complain, so you kiss him yet again, still soft like before, and you can tell that both of you are trying to convey feelings of fondness through it.

you aren't surprised that art cums before you, with a loud moan that you're glad you had the foresight to stifle. it almost sends him into complete overstimulation when you cum, clenching tight around him. after the adrenaline wears off from cumming, art completely rests his body weight on you, his warm body actually weirdly comforting in the moments after sex. you sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before art finally pulls out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before laying back down with you. "i really can't thank you enough.. i mean i thought losing my virginity would be awesome but.. that was like next level.." you laugh at arts flattering but funny wording as you flip onto your side, looking up at him. "of course art.. we've been friends forever, there's nothing i wouldn't do for you" arts stomach drops at the mention of friends, immediately thinking the worst. "so.. after this we'll just go back to being friends?" he has the cutest pout on his face when he asks. you almost laugh again, stopping yourself when you see the serious look on his face. "i mean after this i would hope that we could be more than that" you say, sitting up slightly. art let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you say that, "thank god.. ive been waiting to ask you to be my girlfriend for like 8 years now.." he smiles genuinely at you, his pretty blue eyes gleaming in the beams from the sun peeking through your window. you lean in, pressing a soft kiss before pulling away, reaching over for his backpack. "what are you doing?" he asks, confused when you hand him his phone. "don't you want to tell patrick the good news?"

art doesn't have much experience with his own pleasure, only finding time to jerk off quickly in the shower or to help himself sleep before bed, so he can't explain it when his hips start to cant against yours, whines and little moans escaping his swollen lips. you smile when his hips start to move, knowing that since it's his first time he probably can't help it, but you can't stop yourself from teasing him. "excited art?" you smile against him. he immediately blushes, hiding his face in your neck. "i- im sorry i don't know why that's happening.." he says, panting into your mouth. you giggle, feeling a bulge against you as you stop kissing art and look at him. arts lips are shiny and slick with spit, his chest and face flushed and his hair curled with sweat. "do you.. want to go further?" you ask even though you know the answer. he nods quickly, "yes.. please i do" you smile, happy with his answer, leaning forward and kissing him. you tap his hips with your hands to signal him to lift them, pulling off his gym shorts and exposing his boxers underneath. he gasps at the pressure of your hand on his bulge, the warmness of your hand feeling different (and much better) than his own. you look up at him, silently asking if you can go further and he nods, lifting his hips again to let you pull off his boxers, groaning when his drooling dick slaps against his tummy, smearing precum where it rests. art is so sensitive that even the air touching him makes him twitch. he looks away, embarrassed of his sensitivity and the fact that he's the only one naked. sensing his nervousness you say softly, "it's okay art, i knew you'd be sensitive, it's your first time after all, i was sensitive too" he smiles and nods, biting the inside of his cheek at the thought of you being the sensitive one.. but he'll save that thought for another day. he's brought rudely back into reality when you touch his dick softly, running your fingers gently from his flushed pink tip to his base, tightening your grip until art pretty much slaps your hand away. "i- im sorry i was too close, i don't wanna cum yet.." he says, trying to avoid the embarrassing truth that he just wants this experience to last longer. you nod, deciding to pull off your shorts and panties as well, for the first time feeling a bit embarrassed as art can't pull his gaze away from you. "you can touch me if you want to art.. i can help you" he nods wordlessly as you switch positions, now you lay back against your pillows as art hovers over you, desperate for the next step. "okay art, so before we do anything you have to prep me okay? it's best to use your fingers.." it's awkward to talk about it to him, but knowing it's his first time helps spur you along. "okay and.. and where do i put them?" art asks, looking up at you for guidance. you move him down the bed, so that he can be face to face with your pussy. the urge to squirm away or cover yourself up is hard to resist, and art is able to tell that, gently placing a warm hand on your inner thigh, the pressure calming you down. you take his other hand in yours, slowly guiding him down to your slit but letting him push a finger in on his own. he looks up at you constantly for validation that what he's doing is right, and feels good to you, his eyes widening when you clench around his finger, his dick twitching against the bed when he imagines how nice you'll feel against him. finally relaxing, you let art do his thing, blissfully rocking your hips against his hand. you're thankful that you're able to do most of the work, letting art just experience things for the first time.

[airprime7]

Why am I seeing so many fake posts on my dash? Like, there's ones from all sorts of made up realities, I'm surprised I haven't seen ones set in webcomics or whatever.

0 notes

♊️ twinarmageddons reblogged

♊️ twinarmageddons

all of you iidiiot2 need two 2hut up about computer2 unle22 you know what you're talkiing about. ii 2wear ii 2aw 2ome guy telliing people two pour water on theiir keyboard2 two clean them.

♉️ adiostoreador

uH,,,

iS THAT NOT HOW YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO, uH, dO IT,

♊️ twinarmageddons

oh my fuckiing god 2ome people are actual iidiiot2

#ii mean come on you actually beliieved that

22 notes

♑️ terminallycapricious

wAsSuP mOtHeRfUcKeRs???

#HoNk

420 notes

♌️ arseniccatnip reblogged

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < hiii!!!

:33 < my name is nepeta leijon, and this is my furst post!

:33 < i like shipping, and rolepurrlaying, and hunting

:33 < i have troll pawtism, so i might not be the best at understanding things. sorry if i get confused!

:33 < i also do art, and my commissions are open! purrlease don't ask me to draw trolls pailing, i'm only 6

:33 < bye! :33

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOW STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO PUT YOUR FULL NAME IN YOUR PINNED POST.

DON'T YOU KNOW THE FIRST RULE OF GRUMBLR IS NEVER USE YOUR REAL NAME, YOU IDIOTIC EXCUSE FOR A PERSON.

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

wwhy is your text grey

♋️ carcinogeneticist

I DON'T KNOW, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE, FISH FACE.

🤡 i-say-honk Follow

hOnK!

♋️ carcinogeneticist

FUCK OFF, TC, WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU.

THIS STUPID "GIMMICK BLOG" ISN'T EVEN FUNNY.

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < @carcinogeneticist @caligulasaquarium @i-say-honk kill yourselves

#:33 < :33

333 notes

♍️ grimauxiliatrix reblogged

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

im dead n0w

♍️ grimauxiliatrix

Mood

#Honestly I Cant Believe I Made It Through This Week Alone

60 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

👻 ectobiologist Follow

hi! how do i use this app?

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HUMAN ALERT.

@human-alarm

👤 human-alarm Follow

BEEP

612 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

♐️ centaurstesticle Follow

D -> The day we stop valuing horses is the day society collapses

♐️ centaurstesticle

D -> @cuttlefishculler Perhaps I do share some interests with the protagonist of the new popular movie starring Troll Ryan Gosling

D -> If anything that would be a compliment

D -> Not that that's something a f001 such as yourself would understand

♓️ cuttlefishculler Follow

)(-EY, I was just joking around. No need to start being c-rude!!! 380

♏️ arachnidsgrip Follow

Protagonist!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

What movie did you watch? 8ecause 8ar8ie is defin8ly the hero of the one I saw, hooves-for-8rains.

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

i liked the 0ne with the b0mb m0re

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

rustblood, opinion disregarded

♋️ carcinogeneticist

BLATANT HEMOPHOBIA ASSIDE, ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE OP'S URL?

♊️ twinarmageddons

forget that, cc ii2 the ACTUAL HEIIRE22

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOLY SHIT, WHO CARES.

1380 notes

♏️ arachnidsgrip reblogged

♏️ arachnidsgrip

You know, I think the murders were good for me.

♎️ gallowscalibrator Follow

VR1SK4, YOU K1LL3D 31GHTY-31GHT P3OPL3.

♏️ arachnidsgrip

Yeah, 8ut I'm over it now. It doesn't effect me anymore.

#I've moved on.

413 notes

♉️ adiostoreador reblogged

💽 turntechgodhead Follow

man i cant believe troll steve jobs died of ligma

♉️ adiostoreador

wHO, uM, wHO'S TROLL STEVE JOBS?

[luvrrszn]

match point

STANFORD!ART DONALDSON x STANDFORD! FEM READER

summary art goes a little too far in ensuring that nothing ruins your friendship

warnings angst, nsfw (smut), erm probably a shit ton of challengers inaccuracies, happy ending though no worries

a/n guys i'm going crazy i think i play too much block blast...i see blocks when i close my eyes at night

masterlist

Art was a mean, mean person when he wanted to be. He was the sweetest boy growing up, always making sure you were okay after Patrick teased you, always walking you home at night. But after the night the two of you hooked up, everything changed.

His demeanour, and the nuances of your relationship.

Casual, you promised. It was the only thing he would agree to.

No strings attached, no feelings involved. Those were the conditions he set when he agreed to fuck you.

You'd realised you liked him when you were 14, and you'd never stopped since. So, when you promised Art you wouldn't get attached, you did your best to control your feelings.

Mean Art, who secretly has feelings for you too, but doesn't want to ruin your friendship.

—

Mean Art, who constantly reminds you that there are no strings attached.

You lay there on your dorm bed, cunt still dripping his cum as he redresses, pulling his Stanford tennis t-shirt over his head. You grumble, "Are you sure you won't stay? We can put on a movie or something."

His gaze is cold. Condescending, almost. He reminds you, "I'm not your boyfriend. This isn't what we agreed to."

Tears sting at your eyes, and you feel your heart sink. You say, "Yeah, yeah I'm sorry. Forget I said that. Sorry." You turn away, tears dripping down your face as you hear the soft 'click' of the door closing behind Art.

Still, you hold out hope. You've liked him for so long, giving up now would be stupid...right?

—

Mean Art who starts going out with other girls in hopes that you get the hint.

Even though he has absolutely zero interest in anyone but you.

You walk past Art in the dining hall. He's sitting across from some blonde girl, who's eating something off of the spoon in his outstretched hand.

You can feel his gaze trained on the back of your head as you walk off. You hurry off, sick to your stomach, unable to shake the sight of him acting so domestic with someone he had just met.

Because that meant he was capable of being a boyfriend. Just not yours.

In the next few weeks that follow, he's everywhere.

Every time you see him, he's talking with, flirting with, or touching some girl. You see him so often that you start to think that it's only because that you're wishing more than ever to not see him right now.

Or maybe it's because he's making sure you would see him.

—

You decide to go to a frat party to get your mind off of Art. You'd been avoiding him all week, after deciding that you needed to take some time for yourself.

You danced with your roommate, and talked to a few guys from the frat. You barely even noticed when Art walked in. Keyword: "barely".

You've been nursing a bottle of cheap beer for the past half hour, the music suddenly getting too loud, the space getting too crowded.

You need space.

You head upstairs, looking for a bathroom to lock yourself in while you take a breather. Pushing the nearest bathroom door open, you find your gaze meeting Art's.

It doesn't take you long to realise the....situation he's in. He's leaning against the sink, a girl kneeling before him with her lips wrapped around his dick, and his hands tangled in her hair.

Art, being the asshole he is, does not break eye contact with you.

You immediately spin on your heels and slam the door shut.

Anger and frustration boil deep in your chest, but what is the most painful is how hurt you feel.

You beeline straight for the front door, weaving through a mess of dancing, yelling college students. You don't notice Art who follows a few paces behind, and you don't notice how regretful he looks.

"Hey, wait up!"

You don't stop walking. But you don't speed up either. Art catches up to you easily, both of you walking down the driveway. You refuse to look at him because you know if you do, you'll cry. But the anger in you bubbles over as you turn and yell at him, "What the fuck do you want now? What more could you possibly want from me?"

"I just want to talk." He replies, voice soft.

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Art, I think you've made it clear you'll do anything but talk. Actually, no. You've made it clear you don't want to do anything besides fucking me and leaving me feeling like the most pathetic person on earth."

You turn to walk away again, but he grabs your arm before you can leave. For some reason, you don't shake him off.

"Please. Just hear me out." Art begs. His heart sinks, seeing the broken and defeated look in your eyes. Your eyes had always been something he loved about you. How expressive they were, how they always seemed to betray you when you were trying to hide your feelings.

You sigh and nod.

Art hesitates a little, before saying, "Look, I’ve been a total jerk, and I know it. I’m sorry—I mean, really sorry. You don’t deserve that. No one does. But I need to say this because it’s been eating at me. I think—I know—you might feel something for me. And… I feel the same. I do. But here’s the thing. I’m terrified. If we try this and it doesn’t work? I can’t lose you. I can’t risk messing up what we have. You mean too much to me, and I don’t know if I could handle that. So yeah, maybe I’ve been pushing you away because I thought it’d be better for both of us. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry."

You take a while to process everything he says. He looks at you with the softest gaze you've seen from him in the past two years, and it finally clicks in your head.

He likes you back.

You finally reply, "Yeah, you have been a jerk. And I don’t think you get to decide what I deserve or how I should feel about it. What you said… I appreciate the honesty. But if you think treating me like crap was some noble way of protecting our friendship, you’ve got it backwards. You don’t get to push me away and then expect me to be okay with it just because you’re scared. If you like me, then show it by treating me with respect—friendship or more. If you’re not ready for that, fine. But I deserve better than games and excuses."

His face falls before you add, "But if you’re willing to actually step up—to stop playing it safe and meet me halfway—then I’m here. I’m not asking for perfect, but I won’t settle for less than real. So, it’s your call. Just know that if you’re in, I’m in too."

The grin that spreads across his face is a wide one.

"Oh, I'm definitely in."

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch. 5

Urgency ° Han Jisung

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: SMUT 18+ ONLY, college AU WC: 1.6k +

TW: experienced han, inexperienced han, chan is naked but when isn't he, quickie, kind of public sex, creampie, cunnilingus, reader doesn't cum, changbin cameo and he is flirty

AN: thank you so much for the love on this series, I hope you enjoy this new chapter <3

“We should really get going.” The last thing you wanted to do was part from Hyunjin, his skin was smooth and warm. His hand gently and calmly caressed your body over your clothes.He whined, his head buried deeper inside the crook of your neck. Your hands creeped their way to the planes of his chests and gently pushed against his skin.

“Baby, if you wanted a second round, you could've told me,” Hyunjin nosed at the column of your neck.

“Don't you dare, Hwang Hyunjin, get up, we need to get going.” The boy giggled, you had never heard him do that, it was cute, you wanted to press kisses all over his face. But you couldn't, you needed to go back to Sigma Kappa Zeta to talk to Chan about what happened before the date.

“Any chance you could also drop me off at your dorm?”

The drive back was a blur and you were pretty sure you dozed off because, at some point, you felt Hyunjin’s gentle hands shaking you awake lightly.

“Thank you, Jinnie,” you yawned tiredly.

“Why did you want to come here?Did you forget something?” Hyunjin grabbed your hand and pulled you close to his side, he spoke lowly with his mouth close to your ear. His breath tickled your neck and raised goosebumps all over your skin.

“I just need to talk to Chan about something.”

The frat house was strangely empty, there were no brothers laying on the couches nor making out with girls. There was only one person, playing at the pool table at the back of the room. Changbin stood in the corner in all of his glory, his muscles flexed and moved as he sank every ball he hit. As you walked across the room and to the stairs with your lover boy on your arm, he raised his eyes and then winked at you. Your whole body felt on fire and your mind hazy, so much that you didn’t notice that you and Hyunjin had stopped in front of Chan’s room.

“Wanna stop by my room after you’ve finished talking?” a playful smirk on the boy’s face.

“I’ve had enough for today, lover boy. I’ll see you around.” Your hand was almost on the doorknob of Chan’s room when Hyunjin spun you around and planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I’m counting on that second date, pretty girl, please call me.”

With the confidence that the night with Hyunjin still floating inside you and with the warmth of his kiss spreading from your face to your toes, you knocked on Chan's door and entered.

Your best friend was blissfully asleep on his bed, naked with his legs spread out wide. A blood curdling scream ripped out of your throat and you quickly turned towards the wall. With your back to him, you heard a scream similar to yours and then a loud thump.

“Y/N? Is that you, baby?” He grunted, you were still not facing him.

“Why are you naked, Christopher?!!?” you were freaking out but the sight of Chan spread out like that, peaceful and naked had made you feel things.

“You know I sleep naked and you were bound to see it anyway,” he whined once again, he seemed to do that a lot when he was with you, “ come here,” he opened his arms even if you couldn't see him. 

“Chan I don't th-”

“Just hold me please.” You sighed. Why was it so hard to say no to him? Had he casted some kind of spell on you? Your jacket and shoes were soon discarded and you tentatively turned around and laid next to Chan. Keeping your eyes at an acceptable height was the hardest thing you had done in your life.

“You know why I'm here, don't you?” Even as Chan's arms circled you and his face laid on your chest, your voice remained steady. You were annoyed at him and he had to know.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have acted all jealous. I know that. But I never had to share your attention with anybody so I freaked out a bit.”

You knew he was honest, lying wasn't a thing between you two.

“Is that it? You wanted attention, you big child?” Chan giggled at the nickname, he would have killed anybody else had they dared call him that, but you of course were different. 

“Yes.” 

“Should I sleep here tonight and give you all my cuddles and attention then?” 

He tightened his hold on you and planted a kiss right on your collarbone.

“You should.”

“Alright, you should really put some clothes on tho…”

“Shush, it's just skin, go to sleep.”

The morning after Chan's annoying alarm blasted you awake. It was almost mocking, you and your plans of sleeping in for once.

“Chris why the hell are you getting up so early?” You groaned and pushed the heavy body off of you. He didn't budge.

“I need to go to the studio, we need to finish a project. Do you wanna come?” His words had an urgency to them but he still nuzzled his cheek against your chest more and refused to get up.

“Should I?” You muttered, already half asleep.

“I want you to.”

“Okay then.” 

Needless to say, you did not get to the studio on time but at least you had stopped at your dorm to change clothes and then grabbed coffee for 3racha as an apology. The studio was as you had remembered it, small and messy, clearly used by men as no woman would let it get like that.

“Hey guys,” you greeted the other two boys as you offered them coffee. 

“Hey pretty, I saw you with Hyunjin last night, I hope he treated you well, if not you can always come to me,” he winked again, it seemed like some kind of habit. You giggled.

“He did, actually.”

“Focus on the track, Bin,” Chan chastised his friend. He was jealous. Cute. You patted his head to reassure  him, he was special to you and you were special to him, and his whole demeanor shifted.

Han was weirdly quiet and just looked between you, your legs particularly, and the track on his computer. You knew he was gonna be there so you had chosen to wear shorts on purpose, it was obvious he had a thing for your legs and the others had noticed his weird silence as well. Changbin smirked, he knew how obsessed the younger friend was with thighs and yours were extremely delicious. 

“Hyung, we should go ask for more paper, we’re out I think,” Bin wasn’t looking at Chan but at the two of you instead, he knew Chan would’ve understood and he would've given you your time.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Chan patted your head on his way out. Han swallowed thickly as the door closed, leaving you two alone in the room.

“Do you want me to take them off, Jisungie?” you batted your lashes at him and a cute blush spread all over his cheeks and down his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he spluttered and stuttered.

“I don’t mind, do you want to?”

“Yes please, oh my god, I’m so hard, I’m gonna die,” he blurted out with no filter whatsoever. You giggled again, he was cute and different from the other boys, you liked him. In one swift motion, you lowered your shorts and panties and bent over the desk.

“Come get me baby.” Han didn’t let you repeat yourself twice because as soon as you had laid your chest on the cold wood, he had kneeled behind you. He was gawking at your pussy like it was the most precious thing on earth; his admiring didn’t last long because he soon buried his entire face between your thighs. He was different from Minho, he was messy and clearly ate for his pleasure. His tongue never stayed on one spot for too long, he moved quickly from your entrance to your clit and then back and over your lips. In a matter of minutes your pussy was slick with wetness and his spit.

“God Jisungie, you’re so messy,” you keened out.  Han pulled away from you, his hot breath fanned over your opening.

“Baby, can I please put it in? I need it, so bad,” he whined and whined. It was like the roles were reversed, you were the whiny one usually, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“Go on.” Han scrambled to his feet and quickly lowered his pants and underwear. He slammed into you with force, his thrusts and his dick were different from Hyunjin’s; he went fast and hard, he was chasing his pleasure and his pleasure only and his dick was smaller but thicker, but felt heavenly nonetheless. Jisung moaned and wailed like a dog in heat, your pussy throbbed and dripped more and more with each sound and movement of his hips.

“Oh my god baby I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, please can I do it inside?”

“Already?” you asked out of breath, he just whimpered and nodded, “yeah, you can.”

“Oh my god, Hyunin was right last night, you got good pussy.” It only took him a few more thrusts from him to still and spill inside you. Your face had never felt hotter, they talked about you like that?

Han laid on your back, his arms circled around your torso, it was an awkward position but his weight on you felt comforting.

“I’m sorry you didn’t cum, baby.”

“It’s okay, you’ll make it up to me next time,” you smiled, your cheek squished against the desk.

“Yes ma’am.”

A sudden knock at the door shifted the mood in the room, Changbin and Chan’s voices loud and clear.

“You didn’t make her cum, are you serious?!?”

“Unbelievable, Han Jisung.”

@kflixnet

[awakenedevildays]

「The, not so, other woman」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: smut! (badly written, but still smut), angst, cheating (not on reader).

Infos: Art and the reader are 26 yo, Art and Tashi's daughter doesn't exist here.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"Promise you'll stay here tonight" he says , his thrusts slow and deep in you, his body tremble as his movements are too slow for him too "tell me you'll stay here with me" he stills inside of you.

"Art, please move" you beg under him as one of his hands push your hips down to stop you from moving up, he hisses, his eyes closing while he struggles to wait for your answer. 

He moans quietly and he leans down to kiss you deeply, but just as you are about to return the kiss he pulls away as a way to show he's not giving you any stimulation till you say what he wants to hear "tell me you'll stay with me" he whispers before planting soft needy kisses over your jaw. 

"I will, just- please" you moan and he smiles against your jaw. 

He starts to move at a slow pace, kissing over your face and down your neck as you finally get that friction back "god you're so needy" he whispers lovingly, giving you exactly what you need: he is so deep inside of you that it's hard for you to breath "I'm going to cum" you moan as your body trembles under him.

"Cum for me, come on baby" he nibbles your ear after saying it and he feels close too, his hand reaches your clit to stimulate it with his fingers in circular motions "god, I love you so much, you were made for me" he moans as you clench around him.  

You cum repeating his name like a mantra and he follows shortly after inside of your walls, his cock hits your cervix and your eyes fly to the back of your head when he stills there. 

"oh god" he moans and lays down on top of you, his body weight presses against your body pleasantly as he peppers several kisses everywhere he can reach. 

 You rest like that until he feels like his limbs can move again and and his breathing returns to normal, "you're so pretty" he says and you smile softly at him, your eyes almost totally closed peers at him and his smile widens "I'll be right back" he pulls out his softening members and you both hiss at the stimulation. He comes back from the bathroom seconds later, a towel in his hand to clean the both of you. 

After wiping the sensitive skin between your legs he throws the towel on the floor and takes your panties from the end of the bed to slide them on your legs until it rests against your hips, he wears his boxer too and joins you back on the bed.

His arms wraps around you, your back meets his chest and you feel so safe and comfortable against him. He presses soft kisses to each of your shoulders and up to your neck "I love you so much" he whispers almost shyly.

Your smile is bitter but you answer anyway, your answer genuine but full of sadness "I love you too" you say, your voice weak cause of the tears that threatens to escape and Art can feel your demeanor change. He holds you tighter in his arms but doesn't say anything, he knows there isn't something he can say to make you happy at the moment. 

"It's okay" he whispers and you hold onto his arms, your eyes burns from impending tears and he rubs your arm gently "it's going to be okay" he mumbles, more to convince himself than you, you don't say anything as you turn around in his arms so that your head rests on his chest: his hand around you continues to gently rub your shoulders after pulling the sheets over your naked bodies, he plants several soft kisses to your head, forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, anywhere he can reach without having to move too much.

He can feel you growing sadder and sadder and it hurts, but his arms stay wrapped around you anyway and he presses his body against yours as much as he can. 

"You should rest, we'll talk in the morning, does that sound good?" he comforts you, he keeps a steady but slow rhythm as he rubs your back. 

"mhm" you nod your head slightly, not having the energy to speak and his other hand goes through your hair softly until you finally calm down, until your breath evens out and you fall asleep a few minutes later together. 

The clock signs 4 AM when Art wakes up after hearing rustlings around the room and he sighs as his arms reaches to the other side of the bed to pull you to him only to meet the empty messy sheets still warm. He sits straight and his eyes bolts to the other side of the room, you're up, and you're dressing hurriedly in the dark.

His heart sinks in his chest and he watches for a moment as you put on your bra, you don't look at him as you move and he turns on the lamp on the nightstand.

He feels his chest tightening and he can barely find the courage to speak "you're leaving?", his voice small and breaking slightly already "yes I am" you answer coldly. 

"hey, come here..." he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows rest on his thighs and his hands run through his hair, you can tell from his tone that he's frustrated and you look at him, watching him for a moment as his hair messily covers his eyes, he bows his head, his body language is defeated and you just want to comfort him, tell him everything will be okay, but you know better than to give him false hope. 

"I can't do this anymore" you avoid his gaze as your eyes fills with tears again and Art's heart breaks in his chest 'why do I always have to make her cry?' he thinks as he stands up, but every step he takes forward you take one back. 

He blinks and freezes for a moment, his head snapping back up as his gaze meet your own—shock, confusion and worry all flashed through his eyes in that moment: he knows that this affair is wrong, that you deserve better than this half relationship he has given you for the past year, but seeing you giving up on this... on him, is shattering his heart. 

"w-what do you mean?" he asks even if he already knows the answer.

"I mean that this won't happen ever again" you say while you take your shirt from the ground.  

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach and his breath catches in his throat, a look of almost disbelief cross his face. He feels cold all of a sudden as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. 

He blinks and his mouth falls open for a moment as if to argue but he can't find the words to say "no, no. no, no—" he shakes his head and takes steps closer towards you "please don't leave". 

This sounds like a bad joke, he's wanted you for years, he yearned you like nothing else before and when you finally look in his direction, he finds out he is incapable of keeping you close to him ... fuck, he wants to cry. 

He is slowly losing you and he doesn't even know what to say to make you stay.

"Why don't you get it Art!? I want to get married! I want a husband that loves me and only me and I want a child, maybe even two... I want to be the first choice of someone, I want someone that can love me freely and that is proud of saying I am his wife, I don't deserve this" your hands gesture around the room "I don't deserve to be fucked in a hotel room only to find myself alone the morning after, knowing that you're already back with Tashi, going on with your life while I find myself in the same exact point I was a year ago" you cry out, tears now staining your cheeks. 

Art goes silent and he just stands there as he takes in everything you're saying. He blinks rapidly and his gaze flutters around as he tries to comprehend and process everything. His mind is spinning and his heart feels like it's breaking as he looks at you crying. He tries to open his mouth to speak a few times but nothing comes out, he has no idea what to say. Just imagining you with another man takes his breath away. 

"I'm not your first choice Art, and I deserve better" you sob as your arms wrap around yourself. 

Art watches you cry in front of him. He hates it, he hates this, he hates himself. Still, he walks until he is in front of you and his hands take your face softly "you're my.." he pauses and glances towards the wedding ring on his finger that shines in the light, before he shakes his head and looks back at you "you're my first choice..". 

You scoff and take his hands off your face "no I'm not Art, and I'll never be" you look around for your skirt.

"No." he mumbles and his hands grabs your hips, his eyes are filled with desperate tears and his mind is trying to find a way to make you stay "it's true! I'll divorce Tashi..! I'll divorce her..! Just stay with me, please.." he begs. 

You snort "yeah, right" you shake your head but when you try to move his hands tightens.

His jaw clenches at the snort and the words, his gaze hardening as he looks at you- you've never been so stubborn before, you never looked at him with such distain in your eyes before "why don't you believe me... you know I'd do it for you.." he whispers almost desperately, his gaze softening again in pure vulnerability as tears began to slip down his cheeks.

"'cause you never gave me a reason to trust you, Art! we've been doing this for a whole year and nothing changed, you expect me to trust you now only because I'm finally leaving?" your voice raises.

"That's not true..!" he argues back instantly, hurt flashing through his teary gaze despite the fact that you have a point, not much has changed this year. He didn't want this life to be this way, to be caught in a loveless marriage, with his wife fucking his best friend and with so much wrong happening in his personal life despite the fame he had gained due to his career. He just wants to make you happy, he wants to be happy with you. 

He sighs and takes a moment to calm down, his shoulders slump slightly as he lets go of your hips. "You think I wanted this?" he says quietly "I want to be with you, I don't want Tashi, I don't love her anymore, I feel nothing for her... please, give me a chance to make it right, I can be that man for you, I can be anything you want" he kneels in front of you "I'll divorce her and I'll find a new coach, she won't be in our lives anymore and we'll be happy" his hands wrap around your waist, his head resting on you hip. 

You look at him for a long moment, taking in the way he gazes at you as he rests against your hip, his hands tight around your waist as he waits for a response—the words he spoke bringing a sharp tinge of hope to you that you didn't allow yourself to feel until now.

You raise your hand to slowly comb it in his hair and he sighs at your touch, his eyes closing.

"You have to promise me Art, promise me you'll be what I need" 

He opens his eyes to look at you, while nodding furiously, his words coming out strong and desperate but also true "...I promise. I'll be everything you need..I'll do anything you need me to do." he gently leans into your touch and sighs in contentment when he feels your fingers rake through his hair, he looks up at you with pleading eyes and his hands rubs up and down your sides, "I'll do anything for you," he whispers.

You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he speaks, his words sincere and desperate. He's ready to give up everything he achieved if it means that he can be the man you need, the man that you want.

"Are you sure it's me that you want? You won't go back to tashi, will you?" he shakes his head quickly in response to your question, his grip on you tightens and tears continue to fall down his cheeks. He presses his lips to your stomach, still looking up at you when he pulls back to respond "it's you..I want you. I've only ever wanted you... you're it for me". 

His whisper comes out quiet again, hushed and vulnerable just like your entire relationship had always been.

He blinks and watches as his hands are pulled from your waist, a momentary feeling of fear rises in his chest and makes his breath stop before you catch his hands to pull him up to his feet, causing a small but relieved sigh to slip past his lips, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly returns the smile.

"I'm scared you'll regret it Art, I don't want you to throw your life away for me" your hands lay against his chest but his lips interrupts your thoughts immediately when they kiss away the tears on your cheeks. 

"This is anything but throwing my life away.." he laughs. 

He presses another kiss to your lips, softly, before he pulls back to look at you. 

"I'm just finally making the right choice" he whispers, his hands move down to cup your chin in his fingers: in your eyes there is a love Art never saw in Tashi's, is this what being loved feels like? he never felt so loved, so wanted in all the three years of marriage with Tashi. 

"I love you, I'll make you the happiest you can be" he promises and hugs you close to him, your eyes close and you finally feel like things will really change.

"I can't wait" you say, your smile finally sincere.

And so is his, eyes filled with hope and excitement. His mind is racing a million miles per hour as the gears turn to formulate a plan to make this happen. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and he smiles against your mouth as he pulls back "I'll fix this, we'll make this work" and you finally believe him. 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

First time writing smut I'm sorry it's really bad lol.

(do not copy or translate).