#drew this in like 3 hours and i kind of hate it now but it's FINE we're GOOD

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[sam-txt]

but alas i was no swimmer / so i lost my clementine

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

ᴇx ᴘᴛ 2 ﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader, exes to lovers

summary: based off of ex by stray kids

tags/warnings: angsty, bittersweet, slow heartbreak, quiet pain, two povs, not fully proofread.

a/n: hi guys my girlfriend bullied me into releasing something 😔 to those who know what other stuff i have in my drafts, i will be gatekeeping for a bit longer! they will be released soon, promisepromisepromise <33 love you all!! (this post has been scheduled.)

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

masterlist!

You didn’t expect him to text.

Not anymore.

Not after the silence you both buried each other in; the kind that doesn’t echo, because there’s nothing left to bounce off of. Just distance. Time. Regret.

But there it is, a quiet buzz on your nightstand. 1:13 a.m. minho:

i heard that song again. the one you hated. couldn’t skip it.

You stare at the message like it’s a ghost.

Because part of you, the part still bruised, wants to ignore it. Let it sit there like the unsaid things between you. But the other part, the quieter one, wants to know why now. Why at all.

You don’t think too hard before replying.

i never hated it. i just hated what it started to remind me of.

You almost regret it as soon as you hit send.

But he responds almost immediately.

yeah. me too.

The next few days are cautious.

He doesn’t bombard you with long messages or desperate apologies. Just small things.

A TikTok that made him think of you.

A photo of your favorite café’s new menu, with a quiet “thought you’d want to see.”

It’s not loud... but it’s him.

And that makes it harder.

Because you still don’t know what this is.

And you’re scared to hope.

One evening, he asks if you’re free.

Not to meet-- just to talk.

No pressure.

You agree, even though your heart’s pounding like it doesn’t trust you.

You sit on your bed, knees pulled to your chest, the phone warm against your ear.

“Hi,” he says.

His voice is hesitant. Rough. Like he hasn’t used it much lately.

“Hi.”

You both pause.

Not because there’s nothing to say.

But because too much wants to come out at once.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” he finally says.

You swallow. “Yeah?”

“I think I messed up.”

You close your eyes. Let the ache settle somewhere just under your ribs.

“We both did.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then:

“I didn’t know how to love you without feeling like I’d ruin it. So I held back. And then I hurt you anyway.”

You don’t say anything for a while.

Because he’s right.

And that honesty? It cuts deep.

“I thought if I left first, it’d hurt less,” you whisper.

“Did it?”

You laugh, and it's bitter, tired. “Not even a little.”

You stay on the phone for hours after that.

Not fixing everything.

Not pretending the cracks aren’t there.

But you talk about the things you never said before.

How you both stopped trying near the end.

How you didn’t feel chosen.

How he didn’t feel understood.

How you both hurt each other in ways you couldn’t admit until now.

By the time the sun starts bleeding into the sky, you’re both silent again, but it’s a different kind of quiet.

One that feels like a beginning.

Or at least the start of one.

Over the next few weeks, it becomes a rhythm.

Late-night calls.

Midday texts.

Running into him at the bookstore you both used to haunt like ghosts of your old selves.

He’s softer now.

Still sarcastic. Still Minho.

But there’s a gentleness to him that wasn’t there before. Like he knows what it means to lose you, and he’s scared of doing it again.

And you?

You’re healing, too.

Learning to let go of the way things ended.

Not forgetting. But forgiving.

Slowly.

Then one night, he asks.

“Can I see you?”

You hesitate.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because seeing him means facing everything again, this time with your eyes open.

Still, you say yes.

And when you meet in the same café where he once drew hearts in your latte foam, he looks up like he’s scared you won’t show.

You sit across from him.

He smiles. Soft, uncertain.

And you realize something.

You’re not where you were.

But maybe you’re not done, either.

Maybe love, when real, doesn’t always end.

Sometimes… it just needs to start over.

hope yall enjoyed!! <33

todays playlist...

beautiful by bazzi, pierrot by le sserafim, truman by han and felix, really like you by babymonster, thank u by ive, big energy by latto, blue by yung kai, drip by babymonster, bad decisions by bts, sticky by kiss of life, roses by outkast, love countdown by nayeon and wonstein, someone to call my lover by janet jackson, new jeans by newjeans, stereotype by stayc, mixtape: gone days by stray kids, otw by khalid, ready for love by blackpink, nxde by i-dle, fairy of shampoo by txt, candy store from heathers

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas @jisunggy @me-on-a-archive @hyunjiiza @hvseunq143 @highway-143 @hyuneskkami

[dulmetra]

Your own AU? Do tell some more about it. Also we're all pretty happy to wait for your art, no worries about it at all, great art takes time U_U Thank you for the great food you always provide for us mortals, your Tom is extremely inspiring! Also I love your art process, wonderful to see a pretty sketch turn into a finished masterpiece (seriously, the way you render clothes and hair is so delicious, I could stare for hours). I KNEEL

Yes! My own AU.

It’s been four months, but I had to do some illustrations! I’m so sorry, really. I hate being this slow.

All of them are silly and cartoony, because let’s be real — if I tried to fully color them, I’d die of old age before finishing even one 😩

Besides, cartoons are way better for expressions, and I want my AU to lean heavily into humor. Ideally, I’m aiming for a dramedy with a generous helping of dark humor. Definitely not PG. The rating was inevitable — the main character is YoU kNoW wHo, after all! Honestly, this story will probably collect most of the AO3 warnings like Infinity Stones… and yet yes — it’s still a comedy. Somehow.

Now to the premise!

I won’t pretend it’s original. Probably you've read parts of the same idea in one fanfic or another. But I want to resurrect diary Riddle right after Chamber of Secrets and drop his self-absorbed ass smack into the Golden Trio’s orbit.

How did this even happen?

Well… thanks to Professor Dumbledore’s "brilliant" idea — which, mind you, was meant to go in a completely different direction — we now have… Thomas 😅

And just like that, Tom found himself in 1993, babysitting the most chaotic three little gremlins Hogwarts has to offer.

I drew a few of their interactions:

Truth be told, there's so much potential here my head is about to explode. And it’s not just the Trio. There’s a whole bunch of other characters to throw into the chaos — Ginny, Malfoy, Slytherins, the professors, Snape, McGonagall… and Albus, obviously.

A few spicy facts to consider:

1. The original Voldemort is still alive.

Yep. In my AU, there are two of them. Imagine Voldemort’s face when he finds out one of his Horcruxes has gone rogue lol

2. I’m convinced Dumbledore would’ve dragged Slughorn back to Hogwarts early

— purely so Tom would have at least one familiar face from the old days.

3. Nagini.

She’s an entire storyline by herself. My plans for her are so big, her ridiculous face has been my profile pic this entire time. And yes, she will be smuggled into Hogwarts. Anything to keep our boy from going full psycho.

4. Time period clash.

Thomas was born in 1926 — and now he’s in the 90s. Sure, the wizarding world isn’t known for being modern, but wait until one of the Trio drags him to actual Muggle London.

5. Yes, he’s overpowered.

Because I’m a weak, shameless simp 😭 BUT! Don’t worry — his powers are severely nerfed by an extensive collection of blood oaths, binding enchantments, curses, and the combined paranoia of Albus, Minerva, and Snape. No one’s letting a murder-happy dark lord just casually stroll around Hogwarts unsupervised!

6. Let’s talk mental stability. Or lack thereof.

Any good Tom-centric fic must address the question: how unhinged is he? And the answer is: completely feral. But that’s the fun part! His redemption arc will be sweet, charming, maybe even heartwarming… until just when you think he’s reformed, he turns around and unleashes a good ol’ blood massacre right before your eyes. Because of course he does. 😒

And that’s basically it!

Thought it will be shorter, but oh well — it is what it is. To be honest, I really want to do something with this idea, but with my current drawing speed, it’s basically a Herculean task. Maybe I’ll alternate between quick, simplified arts from this AU and full-blown illustrations. We’ll have fun with it together 😌🎨

P.S. Dear ariddle-diddle, Thank you so much for all the kind words, the compliments — and for your patience! 🥺 I’m so, so sorry for being slow! And of course, thank you for your question, too!

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/783371904532807680/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs783124392940126208

CRAZY CLIFFHANGER 😞 WHAT HAPPENSSS

part 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what we've all been waiting for!!!!!! get ready. last part soon

au masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 6

"hey," gabe managed, his voice disrupting the eerie silence around them. when their gazes met it felt like time stopped. neither of them had seen one another since gabe left for new hampshire a few weeks ago and now they stood feet apart teetering on a dangerous line with each other.

it felt weird to not just jump into the other's arms like so many times when gabe's gotten back from an away game. emma stared at the boy in front of her like she couldn't actually believe he came.

her heart was racing, but she managed a smile and waved him over. when he sat down on the step she stuffed her hands into her hoodie so he wouldn't see how much she was shaking due to the nerves.

"hey," emma mumbled and it sounded like her voice was echoing because there was no other sound but their breathing.

"hey," gabe said again because he had no idea what to say or where to start. he did not wanna fuck up his one chance to make things right again, so he opted for nothing and let emma lead the conversation since she invited him out.

however, emma was thinking the same thing with nothing to say, so they sat in silence instead. she wouldn't meet his gaze that she could tell was trying to find hers. her eyes locked on the clear sky above them and the faded outlines of downtown in the distance. there was so much to say, but neither of them knew how to say it nor how to begin. the blonde started regretting her rash decision, but she listened to samy’s and drew's voice in her head telling her to hear him out.

"i didn't think you were such a night owl," emma finally broke the painful silence. she still didn't meet his gaze, but she could see him looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"i'm not, really. i kind of just woke up," gabe shrugged a bit.

"so i did wake you up?" he said she didn't.

"i mean..kind of but i've never woken up to texts like that before. it was weird," the hockey player admitted and emma flushed.

"i was really restless and was making rash decisions. sorry i woke you up. i should have waited until like a reasonable time to text."

"don't apologize. i get it. my mind's been racing too," gabe sighed and emma side eyed briefly before he caught her looking.

"big final later?"

"yeah something like that.." maybe he should have just come right out and said he's been thinking about her all week, but gabe hadn't gained that courage yet. he just hoped emma could read between the lines of what he wasn't saying.

she could.

she just didn't know how to say it because it felt like she said everything she needed to. it was on gabe to say what he didn't get to say on that phone call, but she also knew him well enough to know that gabe hated bringing things up first even when he knew he should.

so emma kept talking because it wouldn't go anywhere if she didn’t and maybe she was starting to enjoy his company, "i saw your debut."

gabe's head snapped to hers and emma finally met his gaze.

"you did?"

"the livestream, yeah. it was really cool seeing you on the big stage like that," the blonde managed a tiny smile. that sinking feeling gabe's felt since he came back slowly disappeared hearing the girl say that to him.

even after unintentionally hurting her she still supported him.

god, he fucked up real bad.

"thank you. i-i appreciate it. it was crazy cool. i was super nervous skating out there like that," the new rookie admitted.

"i could kind of tell, but you looked really great out there. you really belong on the ice."

"i love it out there. it's like a second home to me. i can just..forget everything for two hours," gabe found emma's eyes again. they lingered for a bit longer than they should have until she looked away. he frowned and remembered how much hurt he caused still.

"look, i know you don't wanna keep hearing my bullshit, but i'm an idiot for not telling you about all of this. a really huge fucking idiot. i was always so caught up in the moment that every time i thought about telling you, i got scared. i was scared you'd hate me for choosing hockey over school or..thinking i was going too fast..or worse, you'd break up with me because you'd decide you didn't wanna do long distance. i couldn't face that with you or myself, so i just..didn't tell you. i thought i'd man up and tell you before that game, but i never got myself to call you. it's such bullshit, i know, and you have every right to hate me," gabe finally got it out. he didn't look at her as he said it because he couldn't see the hurt on her expression. it'd just make himself even sadder.

emma was silent for a long time. she processed his words, tried staying rational because she knew getting mad like she did on that phone call was not the right thing to do. what samy said had stuck in her mind, "i don't hate you, gabe. i don't think i could ever hate you if i tried."

they met gazes, "you don't?"

"i don't like using the word hate. i'm upset and mad, yeah, but i could never hate you. i shouldn't have said all of those things to you on the phone in the way that i did. i was just..mad and confused..my emotions were talking for me. i should have heard you out more and i'm sorry i acted that way."

"no, no, i deserved it. i was a fucking shitty boyfriend for never talking to you about something that affects both of us. i was shitty for keeping it from you and talking to everyone but you.." gabe argued because if anything he was the bad person here not emma. she had every right to lash out on him like that.

"let's just say there was a lot of things we should have done and said instead on that call. we'll be here all night if we just apologize like that back and forth," the blonde decided and her and gabe apologizing back and forth was not the reason she texted him to meet up and talk. the boy shut his mouth as the silence engulfed them again.

"how long did samy and julianne know?" emma broke the silence and asked the one question she did not want to hear the answer to, but asked anyway.

gabe grimaced, "like..three weeks?" he remembered telling them for sure that he was probably going to sign on after the season was over.

he hated watching the way emma frowned, "and when did you start talking to them about it?"

"probably after new years," gabe's voice was quiet because he knew how bad it sounded to hear that two of the girls emma had insecurities about knew all of this way before her.

"can i ask why it was easier to talk to them than me?"

"em.."

"please tell me, gabe. i love samy and julianne to death and i know they'd never...but you still chose to talk to them over me," her voice broke and so did the hockey player's heart.

"i guess it felt easier? i don't know. it's not an excuse and i'm not trying to make this one, but i guess...i've known samy, julianne, and hannah since i was like..16. we grew up together and..you know i'd never think of any of them that way. samy's like my sister. we fight like siblings, but i go to her not because i don't wanna talk to you, but just..i don't know how to explain it. it's different with them than it is with you..i guess? that sounds bad. i guess simply, i don't need to do anything to impress them or think about what i'm doing with them. i know i don't need to impress you, but i guess i still feel like i need to.." the dark-haired boy trailed off because he definitely was not making sense and he probably sounded like he was making more excuses for himself.

"it's like...this decision i made was one that was going to affect the future of like everything. you are—were..whatever..i want you in my future. if i told you, i worried i would burden you and make you think you suddenly need to change things around to fit into this future and i did not want you to change anything or feel burdened by this decision i was trying to make so i turned to someone who yes, is going to be in my future but wouldn't be burdened by it. it's like..it's like samy talking to ryan or i about things going on in her life before will sometimes. she doesn't wanna burden him with stuff knowing how much he's already got on us plate. it sounds bad and she's working on it, but..you get what i mean? it's not like i was purposefully talking to her to hurt you. i wanted to try and avoid hurting you even though i did anyway.." gabe continued when emma didn't respond.

the blonde stared at him for a long moment, her frown settling into a more straight face as she slowly understood his words.

"i promise samy or any of them have never meant anything to me in that way if that's a worry you still have. sure, maybe when we were like..fourteen and i didn't even know her i just knew she was luke's little sister, but will's like my brother which means samy's a sister to me. although, i do understand why you have the worry and i'm sorry i've made you think otherwise if i ever have. i never meant to."

the boy apologized so much he didn't have anything more to say so he just waited for emma to talk again. the girl looked deep in thought as she processed everything he just said.

"i think because every guy i've dated has always had another girl waiting for him, i've been trained to think it's the case with everyone..i never doubted samy or you..i think i just..my brain likes to jump to the worst, especially dating athletes, sorry. you're nothing like the stereotype though," emma finally said.

"wow, thanks i guess. i try not to be," gabe chuckled and emma let out a small laugh too. "i'm really sorry you've had negative experiences with guys like that. it sucks when they just continuously prove you right and i'm sorry i did too. i never meant to..hurt you in this way."

"the thing is though you proved me wrong. i'm serious about being nothing like your sports' stereotype. you showed up, you texted, you called, you hung out with me even after a long practice...we just..miscommunicated i guess," the blonde frowned again.

"yeah, i guess we did."

"i get making a decision as huge as signing on with a professional team is a huge deal. my brother faced the same decision when choosing a college for swimming and i, unfortunately, had to face the decision of if i wanted to continue swimming into college or not. i know how the feeling is and i know how hard it is. i shouldn't have been so fast to be hard on you about not saying anything. i do get it's a major decision and..i wouldn't have been burdened at all, but i do get it. i didn't tell my brother about quitting until i did it."

"i didn't know you swam too?"

"for a long time, yeah, tyler and i swam together. i quit because i lost the love for it and i didn't wanna put my body through something i wasn't enjoying on a harder level, so yeah, i get it. i didn't or i wasn't thinking that night we called, but i get it now and i am sorry for acting like i didn't and making you feel worse than you already did," emma fiddled with the ends of her sweatshirt. gabe wanted so badly to reach out and bring her into a hug, but he resisted the urge knowing it could ruin everything if he did too soon.

"also samy's a really great person, they all are, and i didn't mean to make something that wasn't ever anything. i was really insecure at first and felt out of place, which you know, but after hanging around them at world juniors and just talking more, i do feel a lot better. it's just my anxieties will fester and create something—"

"hey, hey, hey. you don't have to keep apologizing. i'm sorry for not being more reassuring when i should have or done something to not make you feel the way you did when we were all together. they were my friends and..i'm sorry," gabe cut her off because honestly, he did get it and if it were the other way around, the hockey player knew he'd have the same anxieties.

another silence engulfed them after they both stopped apologizing for everything. this was always the hard part because what happened now?

gabe was leaving in two days. emma didn't know when she'd see him next because she was going home for a little bit and she was still deciding if she wanted to go to the lake house. however, did any of that really matter when all she wanted to do was fall back into the arms of the boy sitting next to her?

no. not really.

"when do you leave again?" emma asked as if she didn't know.

"wednesday at 3. i have a game on thursday at 6," gabe said. it was monday..well tuesday morning. gabe had less than 24 hours left.

it was on the tip of emma's tongue but she just couldn't get it out. she knew she wanted him again, but was that stupid on her part? was she being rash again?

"when do you go home?" the boy asked.

"tyler and i fly home thursday morning."

"what are you doing tomorrow..or later today after 3?" there was no way gabe was letting this go without at least trying to get her back.

luckily, emma was really hoping he'd say something like that.

"nothing. what are you doing?" she raised her eyebrow.

"can i take you on a date?" gabe grinned a bit.

for the first time that night, emma genuinely smiled back, "yeah, i'd love that."

[aryadelvich]

not me saying hurry but disappearing into thin air for hours🤪 thank you for answering and explaining ! <3 i think my request fits as fluffy..

.where i live it's very common to go to the beach (especially couples. it would b the equivalent of dinner & movies) however, i don't feel comfortable with my body, i have some “war marks”, so for me, going to the beach is something out of my reality.

so, a reader like that but how she and Luigi would go together. like, how would he encourage her to go, to wear a bikini? would he feel embarrassed if she chose to wear those clothes that cover the whole body? would he feel embarrassed about getting stares from people? would he feel so ashamed that he ignored her, like, "disguising" that they're a couple?

thank you again for answering and i'm sorry if it's too sensitive :s 🤍

God bless you and your kindness! ♥️ 💚

Hiii Anon! Hope you’re doing well!!!

When I first read your request, I wasn’t sure what exactly you meant by “war scars,” but I figured you might be referring to the S-word. So I went with that interpretation, hope I got it right!!!

Here’s the fluff, I really hope it resonates with you. If there’s anything you want to change, add, or tweak, don’t hesitate to let me know, I’d be more than happy to adjust it!

Hope it helps <3 <3

Updated Masterlist

You drew stars around my scars - Luigi Mangione x Reader

You live in Florida, where it’s completely normal to spend the day at the beach, walk around in a bikini, play volleyball, soak up the sun…

People here aren't exactly modest.

Except you.

And you were so over the constant comments.

“Why are you wearing a shirt? It’s so hot!”

“Come on, the waves are amazing today!”

And blah, blah, blah...

Like you didn’t want to have fun—when really, it wasn’t that at all.

You just didn’t want anyone to see. You didn’t want people to know.

And now, with a new boyfriend in the picture, things were starting to shift.

Luigi was… everything.

Sweet, funny, effortlessly attractive. The kind of guy everyone noticed when he walked into a room.

The kind of guy girls literally competed for.

And somehow, he’d chosen you.

You still weren’t sure how that happened.

Everything felt perfect. And maybe you hadn’t really thought about what came with being someone’s girlfriend—going out together, texting all the time, being touchy, sleeping over, all those couple-y things.

You hadn’t slept together yet.

The relationship was still too new, and you didn’t want to rush it—even if, deep down, part of you wanted nothing more.

Luigi didn’t make it easy.

Not on purpose—he was just naturally attractive in a way that made it really hard not to feel something. And the worst part? He had no idea. So when he told you he wanted to spend the day at the beach, you froze. He’d already planned everything—picnic, towels, sunscreen. The whole deal.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to be the one to kill his excitement.

“You ready?” he asked, flashing that smile that somehow always made your chest feel too small.

You buttoned your shirt up a little more and gave him your best attempt at a smile.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, reaching out his hand for yours.

“Stop, Luigi…”

“What? I can’t compliment my amazing girlfriend?” he grinned, kissing your temple.

“You’re too much with the compliments,” you mumbled.

“I’m just telling the truth.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk pulling at your lips.

“Okay, so what about that dish I made you last week? You ate it and didn’t say a word. Just admit it—you hated it.”

“I did not hate it,” he said, looking away.

“Yeah, right. You’re such a bad liar.”

“It was… different,” he finally admitted. “But see? That just proves I don’t lie when I compliment you. A win is a win.”

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the other one carrying all the beach gear.

You crossed the parking lot, the gravel turning into sand beneath your feet.

And there it was—that familiar knot in your stomach. Heavy. Cold.

You gripped Luigi’s hand a little tighter.

He was the only thing grounding you.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing at you.

“I—I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

And you knew that once you found a spot, he’d ask again—because that’s who he was. He didn’t get it, but he wanted to. He cared.

The closer you got to the crowd, the worse it felt.

Were people staring? Or did it just feel like they were?

Your thoughts spiraled. You had to seem confident—but not too confident, or you’d come off arrogant.

You couldn’t laugh too loudly. You couldn’t talk too much.

And you definitely weren’t taking off your hat—it felt like a shield. A thin line between you and the world.

Your plan? Lay down your towel, stay put, and not move all afternoon.

That way, you couldn’t mess anything up.

And Luigi could enjoy his day without your issues dragging him down.

“What about here?” Luigi asked, gesturing toward a spot between an older couple and a group of teens.

You nodded. “Yeah… this is good.”

You weren’t really paying attention to anything he was doing. Your mind was spinning too fast.

You quickly laid down your towel and sat, trying to shrink into yourself.

Luigi dropped down next to you and kissed your temple.

“Okay, now tell me what’s going on. You’ve been acting weird since we got here. Did I do something? Did something happen? Please talk to me.”

He kept going, his voice soft but persistent. And it was honestly kind of sweet.

“Luigi, I’m fine. Just… tired, that’s all.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, clearly not buying it.

He took off his shirt, and you felt a surge of envy.

God, how was he so comfortable?

And also—wow. He looked really good.

“Can you put sunscreen on my back?”

You nodded and did as he asked, your fingers moving across his skin. Then, just to break the tension in your own chest, you started drawing letters.

“Stop writing weird stuff,” he laughed.

“Okay, okay.”

He turned around, eyes playful.

“You didn’t actually need help with sunscreen, did you?” you teased.

“What? It’s so hard! I swear,” he said dramatically. “I just wanted to keep the spark alive.”

“The spark? Please. That’s the last thing you need to worry about,” you replied, giving him a once-over.

“Hey, I’m shy!” he said, deadpan.

You whistled, just to mess with him—and for a moment, the knot in your stomach loosened.

But then he said, “Your turn. I’ll put some on you now.”

And just like that, the feeling came rushing back.

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

“Y/n,” he said gently, “you have to protect your skin.”

You hesitated.

Your fingers hovered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding louder than the ocean crashing nearby. You could feel Luigi’s eyes on you—gentle, patient, encouraging.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

But you hated this. Hated how your fears clung to you like another layer of skin.

So, with a shaky breath, you forced yourself to pull the shirt over your head.

And for one brief second, there was silence.

Then came the snickering.

It was subtle at first—whispers, stifled laughs—but it hit you like a slap.

The group of teens sitting nearby had noticed.

You knew exactly what they were looking at.

“Damn…” one of them muttered under their breath, not even trying to hide it.

“What happened to her? That’s so gross,” another girl said, loud enough to carry.

“She looks like she fought a lawnmower and lost,” a boy chuckled.

The laughter that followed was sharp, cruel—cutting straight through you.

You froze. The heat of shame crept up your neck like wildfire, your skin burning in ways the sun couldn’t replicate.

Your first instinct was to grab your shirt and run—to disappear. To vanish under the sand.

But before you could even reach for it, Luigi stood.

“Hey!” His voice cracked through the noise like thunder.

The group flinched, startled. The laughter died instantly. Luigi stormed over to the group, rage practically radiating off him. You had never seen him like this before. He was usually calm—sure, he liked to debate, loved a good argument—but this? This was personal. And even though you were stuck somewhere between shame and disbelief, watching him stand up for you like that erased every ounce of doubt. The way he was defending you? You felt invincible.

“The hell does this old dude want?” one of the boys sneered, rising to his feet with a mocking smirk.

“You little punks,” Luigi snapped. “No one ever taught you manners? That girl over there? She’s my girlfriend. Nobody laughs at her.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, hit us?” another scoffed, puffing out his chest.

You rushed forward, grabbing Luigi’s arm, trying to ground him. He was losing patience fast, and you didn’t want this to spiral—especially not in front of everyone.

If things escalated, he’d be the one blamed. They were just kids, and the law always gave them a pass.

But things only got worse.

“What’s going on here?” a man’s voice snapped. A dad, one of theirs. He was already marching over. “Why are you yelling at my son?”

Luigi straightened up, jaw clenched but still composed.

“I wouldn’t have said anything if your son hadn’t been out of line, sir.”

“Oh, come on. You’re arguing with teenagers?” the man scoffed, clearly defensive.

“I’m well aware. And I don’t care. I don’t tolerate disrespect—especially not toward people I love.”

Then Luigi added, cool and sharp, “Maybe if you taught your kid better, I wouldn’t have to step in.”

The father’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it. Don’t talk about my parenting.”

“Your son and his friends laughed at my girlfriend. So no—I won’t back off until she gets a proper apology.”

The man turned to you, as if just noticing you for the first time.

“And you? Why aren’t you speaking for yourself?”

His tone wasn’t curious. It was accusing. Trying to shame you in front of a crowd that, by now, was definitely watching.

But Luigi didn’t let him push you.

“You talk to me,” he said, stepping in. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”

The father turned back to his son. “Is that true?” he asked, voice colder now.

The boy stared at the ground. “Yeah.”

The man sighed, rubbing his temples. “Apologize. All of you. Now. And that’s the last time I step in for something like this. Next time? No more hanging out with your friends—you’ll be spending weekends with your mom and grandma instead. That’ll teach you not to act like little punks.”

One by one, the teens muttered their apologies. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. And when you and Luigi walked back to your towels, the tension slowly began to fade.

“Bunch of little gremlins,” he muttered. “This generation’s toast.”

You burst out laughing, the sound finally freeing itself from your chest.

The way he said it—like a grumpy old man who’d just scolded the neighborhood kids—was way too funny.

You reached into the cooler, grabbed a bottle of cold water, and handed it to him with a soft kiss on his bare shoulder.

“You’re so brave,” you teased. “Facing off against a group of teenagers. Real courage.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Hey, I take my battles seriously. I won’t let anyone disrespect you. Not on my watch.”

You rolled your eyes. It was such a cliché thing to say—but it was also the sweetest. Then he looked at you again, more carefully this time. His gaze flicked to your scars—quiet, honest—and then returned to your eyes.

“Is that why you were so quiet earlier?” he asked gently.

You hesitated, then nodded. “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t want to bother you with my stuff.”

He frowned, clearly annoyed by that.

“You could never bother me. Ever. And about your scars… You don’t owe me any explanation. If you want to talk about it, then talk. If you don’t, then don’t. All I care about is making sure you feel safe and that you know that I will always be there.”

He leaned in, cupping your face in his hands, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead like it was the most sacred thing in the world. Then, he gently took your arms in his hands, lifting them with care, and started kissing each scar.

One after the other.

Looking into your eyes between each kiss, like he was checking if it was okay—if you still felt safe.

You shivered with every soft press of his lips, overwhelmed by how tender it was.

“You are,” he whispered, eyes locked with yours, “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tag list : @bean-is-reading @iinfinitelimits

[bubblyi3]

Between Us, Before Us PART 7 | KTH

"what you love will always pull you back. no matter how far you run."

pairing: taehung x female reader

genre: slice of life, angst, fluff

word count: 4.2k

content warning: angst, mild smut, trauma, cheating themes, pregnancy, heartbreak, toxic relationship, time jump here and there.

summary: between the past and future lies the aching space of now. with taehyung, you've journeyed through love, heartbreak, and growth. once strangers, then lovers, now something more complicated, your connection is shaped by time, mistakes, and second chances. this is the story of who you were when you first fell for him, who you became through the pain, and who you might still become if you dare to hope again. in the space between healing and longing, one thing remains: him.

author's note: no comment from me :) i'll just let this part of the series speak for itself.

© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!

*fiction rooted in real emotions and experiences.

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Taehyung's POV:

The studio smelled of cold coffee and cables. Taehyung leaned back in his ergonomic chair, the monitors casting a soft glow on his face. Across from him, Jungkook sat with his legs stretched out, barely touching his beer. There was a beat of silence between them. The kind that only existed between two people who had seen each other through everything.

“You’ve been quiet lately.” Jungkook finally said. His voice low and careful.

“Like… different quiet.”

Taehyung didn’t answer immediately. His fingers danced over the mixing board, even though the track they were working on had stopped playing half an hour ago.

“I need to tell you something.” Taehyung said. Barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s brows drew together, concern flickering before it hardened.

“What is it?”

There was a pause before Taehyung spoke again.

“I slept with Jisoo. Once... twice.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jungkook just stared at him. His expression didn’t twist into anger. It just fell, like something inside him gave way.

“You’re joking.” He said, though he already knew Taehyung wasn’t.

“I wish I was,” Taehyung said, shaking his head.

Jungkook looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. When he spoke again, his voice was low.

“I knew you two were close. But I didn’t think you’d actually do something like that.”

“She doesn’t know." Taehyung added quickly.

“And I’m not planning to tell her. There’s already so much… she doesn’t need another reason to hate me.”

Jungkook let out a short, humorless breath. “You really think she won’t find out?”

Taehyung stayed silent. Jungkook turned to look at him again, disappointment heavy in his eyes. “I expected more from you, Tae. Especially when it comes to her.”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes tired. “I promised myself I’d just be there for her and the baby. That once the baby’s born, I’d leave. I told her that from the start.”

“But do you want to leave?” Jungkook asked, eyes sharp now.

And that’s where Taehyung faltered. The silence that followed was louder than anything he could’ve said.

“Every time I see her, I think maybe… I could stay. Be better. Fix it. And then I remember how badly I hurt her. I don’t deserve to be there. Not as her partner. Not as anything more than what I already am.”

Jungkook’s voice was quieter now. “But you still love her?”

Taehyung didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

It was getting late, and the apartment was dim, only lit by the soft flicker of the TV. A show played quietly in the background, long past the part you'd been watching. You were curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, one hand resting on your round belly as you drifted in and out of sleep.

All sudden, the front door opened with a quiet click.

Taehyung stepped inside, the scent of sandalwood and cold rain trailing behind him. The moment his presence filled the room, the baby kicked. A firm, sudden nudge beneath your hand, like it recognised him. You stirred, eyes fluttering open just as he froze in the doorway.

“You’re still up?” he asked gently, surprise laced in his voice.

“Not really. Just… resting,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He set his bag down carefully and walked over, his eyes sweeping across your face, the tissues on the table, the untouched water glass.

“You should’ve gone to bed.”

You shrugged weakly. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He crouched beside you, concern softening his features.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded at first, then paused. “I need to talk to you.”

Something flickered in his expression. A subtle shift, like he’d been bracing for this but he only nodded and sat on the edge of the couch. Leaving a space between you that felt heavier than silence.

You blinked at the screen, the noise suddenly too loud, and fumbled around the cushions for the remote. Your fingers finally brushed against it and you paused the show, the silence that followed landing heavier than expected.

You took a breath. “I need you to be honest with me.”

His expression flickered. “About what?”

“About what happens after the baby’s born.” The words hung there, fragile and heavy.

Taehyung dropped his gaze, staring at his hands like they held the answer.

“I meant what I said before.” He murmured.

“I’ll be there for you until the birth. Then… I think it’s better if I go.”

“Why?” You asked, eyes burning. “Why do you think you have to leave?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just swallowed hard.

“Because I already failed you once. More than once. I can’t promise I won’t mess up again.”

You looked at him, voice unsteady. “You’ve been here. Every single day. You’ve held me together when I couldn’t do it myself. So why now? Why are you pulling away?”

His eyes finally met yours, full of ache and longing and something else that looked like guilt.

“Because I’m scared that staying… will only hurt you more.” He continued. Taehyung closed his eyes, as if the pain of hearing that was physical.

He reached out, almost without thinking. His fingers brushed against yours. “If I stay, I’ll want everything. And I’m not sure I deserve that anymore.”

You felt the weight of everything between you, the ache, the fear, the fragile hope.

But instead of arguing, you simply whispered, “Okay.”

You didn’t pull your hand away.

You just sat there, heart fractured, the silence thick with what was left unsaid. Because deep down, you both knew this wasn’t just about walking away.

It was about love.

And whether something bruised and weathered could still be enough to stay.

The cap and gown still hung on the hook behind the door. Graduation had passed in a whirlwind. The applause, the flashing cameras, and dozens of eyes watching you with quiet awe. Strangers and friends alike, all caught in the moment of your achievement. Your Bachelor of Communications, now a neatly printed certificate tucked away, felt both real and surreal.

Your parents had been there, their pride shining through tears and warm embraces. Nari had brought flowers, her eyeliner already smudged from smiling too much, gripping your hand like she understood the journey it took to get here.

And Taehyung, he’d been in the crowd too. You spotted him right away, standing apart but never taking his eyes off you.

He looked proud, and sad.

And something else you couldn’t quite name.

You didn’t ask him to come, but he showed up anyway. He’d even taken some time off work to be there. You spotted him right away, standing apart but never taking his eyes off you.

The Final Stretch:

You were due any day now.

You caught Taehyung staring at you again across the kitchen that evening. Eyes dark and unreadable, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. He did that a lot lately. Watched you like you were something he didn’t quite know how to hold anymore.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You said softly. Not quite meeting his gaze.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re already saying goodbye.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He stood there, and then slowly came around the counter and crouched beside you. His hand went instinctively to your belly, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress.

“You’ve carried so much,” he murmured.

You looked down at him, at the man who had broken your heart and still somehow managed to patch the pieces back together without realising it.

Neither of you said it aloud, but you both knew. When the baby comes, things will change, and he'll leave.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the words you didn’t say.

“I wish it could be different,” he finally whispered, forehead resting against your belly.

“Me too,” you said quietly, your voice cracking.

The air left your lungs because that was the thing. Taehyung still loved you, and deep down you still loved him too.

But love hadn’t been enough before, and now it felt too fragile to believe in again.

So you didn’t answer.

You just let him rest his forehead against your belly again, both of you sitting in that quiet ache of almost.

Taehyung's POV:

He had made a promise to himself. Don’t complicate things. Don’t ask her to forgive everything just because you finally got your shit together. Be there for the baby. Then go.

But it was getting harder.

He watched you move through the apartment like the air around you belonged to you now. Like she wasn’t the same girl he met at seventeen. Like she had grown, even when he hadn’t deserved to witness it.

And he hated that he might have to miss what came next.

He spent nights in the studio trying to distract himself. Working on tracks. Throwing himself into production. Pretending that if he just made enough music, it would drown out the ache of walking away from something he’d die to keep.

But then she’d laugh at something dumb. Or press his hand to her stomach when the baby rolled. Or just look at him like maybe she still saw him the way she used to.

And he’d crumble a little more inside. The due date was just around the corner, and he knew what he had to do.

But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

Your POV:

Taehyung’s parents had invited you both over for a quiet dinner. It had become a bit of a routine lately. Check-ins disguised as casual meals, where every conversation somehow circled back to the baby.

They asked how you were feeling, if you were sleeping okay, if you needed anything. There were smiles, light laughter, even moments of warmth. On the surface, it all looked supportive. But underneath, you could still feel it, the thin layer of distance that never quite dissolved.

They hadn’t taken the news well at first. It had taken time. More than you were willing to admit, for them to come around to the idea that you were keeping the baby. They never said it outright, but the hesitations were there. In the early phone calls. In the way his mother blinked too slowly when you first said the word “ours.”

Still, they supported Taehyung being there. His role in all of this was never questioned. If anything, they encouraged it. Made space for him to show up, to learn, to be present.

But deep down, you could see it. The way their eyes lingered on your belly when they thought you weren’t looking. The way his mother brought little things “just in case". A handmade blanket, tiny socks, books she swore were Taehyung’s favorite as a baby. Their words were cautious, but their actions whispered something louder:

They wanted to be a part of their grandchild’s life.

Even if they didn’t quite know how to be a part of yours yet.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of joy.

But everything changed in a heartbeat.

You’d tried to focus on the small talk around the dinner table. Taehyung was by your side, his hand gently resting on your round belly, giving you quiet assurances in between bites. You tried to focus on him, to block out the growing discomfort in your lower back, the subtle tightening of your stomach. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t felt before. A few Braxton Hicks contractions here and there but tonight, there was a difference, and it hits you.

The first real contraction.

It came out of nowhere. A sharp, cramping pain that made you gasp and clutch the edge of your chair.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asked immediately. His voice low, his eyes flicking between you and his parents.

You nodded, but the discomfort only deepened. The pressure in your abdomen mounting, almost unbearable.

“I think it’s happening." You whispered, trying to keep calm, but panic was starting to rise in your chest. You could feel the tension building, the unmistakable rhythm of labor starting.

Taehyung’s parents, thankfully understood. They had been through this themselves. His mother was already up, grabbing your coat and your purse, ushering you towards the door.

“Don’t worry, honey." His mother said. Her voice gentle but firm.

“Everything will be okay.”

“Let’s go to your parents’ house." Taehyung said. His tone filled with urgency. His dad tossed him the keys and Taehyung's other hand quickly found yours, squeezing it tight as if grounding you in this moment.

The ride back to your parents’ house was a blur. You hardly remember getting into the car, only the contractions intensifying, each one longer and more frequent than the last.

Once at your parents’ house, you could hardly keep your composure. Your dad helped you get your hospital bag together while Taehyung hovered nearby, pacing with nervous energy. Hands twitching at his sides, not knowing quite what to do but wanting so desperately to be of help. Your mom was calm, though you could see the worry flickering behind her steady gaze. She kept telling you to breathe, to slow down, to stay calm but the pain was sharp, and the anticipation was crushing.

In the middle of the chaos, Taehyung suddenly stopped moving and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the midwife,” he said, already dialling.

“Hi—yes, it’s us. She’s in labor. We’re heading to the hospital now.” His voice was tight but focused.

You could hear the midwife’s calm, reassuring tone on the other end, though the words blurred into the background behind the ache in your body and the pounding in your chest. Taehyung nodded along quickly, repeating bits of what she was saying, trying to remember everything.

“Okay. Yes. I’ll keep you updated. We’ll meet you there.”

He ended the call and turned to you, his eyes wide but steady.

“She’ll meet us at the hospital. She said to keep breathing and that everything’s going to be okay.”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. Not from fear, but from how hard he was trying to be what you needed in that moment.

Finally, you were in the car again, heading to the hospital.

And this time, it was really happening.

The hospital room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights and the steady rhythm of monitor beeps. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, sharp and clean, as if the whole room were holding its breath.

You were lying on the bed, a sheen of sweat gathering along your forehead, your gown sticking to your back. The IV in your arm tugged every time you shifted, and the monitors at your side tracked the baby’s heartbeat and the intensity of each contraction. Each getting louder, closer and stronger.

Grace, your midwife, stood on one side of the bed, calm and steady as ever. She had been with you since the moment you arrived. Her voice low, her hands sure, guiding you through the pain with a quiet strength.

“You’re doing well,” she said, checking the monitor and glancing at the growing pattern of contractions.

“The baby’s doing great, and you’re almost fully dilated.”

On the other side of the bed sat your mom, dabbing your face gently with a cool cloth. She’d been calm but there was tension in the way she held her breath every time you winced.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Taehyung hovered close by, his fingers interlaced tightly with yours. He hadn’t let go since the ride to the hospital, but you could feel the tremble in his hand now, the way his knuckles turned white. He was pale, nervous, his other hand twitching at his side as if unsure what to do with himself. You’d never seen him like this.

Every few minutes, he glanced anxiously toward Grace, then the door, then to you.

Dr. Kim finally entered the room with quiet authority, clipboard in hand.

“Let’s check progress,” she said, snapping on gloves. “We’re getting close. Just a little more.”

You caught Taehyung looking at you, his mind clearly all over the place. In his eyes, you saw something real. Like you were both delicate and strong at the same time, breaking and growing all at once.

However, for you, it was agony. Sweat clinging to your temples, your breath ragged. But to him, you looked more beautiful than ever. He was completely and overwhelmingly in awe of you.

Taehyung's POV:

Beneath the awe and admiration Taehyung felt. There was a deeper ache that gnawed at him, it was the guilt and sadness tangled together inside his chest. He told himself it would be easier this way, that you deserved someone who could be there fully, without hesitation or regret. But none of it made the pain any less sharp.

Now, standing there watching you labor, hearing you cry out in pain while your mother gently wiped your forehead and Grace offered quiet encouragement, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

He felt like a coward.

Your fingers tightened around his as another contraction ripped through you, your body arching with the effort.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice raw and fragile.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Taehyung said, dropping to his knees beside you, his own voice cracking.

“You’re… you’re so strong. I’ve never seen anything like this. You’re doing amazing.”

You turned your head, locking eyes with him for a brief moment, searching his face. Maybe for reassurance, maybe for connection, maybe for a future he wasn’t sure he could offer. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He hated himself for it.

Your mother noticed the shift, leaning in with a soft but firm tone.

“Taehyung. She needs you here. All of you.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I’m here,” he said, though his chest was tight with doubt.

“I promise.”

Grace stepped forward, reading the monitor. “Okay. It’s time. On the next contraction, I need you to push.”

Dr. Kim moved to the foot of the bed, nodding to the team.

“We’re ready.”

You braced yourself. Months of change, uncertainty, love, loss, and hope all crashing into this single moment.

Taehyung held your hand with both of his, fingers trembling as he whispered, “You’ve got this. We’re so close.”

As you began to push, he felt you inside him in a way that went beyond the physical. Like you were part of him, breaking and building something new from within. His heart split in two. One part stayed with you, filled with awe and love, wanting desperately to be the man you deserved.

The other part was already slipping away, heavy with guilt and fear, knowing that once your baby arrived, his time with you would be ending.

He watched you give everything you had, fighting through the pain with fierce determination. He watched your mother support you, Grace and Dr. Kim move with focused and care.

Because this moment. The birth of his daughter. Your child was the beginning of everything for you, and quietly, the end for him.

The day had started just like any other, except it was anything but. The night prior and early morning had been filled with exhaustion, and a deep aching emptiness. The air around him felt too thick to breathe, his mind too clouded to think straight.

He hadn’t left the hospital the entire time. He stayed by your side, watching you. Watching the baby. His baby. The one he had been so terrified to hold, to care for.

But in the quiet moments, as he watched you hold her. Your exhaustion mingled with a quiet joy that only came from bringing new life into the world, something inside him shifted.

He couldn’t leave.

Not now.

Not after everything he’d seen in those hours. Not after feeling the weight of the love you had for him, despite everything. You had been through labor and childbirth alone.

When Taehyung returned from filling out the paperwork, the hospital hallways felt quieter than before. Muted by the weight of everything that had just happened.

He pushed open the door gently, careful not to wake you.

You were asleep, your face soft and serene, the exhaustion of labor finally giving way to rest. The sterile white light of the room was dimmed now, casting a peaceful hue across your features.

Your mum had left not long before he got back. Your dad had come to pick her up. He’d wanted to see the baby too, and the way his face lit up when he did was something Taehyung would never forget. Your mum had whispered to you while you dozed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll be back soon, darling,” she said. “Just going home to make sure everything’s settled… and cook you something proper.”

Your hand rested instinctively around the small bundle on your chest.

There she was.

Wrapped snugly in a blanket, tiny fingers curled near her cheek—Nora.

Taehyung paused in the doorway, breath catching in his throat. You had mentioned the name once, months ago, almost offhandedly. It was your grandmother’s name. Someone you had spoken about fondly. He remembered the way your eyes lit up when you said it. The softness in your voice.

So when the nurse asked earlier, he didn’t hesitate.

“Nora,” he had written. And it felt right.

Now, standing at the edge of the bed, he swore the whole room felt heavier with meaning. The tiniest sounds from her. Those little breaths, the occasional sleepy sigh. It sounded like a quiet symphony to his ears. A new kind of music. One he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear, but couldn’t pull away from.

He moved closer, pulled a chair beside the bed, and sat down slowly, not wanting to disturb either of you. For a moment, he just watched you and her. This quiet moment suspended in time and for a moment, he didn’t think about what came next. He just let himself exist in the space between you both.

And there it was, the realisation that hit him harder than any of his previous doubts.

He was a father.

He wasn’t just the man who made a mistake and walked away. He wasn’t the one who had hurt you, who had left you when you needed him most. He was the one who had a chance to make things right, who could finally be the man you deserved.

He could be better.

His fingers brushed lightly against the back of your hand, the touch gentle. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you stir just a little, but you didn’t wake.

He had to make this right.

He had to stay.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, his mind racing with all the things he had wanted to say. Things he had kept inside, afraid that it was too late, afraid that you would never forgive him.

Nora cooed softly, her tiny fingers curling around the fabric of your gown. A delicate sound, one that made his heart swell. It was the sound of something new and pure.

With a deep breath, Taehyung finally spoke, his voice low and unsure.

“I’m here, Y/N. For you. For her. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shifted, blinking against the dim light, and your eyes met his. For a second, there was nothing but silence between you.

And then, your expression softened as you looked at him, almost as if you hadn’t expected to hear those words at all.

“What... what do you mean?” You asked quietly. Your voice still rough but your gaze was steady.

“I mean I’m staying. For you. For our daughter.” He swallowed, his throat dry.

You blinked again, like you weren’t sure if you were hearing him correctly.

“But... Taehyung... You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” His voice cracked slightly.

"But I want to. I don’t care about anything else right now. Just you. Just her."

Taehyung watched as your eyes welled with tears, the weight of his words landing in the space between you like something sacred. He could see it in the way your shoulders relaxed, the way your breath caught just slightly. Like some part of you had finally let go, finally believed him.

When you reached out and took his hand, your grip was gentle but sure. Like you were afraid it might still slip away, but brave enough to hold on anyway.

“I want that, Taehyung,” you whispered.

“I want you to stay.”

The words hit him hard, like warmth and ache colliding in his chest. For a second, he couldn't speak. He just looked at you, at everything you were. A woman that was strong and soft, scared and brave, still fighting to believe in something bigger than the past.

Slowly, he leaned forward and his hand finding your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. It was such a small gesture, but it carried everything he couldn’t say yet. Then his gaze drifted down to the baby curled in your arms.

“She’s beautiful,” he said quietly, a breath catching in his throat. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, shaky but real.

“She’s ours,” you replied, voice thick with emotion.

And as he looked between the two of you. Your tired eyes and her perfect, sleeping face. Taehyung felt something shift inside him. He had spent so long doubting himself, terrified he would never be enough for either of you. But right here, right now, that fear didn’t hold the same power.

Because this was real. You were here. She was here.

And so was he.

Whatever came next, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Not anymore.

[fresastar]

My new au called ‘child’s’ au…..not a well done name but for me I like it, so suck it up😤

sun Wukong (7 years old) , a happy and cheerful kid that always cheers up people, even tho he has terrible parents who are poor,hates and ignores him everyday since he was born because he looks and acts so perfect then the parents that makes them jealous and uses him to act perfect for them to look good to everyone else. (Like opal in the music video) doesn’t get sad but just always be happy joyful child Sun, it’s rare for him to cry because he finds a way to cheer himself up. His powers are sealed shut because of his father finding out he is too powerful for the whole world to find out, so he seal it and Wukong can only transform a bunny and a real monkey, because of his only obsession of these two animals.

Macaque (liuér mihou) (7 years old 1 month older) is a shy and a so kind soul that always tries his best to cheer up people but can’t from his shyness, kids and especially his older siblings always calls him a ‘crybaby’, because he cries from loudness of noises and sometimes everything, and a ‘weirdo’ from his six ears, making macaque self-conscious of his own ears, he loves theater’s from his mama one time taking him one and teaching him stuff, making him love theaters and making stories with his shadow powers.

He can only make shadows like clones and a giant shadow beast but he can make the shadow beast when he is too emotional or something makes him too mad to make them. He manly uses shadows to make a shadow plays by himself, people always think ‘it’s boring’ from it, but atleast now he has Wukong he can show. Hey @violetjedisylveon, made this au because 1) I made this idea about 1 year ago but thought it was bad. 2) because I asked u about it and kinda thought about my idea I made and drew last year and well…here it is (thank u for that, so that’s why I mention u, sorry if I disturb something u we’re doing😅) 3) I never see any kids au for these two so I will make one now. welp, I made another au……I think, I was kinda inspired by a music video of ‘Opal’ by stauber jack. But I kinda change stuff tho, I made my old one last year and have it under my bed but I I didn’t take a picture yet, so just have these two precious monkies that I made today and this took me 4 hours or 5 to finish this, my hands are at the funeral but, I atleast think it was worth it🥹😓😌 if anyone loves this so much, ill maybe make more aus and make the families and parents of these two.

[orbitariums]

Comfortfriend!patrick, what does Patrick do when he sees the boyfriend?

With Artashi, he was smug but quiet. Think he could pull that off with shitty bf?

Is it, All knowing smirks, firm handshakes, silently staring at you, long lingering hugs, soft kisses on the cheek, complimenting you outfit (he loves seeing your ass in a tennis skirt, he can’t wait to flip it over later)?

Or is he slight more overt? Hugs where his hands run down your back and end with him grabbing your ass in public, a cheeky kiss to the neck, stroking your shoulder whilst you’re talking, hand on your thigh, if bf makes a lewd comment about you, Patrick replies with ‘I know…’ with a look from you ‘I mean I can imagine bro’.

You try to ply bf with excuses He’s just like that, we’re known each other for so long.

But it ends up in a fight, you’re in tears abd of course running to Patrick. He hates that it’s technically his fault, but he’s happy to comfort you and work hard to make you really feel his apology.

but wow, what a moment in my career... thank u for this question, i truly never thought to expand this recoverybf!/comfortfriend!patrick au outside of the walls of his apartment and yet here we are... and what a wonderful place it is to be. still based on the song i linked below and always with black reader (anyone can read it and i don't get super specific with details anyway - i just want black girls in this fandom to have something for us <3) changed it just a bit so reader's not crying because she's PISSED! and of course she just HAS to confront patrick about it.

*+. 🎧 if you got a man we could bend the rules

recoverybf!patrick + black reader — to bend the rules

contains: cheating, jealousy, slut-shaming (once bad once hot), smut!

wc: 5.1k (was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away hehe)

even before you started "seeing" patrick — if you could call running to his studio apartment in the wee hours of the night for comfort in the form of rounds of relentless sex "seeing" him — you kept your boyfriend pretty separate from your friends. you, art, tashi and patrick were such a firm group in and of itself that it felt unnecessary and almost inappropriate to bring someone else in, even if that someone else was your boyfriend of nearly two years.

when it started getting bad with chris, you were secretly glad that you didn’t ever bring him around. your gut wrenching anxiety and reluctance when you introduced him to your friends for the first time should've been a sign. it wasn't that they were judgmental — although they were notoriously hard to impress — you just didn't feel right deep down. it didn't ever feel right to bring him around, but sometimes it was inevitable. this was one of those times.

tashi's parents were hosting a party for her birthday and to celebrate her fantastic season. you told chris about it in passing and he demanded that you should bring a date to those kinds of things because they're so "public"— as if espn would be flooding tashi's parents' backyard. you obliged because you didn't want to fight with him, but you prayed he didn't notice the way you grew more and more agitated as the day drew closer, and you obsessed over the thought of him having to interact with patrick.

it had been almost three weeks of you two hooking up behind your boyfriend's back, and it didn't take long for you to sink into a routine of it. the first time it happened, you came back home a wreck — the next few times, you didn't even think twice about it. now, it was almost as if you had to confront it head on, knowing you'd be forced to include him in your interactions with your best friends.

you were back to being a nervous wreck, flooded with guilt and shame, like you were just now realizing that what you were doing was wrong. but was it wrong? you were being mistreated, and half the time chris acted like he hated you. friends are supposed to support each other, right? and that's all patrick was doing. he was supporting you. he was just helping you. talking you through it — with his cock pushing past your folds, his lips against your ear as he ... talked you through it.

and patrick was not known for his subtlety. in fact, it was the opposite that had created that existing tension between the two of you in the first place — his intense gaze on you whenever you wore something tight, the way his jaw clicked when you even mentioned your boyfriend in passing, his touches held for an inappropriately long amount of time. you almost expected him to say something. it wouldn't be unlike him to make a sly comment about how much he appreciated chris for sharing you with him.

this worried you so much that you texted him a day before.

patrick i swear to god if you say anything tomorrow i'm gonna fucking kill you. and i will hide your body someplace no one will ever find it.

he called you right when that text went through, a grating nonchalance in his voice.

"what are you talking about?"

"you know what i'm—" you closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower: chris was in the living room nearby, "you know what i'm talking about. if you fucking say a word about me and you—"

"yn, i'm not a sadist. i'll be a good boy."

you tried to ignore the visceral reaction to the way those words sounded in his throat, grainy over the phone and so fitting with his boyish drawl. patrick wanted to laugh— he could almost hear the scowl in your voice as you replied,

"you fucking better."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

the whole ride over there, you were silent, still brooding and hoping for the worst, smoothing your hands over your tennis skirt, which you wore in homage to tashi. your boyfriend didn't say a word, as he was usually oblivious to how you felt, but that didn't stop you from gazing out the window wistfully, winding it down so you could get more air.

by the time you actually arrived, you planted a smile on your face, hoping that you could just distract yourself with the party. you were glad to use tashi's parents as a buffer for a while, chatting with them about mindless things, your boyfriend mainly driving the conversation and trying to network.

after about five minutes, you finally noticed art, patrick and tashi in the distance out of the corner of your eye, waving their hands and trying to get your attention. so as not to appear distracted, you cracked a soft smile and then returned to the conversation.

that was until you heard an all too familiar voice shouting your name over the chatter and the music. when you looked again, who but patrick was practically out of his seat, waving his hand raucously, his blue-striped shirt lifting up along with his arm to reveal the slightest shimmer of his toned stomach. that expanse of skin just above his shorts that you knew all too well — the thought of where it led made your mouth dry.

your heart dropped when tashi's parents glanced behind themselves and your boyfriend cocked his head.

"oh, looks like somebody's waiting on you," tashi's mother quipped. "we'll let you two go."

you nearly wanted to plead with them not to, but it was too late. chris took your hand and practically dragged you alongside him, when all you wanted was to stay put.

"yn!" tashi got up first, her arms flying open to wrap you in a hug. "finally you're here."

you grinned, your eyes sparkling — out of the three, tashi was who you could relate to most, and you honestly looked up to her even though she was your close friend. the two of you balanced out the loud testosterone filled energy that art and patrick created.

"happy birthday, t," you handed her your gift.

art stood up to hug you, and your boyfriend followed that order, except all he got were awkward handshakes from art and tashi. not only did they not know chris very well since you never brought him around, but they also didn't like him that much based on what you'd told them in the past.

as you stood in front of patrick, you glared at him, silently warning him that he was already doing too much.

"my favorite girl," patrick grinned. three words that were innocent enough, but also enough to cause a stir. you were glad your back was facing art and tashi, because that meant you didn't have to see the look they shared, the corners of their mouth turned up in wait.

before you could even respond, patrick had wrapped his arms around you in a hug. a hug that started at below your shoulders and then traveled down slowly, slow enough that you could feel his hands embracing your curves, like he was trying to feel every last part of you. you almost gasped when you felt the way his hands hovered just so above your ass, in a sort of game of "i'm not touching you." if you moved, or if he slid his hands just an inch down, he'd be grabbing your ass. and in that stretch of time that felt like forever, you imagined how he'd do it — how he'd push his hands up underneath your skirt and squeeze the fat of your ass in front of everyone with no shame. you almost wanted him to, but you quickly remembered where you were and who was standing right beside you.

whenever there was a line, patrick was prone to cross it. but his hands did stop, only nudging the line instead.

when he finally pulled away, clearly the one in charge of the entire interaction, your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were vibrating with anger already. you wanted to slap the shit-eating grin off his face. compared to what you two did in private, this was nothing, but in private, your boyfriend wasn't just inches away from you. he didn't stop there — one hand was still on your waist as he did a onceover of you. you knew that look in his eyes all too well. a hint of playfulness mixed with a very obvious ogling.

"wow, what a nice tennis skirt, you look like a pro. i love this outfit on you, this is very new," he said, but you knew what he wanted to say.

you flashed a tight lipped grin, choosing to take the low road,

"yours isn't. but thank you."

you stepped back, your hand on chris' shoulder as you guided him towards patrick. chris glared at patrick for just a second before he stuck his hand out. you wanted to wilt away and die when you saw that fucking smirk on patrick's face expand. the smirk you'd seen a thousand times, all with different varieties and intensities. smirking down at you slid down to your knees in front of him, your body brushing against his; smirking when you go wide-eyed at some lewd comment he'd make about your transgressions ("does he know that you like getting facials or do you only do that with me?"); smirking at your pussy when you come again after crying that you couldn't anymore, smirking when you show up to his door after saying you wouldn't anymore.

patrick gripped chris' hand firmly and they shook hands like two grown men at a business conference before chris uttered,

"patrick."

"chris! good to see you." he used his hand to playfully nudge chris on the side. "you never come out, what's that all about!"

chris chuckled,

"work is crazy."

patrick nodded, looking pensively down at the ground for a second before looking at you,

"why don't you invite your boyfriend out with us more, yn?"

you rolled your eyes,

"same reason you don't mind your business, zweig."

the night continued like that — like a game of tug of war between you and patrick, him pulling you in and you tugging back just before he could make you topple over.

while the table was yapping about something, you tried to purposefully avoid eye contact or any interaction with patrick, but you could feel the way his gaze burned into the side of your face even when you weren't talking. like he was inquiring about something. probably wondering why your boyfriend's arm has been around you the entire night. silently asking you why you allow it when you know you don't even like being touched by him for too long. at some point, he catches your eye, and he furrows his brows together slightly, biting down on his lip. you get flustered and turn away, swigging beer from the bottle.

everytime chris kissed your cheek, or showed any affection toward you— a hand on your knee, a squeeze of your arm, patrick reacted in only a way you could detect. a tick of his jaw, an eye roll, cigarette smoke blown in your direction. you pretended the smoke making contact with your cheek didn't bother you, wasn't purposeful.

drinks were flowing, the party was in full effect.

chris had one too many beers and was starting to get embarrassing.

"and this one, you know, she won't ever let me hear the end of anything," he pointed a thumb in your direction, hoping to get raucous laughter from your friends, but instead being met with meek chuckles. "just talks and talks."

patrick snorted. loudly. so loud that everyone at the table takes interest in whatever it is that he clearly has to say. he just leaned back in his chair and tossed the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table.

"she's a talker, alright."

your eyes went wide as you caught the way art covered his mouth to hide a smile, and tashi glanced over at you as if to confirm that what he just said was as damning as it sounded. a silence takes over the table for just a minute, and you try to gain your composure as you feel chris' eyes flitter from you to patrick. chris leaned in just a bit, chuckling, but not because he found it funny,

"what?"

patrick looked around for a second, feigning naivety,

"oh, i just said what you said. she gets pretty loud." he let that hang in the air, which was getting stiffer by the second. then, to recover, he nodded over at art and tashi, "but we love her for it, right?"

"yeah," tashi said hurriedly.

"of course," art tried not to snicker.

when everyone had finished their drinks, patrick took it upon himself to restock. he stood behind you, commanding the attention of the table,

"i'm seeing empty cups. anyone want anything?"

"just a water," tashi replied, and patrick pointed his finger at her,

"wrong, another beer."

he took note of everyone's drink of choice, but you didn't say anything. in what could be seen as camaraderie, he placed his hands on your shoulders and bent down slightly so he was at level with your ear. he's so close to you that you can feel his breath, accented lightly with the fermented scent of heineken, against your neck.

"you need anything?" need.

what a charged word coming from the man who had been tending to your every need for the last few weeks. he tended to your "need" for hours every time. so many times tonight, you'd almost given in, nearly fucked him right there. and although his cockiness, which you had specifically asked him not to exhibit, made you angry, you still had to practice restraint. after all, it was him. your attraction to him wasn't new, but it did triple once you finally started hooking up.

you turned your head just slightly, so you met his gaze. the two of you performed this sort of intimate dance. just two friends talking in hushed tones, as if there were more to a drink than just quenching your thirst. or maybe that was what it was. you held his gaze, letting your arousal snake around your anger and suffocate it. as if you had a choice — it was an almost primal reaction to him in your space, even if you were furious with him.

"i'm okay, thanks," you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, quietly confirming the tension you were both feeling.

you didn't miss the smug satisfaction on his face and his eyes as he registered that switch that had flicked in you. it was so slight but if anyone could notice it, it was him. he pulled his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and his lips quirked up in what was almost a grin.

"c'mon, i'll get you something. tell me what you need," his voice way too smooth and quiet to just be talking about a drink.

you held his gaze just a moment longer, and then grinned,

"surprise me."

patrick smiled, finally tearing away from you and squeezing your shoulders as he stood back straight again,

"attagirl."

as he walked away, he patted chris' shoulder, too.

you cursed yourself for being obvious, but you mostly cursed patrick for doing the exact opposite of what you'd told him to do. you shouldn't even have brought it up to him to begin with, you knew how much he got off on being ornery and oppositional. maybe if you hadn't told him not to make it obvious, he might have actually allowed the night to be normal, not charged with this weird sexual tension and energy that everyone could see, including your boyfriend.

when you get home, you didn't hear the end of it. chris was shouting at you for what felt like an hour, angry at you, angry at patrick, angry at your friends, angry at the world.

"where does he get off touching you like that, huh? 'my favorite girl', are you fucking serious?"

"babe, we're friends. seriously, i've known him for years, it's nothing. patrick's just... like that."

that doesn't cut it. he's shouting at you and berating you for what feels like an hour, directing his anger at a different person every five minutes — you, patrick, art and tashi, the world. by the time it was over, you were exhausted. when were you not, with him?

the sharp hiss of the word "slut" from your boyfriend's lips rang in your ears. to your surprise, when he said it, you laughed. you were amused at the sheer irony of it all. he's not wrong. somehow, knowing that you were about to do exactly what he was accusing you of gave you a rush of power, a sense of self-righteousness. there was no guilt, not now —you were justified in your wrongdoing, and he had just proven that to you. why shouldn't you be a slut?

you were sitting behind the wheel, your jaw tight as you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the one person who you should hate right now, but who you need the most.

i'm so fucking mad at you right now.

you leaned your head back against the headrest, perking up as he responds within the minute.

yeah. wear that skirt when you get here.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

when you showed up you didn't even bother with a greeting, gliding right past him when he opened the door, leaving him there with his hand still on the doorknob.

he was taken aback for a second, frozen in place as he registered you standing in front of him defiantly with your hands on your hips. clad in that perfectly pleated white tennis skirt and short short crop top, just the way he wanted you.

“seriously patrick, i’m upset with you,” you announced, folding your arms over your chest which only accentuated your tits more — if you weren’t so focused on being defiant you’d have noticed the way his eyes trailed down to ogle your breasts.

he blinked, his mouth slightly open as he let the door close. he considered for a moment, shrugging and opening up the discussion.

“mkay… you wanna talk about it?” he pressed his lips together and pushed them to the side like he was considering something — he doesn’t give a fuck.

you glared at him, narrowing your eyes,

“yeah, actually. i told you specifically not to say anything.”

he laughs, actually laughs, tilting his head back with a wide smile,

“i didn’t!”

“you fucking may as well have!” you hissed. “he practically yelled at me for an hour when we got back, what the fuck is wrong with you? what happened to ‘i’m not a sadist, yn’? you think you’re so fucking smart.”

“okay, okay, hey. listen. i’m sorry. okay, i’m sorry. i just… god, i hate him. i wanted to make him feel like shit, that’s all. for the way he treats you he should,” he replied, finally sounding at least slightly reasonable and sincere.

“and you decided the best way to do that was to hint that me and you fuck on a weekly basis? you couldn’t emasculate him any other way? challenge him to a match with you for god’s sake,” you bleated, your expression unchanged, but your heart warming just a bit.

“ok, it wasn’t the best way to do it. it was the first thing that came up and you know how i am anyway,” he continued, and although you were still angry you understood him, you could even reason with him.

how could you not? that was just how he was anyway, how could you possibly expect him to turn it down just because your boyfriend was around? no, you couldn’t possibly ask for that.

he stepped closer to you, making you lose resolution in your once solid glare. he watched as you started to crumple, yet open up at once.

“and plus you looked so good. you don't want me to act the way i act but... you just can’t do that to me. it’s not fair,” his voice was soft and convincing, encroaching in the right way.

it sounded like all the things your boyfriend could never be. it was full of true desire and an apologetic nature that you sought out so often from the man you were supposed to love. when you were in need of that, you could find it here. that’s why it was so hard to stop.

“hmm,” you hummed, tingles running down your spine as you glanced up at him and let your arms fall down to your sides. giving up, giving in. he let his hands rest on your hips, pulling you in just slightly so he truly towered over you.

“are you still mad at me?” he looked down at you, his voice so sweet and soft and unlike how he usually was, his deep brown eyes twinkling.

you frowned, your brow quirking, but you couldn’t even fully convince yourself. like a brat you uttered,

“yes.”

chills when he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, ever so often brushing against your bare skin exposed by the crop top. he had that stupid knowing smile on his face — stupid because not only was he being presumptuous as always but because it made you melt. it reminded you that he really did value you, that he wanted to take care of you in any way he knew how.

“well, you can’t be mad at the both of us. who’s gonna do my job?” patrick asked, like a professor readily awaiting an answer from his uninterested class.

“me,” you pouted, looking away from him. amused, patrick giggled and used a finger to lift your chin, quipping,

“oh really? you wanna show me how you do it?”

"you wish, patrick," you rolled your eyes, simply unable to ignore the way his words went straight to your core.

he could tell, past the feigned annoyance, that you were imagining it, thinking of letting your fingers trail up and down against your slit while patrick looked on with watchful eyes. maybe even lighting a cigarette and leaning back to watch you and drink in all of you. so calm and cavalier, taking drag after drag from his cigarette. you imagined how he might sit there so calm and cavalier, taking in drags from his cigarette with a nonchalant expression on his face that didn't indicate any of the arousal he felt poking through his jeans. just sitting and watching you fall apart with each needy pump of your fingers pushing past your folds — the sounds of your desperate whimpers and gushing pussy squelching as your fingers work faster filling the room. if you started to close your legs, he'd lean forward and push them apart, then sit back again. he didn't blame you for it, he was thinking about it too. you both knew he was adding that onto his mental checklist.

"hmm, i do," his fingers gripped your chin and he squeezed it gently, his deep brown eyes pouring over yours so gently, filled with so much love and appreciation. you could burst. "hey, if you're so mad at me, why'd you show up in your tennis skirt like i told you to?"

he asked this question while letting his hands smooth down over your body, reminiscent of the way he hugged you earlier in front of your boyfriend. he stopped just above your ass, his hands hovering there while he awaited your answer like it was a green light.

"i was already wearing it..." you trail off, unable to keep steady in your resolve, and he knows he’s got you.

“yeah, you’re full of shit,” patrick laughed. you felt his breath on your face, coming in heavy huffs of laughter as he leaned in.

the tip of his nose bumped against yours, his lips fanning over your own. you felt him smile against your lips as his hands drifted down and underneath the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass with his rough, worked hands, just like you imagined he would. you couldn't help the way a little moan escaped your lips, finding the slightest bit of relief at last, and all from his touch. he felt it too, a peaceful sigh escaping his parted lips. he kissed you then, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling it back slightly. hints of heineken meeting the coconut vanilla lip gloss you'd slathered on before you came here.

"i wanna make it up to you," patrick murmured against your lips, pulling you in closer by the small of your back and kissing you again, obsessed with the way the gloss made his lips glisten with the memory of you.

"yeah?" you gazed up at him, fluttering your lashes in that way you knew drove him crazy— he knew you were doing it on purpose, but somehow that intention made him all the more attracted. "how?"

that was how you ended up with your legs suspended in the air, hooked around patrick's beefy arms as he fucked into you, his cock hard and thick and rigid, twitching constantly at the sound of your moans.

"fuck, you're so fucking hot. i'm so- fuck - i'm sorry, baby," he stammered just slightly dropping that guise of cockiness for you. there's no need, you forgave him the second he bullied his gorging tip inside of you and rewarded you with that miraculous stretching feeling, a key fit snug inside a lock. you might've forgiven him even before that, when he spat on your pussy and placed a wet kiss on it before positioning his cock at your entrance.

your breath was caught in your throat, all you could feel was your body — your legs stretching back towards your head, your breasts jiggling in tandem with patrick's thrusts, sweat prickling the surface of your soft skin, your pussy getting fed with cock, stretching and molding his own and sending sensations up to your lower abdomen. you couldn't think.

" you forgive me? not mad at me anymore?" patrick asked, and usually his voice was dripping with immodesty, but this time it was ladled with desire — he wanted to hear you say the words. he was full of shit, and sometimes a dickhead, but he wasn't just some archetype. you had been friends first, and he wanted you to know that he gave a fuck.

"mm-mm," you shook your head, your eyes clenched shut. you brought your hand up to your lip to bite down on it, but patrick shook his head and swiped your hand away.

"no, no, no, none of that. i wanna hear those moans, i wanna hear how good i'm making that pussy feel," he pants, hinging on something similar to desperation.

you whimper and it trails off into a loud crash of a moan as his tip hits just right, you feel like you can feel the outline of him inside you. he moans too, readjusting so it feels like he's power fucking you, his hips gliding back and forth at a new speed, previously undiscovered, so fast and hard and yet smooth that your eyes are rolling back in your head before crashing shut again, and your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. then, at once, a raucous moan that didn't even sound like it could come out of you — not you, so soft and sweet and innocent and wet, mush under his touch.

patrick can't believe it, can hardly stomach looking down because he knows the sight of your wetness glistening on his cock, practically soaking him, will make him come in five seconds tops. he spares a glance anyway, his stomach flipping. he laughs incredulously, glancing down,

"you're so fucking wet, my god — cock just slides right in, i don't even need to — fuck — fucking try. imma make you mad all the time if this is how wet it gets you."

just a moment later he's yapping again, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't bring you closer and closer to the edge.

"tell me. tell me that you're – shit – that you're not mad at me anymore. open your eyes, want you to look at me when you say it. want those pretty eyes looking at me while you take my shit."

you shake your head furiously, forcing your eyes open even if they are low-lidded,

"n-not mad at you anymore. i forgive you, i forgive you, just fuck me, please!"

you'll be embarrassed at how easily you give in later on, but right now you wrap your arms around his back and pull him in closer to you.

patrick chuckles, astonished at just how fucking horny you could be,

"god, you're fucking easy. just need a little dick to get your head screwed on straight, fix that fucking attitude. need it from me. all you need's a little dick to be a good little slut again, yeah?"

and you barely realize it, but you're blubbering and nodding as he drives his dick deeper into you, forcing you to sink your teeth into the flesh of his prominent bicep. digging deep into you like forgiveness could be found in the warmth of your pussy.

it doesn't take long before you're bent over and he's letting the tennis skirt flutter ever so slightly over your ass, groaning as his thrusts cause the skirt to jostle around and expose more of your ass, which bounces back each time he cracks his thighs against you. he's easing in and out of your pussy and his hand has found a home in the arch of your back. nothing has ever looked so appealing to him before— twice he paused and just let you work him, fucking back onto him, while he zoned out and just admired the magic happening before his eyes. you work hard, and he's in disbelief at how much you make an honest job out of fucking back on his cock. sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyebrows raised slightly, mouth dropped just so. he's in a lull, completely in awe. when he comes, he aims it onto your ass, bending down immediately to lick it up and clean up his mess, his tongue flirting with your asshole in the process.

after the whole ordeal, he'll tell you to leave your skirt here, and sends you home in a pair of his sweats.

you don't ask why, you just watch the snapchat video he sends you not too long after of him jerking off onto it, his cum spilling out and dripping onto it, blending in with the soft white fabric. you wish you were disgusted, but it makes your mouth practically water, makes your pussy throb.

as he drills into you from behind and whispers nasty, beautiful things into your ear, you realize "slut" sounds so much better coming out of patrick's mouth than your boyfriend's.

[averageh0tmenenjoyer]

✨🚗My Head-canons for Bo Sinclair with a short and chubby grungy s/o💕🚗✨

Characters used/mentioned: Bo Sinclair, Y/N A/N: I might write a Vincent one, I understand why so many people adore him💕 TW: bo being bo, a bitch lmao (he's a bit ooc), a very small mention of PTSD (I have it and I have strong feeling that he does too but he refuses to acknowledge it) A/N: Y/n is gender neutral lmfao, The relationship is established and very very deep in (not marriage levels but almost)

Headcanon 1: He can and will steal borrow anything to spite you with love, your favorite Nirvana shirt? It's his Nirvana shirt now. Which is just his size and it hugs oddly nice on his chest and torso, yes he does in fact wear it so you can ogle at him all day, if you ask him why, he'll just chuckle at you

Headcanon 2: Uses your lighters all the time, why? he wont tell you, he'll smirk and scoff at you, turning his head away to light a cigarette only to wink at you with a sly smile because he's a bitch

Headcanon 3: Makes fun of your music taste, you listen to Nirvana? he hates that band not really... But if you listen to KoRn or Slipknot or Metallica- He will be shocked and will stfu for the rest of the day

Headcanon 4: the kind of mf to deny being a personal attention whore AS he is wrapped up in your arms snuggling into you as if you were a pillow for him and him only. Then he'll bite your thighs and chest to show you his way of affection because he's a rat

Headcanon 5: This bastard will make out with you for 6 hours and then walk away as if nothing happened. Yes you will ask what the kiss was for, he will not answer you unless you fight earn the answer, the answer was "no reason... jus' wanted ta see your face become red fer me~"

Headcanon 6: You know how to act? amazing! now you can help out dealing with the tourists! Now stand there and look pretty as Bo does everything else- What? one of the tourists made a nasty commit about your body? they're dead now. No Vincent isn't going to make them into a statue. They don't deserve to be displayed in the House of Wax.

Headcanon 7: At night this man will PRAISE you, he will unironically call you pet names like 'honeybun' or 'bunny' simply because he thinks you're so cute and lovely, these pet names will soon become frequent and more- gentle when he refers to you, he will become more cuddly

Headcanon 8: If you are an artist he will demand a drawing of him from you, no questions asked, when or if you do this mf will be giddy and giggly like a child. Will hang it up in his room and admire it, not because it's him but because you drew it for him.

Headcanon 9: He has PTSD and has frequent flashbacks, you're there to try and ground him and comfort him. Most of those flashbacks are in night terrors usually, but there's times where he's awake, he's dazed, he's confused and tired. He will need that support from you at all times.

Headcanon 10: LOVES TO HOLD YOUR HANDS, his big and calloused hands are perfectly bigger than your small, soft, and dainty hands. Loves to kiss them and nuzzle his face into them as he flutters his lashes at you teasingly

[urfavluvergirl]

Stars All Aligned and They Intertwined - all of the girls you loved before au

AU masterlist - you can find other stuff under #🪼opheliajones

...Maybe Gothenburg is the city of love?

✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩

link to what Ryan go Ophelia for Christmas here. link to what Ophelia got Ryan for Christmas (with the exception that she handmade it), and the ring here (its not exact, but its just two pipe cleaners twisted together to look like a ring). Link to what Ryan got for Ophelia's birthday here.

Also the first two lines for those who don't know are mentioned from this fic.

wc: 4.2k

things to look out for: swearing, mentions of sex, kissing, making out, mentions of violence (VERY BRIEFLY), Ophelia cries a little, small mention of abandonment (it's just Ophelia going crazy)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

They ended up not talking about it.

Not out of avoidance, but just because they had so much to do when they got back to school.

For Ophelia, it felt like midterms weren’t actually midterms, because what do you mean finals were two weeks after that?

And Ryan was busy perfecting his game, winning, and communicating with those who were going to coach the World Junior Championships.

Ophelia knew that the line of Perreault-Smith-Leonard was going to make the team. She was even happier when she found out that Cutter, Jacob, Drew, and Aram would be going along with them too.

Then the invite came.

“Do you…wanna come to Sweden with us?” Ryan asked one rainy, cold December night.

Ophelia paused, her eyes looking up from her computer screen. “Uh…let me ask my mom.”

“Yeah, no pressure..uh Grace is gonna be there, and so is Danielle and Samantha so like–you wouldn't be alone. And Will’s mom is going too because of course she is but–” Ryan stammered.

Ophelia laughed, “I’m not worried about that, it's just…flying to another country for a big part of winter break is kinda a lot. Plus Mom would be missing my birthday…wait, the tournament falls on my birthday…right?”

“Oh…yeah it would.” Ryan hadn’t thought of that, and now her chances of going were getting slimmer and slimmer, or at least it felt like it.

“I do really want to go though–I’d hate to miss another milestone for you.” She said slowly, confidence dripping from her voice.

“Yeah, would kind suck to miss that.” Ryan smirked.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

And that’s how she ended up on a nine hour flight. Eating snacks and watching nature documentaries. 

She didn’t even expect her mother to say yes, but…Pamela was clearly full of surprises. 

When she finally got to Gothenburg, it was about four in the morning, which was not exactly ideal but oh well. 

She had found out later in the day after a quick 3 hour nap that she was on the same floor as the Minnetian’s in her hotel, which was really nice since both Samantha and Danielle spent most of their time with her in her room, chatting, taking too many pictures on their digital camera’s, and sight seeing when they could.

Sweden was obviously very beautiful, even at its frigid temperatures, after all, winter was probably their best season. Gothenburg proved to be the perfect place for Santa to build his village as well, because at night time everything glistened and glowed with a sort of childlike innocence that sometimes made her tear up.

During the exhibition days early on into the tournament, before things really got serious, Ophelia and Ryan would put on their heavy winter coats, share a mug of hot chocolate (because Ryan was very strict on his diet, but then Ophelia would bring up his Starbucks order…which led to a lot of bickering), and would both share a pocket in Ryan’s coat, clutching each others hands out of need for warmth or not getting lost, (this also was not true).

And during the games she would wear his jersey, sitting up high in the rafters of the Team USA section of the arena, fingers crossing every time any player in red, white, and blue got close to the net.

And then it was Christmas, the boys did their promotional video with the team and then sauntered into Rutger’s room, playing stupid phone games and opening presents.

When it was Ophelia’s turn to give her gift to Ryan, she plopped down a neatly wrapped box before saying, “I’m actually lowkey proud of this one, so if you hate it I will cry.”

Which earned a laugh from the guys, and a weird look from Ryan.

He pulled the bow off, watching the box unfold itself into small sections, each section that fell from the shape included a picture of them when they were younger or a small memorabilia that they both thought for sure had been lost. Ryan’s eyes widened a little, his mouth turning down in a lovesick frown.

“Wait, hold on…there’s one more thing.” Ophelia mumbled, she couldn’t believe she was doing this in front of everyone but…it was just too perfect to ignore. 

She pulled out a small circle of pipe cleaners, one light blue and the other color a dark green, both wrapped around each other carefully but also unevenly in a way only young kids could craft, the ends were both tied together, she slipped it on her ring finger like she did so many years ago. Then showed it to Ryan.

“I spent literal hours looking for this, I thought I lost it.” She whispered, like he was the only person in the room.

His hand reached out gently for hers, tracing the fuzzy band. He pulled her in for a sudden hug, ignoring the chirps, the sounds of endearment, and groans from the others.

“Jeez, get a room!” Frank Nazar teased.

Ryan eventually pulled away, “Thank you…for this.” He picked up the box and folded it back together carefully. Ophelia tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands.

“Okay…my turn!” Will called out, effectively taking the attention off the both of them.

Ryan gave her half of her birthday gift, to which she rolled her eyes and said, “You really could’ve waited.”

He just rolled his eyes back at her, “That would be no fun… besides, you deserve it.”

She unwrapped it from its wrapping carefully, revealing a small little heart shaped dish, a delicately painted ocean, some rocks and a lighthouse.  

“You complained about not having any real storage for your jewelry so..I thought this would be good.” He explained.

“Awww, Ryan this is so cute, and it’s really useful, thank you…I’ll start using it tonight.” She gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a little side hug.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

It turns out Team USA is really good. Like, really good. Not counting a heart racing shootout win against Czechia, they were soaring. 

And then it was Ophelia’s birthday.

New Year’s Eve was pretty fun too, Ryan starting the next year and ending the previous with a tipsy kiss on her cheek, mumbling a small happy birthday, after.

Then it was sloppy hugs from all the guys, and Zeev, poor, sweet, absolutely shit-faced Zeev came over. 

“Y’know, you’re like…Ryan’s favorite right? He can’t stop looking for you during games and–”

“What?” Ophelia asked.

“Okay, Zeev, enough.” Gabe said, dragging him away from her.

“But they're like..perfect for each other! Come on Gabe–” She heard him as they walked away from her.

“Hey.” She heard someone else from behind her.

“Oh…hey Cutter, what’s up?” She asked, when she turned around to greet whoever it was.

“Does the birthday girl wanna take a walk with me?” He asked, sounding mostly tired.

She turned around to find Ryan, and watched as he threw back yet another shot, sighing, she turned back around to him.

“Yeah, that would be nice actually.”

It was cold outside, but much better than inside the hot, sticky bar. Cutter sat down on a bench and patted the spot down next to him, she took a seat.

“Enjoying Sweden?” He asked, to which Ophelia nodded. “Good.”

“Why’d you–” 

“You looked pretty overwhelmed in there, especially after Buium said something ...wait, what did he say?” Cutter looked over at her.

“Something stupid…I don’t know, he’s drunk so–I won’t hold him to it.” Ophelia dismissed, feeling warmth climb its way to her cheeks.

“It doesn’t look like anything stupid.” Cutter observed, because of course he was the most observant person on the team.

“Well, it was just about Ryan and I so…” She trailed off.

“Oh,” Cutter laughed.

“What do you mean, oh?” She countered, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Just…makes sense, you guys are known to freak out a bit after something that involves the other person.” He explains.

“What?” She cried. “Wait, Cutter–what?”

He smirked at her. “I’ve had to do the same thing with Ryan.”

“No–no you haven't–”

“I have.” And he said it like it was final, like what she’d been thinking was suddenly true, like she wasn’t just making shit up.

“You look tired.” He read her like an open book again. “Want me to walk you back to your hotel?”

“Please.” 

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

Sweden had become too cold. Like a bitter chill that wrapped around her and pulled her in different directions. It was her birthday, and god, did she feel awful. 

“You’ve been off all day.” Danielle said, bumping her shoulder into Ophelia’s. “Got something to share with the class?”

It was just the girls in Grace’s room right now. Sisters and a couple girlfriends that had introduced themselves to her at the beginning of the tournament, saying, Oh, you must be Ryan’s girlfriend! And hiding knowing looks when she corrected them.

“Just tired.” Ophelia shrugged.

“Oh come on! You just turned nineteen, you should still be celebrating!” Olivia, Zeev’s girlfriend, cried. It’s funny how similar they both were, but…it made sense.

“Oh, leave her alone, we were out pretty late last night.” Grace reminded, like the good adult she was.

Danielle patted Ophelia’s knee, “What did Ryan get you?”

“Oh…I’m not so sure yet…we haven’t seen each other yet today.” She said, sort of staring off into space.

“Wait, really? I for sure thought you would’ve seen him by now.” Samantha sat up on the bed.

Ophelia shrugged again, “He’s just working out or something…I’m sure I’ll see him later today.”

Grace perked up a bit, remembering a conversation that Ryan had between all the girls last night. “Oh…actually Ophelia, I think the guys are busy the rest of the day…”

“Wait…what?” Her head snapped to look at Grace.

“Yeah….you didn’t know?” Samantha sighed, picking up exactly what Grace was putting down. “Their coach was pretty serious after the shootout, has them working all day today.”

“Oh.” 

“Hey, it’s okay…who needs guys to make a birthday party fun anyways?” Olivia chimed in. “We’ll have way more fun.”

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

“Hey girl! How’s the birthday bitch?” Luna’s voice cracked over the speaker of Ophelia’s computer.

“Not great.” Ophelia sighed, standing in front of the mirror as she got ready.

“Wait..why?” Nathan’s concerned voice asked.

“It’s just…Ryan and the guys are busy today because their coach wants to work them from the shootout and stuff…totally not hating on him by the way! But like…they didn’t even tell me, and I thought I was gonna see them today but..I guess not and it's just...” Ophelia’s voice cracked a little with emotion, “Kinda wish I stayed home, because at least I could’ve celebrated with Mom and you guys and…now I feel guilty.”

“Oh..sweet girl…I’m so sorry. You do not deserve this on your birthday.” Luna cooed.

“I’ll beat him up.” Nathan threatened.

“Have you at least talked to your mom?”

“Yeah…no I have, before all this though…and I really don’t wanna tell her because I don’t want her feeling bad.” She sighed.

“Are you at least celebrating in some way?” Nathan asked.

“No–yeah I mean I am…the girls and I are gonna go out and it’s gonna be really fun I just…wish he was here with me y’know?” Ophelia rambled.

Both Nathan and Luna knew about how she felt for Ryan, but they were quite possibly the only people in the world who really knew it. Everyone could speculate what they wanted, but they were the only ones who absolutely knew the truth.

Luna sighed, “Yeah…I’m sorry Lia, that really sucks.”

“I don’t even know why I’m complaining now. I made it another year and everyone’s happy and healthy…that’s what I should really care about.” Ophelia said. 

“Well yeah but…you’re being grateful now. After this you can be upset that the literal love of your life fucked up.” Luna replied.

“I don’t think I want him to be the love of your life anymore…” Nathan trailed off.

“I’m not gonna punish him for how his coach is doing his job, I mean…I don’t know. I wish they’d told me.” She sighed.

There was a knock at the door followed by a text from Grace.

We’re outside

“Shit, I gotta go, sorry guys.” Ophelia sighed.

“Don’t worry about it.” Nathan replied.

“Yeah! We’ll talk later.” Luna said.

“Alright, talk later.” Ophelia answered.

“Oh wait! Lia?” Luna called out. “Have as much fun as you can but…maybe don’t forget this.”

The pit in Ophelia’s stomach dropped. The idea of her having a strike system and tight leash on Ryan made her upset, they way they could just fade away into the past again made her feel sick. 

“I’m sure it’s just an honest mistake.” She quickly said.

“Oh my god–do not defend this man with your life–”

She hung up.

Ophelia grabbed her jacket before stepping out of her hotel room to the group of girls.

“Sorry I’m late!”

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

“Um..where the hell are we going?” Ophelia asked nervously to Grace, as they walked in the back door of some random hotel. “I thought you said we were going out.”

The other girls had abandoned them, claiming that they had another conflict to get to, chalking it up with insincere apologies which made her stomach hurt even more.

“Don’t worry about it, just keep walking.” Grace reminded, her hands going to her shoulders.

They walked into a dark room before Ophelia turned around.

“Grace…I’m really starting to feel like everyone is abandoning me–I’m not trying to be ungrateful but I’ve been alone all day and–”

The lights flickered on, Ophelia turned around.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone cheered, the team, all the girls that appeared, and so did the parents.

“Wait…wait what?” She stammered, as Ryan ran over to her, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Sorry we scared you..but, I wanted to make this special.” He explained.

“Oh.” She let out, still shocked. “Oh my god–I..thank you guys for this it…means a lot.”

“Come on…we wanna open presents with you now!” Ryan ushered her over.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

After opening her many presents, which she was very surprised for…it was Ryan’s turn. He was practically buzzing with energy.

“Okay…wait before I give this to you…I want you to remember preschool.” He started.

“Um…what?” Ophelia asked, looking at him, it was followed by a couple of laughs.

“Just..open it and you’ll see.”

She gave him a strange look before unwrapping it. She was met with a Swarovski box.

“Ryan.”

“Just open it.”

“How much did you spend on this?” She asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied quickly, just trying to get her to open it.

“No…how much did you spend?” 

“Oh come on! Just open it already!” Will called out, Colleen rubbed his shoulder with her hand to quiet him down.

Ophelia gave Will a look, and then finally opened the box up.

Inside the box was a gently placed crystal flower, a yellow lily to be exact. It had two green crystal leaves, and a gold metal wire that wrapped around a block of white crystal. It was exactly like the little yellow flowers in the field behind their old preschool. The flowers that Ryan used to pick for her when they were young.

“I…I guess I just wanted something from then that lasted forever.” Ryan stammered out, gauging her reaction.

She let out a sniffle, before burying her head in the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“Oh my god, is she crying?” Aram asked.

“No.” Ophelia let out, although it was weak. “Fuck, you…you can’t just spring this shit on me like this.” She sniffled.

Ryan wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head.

A chorus of “awwww”s rang out through the room.

“I’m not crying.” She said again.

“I’m not saying you are.” Ryan said gently as Ophelia pulled back.

“I’m not even joking, this might be the best birthday present I’ve ever got.” She said, giving the box to an eager Olivia who wanted to see.

“I’m glad, Mom said it was pretty good too.” Ryan let out a weak chuckle.

The gifts had been so thoughtful…which made her heart beat even faster. They were clearly both at the end of their ropes. How far could they keep delaying this?

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

January 5th, 2024. The gold medal game against Sweden. 

Of course the guys were gonna make it to the finals, they had this sort of confidence that seemed almost infectious.

“We’re gonna win. Who else is it gonna be?”

But all that echoed in Ophelia’s mind was the conversation that Ophelia and Ryan had earlier that morning, when he brought her a warm cup of hot chocolate while she was in bed.

“I’m excited to win another gold medal.” He said, slipping into bed with her.

“Oh? You seem very confident.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Of course I am..I have a lucky charm in the crowd.” He replied.

“Oh…who?” 

“You Phia, obviously. Wanna win something for you.” He moved a little closer to her on the bed.

Ophelia blushed, looking away. 

“Seriously. I want you to be there for at least one of my big milestones.” He said, his voice having a slight serious edge to it.

“I—I…yeah no, it would be great to see you win something of value.” She stuttered out.

He smiled. “Well, I have to get to the rink but…I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. If I don’t speak to you again good luck…and get a goal for me.” She added.

Ryan hummed, his fingers gently grasping her chin and moving her head up a little to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I will, don’t worry.” He whispered against her skin before pulling away.

Ophelia shivered at both the contact and the absence of it, watching him get out of bed.

“I’ll be looking for you.” He mumbled, and slipped out the door.

Ophelia sighed, her face turning hot again, she reached for her phone to type in her groupchat of Nathan and Luna.

You’ll never believe what happened to me between yesterday and right now since I’ve talked to you guys.

The rink was packed. Full of yellow and navy blue jerseys, and then the small section of red, white, and blue up in the nosebleeds, and it was loud.

The first period was pretty tame, not including the several heart attacks she got from the shots from the swedish players, and of course there were the heavy hits that made her gasp.

It wasn’t until the end of the first period that Gabe got a goal, putting the U.S. up by one, assisted by Will.

Now Ophelia could finally breathe, now the U.S. had an edge that Sweden didn’t.

And then the second period happened. Things got a lot more chippy, Sweden tied it up, but then Issac scored twice, and it seemed like Sweden was running out of steam.

And then it happened.

About three minutes left in the third period, Ryan scored.

It was a crazy play, a series of insane stickhandling moves where at one point Ophelia thought: oh, he lost it. And then the puck went into the net and all of a sudden the score changed to 5-2.

Samantha’s hands were on her shoulders, rocking her back and forth, shouting, “Your man! That’s your man!”

And Ophelia just smiled and nodded. Because if I was one thing that she learned from the past couple of months is that she was his, he was hers, and there was never anyone else. That was her man, and she was his girl.

She watched as he blew kisses to the Swedish fans, holding his hand to his ear, and then suddenly turning around and stretching his arm out towards their section. 

Pointing at her.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

Ryan smelled, which was to be expected as he literally just threw on his pants, his jersey and ran out of the locker room almost seamlessly into Ophelia’s arms.

“I fucking told you–I told you we’d win it.” He said breathlessly, shoving his face into her neck.

“I didn’t doubt you guys for a second…genuinely.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Did you like my celly?” He asked, pulling away.

“Yeah…the kisses were really funny–”

“No, when I pointed up to you. Wanted to make sure you knew that one was only for you.” He interrupted.

Ophelia froze. “Oh…y-yeah that was nice.”

Ryan smirked. “I think I deserve something for that goal…and the win.”

“Oh…hmmm…” She said, looking up at him. “No I guess you’re right..” 

Ophelia leaned up and placed a soft kiss on the smooth skin of his cheek. It hit her about two seconds later that this was the first time her lips had ever touched him.

“Oh my fucking god–get a room you two!” Zeev cried from the other side of the hallway.

Ophelia watched as Ryan’s eyes snapped open, his expression turning from peaceful to annoyance.

“Oh my fucking—” He muttered under his breath.

Ophelia turned back to look at him. “Go…you should really celebrate with them.”

Ryan’s hands found hers, “I’ll go to your hotel room at eleven, then I can bring you out. Is that cool?”

“Yeah…yeah no totally, I’ll be waiting.”

He squeezed her hands in his, giving her one last smile before pulling away.

 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ જ⁀➴

Ryan had been spiraling from the moment he pointed at Ophelia in the stands for his goal. Not in a bad way just…his body giving him a gentle–harsh reminder that he really couldn’t hold back anymore. 

The gold medal hanging around his neck really meant nothing to him if he didn’t have the girl that predated it.

This was it. 

He kept telling himself. Stop holding back, stop holding back, stop holding back, stop–

He stepped into the plush hotel carpet of her hotel room, his fingers shaking as he put her extra key card in his pocket.

“Phia.” He said, standing between the carpeted section of the TV and beds.

“Oh..hey Ry.” She lifted her computer off her lap and placed it back onto her bed, walking over to him. “You ready?”

“I love you.”

She froze, watching him. Ryan felt the small claws of doubt climb its way up to his chest.

“No..just..listen to me, please.” He sounded so tortured.

She nodded.

“Phia I–I don’t wanna lose you again. I can’t lose you again. I…from the moment I made that stupid pipe cleaner ring and punched Tyler straight in the stomach I knew you were mine. That you always would be mine and to be honest…I never stopped thinking of you. And I should’ve known that the second that I told Will about you when we were both seventeen, and he knew but for some reason I couldn’t…I couldn't figure it out. I really want to take you to Washington with me, I want you to be there for everything after this because I need you. I want to be able to hold you close at parties and sneak into rooms to kiss you and decorate our future apartment together. I want you in my future when we’re both wrinkly and old, and have wedding bands on our fingers and we just laugh…laugh because of right now, and the future, and the past.”

“Ryan that…was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” She whispered.

“Yeah?” He inhaled.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head, and surged forward to press her lips to his.

They both shut their eyes at the touch, letting out matching sighs of relief.

Ryan’s hands wrapped around her waist, backing her up slowly until her back hit the wall, his hand coming up behind her head to soften the way it met the drywall. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulling him down more to try and swallow his mouth.

And then there were their lips.

Ryan was dizzy from the way her soft lips glided against his so easily, sticky and hot from her lip gloss. He pulled away to breathe.

“I wanna be yours too, Ryan.” Ophelia said breathlessly.

He smirked. “My girlfriend.” He whispered to himself, before tugging her back in for another kiss.

She let out a small noise at the way he pulled her in, but quieted back down again. 

Ryan was a really good kisser. He was gentle in all the ways one could ask for, tilting her head up and running his fingers through the ends of her hair and god–

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Ryan groaned, but broke the kiss. Ophelia figured out that she really liked the way her lip gloss looked smeared on his mouth.

“It’s the guys.” He sighed, thumbing a quick message back, his hand still not leaving her waist.

“What are they saying?” She asked, peering down to look at his phone.

“For us to hurry up…come on, let's go.” He offered her his bicep to hang onto, just like he did their first date and Ophelia grabbed it wordlessly.

“Wait uh…Ryan?”

He turned to look at her.

“Do you mind if we keep this–us dating–just to us for now? I mean…it’s not that I love you I’m also just really shy about PDA and–”

“Hey…Phia, it's all good. I understand.” His hand stroked her cheek. “Let’s figure this out…just the two of us before we tell people. I agree, it’s a good idea.”

She sighed, mumbling a quick thanks, glad that he didn’t take it the wrong way.

“Now come on…the guys are waiting.”

If there was one thing Ophelia learned these fourteen days, it’s that she really fucking loved Sweden.

[a-killer-obsession]

Hi there 👋! I want to ask how would Kid pirates (the main 4) react to a male s/o who absolutely hates being bottom? Like, he will ONLY top them and won't let them top him

Will they try to persuade him to do so or will they accept being bottom forever for their beloved one?

Probably, some hc about them as bottoms?

Thank you for your kind answers❤️

Oh man, I think they would definitely make it their goal to convince him how good being a bottom is. I think what it would take though was Wire acting as a bottom for the s/o to finally be convinced. As I said in this post, I think Kid is a switch but secretly prefers to bottom, Killer prefers to top but also enjoys bottom, and Heat absolutely prefers to bottom but will top if you ask him to. Wire however is like the toppiest top, but I imagine if the other three absolutely begged, and for the good of convincing s/o (because lets be honest, both being tops is driving Wire insane and he wants that ass) he would make the sacrifice and let someone top him, probably Killer since he taught Kil to top so he knows he'll treat Wire good.

Now, for specifics of the boys as bottoms with male partners:

☠️Kid Pirates☠️

Bottom Headcanons w/ AMAB Partner 🍆

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Kid

Only does it the first time after Killer sneaky convinces him to let him play with his ass. He lays awake all night before finally cracking and asking Kil to fuck his ass. After that its his favourite thing

Not a big fan of giving blowjobs, but he'll over his ass up in a microsecond

Too lazy for lube and proper prep, just fuckin spit in it and fuck him already

Wants his ass fucked till he sees stars and can't walk tomorrow

Prefers it over fucking someone else

Like i mentioned in the kink post as well, he wants the shit beat out of him while its happening. Seriously, draw blood, it makes his cock twitch

Killer

Loves giving blowjobs just as much as he loves eating girls out

Wants that cum on his face but if you get it in his hair you better be prepared for the two hour ordeal of helping him wash, dry and brush it

Doesn't give up his ass easy but whines like a bitch in heat when he finally does

Loves to fuck a girl while someone fucks him

PULL! HIS! HAIR!

Uh totally unrelated 👀 but i literally just drew this earlier today, gotta crop it cos tumblr but you smell what I'm steppin in? The handle is BUILT IN, USE IT!

Heat

He's been walkin around all day with a plug in his ass just WAITING for someone to slam him against a wall and fuck him hard

Wants to choke and gag on it, wants to feel that hot cum sliding down his throat

His absolute fav thing is when the other 3 gangbang him, all taking turns deepthroating him and pounding his ass. Hes in heaven when they leave him seeing stars and covered in their collective cum, he wants to be fucking dripping

Loves eating the other guys's cum out of a pussy or asshole, loves licking people clean of cum

Wire's favourite little plaything, his personal cocksleeve, but the whole crew essentially freeuses him

Big time into being the reciever in watersports. Sometimes if theres a long stint between islands the others will just chain him up in the brig and use him however they please. He fucking loves it.

Wire

Happens when the planets align during a solar eclipse. Fr a rarity, but hes so good at topping and the others all want that monster cock so bad that him being a bottom hardly ever happens

He'll suck cock, but not cos you asked him to, because you begged. Most things a bottom would do he does as a top. Even when he rides cock on the rare occasion, he's doing it entirely under his control

Just generally not that into being a bottom, it doesn't get him off as much, so you have to really really work for it

Easier to convince him to give up his ass if hes fucking someone else at the same time

Backseat driver the whole time, another reason it hardly happens, cos he's annoying and fussy as hell and not in a sexy bratty way

[murdocs-sweetheart]

Get to know your mutuals

Tagged by @dastmalchiansnose !! Hii ! Tyy!! :D

———

What’s the origin of your blog title?

Well I just wanna start by giving an honorary mention to my former, longstanding url bc I had that one since this blog’s inception!

My former url, ‘selfindulgentfandomstuff’ was born of my half assed attempt at coming up with a blog name that indicated that I was a selfshipper and not just a normal fandom blog! I realize in hindsight, it probably did just the opposite haha! Still, it became kind of iconic amongst my mutuals/followers, I think, which is why I mention it haha!

My ACTUAL url as it is currently, ‘murdocs-sweetheart’, is the final nail in the metaphorical coffin that is my relationship with Murdoc (CBS MacGyver). I love that guy so so much and I wanted a url to reflect that yknow?

Favorite fandoms?

Alllll of Star Trek (but especially TNG, DS9, DISCO, LD) <- listed first bc even tho I don’t talk abt it much on this blog anymore, Star Trek is a core part of me in so many ways <3

CBS MacGyver

Villainous CN

Late Night With The Devil

Erhhmm probably more but I forgor and those are the main ones I suppose

Otp(s)/shipname?

Will I be crucified if I say my selfship with Murdoc?/hj I AM a selfship blog after all haha!!

For realsies tho, all my mutuals’ selfships and for canon x canon stuff, I gotta go with ‘Elim Garak x Julian Bashir’ aka Garashir. I drew a looooot of fanart for those two when I was younger haha!!

favorite color?

Any shade including and between blue and green. Cheating? Perhaps. Do I care? No :)

Favorite game?

The Star Trek Catan board game!! (There’s a theme here, are you noticing this?/silly)

Song stuck in your head

‘The Moral’ by Shayfer James

Weirdest habit/trait?

Oh man, I could be here all day listing stuff…autism moment. You understand/lh

I suppose the one that comes to mind has to be the way I sit when I draw. I CAN sit in other positions to draw but the way I CHOOSE to when I get to choose is … inexplicable to be quite honest 😭

hobbies?

Drawingggg (traditional and digital), jewelry crafting/beading, juijitsu (although truthfully I’m quite new at it so I’m not very good yet lol), umm I think that’s it.. I used to do archery?? I got pretty good too. Stopped bc I hit a rough patch that wouldn’t go away and took a break about it and haven’t gone back yet. :(

if you work, what’s your profession?

Unemployed babeyyyyy

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Well, my goal, right now, is to work in some kind of space exploration program. Not sure where, perhaps NASA but that feels a bit too lofty even for my fantasies haha! But for the purposes of this question, yes I suppose my dream job would be working as an astrophysicist at NASA or some comparable organization. (NOT SpaceX)

And I think my alternate, that I’m still equally enthused about- so much so that I added it here- is working in research in quantum physics. Particularly stuff in quantum field theory! Cliche, I know, eeeeverybody wants to do ✨Quantum Physics✨ now but idccc I love the subject so much!!

Something you’re good at?

Umm I’ve been TOLD I’m good at drawing?? Not really compared to people I see on the internet but I guess I could say that- drawing! OH oh ooohh I’m EXCELLENT at untying knots. Like weirdly good and fast at it. Weird flex, I know 😅

Something you’re bad at?

Lots and lots of things, my friend/lh

I guess I’m pretty sucks at maintaining friendships. Decent at MAKING friends! Not so much keeping them, y’know?

Something you love?

ANIMALSSS YAYYY particularly cats, crows and elephants!!!

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff?

Literally any of the stuff I’ve listed above. My fandoms, my selfships, my interest in physics, you get the gist! I’m a yapper at heart!

Something you hate?

Whatever the hells going on inside my brain with that moralistic OCD type shit 😭😭😭

Something you collect?

ROCKS. SHELLS. PLUSHIES. BOXES/CONTAINERS. NEED I GO ON? I loooove hoarding stuff haha!!

Something you forget?

Most people don’t really give a damn if I slip up in a social interaction <- social (among other types) anxiety disorder haver

What’s your love language?

Idk I think I like when people make a point of reassuring me I’m doing Okay, in their eyes, if that makes sense?

Favorite movie/show?

Well. You already know about my fav shows lol. I’ll say my fav movies have to be a tie between ‘The Secret of NIMH’ and ‘Everything Everywhere All At Once’!!

favorite food?

My mom’s Puffed Pancakes :))

Favorite animal?

Cats, probably. Particularly African Servals!!

Are you musical?

I mean, I love listening to music? Is that anything? Idk I sang in Glee club throughout my elementary school years but idk if I was actually any good, despite being praised by all the adults in my life for it haha!! You know how people are, trying to make kids feel better.

What were you like as a child?

Annoying. Next question.

Kidding!! I was just autistic and undiagnosed! I think I was a lot like I am now? Just. Smaller. Maybe a little less anxious. Maybe a little more ambitious. Who knows.

Favorite subject at school?

Sciencessss (I took all the available science courses at my high school in either AP or honors 😎/lh/gen)

Least favorite subject?

P.E bc that shit is So Sucks. Also being a bigger girl meant that people always looked at me funny in the locker rooms. I don’t like locker rooms. :(

What’s your best character trait?

I think maybe my honesty? Like, not that I never tell white lies or anything but I think I’m pretty straightforward with most people, or so I’ve been told. That leads me to the next question tho…

What’s your worst character trait?

People REALLY do NOT like frankness sometimes 😭 so I think perhaps it’s two sides of the same coin.

In all seriousness, I think my worst character trait is whatever it is that makes me believe that I am Special. It used to be, I thought I was ‘special’ for being smarter than all my peers. Now it’s, I can’t help but think I’m ‘special’ in the way that I’m uniquely awful! 😃👍

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?

I should’ve gotten up before 2 pm LMFAO

If you could travel in time would you like to meet?

Leonhard Euler. To stop him from putting the Greek alphabet into math. KIDDING. As much as I have a personal distaste for all the damn LETTERS in math now (English and Greek now), I know that it is an elegant notation and he was smart to have introduced it. No but fr I would want to meet Euler bc of the sheer amount of STUFF he contributed to and how INFLUENTIAL and AWESOME a lot of the stuff he did was!! He was a brilliant dude and I would’ve loved to meet him!

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love):

I’ll be honest, I haven’t read any fanfic in a considerable amount of time. Chiefly bc I selfship now and honestly I just like writing my own selfship fanfic and reading that now haha!! Sorry!!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - suicide attempt,, arguing

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 15

By the mid-sixties he was holding Bible readings in the den of our Bel Air home. I sat next to him one evening as he read passages with great force. Facing us were several of his young female admirers wearing the lowest-cut blouses and the shortest miniskirts. They all listened attentively, disciples enraptured in the presence of “their” lord. The sermon stretched to hours, followed by a question-and-answer period during which they vied for his attention.

Sitting at his feet was an attractive, wellendowed young girl wearing a blouse unbuttoned to her navel. Leaning over seductively, she asked in honeyed tones, “Matt, do you think the woman at the well was a virgin?” With me right beside him, he avoided taking in the fleshy spectacle obviously exposed for his benefit.

“Well, honey,” he said, “that’s somethin’ you’ll have to come to a conclusion on yourself. As for me, I personally think Jesus was attracted to her, but that’s my opinion. I’m not sayin’ it’s fact.”

I watched Matt and the girl talking, feeling undermined and angry. How stupid, I thought. Can’t he see what she’s doing? It’s so obvious.

He drew in a deep breath and said, “I like your perfume, honey. What’s it called?”

“Chanel Number Five,” she answered.

Chanel Number Five? That’s what I was wearing! Why didn’t he notice it on me? I slowly rose and walked into my dressing room adjacent to the den. Determined to snare his attention, I changed into his favorite outfit—a tight-fitting black sheath he had picked out himself.

Returning a few minutes later, I took my place beside him, but he was wrapped up in preaching to his devotees and had totally overlooked my absence. To make matters worse, he didn’t even notice my change of costume. I managed to conceal my distress behind a fake smile and an attentive gaze, but I couldn’t help noticing that he was responding to them with an occasional wink or smile.

I asked questions like they did, but my heart wasn’t in it; I knew they all wanted to take my place. “That’s it,” I thought. “If I’m not appreciated, loved, or wanted, I’ll end it. That will make it easier for everyone.”

I got up and went back to our room. Picking up a half-full bottle of Placidyls, I devised a plan to create a dramatic effect that, in my mind, would win his attention. I stared at them, thinking, What if I choke to death? I decided to take two pills to start. That way I could take a quick shower, redo my makeup, put on my prettiest camisole, and still have time to position myself dramatically on the bed before I consumed the rest of the bottle.

I swallowed the pills and started to prepare myself for the end. In tears, I thought of leaving him a note, writing down everything I’d never been able to say. I’d tell him how I wished that it could have been just the two of us again, as it had been during the long hours we’d spent together in his room in Germany. I’d confess that I was jealous of any woman who caught his attention and that I hated the times when there was only silence between us, even though he’d said he had things on his mind. I’d tell him how I feared his violent temper, which robbed me of my freedom of expression; and how I wished that he’d have tried to understand me as I’d desperately tried to understand him.

Maybe he’s missed me by now, I thought. I ran to the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard him laughing. He was having a great time. They all were. I found that I was disgusted with all of it. I wouldn’t go in there now if he begged me, I told myself. I was too tired anyway.

But I wasn’t too tired to remember how I wanted to be found. I lay down on the bed with my long jet black hair spread over the white pillows, my lips moist with gloss. In my naive fantasy he’d take my listless body in his arms and tell me how much he loved me, kissing me passionately back to life.

I forced down one more pill, lay perfectly still in the position I wanted to be discovered, and waited for what seemed like hours for sleep to overtake me. But the longer I lay there, the less sleepy I became. The more I heard Matt’s laughter, the angrier I got. My adrenaline-charged fury was overriding the effect of the pills. Soon I began to feel foolish.

Then I heard Matt say good night to everyone as he approached the room. I grabbed the nearest book and lay it at my side, as though I’d been reading and had fallen asleep. I heard him come in, quietly walk over to the bed, and pick up the book. He whispered the title, The Listener. I could imagine him smiling, pleased as always when I read philosophical books. He stood over me for a second, probably thinking how sweet I looked and how tired I must have been to retire so early.

Then he covered me snugly with blankets and bent down to kiss my carefully-parted lips. All my anger and jealously vanished. I realized how even a little of his attention could make me happy.

In April of 1964, Larry Geller was hired to replace Matt’s barber, Sal Orfice. Little did we know that their relationship would not only cause a drastic change in Matt, but it would create tension, jealousy, and fear within the group.

I was in Boston when he first met Larry, but I learned all about him through our nightly phone conversations. Matt’s enthusiasm over his newfound friend was infectious.

“You’re not going to believe this guy, Sattnin,” he said. “Larry knows more about the spiritual world than all the preachers and Catholic priests and religious fanatics put together. We have discussions that last hours, just talkin’ and talkin’ about the great masters and my purpose for being here. I’m invitin’ him to Graceland. He’ll enlighten your spiritual development.”

When Larry and his wife, Stevie Geller, joined us, I was surprised to find them both young and attractive. He was kind and mellow. She was sweet and quiet and kept to herself.

However, many in the group, myself included, were suspicious of them. We were all threatened by Matt’s involvement with Larry. It was keeping him from us. It seemed as if Matt was always off alone reading esoteric books or deep in discussion with Larry about God’s master plan for the universe.

Matt discovered there were many great masters besides Jesus. There were Buddha, Muhammad, Moses, and others, each “chosen by God to serve a purpose.” What I was now witnessing in Matt was the emergence of that part of his nature that was thirsting for answers to all the fundamental questions of life.

He asked Larry why, out of all the people in the universe, he had been chosen to influence so many millions of souls. Granted this unique position, how could he contribute to save a world burdened with hunger, disease, and poverty? Why was there so much human suffering in the first place? And why wasn’t he happy, when he had more than anyone could want? He felt he was missing something in life. Through Larry’s insight, he hoped to find the path that would lead him to the answers.

He was eager for all of us—especially me—to absorb all the knowledge he was consuming. Happy to share everything, just as he had with his Bible discussions in L.A., he read to us for hours and handed out books he thought would interest us. He announced that in order for us to be perfect soul mates, I’d have to join him in his search for the answers to the universe. To help me, he gave me several large books, including Vera Stanley Adler’s The Initiation of the World.

He suggested I attend the lectures of the metaphysical philosopher and author Manley P. Hall. I did. I found the lectures difficult to understand and painful to endure, but I managed to survive with the hope that “this too shall pass.”

Then he became interested in Cheiro’s Book of Numbers, which defined people’s personality traits and characteristics according to the day of the month on which they were born. To find out who was compatible with whom, Matt added up the numbers in the birthdays of everyone within the group. I waited in terror, praying that my number would be a six, seven, or eight, so I would be compatible with Matt, who was an eight. Fortunately, my number linked with his.

Although I was striving to be his soul mate and subtly becoming more aware of myself as a spiritual being, my heart longed for the very temptations he was fighting to conquer.

While I patiently waited at home at Graceland for his returns, planning romantic interludes, he was attempting to overcome worldly temptations and believed he was going through a cleansing period, physically and spiritually. Any sexual temptations were against everything he was striving for, and he did not wish to betray me, the girl waiting for him at home who was preparing to be his wife.

He felt guilty and confused about his natural reaction to female advances and I believe that this was his greatest fear when it came to marriage. He loved me and deeply wanted to be faithful to me but never felt certain that he could resist temptation. It was a persistent battle, and it even got to the point where he felt he had to resist me.

“y/nn,” he said one night before we went to bed, “you’re going to have to be pretty understanding these next few weeks, or however long it takes. I feel that I have to withdraw myself from the temptations of sex.”

“But why? And why with me?”

He was quite solemn. “We have to control our desires so they don’t control us. If we can control sex, then we can master all other desires.”

When we were in bed, he took his usual dose of sleeping pills, handed me mine, and then, fighting off drowsiness from the pills, pored over his metaphysical books.

As his soul mate I was expected to search for answers as fervently as he did, but I just couldn’t bear reading the ponderous tracts that surrounded us in bed every night. Usually within five minutes of opening one, I’d be sound asleep. Annoyed at my obvious disinterest, he woke me to share an insightful passage. If I voiced the slightest protest, he’d say, “Things will never work out between us, y/nn, because you don’t show any interest in me or my philosophies.” Then, pointedly: “There are a lot of women out there who would share these things with me.”

Faced with this threat, I forced myself to sit up and try to read the passage. The print swam before my eyes in one big blur.

I wanted to share romantic, not religious, inspirations with him. I tried to cuddle as close to him as I could, feeling the warmth of his body. He told me to sit up and listen, and he read yet another passage, repeating it several times to make sure I grasped its significance. I could bear it no longer. I lost control and started screaming.

“I can’t stand it! I don’t want to hear any more! I’m sick and tired of your voice going on and on! It’s—driving—me—crazy!” I was hysterical, pulling at my hair like a wild woman.

“What do you see?” I demanded. “Tell me, what do you see?”

He stared up at me, his eyes half-closed. “A madwoman, a goddamn raving madwoman,” he answered, slurring his words because of the sleeping pills.

I fell on my knees beside him, crying, “No, Matt, not a madwoman, a woman who needs to make love to and to feel desired by her man. Matt, you can have your books and me too. Please don’t make me beg,” I cried. “I really need you and want you.”

By the time I’d finished my tirade, all I could hear was the faint sound of religious music playing on the radio. I looked up at him. He had fallen into a deep sleep.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - i feel like you guys are going to want to kill me when i get to the last chapter..🎀

[idontplaytrack]

could you do more amber appleton x reader fics please? I don’t have a very specific request but maybe one where reader finds out ambers living situation and begs amber to let her help somehow with some angst? thank you! <3

Honey

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, angst, implied/mentioned sex

Amber hates asking for help, but reader’s had enough of it and begs Amber to step back

Amber was…a lot of things: bubbly, kind, helpful, supportive, optimistic. Well, and was also quick frankly the cutest person you’ve ever laid your eyes on. She was the first friend you’ve made at high school, and your crush on her only started to show up in junior year. So when you’ve been around her for the last nine or so months, you’ve been a tad nervous. That you’d make a fool out of yourself if you ever drew a blank while you were hanging out with her. Expertly, you shoved those feelings for her aside and chose to ignore them— hoping they’d go away. You could never be good enough for her, she was a straight-A student and as established, very pretty. You knew a bunch of students off the top of your head that had crushes on her and/or tried to ask her out. Though she hasn’t said yes to any of them, you never once thought you’d have a chance. Did you dream of it? Yes. But did you think it would ever happen? Absolutely not.

“Amber~” You walked up behind her, chin resting on her shoulder for just a second, “Good morning.”

She grunts, shrugging slightly. You took the hint and moved off of her. You were immediately concerned, she’s never been like this before. Just yesterday, she was on cloud nine because she got invited to audition for Carnegie Mellon. So this, was unexpected. Especially from her.

“Hey, what’s the matter, Ams?”

Her face perked up, she smiles at you, “Nothing. I’m fine!”

You bit back a sigh. “Are you sure? We still have time before class, we can talk—”

“Yep!” She confirmed in her usual chipper tone. “Come on, let’s get to home room.”

“Okay…” You squinted at her. She squinted back, “y/n, I’m okay.”

“Sure. Okay, let’s go.” A quiet sigh inevitably falls from your mouth as you agreed with her, walking side by side to the designated classroom. You decided to drop it— for now.

After lunch, you finally saw her again in wood shop and what caused alarm bells to go off in your head was how careless she was being, it was as though she was purposely trying to injure herself. "Amber." You seethed, "What are you doing? Be careful."

Not a single peep out of her. You were very quickly losing your patience, especially after what happened before homeroom. You had been worried about her all day. She huffs and went up to the teacher to ask for permission to use the restroom, knowing that you couldn't stop her and that the teacher only allowed one student to go at a time. When she returned to the workshop about ten minutes later, she didn't even look at you anymore. But she did seem super agitated which only caused you to be more concerned and even a bit anxious. What the hell was going on?

"Hey, could we talk? Please?"

"What's there to talk about? I'm gonna be late for my shift." Amber says dismissively.

A lie. She had more than a half hour to get there.

That look on her face was seriously starting to irk you, why was she acting as if you owed her the world?

"So?" She tilted her head up, "What? What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"What happened?" You asked, "Why are you acting like this? I'm just trying to help you and you're acting like— like you hate me now."

"I don't hate you." Amber's gaze softened as she gnawed on her lower lip, "I'm sorry, okay? It's just that something happened last night with my Mom and I've been pissed off about it." "What happened?" You repeated, "Let me help you, Amber."

And then that expression was back on her face, that annoyed, unhappy look. It was very subtle, but having spent nearly everyday with her, you knew.

"I don't need your help."

"So then you're just gonna be like this from now? So angry?" You snapped.

"I don't need your help y/n, leave me alone."

"Fuck, Amber. Why is it so hard for you to ask for help? Let people help you?" Your voice got shaky towards the end, you were looking right into her eyes. That harsh glare had its moments of softening, she was about to cry.

"I don't know what to do." She mumbles, "I don't know how anyone will be able to help me. I didn't want you to know that I—"

You tug on her arm and told her to sit down on the bench, you did the same. "Amber, it's okay. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, we'll be okay. We'll figure it out...get through it."

And that triggered the waterworks. Amber just broke down in tears and gave you the shock of your life. You instantly engulfed her in a hug, rubbing her back to calm her down. "Last night— they found out me and my Mom have been sleeping on— on one of the school's buses."

Oh. Fuck, it was much worse than what you could've guessed. Your heart shattered, you couldn't believe you didn't find out sooner and helped her, and her Mom.

"She got fired and she was just so upset and I didn't know what to do because she wanted me to go stay at Oliver's with her but he hits her and has her drinking again. I didn't want that, so I told her no, told her not to go...but she still went so I just— I slept on a bench and now— I guess, now you know."

"Stay with me." You told her, biting back the rapidly forming tears. "Please, Amber, let me help you. You're my best friend, I don't want you to feel unsafe at Oliver's, I don't want you sleeping on benches, I don't want you to be scared to come to me for help. Do you have any idea how much you've helped me since we met on our first day?"

Amber sniffled, "You're my best friend, of course I'd help you."

"And you're mine, of course I'd help you." You breathed out heavily, a painful lump in your throat.

"I got to get to the donut shop." Amber got up, taking a deep breath to recompose herself, "I'll see you later? Promise."

"What time do you get off?"

"Eight-thirty."

"I'll be there." You promised. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, "Okay."

————

While you headed home, Amber headed in the opposite direction towards the donut shop. The whole time, her revelation kept replaying in your mind on a loop. You simply could not shake it off. In the shower, it had you screaming out of frustration from the fact that it kept haunting you. "Fuck!" You groaned, fist slamming into the wall on your side, "Stop it! Stop it, just help her. Stop thinking about it, Amber's alright right now."

After your shower, you dried off, got dressed and started to deep clean the house. Again, out of frustration. And to distract yourself. It worked, though you were sweaty again after you finished the chores two hours later. Plopping onto the couch, you stared at the clock: 6:35pm. You had plenty of time before you had to go pick Amber up from work. Your Mom was on the way home from work, your Dad was on a business trip. But that was the least of your worries because they knew Amber and absolutely adored her. Amber doesn't come by to hang out that much, because she worked after school most days, but they knew her and knew her well enough to trust her completely.

After some thinking, you got started on dinner. Your mom gets home right around that time. "Mom, hey."

“Hi, sweetie." You mom smiled at you, approaching the kitchen, "What are you making?"

"Nothing fancy, just a lasagna since we had the ingredients." You smiled back, "Um, Mom? Amber's gonna have to stay with us for awhile."

"Oh. Amber? No problem, she can stay as long as she wants to." She agreed quickly.

"Thanks." You were a little shocked by the fact that she didn't even need to know more first, but really relieved she didn't and trusted you and Amber like that.

Your Mom excuses herself to go take a shower, you acknowledge that with a nod and off she went while you finished up putting the lasagna together then into the oven. And when your Mom came back downstairs, the lasagna was done, fresh out the oven. "Honey, that smells amazing." "Thanks, mom." You beamed brightly, "Oh, I have to go pick Amber up in a few, but if you want you can eat first."

"It's okay, honey. I'll wait, I'm not that hungry yet since Jodie at the office brought cake to celebrate her birthday."

"Oh, alright. I'll get going now, but I'll see you back here in a bit."

"Drive safe, sweetie." Your Mom gives you a hug before you leave.

It was a short drive to the donut shop. You pulled up right outside, watching Amber wipe down the counter and then she saw you. Her face lit up with a smile before she waves at you. Lloyd sees you as well and waved hello. Amber puts the rag aside, picked up a pink box and walked outside to meet you. "Good night, Lloyd!"

"See ya, Amber!"

"Hello." Amber was back to her usual self now, and thank god because you couldn't cry anymore, no way.

"Hey, how was work?"

"It was fun, never boring because Lloyd's always cracking jokes." Amber shrugs, "And we get free donuts."

"Those are always great." You nodded gleefully.

Parking your car in the garage, you stepped inside the house with her swiftly. "Hi!" Amber greeted you Mom instantly.

Your Mom playfully stares at her, "Remember not to call me 'Mrs. y/ln'?"

"Yes, I remember, Eda. How are you?"

"I had a good day at work, got to leave on time." Your Mom answers, "It's been awhile, and I get to see you?"

Amber chuckles, amused. "I come bearing donuts."

"Do you have rainbow sprinkle?" You and your Mom asked in unison. Amber laughs, so did you and your Mom.

"Certainly do. You each get one."

Dinner was lovely, you got to be with Amber and your Mom. Having good food and chatting the night away. But eventually, dinner concluded and you were by the sink— with Amber, washing up the dishes. Your Mom was gonna do it, but you offered, seeing that she was likely tired from work. "Let me help you."

"You are helping." You squint at her jokingly, "By standing here and chatting with me. Keeps me awake."

After the dishes were dried, you head up to your room with Amber at your heel, holding onto your hand as you walked up the stairs. She initiated the hand-holding, not you. But honestly, as startled as you were, you did not want to let go. Why? You were happy she was showing you affection.

Amber would be sleeping in your bed with you. It was big enough for two but besides that, it wouldn’t be the first time she slept here. She had no objections to sharing a bed with you, with you being her best friend.

“Just take whatever clothes you like.” You told her as she stood by your dresser rifling through the drawer, “Towels are in the bathroom. So are extra toothbrushes and pads— if you need them.”

“Okay.” She answered softly, “Thanks, y/n. Really. You don’t know what you’re doing for me, I can’t ever thank you enough.”

“As long as you’re safe, that’s a big enough thank you.” You replied earnestly.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” You nodded, “Take your time. I’ll just…be here getting comfy in bed.”

She grabs a carefully selected stack of clothing and began walking towards your bathroom. “Amber wait.”

“What is it?” She asked, turning around to face you completely.

“Where’s Bobby?” You asked nervously.

“I left him at Ricky’s this morning.” Amber tells you.

“Oh.” You heaved a sigh of relief.

Amber leaves you alone for the next twenty minutes to shower, then she was back out with you again. You picked up on a difference in her mood, it was intense and made your heart race. She was looking at you a certain…way that made butterflies rage in your chest.

“Can I…give you something?” She asks, sitting down next to you.

“What?” You asked with caution.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss? Sure, Amber. You, want to kiss me?” You scoffed. But in the next second you feel her hand on your cheek, her face inches away from yours. “Yes.”

“Amber, you’re vulnerable right now, I don’t think I should—”

“That’s not why I want to kiss you.” Amber says, face somehow closer.

Fuck, you were so tempted. You wanted this. You’ve dreamed of this.

“Okay.” You decided, she kisses you. Not just fleetingly but a hungry, long kiss that caused you to ache. When she pulled away, you were damn near whining into her mouth. One thing led to another that night, it was everything you could’ve ever imagined and more. Amber was passionate, but so, so gentle with you, it was the best sex you’ve ever had and the first time anyone’s made you come.

As happy as you were, you were quickly bothered with the question of ‘what are we?’ right as you sobered up. Was this a confession of sorts that led to more? Or was it just…a one night stand? You looked at her looking at you, wondering if it was the right thing to do albeit enthusiastic consent from both parties, given the circumstance.

Before you could even process that you had tears in your eyes, she was asking you if you were okay. “I’m worried.” You revealed without much thought.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You continued, “I’m scared that I shouldn’t have done that because you’re—”

“I wanted that, okay? Don’t be scared, I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t want that.” She caresses your cheek.

“But I’m more worried about how things would be like between us now, Ams.” Your voice quivered with each word, “I— I wanted to tell you that I had feelings for you but I could never do it, I just— I didn’t want things between us to change, not in a good way.”

Amber smiles, thumb still smoothing over your cheek, “I like you too, y/n. So much, I wouldn’t have done something like that with you if I didn’t. We’re okay, we’re more than okay. We’re spectacular.”

You laughed a little then ended up bursting into tears while your head was nuzzled against her chest. Amber rubs your back, planting a kiss to the crown of your head, “You are mine.”

A smile creeps onto your face, “I’m yours.”

Amber chuckles, combing her hand through your hair in a calming motion. “Yes, you are. About time.”

“Good night.” You whispered, then took some deep breaths to even out your breathing.

“Sweet dreams, honey.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[howlingmoonrise]

tagged by the fantastic @sunriseverse! thanks sunny!! 💖

under the cut because this one is long

1. why did you choose your url?

i wanted a new fandom penname and at the time adjective + noun names were a thing. i fiddled with several different variations, tried and failed to acquire kaleidoscopicmoonrise at the time (it's mine now!!), and landed on this one. i wanted something a little spooky, especially since soul eater was my fandom at the time - though it doesn't feel like it now that my icon is a lot more sane-looking lmfao

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

uh. yeah. a stupid amount (like 30+?), so i'm definitely not naming them all. most active are obviously this howl blog, my main blog @commandersya, this one for danny phantom and gravity falls stuff, @howlingspacegoo gets some activity every now and then when venom stuff resurfaces, and some others i use for reblogging specific reference stuff. most of the rest are for fandom events i've run in the past.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

since like 2011-2012. i've seen it all.

4. do you have a queue tag?

lmao absolutely not. i don't use the queue function, though on occasion i'll schedule posts to space them out when i'm going through a tag in order not to reblog all of it at once, or for specific dates like halloween

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

this one was for soul eater writing purposes. tumblr in general was because my cousin dragged me into it and then i realized there was a lot of bandom stuff in here (i was really into black veil brides for my first year or two on tumblr)

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

i broke ties with the soul eater fandom in a not great way and wanted to change my icon. yoi provided the perfect yuri expression with the kind of benevolent dictator smile i really like, despite that not being the original intent for it when the animators drew it ✊😔

7. why did you choose your header?

i had to check my header real quick lmfao. jason todd is just an excellent blorbo and when a good artist draws him.... 👀👀👀

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

oh gods. probably my dracula/barbie fic at nearly 3.5k notes. where's that ben affleck cigarrette pic when you need it. alternatively some ancient black veil brides photo/gif on my main blog.

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk but i cherish y'all 💖

10. how many followers do you have?

dunno 😭 they're split across dozens of blogs so i'm not counting them all

11. how many people do you follow?

1.8k+, though i should follow more. my dash has times when it's pretty dead.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

probably? yes. just remembered the i bit the butte psoh post.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

however long i'm online on my laptop, more or less. so a sizeable amount of hours

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

LMAO. i was in both voltron and yoi fandoms, writing for and running events for "problematic" ships. take a wild wild guess.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

hate them. 90% of the time it'll make me automatically skip it. for the other 10%, if it has relevant info on the op's original post and that little sentence is on the comments then i might go back and reblog from the op just to get rid of it

16. do you like tag games?

love them!

17. do you like ask games?

see above

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i have uhhh. some. olderthannetfic, nemainofthewater, i think also colubrina for a while there, off the top of my head.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

if friend crushes count then several ✊😔

20. what is the last song you listened to?

the cramps - goo goo muck

21. what are you currently watching?

i am. so bad at finishing things so like a bajillion shows. the double i might drop despite it having been very very good until like episode 30-something. meet you at the blossom i need to finish like the last two eps. wandee goodday i need to finish four episodes iirc. i was in like episode 5 of century of love. i was on episode... 17? of my journey to you, which if i power through shall be for the antagonist sidepair/trio rather than the main characters. i was also at episode 16 of new life begins, which was fairly good and i do want to continue though i keep forgetting i have that tab open somewhere.

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

savoury!

23. what is your current relationship status?

single and ace so not planning on changing that!

24. what is your current obsession?

the spirealm/kaleidoscope of death, and mysterious lotus casebook

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

- La P'tite Fumée - Cypher - Brody Dale - Don't Mess With Me - Stiff Little Fingers - Alternative Ulster - Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - The Cramps - What's Inside a Girl - Linkin Park - Heavy is the Crown - Miyavi & PVRIS - Snakes - D-A-D - Sleeping My Day Away - Aerosmith - Dream On

no-pressure tagging! @junemermaid @a-memory-a-distant-echo @snorlaxlovesme @where-the-water-flows @nemainofthewater