#but it's not like I have any choice in these changes

[zoe-oneesama]

Now that we've had a Sabrina focused episode, do you have any redesign ideas for her? I love what did with Rose BTW

In fairness, she's cuter in animation. But like the unfortunate still shot in the OP showed, certain angles do make her new haircut hit her in an awkward place. My gripe is that IN THE EPISODE she has an emotional transformation signified by a physical change...maybe it should be...a bit more? She cut her hair, untucked her vest and...got longer pants. Oh yeah, she's a WHOLE new person (especially next to these girls who had full character redesigns.)

My opinion tends to change on the new Season 6 designs after I draw them. I thought the same when I doodled Sublime lol.

So I just went ahead and embraced the 70s for her new look. I just want Sabrina to make choices with her look - not necessarily fashion forward choices, but CHOICES. Anyway, she's got the Dog Miraculous disguised under her turtle neck in my design. Can't believe she disguised a choker as a brooch pendant, she can just do that????

[andromeda-collective]

i have multiple and im going to mention all of them but im starting with THIS FUCKER HERE (blade from honkai star rail) AND I HAVE A VERY STUPID REASON FOR IT

there was an minigame thing with a character named march 7th (dont ask) and there were little events you could encounter throughout it and one of them was that you had to choose between a red and blue pill (or the third option of giving a nonanswer) and since my choice didnt matter at all i went with the red pill because i know that the matrix is a transfem allegory and i also hc march as transfem but then another character made a little comment that blade would ALSO pick the red pill which completely makes sense for his character but since i was still on the transfem allegory mindset i had the thought of "wait does this make blade transfem??" so shes transfem to me now 👍

estrogen would NOT save her. not even REMOTELY. he's a suicidal immortal who physically cannot die because of a ritual his old friend-with-romantic-implications tried who he now wants dead more than anything else. hes basically possessed by evil plants that revive him every time he dies and he goes fucking feral. hes a mass murderer with a bounty of over 8 billion. nothing can save him. but transitioning might make her miserable life slightly more manageable? plus i mean.. throwing your old name away and being a new person? obviously a metaphor for being trans /j

boothill! this is slightly for shipping reasons (turning a het ship wlw for funzies) but mostly projecting my gender-nonconforming transness onto the only southern disabled character i know of. are we different kinds of southern? yes. are we different kinds of disabled? also yes. do i care? absolutely not. (also because butch southern women make the world go round)

also sampo because the idea that this fuck is a cisgender ANYTHING is laughable. this is a nonbinary transfem boymoding for shits and giggles who randomly switches to the girl voice when talking to someone JUST to fuck with them because nobody else would believe them and the person would think theyre losing it. typical masked fool stuff. gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

and then from genshin impact: zhongli. who has CANONICALLY used shapeshifting to become a woman. and has likely done so on more than one occasion. this guy is CANONICALLY GENDERFLUID WHETHER PEOPLE LIKE IT OR NOT. and you can obviously be genderfluid and transfem at the same time so why the hell not :D

most other characters i hc as transfem i dont have much of a reason for, but im gonna list them anyways cause hell yeah

argenti (hsr) - she can have a little estrogen as a treat

dr. ratio (hsr) - no reason i just think it could work

sunday (hsr) - something something religious-trauma-and-giving-into-what-you-once-believed-to-be-sinful

diluc (genshin) - fanfiction on ao3 changed my brain chemistry

kazuha (genshin) - also no reason i just think it fits

sebastian solace (a game on roblox called pressure) - im gonna be honest with you op, i just like putting this fucker in situations. and i would love to see the struggle of medically transitioning when you've been forcibly had your body and dna altered to the point of no longer being human. even ignoring for a few seconds the thought that maybe hrt wouldnt have the same effect (or any effect at all) due to the experiments, how could you will yourself to alter yourself medically in any way after the horrific trauma you've experienced? its between fucking with your already fucked up body or having the dysphoria kill you from the inside out. i am rotating her in my mind even harder now.

p.ai.nter (from same game) on the other hand? a lot simpler. make the ai with guns a girl. also just a funny idea: you know that "put eyelashes on it to make it obvious that its a girl" thing? yeah. painter doing that.

^ TELL ME SHE WOULDNT.

i would apologize for the essay but you did say i was legally required to share so this is your fault /lh

anyways i hope you enjoyed the women

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[shyamanuensis]

Showers & Scourers - M.R

a little angsty - a little sweet - a little riddle. enjoy xo

“Has anyone tried talking to him?” “What - and enter the dorm room of that volatile little shit? No fucking way!”

This is where you came in. The friend turned lover turned ex. Your presence hadn’t exactly been a common request when it came to Mattheo Riddle since the rather explosive and episodic breakup you’d had; rumour around the castle being you broke his heart first before the poor boy even stood a chance. However, his mates were well aware of the influence that you once had on him - that you now still, had over him. As such you had been summoned by requests, pleas, and near-begging to try and talk some sense into someone you had once loved who was so far removed from reality and lost in his own thoughts that you could only describe him as emotionally erratic.

Tomes, scrolls, notepads, furniture, curtains, clothing, shoes, a trunk, bedsheets,  quills - all tossed around the dorm as if a ventus charm had been cast and let loose to cause havoc within the confines of the room. Mattheo wasn’t usually violent - or well towards you at least. In the years that you’d known him; an intimidating threat or smartass comment were his more popular choices of menacing actions than a raised wand or fist; but this - the state of everything; discarded like trash made you thankful you nor anyone else was in his firing line.

The sound of running water from the ensuite he shared with the other 7th-years had you curious. Before you knew it; you found yourself still clothed beneath a heavy cascade of warm running water; steam challenging your breath as you pried the steel scourer out of Mattheo’s hand he had swiped from the kitchens and was using vexatiously upon his skin to try and rid himself of a mark he knew all too well was permanent. 

“Stop.” “No.” “Please?” “No.”

Any attempt to turn the shower off was blocked. His eyes were as red as his skin. His cheeks flushed, lips swollen from how harshly his teeth had taken to them. There was no use trying to argue with him. Trying to talk sense into him. Trying to reason with him. Trying to use logic. The boy was blighted, busted, broken. A rare sight; one that your memory wouldn’t miss. Deprived of all sense and sensibility - too messed up, too tortured, too destroyed; your arms snaked a little too comfortably around him; Mattheo closed his eyes immediately, his body betraying him as he sunk into the comfort of your embrace. The tender ministrations of your fingertips gliding through his hair calmed the turmoil within him suddenly. When you told him that everything was okay - that everything would be alright; it was like your words were a balm to his wounds, his soul.  Mattheo’s arms around your waist tightened. His grip was firm yet so, so far from bruising. It almost felt like he feared that if he let you go, you would disappear from him like the end of a dream. 

“I know you said you never wanted this - but it’s just a mark. It doesn’t change you.”

Oh, how he so desperately wanted those words to be true. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, you felt his breath hotter than the shower’s steam burning across your sensitive skin. You began to hum his favourite song; something you’d learned a long time ago would calm his nerves and that along with the feeling of your fingers still running through his hair managed to lull him into a sense of composure, of peace, that Mattheo had almost forgotten he was capable of feeling. His hands still resting at your waist moved unconsciously; almost habitually having his fingers curl into the dampened fabric of your shirt, acting almost like an anchor on you - like a sailor would to find refuse amidst a storm.

How long the two of you stood there for? You weren’t sure. The seconds turned to minutes turned to hours and his ragged breaths and half-choked, incoherent words indicated not so subtly that in and at this moment, Mattheo needed you. His once light, once angel, once love - and little did you know with everything going in the world outside of this shower, that you, undoubtedly would need him to.

[parkerslatte]

Future Promises

Dae-ho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence. blood and injury. murder. character death (not reader).

Summary: When a fight breaks out in the bathroom, Y/N gets caught in the middle of it. When the eliminated players are announced, Dae-ho panics.

Requested: Yes

Squid Game Masterlist

The divide in the room was clear. Each side equal in terms of numbers yet Y/N could feel the murderous gazes from the ‘O’ side of the room. While others around her talked to one another, trying to ease some of the tension, Y/N sat on her own. She wasn’t too far away from the rest of the group but she was far enough away to be able to breathe. 

For the entire duration of her time in the games, she didn’t have a single change to calm her body down. Even when she slept she was always on high alert. Taking a step away from everyone was what was best for her right now– especially when she needed to prepare to defend herself if it came to that. Y/N didn’t miss the way each player had received a glass bottle and a metal fork with their meal when they hadn’t before. Her fork was securely concealed in her jacket. 

Y/N rested her head on the cool tile wall and sighed. The room seemed much larger now compared to when she had woken up only days ago– though to her it seemed like weeks. There were only one hundred players left out of four hundred and fifty six and somehow Y/N was one of them. Though she might not have been if it wasn’t for one particular person. 

Kang Dae-ho was someone Y/N never thought she would see in these games. They weren’t exactly friends before the games, only worked at the same part-time job. But seeing him was like a breath of fresh air. If it wasn’t for him, Y/N was sure that she would have been killed during the mingle game. The whole time, he had kept her hand firmly clasped in his. When the final round called for two players, he didn’t hesitate to pull her along to a room, pushing her in first before himself. The fear Y/N had felt during that game– if Dae-ho hadn’t been by her side she would have froze up and never left that rotating platform. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called to her before she felt the warm and comforting presence sitting beside her. “What are you doing over here on your own?”

Y/N opened her eyes, not realising she had closed them. “I needed to step away for a bit.”

Dae-ho’s thigh pressed against hers. “Tell me next time. I didn’t know where you went.”

Y/N turned to him and offered him a small tight lipped smile. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho didn’t return her smile, already knowing that it wasn’t genuine. From where his hands were resting in his lap, Y/N watched as they twitched– hesitantly decided if they should reach out to her. Taking the initiative, Y/N held her hand out. A small flash of surprise appeared on Dae-ho’s face before he gently held her hand in his, linking their fingers together. 

The corner of Y/N’s lips tugged up in a smile as she rested her head against the cool tile wall. “I don’t think I’ve told you but I’m glad you’re here. Well, not here exactly– but here with me. Seeing someone I recognised made me feel…safer. So thank you.”

Dae-ho’s gaze was fixated on their clasped hands. “Don’t thank me. Honestly seeing you here made me feel safer even though I hate that you are trapped here too.”

“We both made a stupid choice by phoning that number,” Y/N said. “When we get out of here, let’s not phone any strange numbers in the future.”

A quiet laugh emitted from Dae-ho and caused Y/N to smile. “Agreed.”

A silence washed over them but it was comfortable and if Y/N closed her eyes, she could pretend that they were in the break room at their shitty job. Instead of bidding goodbye at the end of the day like she usually did, she would take the risk and ask him for dinner. Finally doing what her friend had demanded of her when she first started the job and asking her attractive coworker out.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing to her feet, her hand slipping out of Dae-ho’s. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dae-ho offered, quickly standing with her. 

“To the women’s bathroom?” Y/N asked, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. 

For a short moment, Dae-ho seemed embarrassed but it quickly seemed to fade. “I’ll keep watch outside.”

A small genuine smile tugged at her lips as she rested her hands on his biceps. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to protect me, you’ve done that enough already.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman a little older than Y/N said. Y/N glanced at the woman’s number. Player 91. “I overheard you going to the bathroom. We could go together, safety in numbers. I noticed some other women go there not too long ago.”

Y/N turned her attention back to Dae-ho. “See, I’ll be fine.”

There seemed to be nothing that could convince Dae-ho but the moment she leant up and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek all rational thoughts swimming through his mind seemed to evaporate. Y/N laughed and gently trailed her hands down his arms to his hands, offering him a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”

Slowly, Dae-ho nodded. “Be safe.”

As she took a step back from Dae-ho, he held onto her hands until she was too far to comfortably hold onto them. Y/N allowed her hands to slip from his but the moment his warmth fell away, she craved it once more. Y/N pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and offered Dae-ho one final parting smile before following the woman to the bathroom. 

***

Y/N watched as the water dripped from her chin back into the sink as she sighed. She could only hope that not everyone was bright enough to realise they could freely harm anyone that opposes their vote and in the morning they would be able to vote and return home. 

“So you voted to return home?” a woman said, approaching Y/N. 

Y/N didn’t bother to look at the woman as she answered. “Clearly, and anyone with a few brain cells would realise that is the best option for everyone here.”

The woman hummed. “Didn’t you vote to continue the games during the first vote?”

“I did,” Y/N answered. “It was a selfish decision and I regret it.”

“What changed your mind?” the woman questioned. 

“After nearly dying during the second game, I realised that risking my life for money isn’t worth it,” Y/N said, her grip tightening on the skin as Dae-ho’s face flushed in her mind. 

During the six-legged pentathlon, their small group of five was already decided until Jun-hee came along asking to join their team. The moment she found out the younger girl was pregnant, Y/N didn’t hesitate to join another team. 

Dae-ho insisted that he should be the one who left but Y/N refused and found another team, she was one of the first to complete it with one second to spare. For hours she had sat on her bed watching the door waiting for Dae-ho to enter, her anxiety rising when he never entered. When he finally did, Y/N’s heart rate still refused to drop. From then she realised that no matter how much money she would get if she continued to play, it wasn’t worth nearly losing Dae-ho and the other friends she had made. But just the thought of losing Dae-ho sent Y/N into a panic she didn’t see coming. 

“So those who died during those games didn’t matter to you? Only your life matters?” the woman said, continuing to pester Y/N. 

Finally Y/N turned and faced the woman. “Realistically those people would have died anyway. If I wasn’t in these games then nothing would change, someone else would be here in my place and everything would turn out exactly the same.” Y/N glanced at the blue patch on the woman’s jacket. “Seems like you don’t seem to care if people die or not considering you are too fucking selfish and you want more money.”

“Careful how you speak to me,” the woman said. “Once all of you who voted to leave are gone, us who voted to stay will each have over 800 million won each.” Slowly, the woman raised her hand, a silver fork shining in the dim lighting. The fork was pressed  against Y/N’s neck as she looked at the woman standing before her. Despite the situation, Y/N didn’t feel intimidated by the women at all, she was shorter and  was physically weaker than Y/N. 

“I’m only going to say this once,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Change your vote, continue the games. If you do, I will make sure you get through to the end and get your share of the money.”

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N failed to contain the laughter that slipped past her lips. “I’d believe it if you weren’t threatening me right now. How am I meant to believe you won’t backstab me in the next game?”

The fork was pressed deeper against her neck and Y/N winced. “You need to trust me,” the woman said. 

“Trust a woman who is one movement away from plunging a damn fork into my neck? I think I’ll naively believe that someone will come to their senses and change their vote by morning,” Y/N replied. “Now take that fork away from my neck.”

“Or what?” the woman asked, an unhinged smile spreading across her face. 

“The group that voted to stay are currently outnumbered in this bathroom, five to nine. If you fight, you’ll be overpowered,” Y/N answered as the two other women who voted to stay slowly walked up to join the quiet altercation. 

“You’ll never win,” the woman said, the fork leaving Y/N’s neck. “We may be outnumbered but you have more elders on yours, one punch to the head and they’ll be out cold.”

As Y/N glanced around at the other women in the bathroom, she noticed that most of them were older and looked as if they could not handle themselves in a fight. Y/N sighed. “Do you really care about getting a bit of extra money? If we vote to leave now we still each get a large amount of money. What if you die in the next game? Your last thoughts will be ‘why didn’t I leave when I had the chance?’”

“You don’t know a thing about me!” the woman exclaimed. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink. “I know that you’re an idiot if you chose to stay in this hellhole.”

The woman didn’t respond verbally. Instead she gripped the back of Y/N’s jacket, yanking her away from the sink. As Y/N stumbled on her feet, the woman sent a punch to her jaw, knocking off her balance completely. 

The moment Y/N’s back hit the floor, hell broke loose as people began fighting one another. It was just as the woman said, there were a lot more women who were physically weaker on Y/N’s side. Almost immediately Y/N watched as a few of them had already hit the floor, a pool of blood forming below them. Y/N didn’t take long to get back to her feet. Y/N wasn’t a particular skilled fighter, she had learnt basic self defense and had never had a reason to use it. Just as Y/N thought, the woman was physically weaker than Y/N as she easily overpowered the woman, gripping tightly onto her hair. 

“Just vote to leave!” Y/N yelled. “How stupid can fifty people be?”

The woman struggled to get out of Y/N’s grip. “I’ll vote to leave when all of you are dead!” she snapped. 

Y/N held tightly onto the woman’s hair as she threw her down on the floor. Before Y/N could think, she grabbed the fork concealed in her pocket and jammed it into the woman’s shoulder. The woman’s eyes widened as she cried out in pain. Y/N yanked the fork out and stood to her feet. There were still others fighting around her yet all she could do was stare down at the woman on the floor. Y/N hadn’t killed her, only injured her, yet she still felt the guilt of that weigh heavily on her shoulders. 

Before Y/N could even think about moving there was a force that sent her to the ground and she scrambled to get away before a force was pressed upon her body and she was harshly turned on her back. A more muscular woman sent a punch to her face before Y/N even had the chance to block it. With her vision blurry, Y/N failed to see the fork slamming down at full force towards her. 

***

Dae-ho sat looking in the direction where Y/N had left with the other woman to go to the bathroom anxiously shaking his leg. There was something clawing inside of him that told him that something bad was going to happen. Of course he had noticed the forks everyone had been given and Gi-hun had only solidified Dae-ho’s beliefs that it wasn’t unintentional. 

Y/N had been gone for a while and it took Jung-bae forcing Dae-ho to remain seated instead of storming after her. 

“I never asked,” Jung-bae spoke, noticing that Dae-ho became considerably more anxious, “how do you know Y/N?”

“We work together,” Dae-ho answered, not tearing his eyes from where she had disappeared. “It’s a shitty part time job but that's all that would hire me. I don’t know why she is still there– she has so much potential.”

Jung-bae hummed. “It seems as if you admire Y/N a lot.”

“I do,” Dae-ho said with no hesitation. “Before now, we only ever spoke at work, but she was always so nice and friendly to me. I watched her interact with customers too and she always greets them with a smile and tries to make them smile. Afterwards I would always find her in the break room exhausted but she would always sit and talk to me if I was on my break. Once she shared that she wished to become an artist but her parents told her that it wasn’t a sustainable career so she gave up.”

“It sounds like a lot more than admiration you have for her,” Jung-bae teased. 

Dae-ho quickly shook his head. “No, it's not anything like what you’re thinking of.”

“How about I ask Y/N when she comes back?” Jung-bae suggested. 

“No!” Dae-ho exclaimed, causing Jung-bae to laugh. Dae-ho sighed. “Okay, maybe it is like that.”

“The following players have been eliminated,” the cheerful voice sounded throughout the room. 

Dae-ho’s heart instantly dropped to the floor as he looked at Jung-bae, fear coursing through his veins. 

“Player 201. Player 449. Player 091–”

“That’s the player who went with Y/N,” Dae-ho said, fear evident in his tone. 

The players entered the room one by one and Dae-ho’s heart rate increased. From the looks of things, it wasn’t only the women who had gotten into a fight in the bathroom as the men walked out too, blood covering each and every one of them. The cheerful voice continued to list the numbers of the players who had been eliminated and Dae-ho’s fear rose after each and every one. He should have somehow gone with her to make sure that she was okay. 

The voice stopped listing off the eliminated players just as Y/N stepped into the room, the guard closing the door behind her. Blood covered her neck and stained her jacket. Smeared blood covered her hands too as she slowly stepped further into the room shaken up. 

“Count your players!” 

The room immediately broke into chaos as each side counted their players and how many each side lost. Dae-ho didn’t care as he ran over to Y/N. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at the injury on her neck. 

“They attacked us,” Y/N muttered. “I didn’t want to hurt them but I did.”

Slowly, Dae-ho reached forward until he held his hands in front of hers. Without thought, she held onto them tightly as if grounding herself. 

“They attacked you first, you were only defending yourself,” Dae-ho reassured. 

Y/N slowly looked up at him. “I know but–”

“But nothing,” Dae-ho said, slowly pulling Y/N closer to where the rest of the group were standing.

Y/N nodded, squeezing his hands once more. “Can we sit down somewhere?”

Dae-ho gently guided her over to where Gi-hun and the others were sitting as someone counted how many of the whole group there was. Dae-ho gestured for Y/N to sit down first before he sat down next to her, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist, her body leaning closer to him. 

“What happened to your neck?” Dae-ho questioned looking at the long scratches down the back of her neck that ventured under her collar. 

“It happened just before the guards came in to break up the fight,” Y/N muttered, her hand seeking out Dae-ho’s. “If they didn’t come in that second, I’m sure that woman would have finished me off.”

Dae-ho noticed the distant look in her eyes and squeezed her hand to snap her out of it. “Hey, I know it’s hard but try not to think about that right now.”

“What else is there to think about?” Y/N replied, her voice sounding exhausted. 

Dae-ho shrugged, his thumb gliding across her knuckles. “Our job?”

“I nearly died and your response is to talk about our shitty job?” Y/N said. 

“You’re talking about it though,” Dae-ho muttered. “And I was going to ask you, what will you do when you get out of here? You can’t stay in that job for the rest of your life.”

“Pay off my debts,” Y/N answered. “After that, I honestly don���t know.”

“You wanted to become an artist, why don’t you start there?” Dae-ho suggested. 

Y/N looked at him, disbelief clear in her eyes. “You remember that conversation?”

“Of course,” Dae-ho replied. Y/N looked at him– really looked at him. The look immediately made Dae-ho heat up under his collar. 

“I didn’t think anyone really listened when I talked about what I am passionate about,” Y/N admitted. 

“I listened,” Dae-ho replied. 

“Why have we never spoken outside of work?” Y/N asked.

“Probably because we both hate our job and pretend that it doesn’t exist once our shift is over,” Dae-ho replied. 

A soft huff of laughter left Y/N and Dae-ho couldn’t stop the way his heart lifted at the sound. 

“That is true,” she said. “How about when we get out of here, we change that? This definitely isn’t the place or time to say this, but I have liked spending time with you and you have honestly saved me so many times and made this whole thing even the slightest bit bearable. So when we get out of here, why don’t we go for dinner? I’ll pay, it’s the least I can do.”

A wide grin formed on Dae-ho’s face as he nodded. “That would be nice.”

Y/N gave him a smile in return before she rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing her body into his side. The gentle grip he had on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to his body. While Gi-hun spoke to the group in a hushed tone, Dae-ho only remained half listening as he held onto Y/N. A new sense of survival overcame him– he would get him and Y/N out no matter what. 

[scoupsakakitty]

Please Don’t Leave Me pt.2 | idol!Mingyu x Reader | fluff

The phone buzzed against the car's dashboard, but the call went straight to voicemail—just like all the others before it. Mingyu let out a sharp exhale, gripping the steering wheel tightly before pressing the phone to his ear as the familiar automated message ended.

"Y/N, you're leaving me no choice," his voice was hoarse, exhausted. "I'm on my way to your dorm. I can’t keep waiting for you to answer. We need to talk. You can be mad at me, you can yell at me, but you can’t ignore me. Not anymore."

With that, he hung up and started the engine, his heart pounding against his ribs as he sped off towards the university. The rain drizzled lightly, the city lights blurring against his windshield, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by her. By them. By everything he was about to lose if he didn’t do something.

When he arrived, he parked haphazardly, not caring if he was in a student-only parking zone. He stepped out, pulling his hood up to shield himself, but it was useless. The moment he walked through campus, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. Whispered voices, subtle gasps—some had recognized him. But he didn't care. He had one goal.

Stopping in front of her dorm room, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder this time. "Y/N, open the damn door." His voice was firm, unwavering. "I'm not leaving until you do."

A few seconds passed, and then—

The door swung open so fast he barely had time to react before Y/N’s hand gripped his wrist and yanked him inside. She slammed the door shut behind him, her eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. "Are you insane? Showing up here like this? Now people will definitely know you’re here! And then you knock like that? Desperate much?" Her voice was laced with panic.

Mingyu took a deep breath, stepping closer. "You left me no other choice. If you had just picked up the phone, if you had answered even one of my thousand messages, I wouldn't have had to come here."

She crossed her arms, her expression hard. "I don’t have to answer just because you call."

His jaw clenched. "Then I have to show up."

Silence settled between them, heavy and unyielding. Finally, she sighed, rubbing her temple. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

His brows furrowed, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean, what do I want? Isn't it obvious? I want you. I want us. I can’t do this without you."

She scoffed, turning away. "Mingyu, wanting something doesn’t always mean you get to have it."

He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration evident. "I talked to my management. I told them I want to go public with our relationship. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about the fans who won’t support it. If they love me, they need to accept that I love you. That I can’t live without you."

Her breath hitched, but she remained silent.

"You’re not happy without me, Y/N. Just like I’m not happy without you. I know it. You know it. So why are we doing this?" His voice cracked, raw and pleading.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her sweatshirt. "Mingyu... the stress, the sasaengs, the threats—it’s too much. Even if we go public, that won’t change overnight. And you’re always traveling. I barely got to see you before, how will it be any different?"

"I’ll take you with me." His answer was immediate. "We’ll talk to your university. My management has connections—we can figure out a way for you to do your studies online. That way, you can be with me. I can protect you."

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "I can’t afford online tuition, Mingyu. I can barely afford my fees as it is."

His heart ached at the helplessness in her voice. Slowly, gently, he reached for her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "That’s what you’re worried about? Y/N, come on. How many times have I offered to pay for your tuition? Let me take care of you. Let me give you the life you deserve."

"I don’t want to be a burden to you," she whispered.

"You're not a burden. You're my life." His voice was thick with emotion. "Stop finding reasons for this not to work. I can and will fix everything, but I need you to fight with me. For us."

For a long moment, she just stared at him. At the exhaustion in his face, the desperation in his voice. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Like he was drowning.

Finally, she exhaled shakily, placing her hand over his chest, feeling the steady, desperate thump of his heart. "Okay... you’re right." Her voice broke. "I’m sorry, Mingyu. I’m so sorry for making us suffer like this. Please forgive me."

A choked sob of relief escaped him as he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. "You won’t regret this, I promise."

She let out a watery laugh as he peppered kisses all over her face—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. "Mingyu, stop! You're acting like a puppy."

He grinned, setting her down but not letting go. "Now that I finally have you back, I’m never letting go again."

His eyes flickered around her room, taking it in for the first time in person. "So this is your room, huh? I’ve only seen it on FaceTime. Cozy. I like it."

She rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. "It’s small, but it’s mine."

"Not for long," he mused. "Once you start online classes, you’ll be moving out. Either to my dorm or, better yet, our own place. And when I’m on tour, you’ll stay with me. We’ll share hotel rooms, wake up together, fall asleep together. Doesn’t that sound perfect?"

Her heart swelled at the thought. "I always wanted to go on tour with you, to be honest."

Mingyu’s lips curled into a soft smile. "Then it’s settled. From now on, we’re always together. No more secrets. No more hiding. No more distance."

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything. And I’ll spend every single day proving that to you."

Her heart melted as she whispered, "I love you too."

And as he kissed her, sealing their promise, she knew—this time, they were going to make it.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I hope your week has started off well! I have a request if you don’t mind. Friday I have to go to the hospital early and spend most of the day there getting a bunch of testing done because I keep having these weird episodes and we don’t know what’s going on and I’m verrrrryyy nervous about it. So anyway I was thinking poly!wolfstar (or any of them) accompanying reader and comforting reader to the hospital/during/after. Maybe reader wants to cancel it all (because I kind of do) and they gently but firmly make her stick to it.

Hope your appointment went well lovely!

cw: mention of hospitals, general anxiety around that

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

This time of year, the kitchen is dark before dinnertime. Remus has turned on the light above the stove, but neither you nor Sirius move to flick on any others, leaving your home mostly in shadow and dim, amber glow. Sirius is illuminated by his laptop on the couch while you sit on a stool watching Remus cook. The low rumbling of his boiling water is the only sound. It’s a tranquil sort of quiet. You’re reading all the tension into it, probably. 

Sirius certainly thinks so. He sneaks up behind you, arms winding around your middle and fingers prodding playfully at your sides. “Baby. Relax.”

“I’m relaxed.” 

“Sure you are.” 

“I am.” 

Remus looks up from the stove to give you a look that isn’t quite chiding. Fond, perhaps. Knowing, definitely. “Dove, you’re rattling your stool.” 

You hear it then, and still the bouncing of your knee with some effort. 

He smiles, at once wry and kind. “It’s okay to be nervous,” he says. 

Sirius makes a dubious humming noise. “I don’t know about that.” His face finds its way into the crook of your neck, meandering, his nose cool against your skin. “I think our girl should only have nice, blissful thoughts, and leave the nervousness for when it’s due. No sense in getting all worked up early.” 

“Pads.” Remus’ tone is love-weary. “She’s allowed to be nervous.” 

Your boyfriends make light of it, but this is one stark difference between them. Sirius and Remus have both known intense discomfort—to put it lightly—over their lives, and yet they react to witnessing it differently. Sirius can’t stand to think of anyone he cares for being less than perfectly happy; it makes him twitchy and near frantic. Remus doesn't like it either, of course, but he understands better than most that some things simply need to be borne. Rather than avoiding it, he offers a quiet, steady support. 

Sirius, you think, is likely as nervous for your hospital visit as you are. It’s why he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“I could still cancel,” you say, softly enough that maybe you’re hoping not to be heard. 

Both of your boyfriends seem not to have considered this possibility. Remus looks at you, brow tensing, and Sirius’ face stills on your shoulder. 

Your voice smalls. “They said I could do it up until twelve hours before.” 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius squeezes your middle, gently. “Don’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, because then you’ll only have to be nervous all over again when you do go.” 

“But what if I…” You find yourself sinking into his touch, letting him hold you up despite the fact that you’re sitting and he’s not. “...don’t?” 

“You’ll have to go at some point.” 

“I don���t have to.” 

“You should, though.” Remus’ eyes capture yours, calm and dark brown in the low light. His expression is melded by sympathy and entirely too reasonable for your liking. “You can go on the way you have been, that’s your choice, but we know you’ve not been liking that.” 

“I’ve not been very fond of it either,” Sirius mumbles. 

“This is something you can do for a chance at getting better,” Remus goes on gently. “Nothing is going to change if you don’t.” 

You take a long inhale. When you let it out, Sirius kisses your shoulder like a reward. 

“I really don’t want to,” you say. 

“I know, lovely.” Remus steps closer, reaching for your hand. You don’t realize until you give it to him that you’d been picking at your nailbeds. He pulls your fingers apart from each other with methodical caring. “It’s only one day. We’ll be there with you.” 

You press your lips together solemnly. “I’m going to need a lot of hugs, I think.” 

“Oh, god,” Sirius moans, arms still firmly around your waist. “What ever will we do?” 

“You really do dole out the most unfair burdens, dove.” Remus goes from doting to dry in an instant, amusement flickering in his gaze. 

“I mean, how are we expected to cope? I don’t know if I can handle all these demands, sweetness, I really don’t. You’ve made tomorrow a true hardship for us.” 

“You’re the ones who want me to go.” You shrug. “Figure it out.” 

“I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” Sirius gives you another squeeze, firmer this time to coax a smile from you. “Alright, then. Needs must. You worry about your portion, and we’ll worry about ours.” 

[apartmentsmoke]

"It's okay if it grows a little," Buck called.

Tommy flashed him a grin and hollered back, "That's what he said." Buck's lips opened, ready to retort that he likes it best when things grow a lot, but the sound of his mortal enemy made the words die on his tongue. Ever since they'd gotten back together, since Tommy had cautiously extended the invitation to his place more often and Buck had grabbed it with both hands, Buck had learned a few more things about his boyfriend. Namely, that he would pit Tommy against any suburban father in a World's Best Lawn competition. He was thinking about sending out fliers and charging for admission. Tommy loved his lawn. Buck had endured several lectures on what led to his choice to plant bahia grass, namely its drought-resistant qualities and ability to thrive in poor soil conditions. Every second Tuesday morning, like clockwork, he took out his lawn equipment and began a multi-hour routine that would have made his drill sergeant proud. The lawn was boring, and if Buck heard another word about humidity conditions and what that meant for the grass, he'd poke out his own eardrums. But it did have one notable benefit, one Buck could enjoy with his other senses. Tommy liked to do all his lawn work shirtless.

Buck's eyes followed a bead of sweat running down Tommy's arm, highlighting the sun-warmed skin. Damn. He'd already run off Mrs. Troutman from three doors down once this month, and he was gearing up to it again. Though she'd made some killer snickerdoodles at the recent neighborhood block party, the first one Buck had been to. Maybe he'd trade her some Tommy ogling for the recipe. He followed the drop all the way down to Tommy's fingers, curled around the handle of the power edger. Wished they were curled around his cock, but not even the idea of sweet, unhurried morning sex could keep Tommy from his lawn. Maybe after. Buck's eyes dropped to the flex of Tommy's ass in his pants, how each muscle expanded and contracted as Tommy pushed the mower along. If he'd had his way, he'd be between them, tongue pushed up against muscle, tasting each movement. And then there was the small of Tommy's back, the dimples there made for Buck to press his thumbs into. When he'd woken, he'd seen the faint impression left by the last bruises he'd made there. Couldn't forgot Tommy's spine, either, each knob of it. The ones he held tension in, the ones he liked to hinge when Buck told him to present himself. They all offered opportunity. For Tommy to contort himself just so, for Buck to mouth at or run his cock down before he reached the cleft of Tommy's ass. Buck glanced around for neighbors and adjusted himself in his shorts.

When he looked back up, it was to the sight of Tommy's front, his chest on full display. The sun brought out the pink in his nipples, Buck thought, and he wanted to suck the color right out of Tommy's skin. As Tommy walked his way, going over his work, Buck's gaze trailed the length of hair that ran down Tommy's stomach, watched as Tommy's movements changed how it was presented to him. Each minute motion made Buck's fingers twitch. He was desperate to run them down that path, claim the treasure it advertised.

Tommy's approach drawing closer, Buck began to make out his individual freckles, the ones he'd made into constellations with his tongue. That damn edger, Buck thought wildly, it was the one keeping him from Tommy - aptly named machine - "Join me in the shower after I put this up?" Tommy called, holding the edger on his shoulders like a mountain man held an axe. Buck ached to lick between his pecs, the valley shiny with exertion. "Be right there," he said, and nearly tripped over his own feet getting up in his eagerness.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change Of Heart - 5 (Edited ver.)

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stood near the dock, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat. The waves lapped gently against the wooden posts, a rhythmic sound that did little to soothe the restlessness inside him. The sky had begun to darken, shades of deep blue swallowing the last traces of daylight.

"Sir, it's getting dark," his secretary reminded him softly, standing a few steps behind.

Bucky didn't respond immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Did your parents divorce?"

The secretary blinked at the sudden question. "No, sir. But my sister did. She divorced her first husband."

Bucky hummed, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ocean stretched endlessly. "Was it the right choice?"

"I think so," the secretary admitted. "She smiles more with her second husband. He was divorced too. Somehow, they complete each other. It’s like they both learned from their past mistakes."

Bucky finally turned to look at him. "How long have they been together now?"

"Five years."

Silence settled between them. Bucky lowered his gaze, staring at the ground as if lost in thought. His parents divorced when he was young. His father changed wives like the seasons, to where Bucky had lost count of how many stepmothers he'd had. And his mother—she had become a well-known rich cougar, the kind who made headlines.

When two broken people come together, they begin to heal. But what happened between him and you... something still hurts deep down. Though both of you completed each other, seeing you leave felt like it wasn’t enough.

Bucky had spent years running from his past, avoiding the feelings he buried deep within himself. He'd been afraid of truly connecting, terrified that giving in to love would mean vulnerability—and he’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable. But with you, something changed.

He started to open up, piece by piece. He had found solace in your presence, a kind of comfort he never thought he’d experience. You made him feel like maybe it was okay to be human.

But even as the wounds began to heal, a part of him remained fractured. The scars weren’t completely gone. And as he watched you walk away, that deep-seated fear—of losing someone, of being left behind—came rushing back. He realized he wasn’t as whole as he thought he was.

Without another word, Bucky pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen momentarily before he made the call. He held the device to his ear and started walking, his steps slow and aimless as he paced along the dimly lit dock. A few streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the worn planks beneath his feet.

The therapist answered after a few rings.

"My advice?" The voice on the other end was calm. "Let her go. Don't stop her. If she wants to come back, she will."

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t agree.

"Do you have any sexual desire toward her?"

"No," he answered without hesitation.

"Do you feel safe when you're around her?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to come home faster when you know she's waiting there?"

Bucky exhaled through his nose. "Yes."

The therapist paused before asking the last question.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

This time, Bucky hesitated. His lips parted, but the words didn't come as easily. "...No." But his voice lacked conviction.

The therapist remained silent for a beat before finally speaking.

"It will grow on you. Just wait and see."

Bucky lowered the phone, staring at the dark waters ahead. The wind picked up, tousling his hair, but he barely noticed. His chest felt tight, the answer lingering in his mind.

Had he really meant it?

The Next Day

Bucky followed you.

He shouldn’t have, but he did.

He was already waiting by the dock when you returned from your scuba diving lesson. You looked different—lighter, freer. The usual quiet presence he was familiar with had been replaced by someone more expressive, more alive. You laughed while talking to strangers, engaging with them in a way he had never seen before. When you were with him, you spoke to his colleagues, sure, but never like this. With them, it was polite conversation, surface-level. But now? You were glowing.

And Bucky didn't know how to feel about that.

You spotted him standing near the railing, and your smile faltered for just a second before returning. Surprise flickered in your eyes, but there was something else too—relief, maybe.

"You're still here," you said, your voice carrying a mix of disbelief and quiet gladness.

Bucky was about to respond, but then his gaze caught on you peeling off your wetsuit.

He froze.

It wasn’t like you were undressing provocatively—you were simply taking off your gear. But in the two years you'd been together, neither of you had ever seen the other completely bare. You had shared a home, a bed even, but always with an unspoken distance.

His throat went dry, and he forced himself to turn away, his jaw tightening.

Bucky had seen countless women undress before, but this—this was different. This was you. And it was as if some part of his brain refused to process it. He waited in silence, staring at the dark water until he heard your footsteps approaching.

You had changed into dry clothes and now stood beside him, leaning against the dock railing.

“I guess Grandpa won’t allow you to come home,” you said.

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. But I guess… I failed. You don’t want to come back.”

“Not yet.”

Silence. The waves rolled in and out, filling the space between you.

You looked out at the sea, your expression unreadable. Then, as if speaking more to yourself than to him, you asked, “Do you ever wonder why we’re compatible?”

It was a good question. Because in truth, on paper, you shouldn’t be.

Most marriage contracts like yours didn’t last. Some couples couldn’t even stand each other for the duration of their agreement. They broke it off before the ink had dried.

You exhaled through your nose, then said with a smirk, “Because both of us are ambitious as fuck.”

Bucky scoffed. He almost laughed, but he held it in, shaking his head instead.

Then, in a quieter voice, he asked, “If you love me, why are you leaving?”

You turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were softer now, but firm, steady.

“Bucky, I know you’re not ready for this. And I won’t push you. You need to figure it out yourself.”

His chest tightened.

He had spent years figuring himself out. Years battling the demons that kept him tethered to his past. But had he actually moved forward?

“I used this marriage contract to get money,” you admitted. “To have a higher status than my father. Feeling superior to him gave me satisfaction.”

Bucky swallowed hard. He understood that. He understood it too well.

He had never wanted to be in a relationship—not out of fear, but as an act of rebellion. His parents' marriage had been a disaster, a revolving door of broken vows and replacements. His father cycled through wives like a man cycling through business investments. His mother had responded by becoming one of the most infamous rich cougars in town, collecting younger lovers as if to prove something to the world.

Love, as far as Bucky had seen, was nothing more than a transaction.

He had despised it.

But now, standing here, he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So this is goodbye, then?”

“For now,” you said, your voice gentle. “I just want to do what I’ve been holding back. I want to grow up.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean? We’re already in our thirties.”

You smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was knowing, understanding.

“I mean growing up from the trauma.” Your voice softened. “Bucky, both of us were stuck as kids because of what happened to us. Our pasts kept us frozen in time. But I don’t want to stay stuck anymore. I want to move forward. I want to leave the trauma behind.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“The reason I didn’t come back,” you continued, “is because I still love you. And that terrifies me. I’m running away because I can’t be near you without feeling everything too much.”

Bucky sucked in a slow breath.

This was the first time anyone had ever said those words to him like this—with honesty, with vulnerability. It was the first time he had ever received a love confession that wasn’t transactional, that wasn’t tied to expectations.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

You stepped back. “I hope that the next time we meet, everything will be different.”

Bucky watched as you walked away, disappearing into the crowd. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky exhale.

Something was shifting inside him, something he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t just loss. It wasn’t just regret.

It was something deeper.

A few moments later, he pulled out his phone and dialed his therapist.

When the call connected, his voice came out rough, almost reluctant.

“I think I’m starting to have… sexual desires toward her.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then, finally, his therapist sighed.

“Well, Bucky,” they said, “it looks like you’re finally catching up to your emotions.”

He decided to leave you alone, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring. No matter what, you had been there for him for two years. Marriage contract or not, you left a lasting impression on his life.

When he returned, his grandfather was waiting for him, clearly hoping you would step off the plane with Bucky.

When he saw Bucky coming down alone, Tom clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky sighed. “Give her time. She’ll be back.” Even though he's not sure when you'll be back.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

One Year Later

The café inside the park was quiet, tucked away between tall trees and winding pathways. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light onto the wooden tables.

Bucky sat alone, a tablet in one hand, a coffee cup in the other. He scrolled through reports, half-reading, half-listening to the sounds around him—the soft chatter of other patrons, the occasional bark of a dog, the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Then, a voice behind him made him nearly drop his tablet.

“I see you’re still a workaholic.”

His heart clenched. He knew that voice.

Slowly, he turned around—and there you were.

You stood before him, looking different yet familiar. Your skin was sun-kissed, your hair slightly lighter, and your presence felt… freer. There was an ease in your posture, a confidence in your stance that hadn’t been there before.

For a moment, Bucky just stared, as if making sure you were real. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I don’t work as much as I used to,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Really? Who’s been keeping up with all your work, then?”

“My parents.”

That made you pause. “Your parents?”

He nodded, setting down his tablet. “Yeah. I finally faced it. The whole mess.”

And it had been a mess. For years, he had avoided confronting the real cause of his fears—his childhood. He thought that refusing to engage in relationships was an act of defiance, proof that he had broken free from his parents' toxic cycle. But in reality, he had been trapped just like them. Stuck in the same story, just playing a different role.

It wasn’t fair.

They had lived their lives—moving on, getting remarried, collecting younger lovers, burning through money—while he had been the one frozen in time, afraid to take a single step forward.

So he had done something drastic.

He had cut them off.

No more allowances, no more endless funds. Their luxurious lifestyles had been fueled by company profits, and Bucky had put an end to it.

“This company is not a charity,” he had told them. “You’ve used its assets to fund your lifestyles for too long. If I let this continue, we’ll go down in history as the first corporation to bankrupt itself paying alimony.”

His father had been furious. His mother had scoffed. But in the end, they had no choice. They had to start working.

They had been terrible parents. But, ironically, they turned out to be decent employees.

"Both of them have stopped acting childish," he said. His parents had also stopped playing the roles of sugar daddy and cougar. It turned out money was the solution.

Now, here he was, sitting across from the one person he had waited a year to see again.

"I fixed my relationship with my parents, especially my dad," you replied.

"That's good to hear," he responded.

After spending some time with your dad, you realized that without the rivalry, he's an easygoing person. You started contacting him daily.

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?”

Your gaze softened. “No. I never stopped loving you.” You smiled, almost shyly. “I just had a feeling this time would be different.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I see. So you’ve completed your self-discovery?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, lighter than it had ever been. You talked about your travels, the people you had met, and the experiences that had changed you. Bucky listened, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or a teasing comment, making you laugh. It felt easy—natural.

Then, as if it were nothing, you casually said, “I broke my leg climbing down a mountain.”

“What?!” His eyes widened, panic flashing through them.

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Some nuns from a nearby chapel helped me. They took care of me for a month.”

Bucky frowned, his mind racing. So that’s why you didn’t post an update for a month.

You nodded. “Yeah. They prayed for me.” Then, after a pause, you admitted, “I’ve never prayed before. But I started to. Admitting my anger, my sins… it made the weight feel lighter. I guess I’m sharing my burdens with God now.” You studied his reaction carefully. “Do you think I’ve turned into a religious freak?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. As long as you found peace.”

Silence settled between you, but it was a comfortable one.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

You grinned. “Yes.”

“Caramel Macchiato, hot, less sugar… right?”

You blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up. He smirked before getting up and heading toward the cashier.

When he returned, he placed the coffee in front of you, watching as you took a small sip.

Then you said, “On my way here, I passed by a cinema playing Interstellar.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with interest. That was his favorite movie—the one he always watched when he had time alone.

“Really?”

“You interested?” You pulled out two tickets and held them up.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Let’s go.”

As you both walked side by side, he glanced at you.

“You know,” he said, “you could share your burdens with me too.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable.

Was that… a proposal?

Bucky continued, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve known each other for two years. You left for one. And yet, you came back with the same feelings. And I waited a year for you to come back.”

Your heart pounded.

This time, it wasn’t just a contract. It wasn’t a transaction.

It was something real. Something earned.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

This time, there was a difference between them.

Before, they had been trapped—chained to the past, repeating old patterns, clinging to wounds that refused to heal. They had mistaken their pain for identity, their fears for inevitability.

But now, they had changed.

Not because time had passed, but because they had made the choice to move forward.

They had faced their demons, made peace with their scars, and learned to let go. Bucky was no longer a man protesting love out of spite. And you were no longer someone running away to find yourself.

You had both found your own way—separately.

And yet, in the end, that path had led you back to each other.

-The End-

Epilogue:

Bucky suddenly remembered something. “I should call Grandpa to let him know you’re back.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I already met him when I landed. That’s how I knew where to find you.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head. Even after a year, you still cared about Tom.

After watching the movie, he will take you to meet Tom. His grandpa will welcome you with open arms and finally stop calling him an "idiot."

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[carisa-ironfell]

If you're going to church just for the "sermon" and want to get pissy about getting "lectured" instead, you're not actually listening to what's being said (or your pastor isn't saying the right things) and you definitely aren't going to church for the right reasons. It's just autopilot at that point, just a pointless ritual that doesn't mean anything. And I know this from experience because that's WHY I stopped going to church. I wasn't getting anything useful out of it, and the environment was taxing my mental health instead of helping me heal. I wasn't growing, I was just miserable and angry and bitter.

The point of church, as I've always understood it ever since I was little, is to connect with the other members of your community and help each other learn and grow and continuously become better people, to follow Jesus' teachings and LOVE people. You go to church to LEARN, and when needed, to be guided back to the right path by your pastor and/or your peers. That's literally their job. For example, most of Paul's writings. (Paraphrased: Y'all are acting crazy, stop doing that. Here's how to fix it.)

You don't have to agree with others' choices in order to love them, and something that a LOT of Christians seem to miss is: if you're not getting through to someone and you can't change their mind, let it go. The seed is planted, and there's a chance that years down the line, God will speak to that person and they'll be ready to listen. Shouting in their face (literally or figuratively) is only going to make them get defensive and shut down and push that time further away.

Anyway. No one who claims to be Christian or any kind of servant of God should be rejoicing in mass slaughter. And I've had to listen to "Christians" rant about how great and amazing the nightmare in Palestine and other Middle Eastern conflicts are, and it makes me sick. Whether you agree with them or not, people don't deserve to die like that. And if there's a member of a church who tries to implore the president to do something positive about that whole disaster, don't get pissed off with them, because they seem to understand the teachings better than you do.

I don't really consider myself Christian. I want nothing to do with that (generalized) group of people, because I have yet to meet any of them who make sense to me and can help me grow. I believe in God, I do my best to act in ways that reflects Him, but until the church starts shaping up and actually behaving with love and compassion instead of hatred, I'm not involving myself with them. It's dismal to watch and it makes my heart ache. And I can only imagine God probably feels the same way in a lot of cases.

I wasn't expecting to say this much ._. Uhh, sorry if anyone actually reads this lol Be safe and well! With love, Reggie 🤍

The lack of self-awareness is truly astounding.

[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

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The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Mimzy

Mimsy was an interesting one to work on. I wanted to make sure she looked inhuman like the other characters, but without making too big of a change. Canon Mimzy basically just has the black eyes and sharp teeth.

She's apparently loosely based off a chicken, which is why she has a hooked nose. But I knew pretty early on that I wanted to use peacock colors. It also helps increase the color variety of the cast by reducing the red.

More notes under the cut, including human Mimzy

Face: I gave her face markings that resemble running mascara, because I figured she wanted to be a showgirl or movie star or something. But she kept getting rejected, so she cried a lot. And apparently "mimsy" was a word coined by Lewis Carroll and is a blend of "miserable" and "flimsy".

She has vampire fangs for two reasons:

1. She leeches off others. Alastor was missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.

2. In the 1920s, there was an equivalent to femme fetale called "Vamp". Vamps were more or less extra promiscuous versions of flappers.

Hair: An iconic 1920s hairstyle was finger waves. I made them a bit loose, because I didn't like how it looked plastered to her head.

I know she has a tattoo in the show, but I don't know how important it is for her to have it. So I just didn't bother with it. If it becomes significant, I'll add it back in.

Mimzy said that she and Alastor ran in the same circles while they were alive. He frequented the club that she sang at. But she also sounds like she's from New York, so I'm not sure how/why they ended up in the same place.

She died in the 1920s in her late 20s or early 30s. Not sure how she died.

1920s fashion--

I'll try to keep this brief. You know the stereotypical flapper dress? With the fringes? That wasn't really a thing. The style was slim, dropped waist, and no curves. The clothes weren't heavily tailored and just draped over the body like a potato sack. Fringes happened occasionally, but not often. More common was beading, pleats, tiers, and ruffles. The skirts were shorter than in previous generations, but they were still below the knee. Sometimes the stockings would be rolled down so the edge was visible--Scandalous!

While I appreciate the body diversity with Mimzy, she is honestly not an ideal choice to show off 1920s fashion. Plus sized women would utilize vertical lines to help create the illusion of thinness. So I changed canon Mimzy's film strip motif and made it vertical instead. Historically, the top would not be so form fitting, but I'm claiming that modern influences got to her a little bit. But in her human design I'm claiming it's just stylized.

The stereotypical flapper dress better resembles showgirls and lingerie, imo. Not entirely sure what to think of that, but there it is.

Makeup--There are two makeup styles to go over. Regular and movies.

Regular is fairly straight forward. Pale skin. Black eyeshadow(or a color that matched the eyes). Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that look kinda sad. Lips with an emphasized cupid's bow. Rosy blush on the center of the cheeks.

Movie makeup: I went down a rabbit hole with this topic. It gets pretty interesting, but I am simplifying a lot. I also only know the basics.

The 20s was a transition period of the types of film used. There was the older orthochromatic/blue-sensitive film, which struggled to pick up warmer colors. Reds ended up darker than they really were, and tended to emphasize facial blemishes. This was counteracted by lighting and makeup. They used Arc lights, which gave off a blue-green light, were noisy, and hard on the actor's eyes.

The idea was basically to wash everything in blue light, to counter any reds present. Then they just had to worry about values. White or creme makeup was used to even out the skin tone (At least for white people, didn't find anything for other skin tones, but I imagine the basic idea would be similar). Then dark blues were used to contour the face, enhance definition/contrast, and mimic blush. Light blues would act as highlights. The lips would vary based on if you wanted a natural look or not. Greens and yellows could get a natural to dark lipstick appearance. If red was used, it could only get a dark lipstick look. Overall, the actors would have looked pretty weird.

If regular makeup colors were used, then everything would end up looking too dark.

Panchromatic film started becoming more widespread by the late 1920s. It had a wider range of sensitivity(but was still more blue sensitive than the human eye, which is more yellow sensitive. Reds were difficult for film even into the 21st century. That could lead me into a tangent about the Raimi Spiderman films, but I'll hold it in). They were able to switch to incandescent lighting, which were quieter(important for the rise of "talkies") and easier to maintain. The way makeup was previously used in movies was essentially invalidated.

(Below)I'm not sure what type of film the left side was designed for exactly, possibly panchromatic(because the green and purple is an interesting choice) or early color. But the right side is for blue-sensitive films.

I guess I bring this up because it's interesting, and helps me justify her blue-green color scheme.

I think that's everything relevant.

(edit notes will go here if needed)

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay you said you like angst so a ominis x mc x sebastian where she ends up breaking down because to pick one would be to hurt the other and neither deserves that. they both have been through so much

An Impossible Choice | Sebastian x Reader x Ominis

UGH okay this was TOUGH, so many directions I could have taken this, but I think it turned out good (and angsty ahah) enjoy!!

Words: ~2,800

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, Hurt/No Comfort

You never expected to find yourself here—trapped between two people who mean the world to you, each step forward feeling like a betrayal of the other. But lately, that’s all your friendship with Sebastian and Ominis has felt like: a careful balancing act, an impossible equation with no solution.

The three of you have been inseparable since fifth year, bound by shared secrets, whispered laughter in candlelit corridors, and the safety of knowing that, no matter what, you’d always have each other. But something changed. And you don’t know when, or how, or why, only that the weight of it presses down on you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs.

It’s in the way Sebastian’s gaze lingers too long when you speak, as if memorizing the shape of your lips. It’s in the way Ominis’s voice softens when he says your name, something reverent and unspoken curling around the syllables. It’s in the sharpness of Sebastian’s posture whenever Ominis leans too close, the flicker of something dangerous in his brown eyes. And it’s in the way Ominis stiffens when Sebastian’s hand brushes yours, his grip tightening on his wand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Neither of them has said anything outright, but they don’t have to. You feel it in every stolen glance, every tense silence. And the worst part is, you love them both.

Not in the way a friend loves, but in the way that keeps you up at night, staring at the ceiling, your heart aching with the knowledge that no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

So you try to ignore it.

You pretend that everything is fine, that nothing has changed, even as the moments between you grow heavier, thick with things unsaid. But ignoring it doesn’t stop the way your stomach knots whenever Sebastian throws an arm around your shoulders, his touch possessive in a way that makes your skin burn. It doesn’t stop the way your breath catches when Ominis murmurs your name, tilting his head toward you as if you’re the only thing in the world worth listening to. It doesn’t stop the guilt that coils inside you like a living thing, twisting and writhing every time you laugh too easily with one of them while the other watches in silence.

You tell yourself it will pass—that they’ll move on, that you’ll somehow find your way back to the friendship you once had. But deep down, you know better.

Because you can feel it. The tension, the inevitable breaking point, pressing against your ribs like a warning as you sit between them, a book open on your lap. You haven’t turned a page in ages—not with the way Sebastian and Ominis keep shifting, the air between them drawn tight as a bowstring, poised to snap.

They’ve been like this all night. Every glance between them is sharp-edged, every word that passes their lips too carefully measured. It’s not a fight. Not yet. But it’s something close, something simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the wrong word, the wrong move, to send it all spilling over.

You pretend not to notice. You keep your eyes on the book, fingers gripping the pages a little too tightly. If you acknowledge it, if you so much as breathe wrong, everything will collapse.

Then Sebastian shifts beside you, leaning in, his arm brushing yours as he points at a passage in the book.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for minutes,” he murmurs, voice low, amused. “Need me to read it for you?”

You barely have time to react before Ominis snaps.

“Do you ever give her any space?”

The words lash through the air, cold and cutting. Sebastian stills, his expression darkening as he turns to face Ominis.

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Ominis lets out a humorless laugh, standing to his full height. “Is you, Sebastian. You can’t go five bloody minutes without draping yourself over her like she belongs to you.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenches. “And you can’t go two bloody minutes without acting like you know what’s best for her.”

Ominis scoffs. “Someone has to.”

It’s spiraling too fast. You sit up straighter, reaching out. “Can we not—”

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy hovering, you’d realize she doesn’t need you to control everything she does,” Sebastian bites out, ignoring you entirely.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Ominis sneers as he gets to his feet. “Coming from you. The man who never knows when to stop.”

Sebastian’s hands curl into fists. “You want to say that again?”

“I’d love to.” Ominis tilts his head, voice sharp as glass. “You’ve always been selfish, Sebastian. Always taking, never thinking. And now you can’t stand the idea that you might not be the only one she cares about.”

Sebastian rises, and for a moment, you think he might actually swing at Ominis. You shove yourself up between them, pressing a hand to each of their chests.

“Enough,” you say, breathless, desperate. “Both of you. Just—stop.”

But neither of them are looking at you. They’re locked onto each other, eyes burning with something raw, something ugly, something that has been coming for a long time, creeping in at the edges of their friendship, poisoning it from the inside out.

And you? You’re the catalyst. The excuse they need to finally let it all unravel.

The thought makes you sick.

“You really think you’re the better man, Ominis? That you’re any less selfish?” Sebastian laughs. “At least I don’t hide behind self-righteous bullshit and pretend I don’t want her.”

Ominis' expression flickers—just for a second—but the crack is there, sharp as a splinter. His lips part, then press into a thin line as if he’s forcing something down, something dangerous. When he speaks, his voice is quieter now, but no less venomous.

“And yet, you act as though she’s already yours.” His head tilts, eerily precise. “Like you have some unspoken claim on her.”

Sebastian’s laughter is sharp, humorless. “Oh, I’m sorry—am I supposed to sit back and watch while you play the noble, brooding protector? While you pretend you aren’t thinking the same damn things I am?” He steps closer, pressing up against your hand. “At least I’m honest about it.”

“This isn’t a competition,” you snap, your voice cutting through the rising tension. “I’m not—”

But Ominis speaks over you, his voice razor-sharp. “Honest?” He laughs, a brittle, scathing sound. “You think she doesn’t see through you, Sebastian? That she doesn’t know how you manipulate everyone around you when you don’t get your way?”

Sebastian’s eyes darken. “And what about you? Hm? You stand there, acting like you have some moral high ground, pretending you’re her protector, her friend—but you’re nothing more than a coward. At least I have the nerve to fight for what I want.”

Ominis’ lips curl, but there’s something restrained in his stance, something barely held back. His next words come slow, deliberate. “No, Sebastian. You don’t fight for what you want. You take. You push. And you never think about the consequences.”

Sebastian scoffs, stepping even closer, his breath warm against your skin as he looms just inches from Ominis now. “You’re so full of shit.”

Ominis doesn’t flinch, but you feel it—the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his throat bobs, the sharp intake of breath like he’s fighting to hold something down.

“Tell me,” Ominis says suddenly, turning toward you. His voice isn’t cruel, but it’s raw, pained. “Are you just going to stand there and

let him decide everything for you? Let him pull you into whatever game he’s playing?” His head tilts, the weight of his words pressing into you, sharp and insistent. “Or do you have something to say?”

Sebastian’s hand twitches at his side. “Don’t put this on her.”

“I’m not putting anything on her,” Ominis counters, voice low, controlled—but there’s something beneath it, something breaking. “I’m giving her the chance to speak for herself. Which is more than you’ve ever done.”

The air is thick with tension, suffocating. Your heart pounds against your ribs, loud enough that you swear they must hear it, too. Your mouth feels dry, your fingers curled into fists at your sides as their gazes burn into you from both angles.

And the truth is—you don’t know what to say.

Because every word you could give them feels like a betrayal to one of them. Every choice, every step, every breath feels like tipping the scales in a way you can’t undo.

Sebastian’s eyes are locked onto yours now, something desperate, something pleading flickering behind the frustration in his gaze. “Just tell him,” he murmurs, voice softer now, edged with something dangerously close to vulnerability. “Tell him that you—”

“Don’t,” Ominis interrupts, and his expression is unreadable, his hands trembling just slightly at his sides. “Don’t try to put words in her mouth.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of both of them, the history, the heartbreak that you haven’t even let yourself acknowledge until now. This is it. The moment where everything shatters.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

It’s barely a sound, but it’s enough.

Sebastian’s face falls, just slightly, just enough for you to see the hurt flash through his features before he masks it behind a clenched jaw. Ominis exhales sharply, sounding almost relieved, before he schools his expression into something carefully composed. His shoulders loosen, and there’s the briefest flicker of something in his posture—hope, maybe, or something close to it.

Before you can speak, Sebastian brushes past you, his hand shooting out to grip the front of Ominis’s shirt.

“Don’t look so fucking smug,” Sebastian snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “She hasn’t said anything yet.”

Ominis doesn’t flinch. He stands his ground, lips pressed together in a thin, unreadable line. His hands remain at his sides, but you see the faintest tremor in his fingers. His voice, however, is steady when he replies.

“Does it scare you, Sebastian?” he murmurs, his head tilting just slightly. “The idea that, maybe, for once, you’re not the only one who matters?”

Sebastian’s grip tightens on Ominis’s shirt, and for a moment, neither of them moves. The air is taut, stretched thin like a wire about to snap. Ominis is taller, his presence sharp and imposing, but Sebastian is the one with strength on his side, his stance coiled tight like a drawn bowstring.

“Say that again,” Sebastian growls, his voice dropping even lower, roughened by barely restrained fury.

Ominis doesn’t hesitate. “You heard me.”

And then, to your horror, Ominis reaches for Sebastian’s shirt in return. His fingers, slender but firm, curl into the fabric, mirroring the grip Sebastian has on him. It’s not quite a shove, but the tension between them spikes, raw and volatile. Your breath catches, panic clawing at your chest.

“Ominis,” you breathe, stepping forward, but neither of them acknowledges you.

Sebastian’s fingers flex against Ominis’s collar, his jaw locked tight. “You think this is about me?” he spits. “You think I don’t care what she wants?”

“Do you?” Ominis presses. His grip tightens. “Because all I’ve ever seen you do is pull and pull and pull until she’s too caught up in your orbit to break free.”

Sebastian’s whole body goes rigid, like Ominis just landed a direct hit where it hurts most. You see it in his expression—that flicker of something deep and wounded before it twists into anger.

“She’s not yours to defend, Ominis,” Sebastian bites out, voice shaking with barely contained frustration. “And she’s sure as hell not yours to decide for.”

“And yet, here you are,” Ominis returns, unyielding. “Acting like the only person who gets to have a say is you.”

The muscles in Sebastian’s arms flex, his fingers trembling against the fabric of Ominis’s shirt, as though he’s on the verge of pushing, of shoving, of—

“Stop it!”

Your voice cuts through the space between them, raw and desperate.

They freeze.

The silence that follows is deafening.

You take a step back, breath shuddering, hands curling into fists at your sides. You feel the heat rising up your throat, the sharp sting of frustration prickling behind your eyes.

"You—" Your voice shakes with something raw, something close to fury. "Do either of you even hear yourselves right now?"

Sebastian's gaze snaps to you, still burning with frustration, but something else flickers beneath it—something hesitant.

Ominis’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

"You’re both acting like children," you spit, your voice rising. "Like this is some petty fight over who gets the last fucking piece of cake instead of a real, human person standing right in front of you!"

Sebastian tenses. "That’s not—"

"Don’t," you snap, cutting him off, chest heaving. "Don’t you dare try telling me this isn’t exactly what it looks like. Like I haven’t just stood here and listened to you two rip each other apart over me."

You shake your head, anger curling hot in your chest, almost unbearable. "Neither of you are fucking listening. Neither of you are stopping for one second to actually ask me what I want. You’re both just deciding, making assumptions, thinking you know what’s best, thinking you have any right to—"

Your voice catches, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

"Did it ever occur to you—either of you—that if you wanted to know how I felt, you could have just asked?! And if you had, then you'd know—" You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You'd know I can't choose!"

The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel the weight of them settle into the space between you. You don't even know if you mean won’t or can’t. You just know it’s the truth, and you want them to hear it, to feel it, to finally understand the weight they’ve been forcing you to carry.

Sebastian’s mouth opens, but you cut him off before he can even start.

"Because if you had asked," Your voice wavers, and you hate it, hate the way your throat tightens, the way tears burn at the edges of your vision. "You’d know that every time I’m with one of you, I feel like I’m hurting the other. That my heart is breaking constantly because I see it, I see the way it destroys you both. And I don’t know how to fix it."

Your breath is unsteady, fists clenching at your sides. "You think this is easy for me? That I like feeling like I’m being torn in two? Like no matter what I do, I’m going to end up hurting someone I love?"

You shake your head, feeling heat creep up your neck, anger and grief colliding in a whirlwind you can’t stop. "I am so tired. Tired of feeling guilty just for existing in the space between you. Tired of knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough for either of you because you both want me to be something I can’t be!"

The silence is suffocating, but you don’t stop.

"You think he pulls me into his orbit?" you snap at Ominis, eyes blazing. "Then what the hell do you think you do? You sit there, self-righteous and brooding, waiting for me to prove something to you, like I have to earn your permission to exist between the two of you!"

Ominis swallows hard, and for finally, his composure cracks.

"And you," you turn on Sebastian, breathing hard. "You think he’s the only one who makes decisions for me? You do it all the time. You assume what I want, what I need, what I’m thinking, and you don’t even ask before making a choice for me!"

Sebastian’s expression shatters, his hands flexing like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t dare.

You take a step back, throat thick with everything you’ve held inside for too long. "You both act like you know what’s best for me. But you never once stopped to listen—to really listen—to me."

The words hang heavy between you, and in their silence, you finally hear it. The sound of your own breaking heart.

You exhale shakily, swallowing hard before whispering, "I love you both."

Sebastian lets out a quiet, almost pained breath. Ominis turns his face slightly away, as if the words physically struck him.

"And I hate it," you continue, voice barely above a whisper. "I hate that it’s not enough. That no matter how much I love you both, it's destined to end like this. With fighting. With pain. With one of you walking away while the other pretends they’ve won something."

A pause. A silence so thick it almost drowns you.

And then you take another step back.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Sebastian inhales sharply. Ominis’s hands twitch.

You shake your head one last time, voice hoarse, empty. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t put me in this position at all."

With that, you turn and walk away.

[from-the-owls-nest]

Well... It's your life. and your personality. so nobody gets to tell you or to decide how they want you to be. They can share how they see you, how they've experienced you, and you get to decide if that still fits, or maybe later again, or if that's a Past You thing, or if you just don't know yet. Transformations and Changes and not knowing are human. And people who love you will love you however you are and want you to be happy over keeping any image they built up of you intact and forcing you into it. *cough* my parents

Also: who someone is has so many different parts. things they like, things they're good at, things they do a lot, things they want to do, traits, memories. There's not one thing that defines all of you. And if something changes or goes missing - sometimes things are just behind a cloud, or like hibernating, and come back when there's space for them, like that or in a different form.

And the other thing... Well. Uh. I don't know what future you will think. I don't know what future me will think. And if I don't know - I try to keep the options open until I maybe will know.

I sorta... this will sound silly. I have an agreement with myself that I'll try to make the best choice with the information I have in a moment, so I dont get to be mad at myself later because I was trying my best. And in retrospect that I try to not make choices future me has to clean up or impacts them badly, especially permanently. Like - it's unfair to future me to give up if good things can still happen, if there's options left to try, and a path to continue on and see if it can get better. I think it'd be more unfair to potential future me and the experiences future me could make if things go well, to destroy them with me ahead of time, before I've tried everything to change and better things, than it is to keep going through the rough times and to keep them around until then or until the criteria have changed.

We'll often also hear to think of others and what you'd do to them and to keep living for others, and - that can be a good reason, but it shouldn't be that guilt trip thing, or make it less of your choice. In the end you gotta decide what feels right to you and what you want. Nobody should make you do something you genuinely fully don't want. Just... remember that you aren't alone, and that there's people who love you and would support you in figuring things out and finding out who you wanna be and what you want life to be like, okay?

(OOC: anyone reading - even if you genuinely feel like theres no hope left, please reach out to a safe person and see if things change with a bit of distance or new options can appear - if it could have been a passing cloud or a storm that will end in time, or something that can be fixed by time or help. uh. before you make choices that cant be taken back and may lead to a lot of suffering. Thanks. And Tumblr please dont get mad at me.)

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | villain!reader, prohero!dynamight.

a.n; a bit of context for this little idea i had yesterday (LINK HERE). 😉🌟should i make it a serie?? 👀

The war lasted years. Years that brought not only destruction but losses that hurt deep in the soul. Years in which the whole world changed, including people. Deaths, injuries, betrayals. Wins and loses.

It took years to bring Shigaraki and his whole team down, but once it was done, Bakugou remembers clearly turning toward his best friend, Izuku, and hugging him so tight.

None of them will admit it, or at least Katsuki won't, but they both cried in that embrace.

Bakugou also remembers you.

You, who once used to fight alongside him and the rest of his hero friends. You, who knew them all from your first year at UA, because you had also been a classmate. You, who had shared laughs, cries, and many moments with them. You, who chose to betray them all and turn to Shigaraki's side.

He still remembers when it happened.

You had been right by his side; actually, back-to-back covering for him in the middle of a fight. Suddenly, the sun was clouded, leaving a gloomy and terrifying tension in the air.

"Enough!" A deep male voice roared, making everyone silent, heroes and villains alike. Bakugou felt your body tensing, and he immediately knew something was wrong.

"Y/N, stop this nonsense right now."

Bakugou turned and saw you looking straight ahead towards the voice. Your chest raised and lowered rapidly thanks to your breathing, he didn't know if it was because of the fight you both had recently been in or because you were afraid.

"Come. Now."

Bakugou didn't understand, or maybe he did but he didn't want to. But he definitely felt a sort of heaviness in his chest when he heard you murmur to him "I'm sorry" and walked towards the man.

He tried to stop you by grabbing your wrist, but you never turned to look at him. You simply shook his hand away and walked towards the villain.

"Don't make it any more dramatic, you stupid hero. She has always been one of us." The man smiled devilishly, an arm surrounding your shoulders once you stood by his side.

Bakugou felt like vomiting at that image.

Your betrayal felt heavy on everyone. But especially on Katsuki.

Why? Why did you do it? There had to be a reason behind your actions. You didn't even go willingly, he knew that. He saw it. He knew it had to be under some threat or something.

He just couldn't accept the fact that the only person he had felt any sort of feeling besides annoyance towards, could not be a villain. You were not a villain.

However, that's the title the government sentenced you under after the war. And how everyone saw you. A villain, someone who betrayed them.

You are a villain, who has been sentenced to a whole life in prison after the war was over, alongside many other villains. Many other people who betrayed the hero side too.

Katsuki had been at your trial when the sentence was declared. He and others too. Izuku, Mina, Sero, Ochako, Shoto and Denki. Many were missing, many were dead.

You were standing, the first one in a line of other betrayers, clearly on purpose, just to put more shame on your person for your decisions. And behind you were people like Hawks, Inasa, Koda and Jiro, among others. A system of anti-Quirk chains connecting all of you by the ankles and wrists.

"This is... unfair," Round cheeks sighed, eyes glossy, watching the people they knew. Or used to know.

Several mmhs agreed with her. Including Katsuki.

Call him biased, he'll fucking blast you to pieces, but he was sure you didn't have a choice. Something happened that made you turn, and he was going to fucking find out what happened.

Even if after the judge read your crimes and asked you how pleaded yourself and you simply said, "guilty", with a raspy, clearly hurting voice, yet your stance was neutral, cold even.

Bakugou Katsuki didn't believe it for one second.

He kicked away an empty cardboard box that was on the ground, clearly showing his anger, as everyone walked out of the courtroom.

"This is bullshit," Sero groaned, pissed off too.

"There's something we could do," Mina declared firmly, making everyone turn around to her as she was the last one leaving the room. "Follow me."

They were all standing outside now, in an adjacent alley from the Court of Law where the sentence had been made.

"Spill it." They were all alone now, no media, no civilians.

"Yeah, what did you mean, Mina?" Ochako took a step closer to her friend, clearly anxious.

"I heard this from lawyers yesterday at the girls' restroom in the CoL. They didn't know I was there too, so they were talking freely. One of them said that she was surprised no one mentioned one of the protections of one specific law regarding certain cases. Cases where heroes are undercover, where they have to join villains."

Katsuki took a step closer, full attention to what Mina was saying. All of them were paying attention.

"They said that probably that law wasn't brought into the defense because they have no defense. They are just taking the blame for the war because that's what the government wants. Someone to point at, someone to blame."

"Fucking pieces of shit."

"Oh my God, that's horrible!" Ochako cried, hugging herself.

"I understand it now. It's perfect for them. They once fought alongside us, but then they turned, probably under government directions to play undercover. And now they are taking the blame because there isn't enough evidence that can help them, that says the contrary. Or they don’t want to show it." Izuku analyzed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows frowning in thought, clearly activating his "nerd mode".

"Well, that would apply to some of them," Denki said, the anger clear in every feature of his.

"What does that mean?" Sero asked, but he didn’t seem confused. More like, indignation making its way into him.

"Please. We all clearly know who I'm talking about." 

All eyes traveled to Katsuki.

"Don't you dare fucking say it."

"Come on, Bakugou! She was right beside you when it happened! Her freaking father called out to her and she went! She fucking chose to turn to their side!"

Before Katsuki even decided to move towards Denki, Izuku and Sero were already holding him back, each one grabbing him by his arms and pushing him away.

“Who do you fucking think you are, huh?! She took a fucking bullet for you, you asshole! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her, that same person you’re fucking accusing-...”

“She still betrayed us! She betrayed YOU.”

A growl left Katsuki’s mouth that could have frightened even All Might in his prime era, followed by a strong push that made Izuku and Sero activate their Quirks to hold their friend back. Uselessly.

But before he could reach where Denki was waiting for him, already electricity dancing around him, Mina stood right in between them, making Bakugou abruptly stop in his run in front of her.

“Cut it out! Both of you!” She yelled, “This is not the moment for this!” She told them off, scowling at each of them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Denki, but if this is about Jiro,” Mina’s voice trembled, clearly upset about recognizing another of her dear friends who betrayed them. Denki’s hands closed in fists tightly, just like his eyes, as if the name physically injured him, “it’s the same as Y/N…”

“No, it’s not! She didn’t have another choice!”

“And what the fuck makes you think Y/N did?!” Katsuki yelled back.

“She walked away willingly!”

“Jiro did too!”

“I said, enough! Stop yelling!” Mina interfered again, “We are not going to do what everyone else is doing. We are not blaming our friends if we don’t know exactly what happened.”

“The only way to know is if we try to contact them, and all sorts of communications are restricted,” Ochako offered sadly.

Mina nodded, “If you all are done yelling, I was about to tell you guys how we can get them out of there.”

Bakugou buffed one last time, feeling Izuku’s hand on his bicep, pulling him away softly. The message was clear, “stand down, Kacchan, and calm down”. He took a deep breath and let Izuku drag him a few steps back.

Everyone’s attention was back on Mina, as she explained in good detail what they were going to do.

a.n; just so everyone is aware, i do NOT make taglists. sorry. don't hate me, please🥺

[shewhofightswithswords]

You're acting like laying something legal suddenly makes everyone chill with it. These games have always had an MC that exists within the world, dealing with all of these issues in real time, until now. Now you have Rook, who skates across the surface of everything, regardless of your background choices. There is no actual indication that ANY of this hardship is affecting anyone; you have no say or opinion in anything and nothing you do changes anything anywhere but you're immediate circle. You get 3-5 bits of dialogue alluding to all of the things you're talking about and that's it.

If I wanted to play a game where my character hangs out and listens to what is going on in the world without any sort of measurable stake in it, I wouldn't pick a Dragon Age game. But here we are.

We haven't even talked about the issues with the Dalish in this game.

Veilguard did not allow us to explore the darkness in the world of Thedas and it didn't give us the agency to make a choice to change things and follow through. If that didn't suck for your, then I guess we can agree to disagree.

Is this a safe space to—HA. HAHAHA. (I'm well aware it isn't but I'm going to share my opinion regardless.)

I think there is a significant correlation between people who are mad at Dragon Age: The Veilguard's queer representation being "too in your face" and "not fantasy immersive enough" or whatever, and people who play Baldur's Gate 3 and other queer RPGs, pretending the queerness doesn't exist.

This is not dissing BG3; lord knows I'm in love with that game. I'm just pointing out that it is entirely possible to go through it and pretty easily ignore its queerness if you're an asshole set on doing so. You cannot do that with DATV. And I think that's why Taash especially gets the brunt of the bullshit reactions, because them being non-binary is such a core part of who they are, it is is unavoidable.

So, yeah. I like the overt queerness. As far as I'm concerned, that's one of the best things about DATV.

[604to647]

Take It Off (a Strawberry Shortcake Super Bowl drabble)

1K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You host Frankie and the TF boys for The Big Game and are given a choice of which team's jersey to wear.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, nicknames per usual (Shortcake, baby), oral (f!receiving), fingering, wee bit o' dirty talk, one (1) "daddy". Taylor Swift songs.

A/N: I cannot express just how much I do not care about The Big Game 😂, but just like last year, I wrote a Super Bowl drabble while the family watches football 🤗 This is our Strawberry Shortcake couple, but you don't have to read it (all you need to know is that Valentina is Frankie's daughter, Raynor is Reader's son and they're best friends). Apologies for this being barely edited - I'm trying to feign some interest as to what's happening on the field 🤭 Go Sports!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

🎶So take a look what you've done

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)🎶

Giggling, hands still soapy, you lean away from the kitchen sink so you can watch the musical performance taking place in your living room. 

Frankie and his friends are watching Superbowl LIX at your house, and Uncles Santi, Will and Benny have been doing an admirable job entertaining two overly excited six-year-olds during the pre-game.  First up: the Puppy Bowl; cute, but the show inspired increasingly desperate, renewed pleas from Valentina for a dog.  When Raynor threw in his own puppy dog eyes to aid his best friend, Frankie, knowing he was in danger, had to hastily switch the channel.  After that came a rousing American football lesson using toys found around your living room – the whole thing almost ended up in a Miller brothers fight when Will’s Lego Elsa quarterback got sacked by Benny’s Beyblade before his Jellycat offensive linemen were set up.

The remedy was an impromptu Taylor Swift concert, with each Delta Force boy headlining his Era of choice - Raynor and Valentina their enthusiastic backup dancers.  Right now, Uncle Santi is in his 1989 era, twirling the kids around your living room with aplomb.

“You’re driving me crazy with that jersey, Shortcake,” growls the dangerous baritone kissing down the back of your neck.

Turning back to the dishes you want to get done before the game, you chuckle. Frankie looks more than adorable, pouting in his team colours, decked out in Chief’s gear – even his usual Standard Oil cap has been replaced by a bright red snapback.  Showing up with a coordinating Santi and Valentina, he brought both you and your son matching jerseys; Raynor donned his happily, eager to match with his best friend.  You on the other hand, are wearing a green Eagles jersey, matching the ones Benny and Will have on; with very little interest in the NFL, and even less loyalty to any particular team – you couldn’t say no to Benny when he held out the Philadelphia gear, pouting about being outnumbered.  The apologetic look you gave Frankie as you slipped into the green top did not prevent him from shooting back a (somewhat) joking look of disgust.

Frankie’s hands grip your hips, tightening over the jersey material as if to change its colours through force; playfully you wiggle back into his hold, “Maybe that’s why I agreed to wear it, Francisco.  So you’d rip it off of me later.”

“You’re trouble, baby.”

As if on cue, Will’s Red Era warble screeches into the kitchen:

🎶I knew you were trouble when you walked in

So, shame on me now🎶

Laughing, Frankie helps you with the dishes, the two of you finish in time to give Will and the kids a well-deserved round of applause as they close out the song, belting 🎶TROUBLE🎶 in canon.

“Going outside to throw the ole pigskin around before the game,” chirps Benny, tossing the football to Santi before scooping up a kid under each arm and heading for your backyard to a chorus of masculine whoops and high pitched first grader squeals and giggles.

“Not you, Trouble,” a hand pulls you back and towards your bedroom.

“Frankie!” you gasp, flushed and squirming when that same hand pushes you onto your bed after locking the door.

“Forget later, you’re gonna take that damn jersey off NOW,” snarls Frankie, dropping unceremoniously to his knees, bear paw hands roughly pulling down your leggings along with your underwear – he helps you kick them off before using those same big mitts to spread you wide.

The last thing you hear before throwing your head back against your mattress in a pleasure-soaked whine is something about how this cunt is the tastiest thing on tonight’s menu.

Frankie slurps and laps at your pussy like a man possessed, as if ravaging your cunt is his own personal contribution to his favourite team’s chances of winning tonight.  You try to muffle your cries of ecstasy as your boyfriend positively feasts, talented tongue dancing and dipping between your folds, face fully buried in his own personal heaven.  When two thick fingers breach your entrance and curl, you’re already closer that you thought possible – panting, you knock the red cap off Frankie’s head and fist his soft brown curls, “Frankie!  Fuck, baby… I’m so close!  Please, I’m so cl-“

The bastard slows down and pulls his mouth away.

Your head snaps up, death glare that could make a pro linebacker quake in his cleats aimed at the man between your legs.

“Say you’ll take off the Eagles jersey…”

“Francisco!!”

“… and wear MY jersey and I’ll let you come, Shortcake.”

Desperate, you nod frantically at the man who’s still sawing his fingers in and out of your cunt at an agonizing slow pace, “Yes, daddy, anything you say.”

“Good girl,” Frankie purrs as he resumes his previous pace, hefty digits thrusting through the glide of your dripping arousal – your body arches as you’re thrown back onto your bed with the force of Frankie’s conquest.  Strong aquiline nose nuzzling your throbbing clit, Frankie chuckles low at your mindless whinnying; he lays a soft, pitying kiss to your crying nub before latching on and sucking. 

You explode.

---

When the kids, Santi, Will and Benny come back in for kick-off, you’re just tipping a Wing Pit bucket of wings onto a plate to add to the spread – now wearing a bright red jersey.

“Awww, no fair,” whines Benny, grabbing a plate to load up, “you changed.”

“Sorry, Ben,” you grin with a happy shrug, “Frankie convinced me.”  Frankie stands right behind you, arm wrapped possessively around your waist, one large hand splayed wide over the bright Chiefs colours you’re now sporting, the other holding a chicken drumette – his BBQ-stained mouth stretched wide with a shit-eating grin.

Will walks by on his way to the pizza boxes, hand coming up to smack Frankie on the head, “Cripes, Fish – you’re such a messy eater.” You nearly drop the bowl of dip you’re holding as you choke at Will’s words and Frankie’s belly shaking laugh of a response, “Can’t help it, menu’s tasty tonight.”

Thank you for reading! If you like stories where Pbois eat out their ladies while professional sports is being played, perhaps you may enjoy Hat Trick Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🏒🤭