#happy birthday to fit and anyone else who shares the same birthday

[orangehalfpeeled]

hey it’s that bald guys special day !!!

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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[pookalicious-hq]

endgame || pt. 2 to tolerate it

caitlin clark x reader (previous paige bueckers x reader) || previous: tolerate it || masterlist

notes: fluff, lmk if you guys want more caitlin stuff!! sorry for taking so long lmao, hope you like it <3

now playing: endgame by taylor swift

Endless streams of black silk flowed along her arms, down the small of her back, the weightless tule pooling at her feet. Gems stitched across the expanse caught sight of the flashing glares, absorbing the endless bursts of light. 

(Y/n) had been positioned at the beginning of the velvety carpet, the expanse of red spreading to the entrance of the 2024 WNBA draft.

With her smiles, she carried along her reputation. She held the weight of tonight's unknown outcomes atop her head, her chin never wavering. Soon, (Y/n) would take the first leap, discarding everything and everyone who dared to trap her in the past. 

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone. 

“Caitlin! (Y/n)! To your left here, please!”

The two girls moved together in unison at the request. An arm clad in white made its way around (Y/n)���s waist, finding solace in the familiar position. Soft smiles were placed upon their features. Their presence swallowed the venue whole, demanding attention. 

Before, (Y/n) would’ve shied away from the sudden spotlight. She had been taught that seeking attention was greed, and only those who deserved it received it.

Now, she learned from someone else. 

She met a girl whose love contrasted with anything she’d ever learnt before. Every word the girl spoke had been dipped in nectar. Apologizes were sent along with flowers and warmth, there wouldn’t be room for doubt anymore. 

Ever since that night, days with Caitlin moulded into months. Savoured kisses were hidden behind curtains, bodies tangled beneath soft sheets. 

Anyone would assume they had been cut from the same cloth given their natural lines that effortlessly fit together. 

Now here they stood. After a lengthy conversation, the two eventually decided to make their first appearance together. 

Another thing Caitlin had drilled into (Y/n)’s mind; never change who you are.

They addressed no comments towards their relationship. Only offering welcoming replies, carefully steering from the unsaid questions that plagued everyone’s mind: what were (Y/n) and Caitlin to each other?

If they had real answer, they would’ve told any who asked. But, unfortunately that was still a question left unanswered between the two girls. 

Of course, they were friends. They had been friends ever since playing on the same team in seventh grade. They were friends who had shared each other’s first kiss. They were friends ever since they knew what it meant to want the princess, not the prince. 

Being friends was the safest option. They both lead a busy life. There wasn’t much they could do together but send a ‘happy birthday <3’ text when they lived (about) 1000 miles away.

Though, together now, there still lied this unanswered question. 

“Did I mention you look gorgeous, love?” 

Caitlin’s soft murmur travelled across the expanse of (Y/n)’s neck, the sensation sparking warmth throughout her body. She swept her gaze upwards towards the brunette, eyebrows raised playfully. 

“Yeah,” (Y/n) laughed, “like, three times already. You’re so dumb, Cait.”

Her last words were laced with love, of course, Caitlin knew what she was doing. After her comment, (Y/n) stepped out of Caitlin’s reach, continuing her path down the carpet. The brunette’s gaze trailed behind the deep cut of her black gown, she was never out of Caitlin’s sight.

It was a given that they would be separated tonight. Even before their arrival together, they had been the main topic of the night. Everyone wanted to talk to the all-time NCAA leading scorer from Iowa just as equally as they wanted to talk to the March Madness MVP from South Carolina.

Flash

“Please stand here for an interview, miss.”

“(Y/n), who are you wearing tonight?”

“Caitlin, how are you feeling?”

“Please sign my jersey, I love you guys so much!”

Every comment, instruction and praise was met with the genuine smile that places itself on her features. Her gown flowed along the carpet as she made her way towards her third interview of the night. However, her steady gait soon faltered as her gaze found an unexpected variable in her path. The shock rippled through her, momentarily freezing her in place. It had been months since they last spoke, since they last exchanged words that weren't filled with bitterness and hurt.

Paige's presence hit (Y/n) like a sudden gust of wind, stirring up memories that she had buried deep within herself. She remembered the laughter they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the warmth of Paige's embrace. Unfortunately, alongside those memories came the pain of their parting, the arguments, the tears, the lingering sense of resentment.

But, despite those average thoughts that came up on the topic of Paige, (Y/n) now felt something additional, something different. 

As she stood there, her gaze briefly catching Paige's figure in the crowd, a wave of indifference washed over her. It wasn't that (Y/n) harboured any ill will towards Paige—far from it. (Sure, if Paige tripped and fell in that moment she would laugh at her pain, but no one would know that.) She had long since disregarded her for the actions of the past. But forgiveness didn't equate to a desire to rekindle what once was.

Paige Bueckers had exited her life. Whether anyone else thought differently, it didn’t matter. 

Her performance over her college years had granted her a seat at the table. 

Well, her own table.

She stood atop the stage among teammates and competitors she’d met over the years. The only difference this moment held, they would all be happy for each other no matter the outcome. Every player here had earned this moment. 

And no one would doubt that (Y/n) and Caitlin deserved this moment. 

Hard work leads to rewards. 

But, hard work and raw talent lead to a spotlight reserved for the best.

The line defining the two is a delicate balance, one that is forced to put both against each other. Nevertheless, what the media depicts as a head-to-head is never the true case.

Throughout their careers, Caitlin and (Y/n) had unwillingly been placed on opposite sides of a scale. What others perceived as a rivalry, the two girls simply considered their competitive nature. Nevertheless, they found no reason to acknowledge the headlines.

Who would be granted the championship? 

Who would the title of MVP belong to?

Who would win? 

On that significant night, (Y/n) and Caitlin painted a masterpiece of determination and skill. As the clock dwindled to its final seconds, Caitlin conceded—it was (Y/n)'s turn to shine. And shine she did, her brilliance lighting up the court with a mesmerizing career high of 39 points.

South Carolina roared with triumph, claiming the championship banner, while (Y/n) (L/n) ascended to MVP status. Amidst the cacophony of celebration, whispers of debate lingered, but for most, there was no denying—she had earned her crown.

Now, on this electric draft night, (Y/n) waded through a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, her senses alive with anticipation. The air crackled with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of new beginnings and boundless opportunities. Yet, amidst the excitement, one question lingered—whose name would be called first?

With each step, purpose pulsed through (Y/n)'s veins, a steady rhythm guiding her forward. Tonight wasn't just about personal glory—it was the culmination of years of dedication, an opportunity to showcase her artistry on the grandest stage.

As she settled into her seat at the draft table, nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. The room buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices and whispered dreams. But amid the chaos, one figure stood out—Caitlin, a beacon of unwavering support, making her way to (Y/n) with purpose.

"Hey there, superstar," Caitlin's voice, a melody of pride and affection, washed over (Y/n) like a warm embrace. Leaning in, she planted a tender kiss on her lover's cheek, igniting a spark that danced across her skin.

(Y/n) returned the gesture with a soft smile, her heart overflowing with love. "Hey yourself," she murmured, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Caitlin's, their connection a lifeline in the swirling chaos.

"Okay, sassy are we?" Caitlin teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her laughter a melody that danced through the air. At that moment, amidst the clamour of the crowd, they were a symphony unto themselves.

Though, soon enough, the minutes they were sharing vanished as the familiar chords sung, marking the beginning of the 2024 WNBA draft. The look shared between the two girls could only be described as duplicated. While their loving smiles spoke ‘good luck’, their eyes held nothing but determination. With one final squeeze to (Y/n)’s hand, Caitlin weaved back through the tables and took her seat. 

Truthfully, (Y/n) couldn’t give a damn about the speech that Cathy Engelbert was reading. The probably scripted words only added to the weight on her heart as she awaited her next team assignment. Despite the dragging minutes, she kept up a facade of interest for the camera.

“And now, we don’t have to wait any longer because the pick is in!”

Those words flipped a switch in (Y/n)’s mind, her senses sharpening as Cathy Engelbert took the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each click echoed through the room, a metronome counting down to the pivotal moment. The air was thick with tension, electric and charged, every breath laden with anticipation.

The moment drew closer and closer.

“With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the Indiana Fever select…”

The words hung in the air, estatic with possibility. Everyone held their breath as the selection came down to two athletes. (Y/n) glanced over to Caitlin’s table, finding her already searching for her eyes.

“Caitlin Clark, University of Iowa!”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room erupting in chaos as the crowd roared in ecstasy. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a rush, overwhelming and intoxicating.

With her eyes still locked onto Caitlin’s, she broke into a blinding smile, Caitlin mirroring her. In that moment, everything else faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

(Y/n) stood, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Every step toward Caitlin felt like an eternity, the ground solid beneath her feet. Suspense hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

With a barely contained laugh, she tumbled into Caitlin’s embrace, the world spinning around them. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of Caitlin’s arms around her, the sound of their shared laughter drowning out the noise of the crowd.

“You did it. You deserve this, Caitlin,” (Y/n) spoke, her voice ringing clear over the clamour of the crowd. Her words were a declaration, a testament to Caitlin’s strength and resilience. Her final words slipped out in a hush, “I love you.”

Amidst the cacophony of noise and celebration, Caitlin held onto (Y/n) as if she were the anchor in a tempest. Each beat of her heart reverberated with the pulse of the crowd, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting eternity of shared joy and boundless emotion.

As Caitlin finally released her grip, (Y/n) felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. Her heart swelled with pride for her friend, yet beneath the surface, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. In another time, her stomach might have plummeted, her throat constricted by the weight of unshed tears. But now, amidst the chaos of the draft, she found only a sense of serene acceptance.

Her gaze lingered on Caitlin, the embodiment of success and possibility, as she stood adorned in her Indiana Fever jersey. In that moment, (Y/n) glimpsed the future unfolding before her, a future that held boundless potential and untold promise.

Returning to her own table, (Y/n) was met with sympathetic glances and unspoken assumptions. But she brushed them aside with a knowing smile, the genuine ecstasy of Caitlin's triumph shining through her features. For in that moment, she understood that second place held no sting, no bitterness. Caitlin's victory was her own.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the attention shifted to the second pick of the night, belonging to the LA Sparks. (Y/n)'s heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlin, who was now enveloped in the embrace of her family, her smile radiant with joy.

As the tension mounted, (Y/n)'s mind raced back to all the years of hard work and putting up with undeserved bullshit. She remembered the countless hours spent on the court, the sacrifices made, and the people she overcame. It had all led to this, the culmination of a lifelong dream.

But amidst the anticipation, there was a sense of contentment that washed over her. She had already achieved so much, and seeing Caitlin's success only fueled her determination. Her focus remained unwavering, her heart filled with pride for her lover.

And then, it happened.

"With the second pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the LA Sparks select... (Y/n) (L/n)!"

The words echoed through the room, but Mayari hardly registered them at first. It was as if time stood still, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just been announced.

But then, reality crashed over her like a wave. The cheers of the crowd filled her ears, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. The room seemed to spin, the lights blurring into a dazzling array of colours as she stood, her legs trembling with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. The warmth of the moment enveloped her, and with every beat of her heart, she felt the weight of everything she had worked for lifting off her shoulders.

Just then, amidst the applause of the crowd, she heard melodic notes of her name being called out.

Suddenly, (Y/n)’s world tilted on its axis as she was swept up into Caitlin’s embrace. Their gazes locked smiles mirroring one another in joyous ecstasy. The sounds of the cheering crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her own heart and the warmth of Caitlin's arms around her. 

"I love you too," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

(Y/n) felt her heart swell, her emotions threatening to overflow. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling as they shared the profound intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their shared victory.

The fans in the crowd went wild, their cheers and applause creating a wave of sound that crashed over the two girls. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion etched on their faces. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, one that neither of them would ever forget.

As they finally pulled apart, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble out of her throat, the sound drawing an admirable expression from the brunette. She turned to face the stage, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) made her way to the stage, the cheers of the crowd propelling her forward. She felt the warmth of their support, the love and pride radiating from every corner of the room. This was her moment, a testament to all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the unwavering determination that had brought her here.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her LA Sparks jersey, she glanced back at Caitlin, who was watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride. (Y/n) knew, in that moment, that they had both achieved something extraordinary and that this was just the beginning of their journey.

With the weight of the jersey in her hands and the future spread out before her like a vast, open sky, she felt a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. The journey had been long and arduous, filled with moments of doubt and resilience, but standing there under the bright lights, she knew it had all been worth it.

As she held up the jersey, a symbol of her new beginning, her eyes swept across the sea of faces, each one a blur of colors and emotions. The lights above her were warm, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in a surreal, dreamlike quality.

Her gaze found Paige amidst the cheering crowd. Paige's smile was radiant, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression a blend of pride and a quiet acknowledgment of their shared past. The sounds of applause and cheers seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thudding of (Y/n)'s heart. The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words, a silent reconciliation and mutual respect woven between them.

(Y/n)'s heart swelled, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest, filling her with a deep sense of closure and peace. She returned Paige's smile, a genuine and heartfelt gesture, before her gaze naturally found its way back to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her love and pride shining brightly, grounding (Y/n) in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.

Caitlin's eyes were bright with joy and love, reflecting everything (Y/n) felt in that moment. The applause of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as they shared a private, intimate moment amidst the public celebration. Caitlin, in all her seriousness, blew (Y/n) a kiss, a tender gesture that drew a smile out from her. (Y/n), with a smile, reached out as if to catch it and then graciously tucked it into her pocket.

As she stood there, the weight of her journey lifted, she knew this was the beginning of a new chapter. With Caitlin's silent encouragement echoing in her mind, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next. The next step would be difficult, but it was hers to shape, and she would no longer be alone.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SHIT'S BEEN TOUGH. anyways hope you liked it, if you wanna see more cc x reader lmkk also next chapter of midnight love will come out soon IM SERIOUS I PROMISE DON'T HATE ME

anyways thank you for the support love you guys, mwah <3

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @idratherbesleepingrn , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay

[yoonia]

🖋️ one your stories that sticks to me the most was the (im)perfect ending. I really wish to see how you visualize their lives after. will Joon ever find out about the baby? will they reunite again? what happens when they do🤭? will Joon finally get his head out of his a** and end his marriage and be true to his feelings 🧐 or will OC has her own happy ending with someone else🤔?

💌 I think other people have said this before, but you are an admirable person that I've ever met online. You've worked hard on your stories and have always given us a lot. even now, you choose to spread positivity and share gifts for others to celebrate your birthday and I think that's the sweetest thing anyone could ever do. happy belated birthday, Dia. You deserve so much happiness and a lot more. I hope your coffee is always hot and your pillow always warm. wishing you and all your precious kitties an abundance of health and joy 💝💝

omg I've been getting the same questions sent to me for this couple, so I guess this might be a good chance to provide some answers for those who have been waiting for it lol

I know that the last letter mentioned in the fic didn't specify how much OC shared about her baby, so I guess this is where we get to see what other things she sent with the letter for Namjoon. I hope you enjoy the snippet and the visualisation below!!

— title: Our Imperfections| pairings: Namjoon x female reader| genre: second chances!au, infidelity!au, post divorce/break-up!au, angst | word count: 1,410 words — summary | Namjoon is on a mission to fix the mess he created. — ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; talk about divorce and custody, post break-up, mentions of infidelity

— original: The (Im)perfect Ending by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 30th, 2024 — song companion: loved

“Don’t forget that you need to pick up Sunny early Saturday morning for her class camping trip.” 

Hearing her voice on the phone, clipped with orders, used to make Namjoon wince. Now he is used to it. Always so business-like, even when talking about their only child. 

“Did you get that?” 

Her voice returns when he doesn’t answer. He holds back from rolling his eyes and calmly answers. “Yeah, I got that. Saturday morning. Early.” 

His reaction isn’t the only thing he is holding back. Asking why six-year-olds would go on a camping trip might only end up with him getting a long lecture through the phone. He doesn’t have that much time to endure that. And having his ear burning from it is really the last thing he needs right now. 

“Right. I’ll text you the details.” A sigh, then, “Sunny also wants you to be the one to drive her to school Monday. So I’m packing up extra clothes for her to stay with you another night. Is that good?” 

Namjoon closes his eyes. As much as he loves having extra time with his daughter, having the child’s mother schedule their time for him without consulting him first rubs him the wrong way. If he doesn’t know any better, he would have thought that she keeps doing this as a payback. Causing trouble and brushing his ego for choosing to step out of their marriage—the marriage that she had worked so hard to paint as perfect for the world to see. 

But Namjoon knows better. 

He knows that she has always been this way. 

Even when they were still together, she always had to be the one running the show, while Namjoon would have to follow. She was the one holding the pen, writing the story for them through her rose-coloured glasses, while forcing him into a role that he never felt like he could fit into. 

At one point, it caused him to lose himself. 

Only that he realised it too late. Far too late, because it hadn’t just started when they got married, but long before—when they grew up together and being fed their parents’ beliefs that they would end up together once they turned adults; when they became teenagers and she insisted that it would only be right if they started dating to make their parents’ dreams come true and when she started planning their wedding day just when Namjoon was starting to find a chance to write his own story, to walk a different path, with a completely different person. 

It wasn’t until he was able to find his old self and feel like himself again through the mistakes he made when he finally found the courage to leave that life. Yet, once again, he was too late. 

Far too late. 

“Namjoon? Do you—” 

Her voice breaks him out of his wandering thoughts, only for her words to get drowned by the sound of the announcement blaring through the speakers above his head. 

“Attention, passengers on Flight 345 with service to Sydney. We are now beginning our boarding process at Gate 12B. Please…” 

The voice fades as passengers rush in front of him to find the departure gate, and Namjoon waits until the announcement stops before taking his palm off his phone. 

“Where are you? Are you on another business trip?” 

Namjoon almost laughs. He finds it hard to believe that after spending an entire fifteen minutes on call with him, she never thought about asking him where he was or where he was up to. 

Business as usual. Even when it’s about our new arrangement. 

“Australia. I just landed. That’s why I couldn’t take your call until now.” 

“Oh…” 

“You do realise the longer you’re on this call, the more expensive it will be, don’t you?” 

Silence, then her bitter voice is heard. “How was I supposed to know where you were?” 

You could have asked. 

Sighing, Namjoon shakes his head. “Look, just text or email me all the details about Sunny’s trip. I’ll be back in Seoul Friday afternoon. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Her voice softens. “Take care, Namjoon.” 

The call ends, and Namjoon breathes a heavy sigh. Feeling exhaustion after speaking to her is one thing, but once it wanes, guilt always seems to take root. It doesn’t matter if he had fallen out of love a long time ago. He cannot deny that he has made too many mistakes that he is still trying hard to make up for. His decision to stay in the marriage for Sunny, using her as an excuse to hang on to the final threads that were offered to him instead of stepping away from that fallen marriage, was his last, yet probably most detrimental for his own mental health and any chance he ever had to make things right for everyone. 

Including you. 

Hoisting his duffle bag on his shoulder, Namjoon walks across the airport’s lot to find his ride. There is a reason why he is here, and he isn’t going to stop until he finds what he is searching for. 

It takes him nearly an hour to reach his destination. 

The small coffee shop looks quite inconspicuous as it stands between various other shops downtown, yet it still catches Namjoon’s eyes the moment he arrives. 

Quaint and delicate, with natural wooden colours chosen as the accents at the front side of the shop and dark window frames, it reminds him so much of you. 

The sound of the bell chimes above his head as he steps in, immediately welcomed by the fresh scent of coffee beans, chocolate, and a bit of cinnamon. Spicy and sweet and pleasantly warm. A young boy with a thick Australian accent welcomes him from the cashier, yet his eyes travel across the room, where the figure that has been filling his dreams at night appears. 

Smiling at the young barista, he walks up towards you instead. You have yet to notice him in the room. Your eyes are locked on the small child sitting on the sofa by the corner, swinging his legs as he receives a small sip cup from your hands. 

His eyes find him first, looking over your shoulder while you still have your back facing Namjoon and the front door. 

“Now you sit tight right here until Mommy finishes work, okay? And don’t—”

“Mama?” the boy cuts you off before you can finish speaking, his chubby finger pointing towards Namjoon, “Da..?” 

Your body freezes. Namjoon hears a soft gasp before you straighten up and slowly turn to face him. The moment you see him standing there, your eyes grow wide and you quickly move to hide your son behind you. Only the child is quick, as he hops off the sofa to stand right behind you, clinging onto your legs as he peeks at Namjoon. 

A line which he read from your letter echoes in his mind as he returns the boy’s curious gaze, just as it does many nights after you were gone—

“I have a boy. He’s here. He might have a dimple on his cheek too that might show up once he’s grown a bit older. His name is…” 

Namjoon bends down. “Sammy, is it?” 

The boy, Sammy, slowly nods. Namjoon smiles. “You look handsome. You’re being a good boy to your Mommy now?” 

“Yea…” 

Chuckling softly, Namjoon straightens up to face you. Your eyes are covered with tears as you look back at him. “How—” you gasp, “What are you doing here?” 

Because I’ll chase you to the end of the world if I could. 

Those are the words that Namjoon has always wanted to say to you. A promise that he never got a chance to say before you left him. It was a mistake that he had been dreading the most when he first received your letter, along with a copy of your sonogram and your final word of goodbye. 

“Keeping a promise,” he merely says. “I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

A deep sigh escapes your lips. The sound pains him. But the sight of every tension being lifted from your shoulders gives him a sense of calm. 

“I guess we do,” you whisper to him with a broken smile. 

A lot of them. 

He can almost hear those words coming from you. Just like he almost says out loud,

I have all the time in the world to talk and listen now. For you. 

For your fall tune, I think this song will fit perfectly well for this.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

[roomsofangel]

IN THE ABSENCE OF EVERYTHING, I PROMISE TO KEEP YOU WARM . . jeong yunho

“you’ve ruined me for anyone else, i don’t think i could ever stop loving you even if i wanted to.”

pairing idol!yunho x fem!reader

one sided dislike/hatred. sunshine x grumpy. could be seen as an enemies to lovers but it’s all one sided on y/n’s end and she just doesn’t like him in the beginning while yunho is completely oblivious, but still matches her energy.

genre angst, fluff, smut, fic.

synopsis ateez are on a much needed break after their recent comeback — traveling overseas for a short-term vacation, yunho desires nothing more than just to ease himself and let go of worries.

but with a run in with someone he deems an angel in human skin, yunho learns she doesn’t know who he is and pretends to be someone else.

filled with secrets and a burning romance, yunho learns that no matter what you do or how hard you try, life just isn’t fair.

and he only had himself to blame.

warnings mature themes, mainly due to language. a lot of dishonesty. hurt without comfort if i’m being honest. nsfw later on. arguments and miscommunication. reader and yunho don’t have a good first impression at all, and they both don’t use the most nicest words at first. a lot of talk of mental health, exhaustion, and being overworked.

notes this is told in past tense, yunho’s pov. think of it as you are listening to him tell the story after it all ended, only knowing his side. this was also going to be a one shot, but i instead have changed my mind and went with original idea when first planning this, and this will be a fic.

a/n this is a repost! so if it sounds familiar i originally posted this with my old blog mothworked!

status ongoing

started 05/06/23

completed n/a

reblogs & comments are very appreciated and also help out a lot! thank you for reading and giving my work a chance ^_^

. . . # chapters !

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | to be continued. .

PREVIEW BELOW. . !

yunho hasn’t been happy in a while.

he doesn’t know when or where this sudden realization came into place, nor does he know when the feeling of numbness even decided to pop in for a chat as if it was a distant relative who came over for the holidays and refused to be put to bed.

he just knows he hasn’t been the same person after their comeback — assuming that he was only overworked, this will cease.

it didn’t.

his hands shoved his clothes into the oversized suitcase, hearing the zipper tug and close his belongings all tightly knit together, yunho let out a huff of air, allowing himself to pause for a minute, take in everything while staring blank at the pompompurin keychain he had setting on his nightstand with the mental reminder to hook it onto his bag to match with mingi — “will this actually do anything?” he voiced outloud, grumbling before pulling and rolling the suitcase off his bed and down the hall, “i’m here.”

the first person to lift their heads towards him was hongjoong who smiled in response, eyes showing he was just as exhausted and eager for this break, “does anyone know where we’ll be going?” he asked

“california — not so bad, huh?” seonghwa acknowledged, a light tone to ease the tension created from just the lack of care to their needs that begun to radiate off of then in their tones and actions

and yunho wanted to believe him, he really did.

but the feeling in his chest was yelling at him otherwise.

“san’s birthday is coming up,” yeosang mentioned one night while he and yunho unpacked, the two sharing a room together after losing a game of rock paper scissors

yunho could recall the shade the walls were painted, green lily. mingi was the one who mentioned the color by name and it had made them all erupt in fits of giggles on how — and why, he knew something like that but thanked him nonetheless, san announcing the dorms should be painted the same shade before getting a pillow aimed towards his head by a sleepy jongho

and now, yunho was scurrying around downtown LA, attempting to find a good present for his friend. why was gift shopping so hard? would san even like it? no, scratch that, san loved anything given to him — he was just a big ball of sunshine.

it was yunho who wouldn’t deem it good enough.

maybe coffee would help, yeah, that would. just something to distract his neverending nerves so he can think better. he should’ve asked seonghwa, he thought to himself.

the sky was clear, the sun being bright and reflecting on his freshly dyed scalp, it was his mind that was clouded and unable to steer in one set direction — not fully processing where he was going, only aware he was aiming towards that coffee shop he noticed. oh, if he knew then, he would’ve turned around.

colliding with a body, soft gasps and cold drink being spilled on his warm skin, “fuck,” he cursed out loud at the sudden temperature and new situation

and that’s when his eyes met yours.

but with the way his day and emotions had been, he didn’t intend for his next words to be come off so harsh, “i’m sorry”

you looked at him with an annoyed expression, brows knitted tightly together, “just watch where you’re going now i have to deal with a day without my drink.”

scoffing, yunho shook his head, “i wouldn’t be talking if i were you, you basically were fucking naurto running into my chest,”

you let out a huff, “naurto running?!” running your fingers through your hair, you shook your head, “if i wasn’t so mad, i would have laughed.”

“i can get you another one,” yunho tried to compromise, not wanting a feud with a stranger over a drink

plus, he wasn’t sure if you knew he was an idol and if you did, he didn’t have any desire to end up on an article, his thoughts broken by your scoff

“no fuck you, i wanted that one,” you folded your arms over your chest, eyes darting to the floor before you started getting napkins to clean up, yunho unaware of why he followed behind

“are you this uptight all the time?” yunho blurted, earning his chest to hit your back before you turned with raised brows

“only to dumbasses who make me spill my drink.”

“touché.”

he finally convinced you to let him get you another drink, taking a seat by you while the straw was between your lips and your fingertips tapped the cold plastic cup that had water droplets decorating, “you can leave now,” you said

“don’t flatter yourself, i ordered something too,” yunho shook his head

you sneered, “your presence just annoys me.”

yunho leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbows as he looked at you with a mocking grin to tease you more, “is that any way to talk to me after i got you another tea, which may i add, at a coffee shop?” he paused, looking at you taking a bite of your cake pop, “plus that cake pop.”

“yeah.” you shrugged

yunho ordered hot chocolate, his intentions were to get an iced americano but with the day he was having, his taste changed for today, his hands holding the warm wrapped brownie he hoped to enjoy if not giving it to san later

you teased him about it which was fair, he did so about your tea.

“what’s your name?” he asked

met with silence.

“hello, are you deaf?” he titled his head in response, you looking at him with a teasing grin

“for you, yeah.”

ignoring what you had said, yunho straightened his posture, “i’m yunho and you are?”

and yet again, met with your silence

“you’re making this really herd,” he huffed

“that’s the goal.” you replied

yunho didn’t know how much longer the two of you sat in silence, eating and drinking before you began getting up to clean your area, he remembered how the strands of your hair fell in front of your face and you harshly moved them aside in annoyance, jaw clenched while you got your bag that he didn’t realize you had with you — eyed landing on a specific dangling keychain that resembled the one he had connected, before he could make a comment about coincidences, you spoke

“y/n.”

“huh?” he questioned

you dusted yourself off and laughed, “my name is y/n, you asswipe.”

that was the first time he met you

and sometimes he wished he would’ve left you alone after that

maybe the two of you would have been better

maybe you wouldn’t hate him this much

and maybe he could’ve done things differently if he had another chance

but you won’t give him one

and he knows he doesn’t deserve it after what he did.

it was almost fate.

the situation and timing could come off as such — at least, yunho wanted to believe the two of you were starcrossed lovers destined to get it right either in this life or the next one.

he didn’t expect to see you there, polished and composed, the opposite of who he met the day prior. you radiated something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get enough of.

and he couldn’t.

even now, he found himself drowning in your memory and wanting to be swept under permanently — it nearly sounds as if he was praying for a fatal outcome, but he did not want to die. he just wanted his heart back.

the same one that still stayed in your hands while yours was forcibly removed from his

[thiswasneverthat]

him as your bestfriend (who's secretly in love with you.)

happy belated birthday, sweetest christopher.

First and foremost, the term 'secretly in love with you' didn't quite apply to Chris.

It was not because he ever vocalized his affection; but rather, the poor guy's emotions weren't the type that could easily be concealed. There were times when the heat would slowly creep up his cheeks at the moment you unconsciously grabbed his arm during movie night; or when you simply sit a little bit too close to him.

From the very moment you crossed paths in college, your lives became intertwined. Fast forward a few years, and even in the professional world when the two of you worked at the same company, nothing had altered. You and Chris remained inseparable, like two puzzle pieces that had found their perfect fit.

All along, you were acutely aware of his feelings for you. It wasn't like he was the master of subtlety, despite his best intentions. He convinced himself that his emotions were a well-kept secret, solely because he never uttered a word about them.

But, oh, the truth was far from his perception.

Your mutual friends, the ones who witnessed the sparks fly whenever you two were together, were not as oblivious as he thought. They quietly shared knowing glances behind your backs, exchanging unspoken truths that floated in the air, forming an invisible thread of connection between you and this affectionate but seemingly covert admirer.

Knowing Chris for years had granted you an unparalleled understanding, almost as though you possessed a special ability to read him like an open book. It was in the subtle nuances, the unspoken gestures, and the way his eyes lingered on you just a moment longer than anyone else. The way he uttered your name held a unique cadence, a tenderness that set it apart from the rest of the world.

His actions also spoke volumes, a silent declaration of his affection. From those daily post-work rides that ended at your doorstep to the steaming cup of coffee that appeared magically in your hands each morning, even though he was no coffee aficionado himself. As if it was the most natural thing, he wove his affection into your everyday life.

And then there were the moments of solace where he held you close when tears welled in your eyes, offering hushed comfort when words fell short. On holidays, Chris became your reliable chauffeur, ensuring you reached your parents' house with ease.

But perhaps the defining moment was when he stepped inㅡ a knight in modern armor, to protect you from the advances of an unruly drunkard during a night out with friends. It was in these moments, when his affection for you transcended mere words and blossomed into the unspoken verse of actions.

Well.. How endearingly oblivious he was.

He carried this fallacy that by keeping his feelings unspoken, they would remain a well-guarded secret. 

More often than not, you also found yourself yearning for a different script, one where Chris would step out of his best friend persona and take the role of someone more than that.

You really couldn't help but wish he would just muster up the courage to articulate those elusive words, breaking free from the confines of the 'best friend' charade that he maintained with such dedication for years. 

The frustration, like a relentless drumbeat, echoed within you because you had lost count of the times you teetered on the edge of confessing your own feelings.

However, in the grand scheme of things, you were very much aware of the added layers of complexity. The cliché was undeniable: you wanted him just as fervently, if not more so. Yet, your hesitation served as a sentinel against reckless decisions.

You understood the profound risk involved. The weight of the question lingered in your mind like a persistent echo: was it worth jeopardizing the treasured friendship you shared for the possibility of something more like.. love?

Because the fear loomed largeㅡ that one day, if the tides turned unfavorably, your beautifully woven friendship with him might fray and unravel.

And more than you would like to admit, the mere thought of losing him shattered you into a gazillion pieces.

So, until the time you would be ready, or until that one point where you just really couldn't take it anymore, you convinced yourself to put on a smile and pretend to be blissfully oblivious as he was. 

[charlesslut16]

hii, could you do one with YN having curly hair and Carlos being obsessed with her hair and she doesn't normally like when people touch it but she just let's him?

ps.: sorry if I wrote something incorrectly, english isn't my first language

- love your work 💜

-only you can touch my hair-

summary : carlos is the only one, who can touch your hair.

PAIRING : carlos sainz x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none.

note : i hope you like it eve if it a little short.

masterlist 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since you were a little girl, you had always long, thick curtly hair. This still remains till today. You loved your hair, you took great care of it, to make sure that it wouldn't get damaged.

And because you loved your hair so much, you would never let anyone touch it. Your mother, father, siblings, friends, no one was allowed to touch your precious curly hair.

Until Carlos came into the picture. He loved your hair, the same way you loved it. He was literally obsessed with your hair. Carlos always wanted to touch it, since it felt like silk.

In the beginning of your relationship, you were reluctant, to let carlos touch your hair. You always told him, that if he touched your hair, it would get greasy and carlos always accepted it.

But after some time, he really wanted to touch it. It may sound really weird, but he loved your hair. The way it fell down your shoulders and how it shone in the light.

Carlos also wanted to comfort you with it. When you were sad, carlos wanted to stoke your head to calm you down or to relax yourself. But he always held back, as he knew how much it meant to you.

But now the hair situation changed. You still hated it if someone touched your hair, but when carlos touched it you were okay with it, which made carlos very happy.

So to say this, you hated if someone else than Carlos touched your beautiful curly hair.

Both of you were in your shared bedroom. Carlos sat on the bed, while you were doing your hair and make - up. In the middle of your makeup routine, carlos came up to you and gave you a kiss on your head.

"How long is this going to take? Can I go to the shower before you need help?" Carlos asked you and weaved his large hand through the curly mess on your head.

"Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, you can shower, Querido." Carlos nodded, gave you a kiss on your hairline and walked to the bathroom to shower, as you were invited to a birthday.  Beloved

But before he showered, carlos walked back into the room and roomed through your shared closet to find the fitting clothes for the birthday of your friend.

After carlos showered, he walked into the bedroom again, now fitted in white jeans and a blue shirt.  Carlos saw that you were finished with your hair and that you just needed to spray setting spray on.

He took the bottle out of your hand and sprayed it on your hair. He took it into his hand, so that the spray could get everywhere. As he was finished, you stood up and looked at him.

"Te he dicho que tu cabello se ve excelente, mi amada niña?" Did I tell you that your hair looks great, my beloved girl?

"Tal vez una o dos veces, mi hombre guapo." You said with a teasing smile on your face. You laid your hand on his broad chest, and he pulled you closer. Maybe once, or twice, my handsome man.

"Well, your hair looks absolutely perfect, my dear."

"Thank you. Are you finished, so we can go, we will be late if we do not go now."

"I'm finished." Carlos answered and you gave him a short nod. You wanted to take your bag, but carlos was faster and snatched it away from you. His motto was that he would carry everything for you.

You just shook your head and walked to the front door and putted your high heels on that fitted your dress perfectly. And seconds later, Carlos came down to put his shoes on.

Finished, you walked out of the door to carlos Ferrari, that was parked in front of the garage. He opened the passenger door for you and then closed it to walk to his side.

As he was in, he gave you your bag and started the motor, so you could drive. But before you drove, he gave putted your hair behind your ear and gave you a long kiss.

Then he drove to your destination, opened the door gentlemanlike for you, and you walked with your hands intertwined to the front door and carlos rang the bell.

Your friend opened the door and hugged you immediately, just as she wanted to stroke your hair, while you hugged, but you retreated back to carlos, and he told he that you didn't like to get your hair touched.

She understood and walked you to the table, who the people greeted you both. You sat down on the chair and leaned your side on carlos, who laid his hand on your shoulder.

The people at the table asked about your hair, what products you used and if they could touch your hair, but you always denied them and told them that you didn't like it.

As the people were engaged in their conversations, you looked at carlos with pleading eyes, and he instantly understood what you wanted. Carlos leaned down and gave you a kiss.

While you kissed, Carlos weaved his hand through your hair, curled his finger around your hair and stroked your hair. Carlos is and always will be the only one who can touch your hair.

"Have I told you that you have very beautiful hair, my princess?"

"Yes, my dear. Yes, you did"

[sirensvcubus]

Season 5 Daryl

-Last Time

: Y/Ns been in the group since the very beginning, with everyone. She and Daryl bonded looking for Sophia and became close friends but nothing more until one night after a game made up by the group.

Daryl x Y/N

Season 5/ Alexandria

____________________________________

After a long day on the road hunting and scavenging with our small group, (Rick,Glen, Maggie, Michonne, Carol, and Daryl) sit and male a fire before going back to Alexandria.

“Not much but it’ll do.” Rick said putting another log on.

“Im glad we all got to go out together, Im still not so sure I trust these people in Alexandria.” Carol said.

“Seem pretty docile to me,” Maggie said.

“They haven’t been out there, seen the things we have, who knows how long it will last,” Rick said sitting down on a log beside Carol.

“What should we do until these squirrels cook up.” Daryl said.

“I thought of a game.” Y/N said with a small smile, “Called last time.”

“Your just a beacon of hope aint you” Daryl said chuckling.

“Sounds pretty fitting for the situation, good apocalypse game.”

“Last time and then you say something you haven’t done in a while, like last time I had Pizza… I don’t know something stupid like that.” You said.

“Carl had some with the other kids the other day.” Rick said.

“Anyone else get in on that action.” Michonne said smiling. Nobody replied.

“We got scammed.” Maggie said laughing.

“Last time I had whiskey.” Rick said

“Ew” you replied, “once on my 21 birthday, wasn’t good” Everyone laughed,

“More refined taste I guess.” Rick said smiling.

“Me and Glenn got some on a run, bottle didn’t last long.” We chuckled

“Last time we had sex.” Michonne said.

“Oooh good one,” Carol said.

“Long time ago” Carol smiled.

“About a year ago” Michonne said.

“A few months” Rick added.

“A long long time ago, about three years, how far are we into this damn apocalypse anyway.”

“Almost three years, feels like more time has past.” You said.

“Three years for me too, god I miss it.” You said chuckling.

“Last week” Glen said smirking.

Maggie added “ a few days ago…hahahha got you,” she said looking at Glen “same for me about a week” She continued.

We continued on until the squirrels were done roasting, and made are way back to Alexandria chewing them of sticks causing a few weird glances.

Everyone had dispersed from the one house they slept in the first few nights there, but still some lingered there not completely feeling safe just yet. Rick, Carl, Judith, Michonne, Daryl, Sasha, Carol, and Tara still all slept in the biggest house. Some having there own rooms like Y/N, Daryl, Rick, and Michonne, some sharing, like Sash and Carol, and Judith and Carl. Tara sprawled out on the couch. We all stayed up talking but eventually went to our corners of the house.

You went into your room feeling happy and safe because the comfy bed waiting for you and the fun night you had with the group. But still something felt..incomplete. You were lonely surrounded by people. Thinking back to the game you knew why. It had been three years you missed being touched, and just loved.

You had always had feelings for Daryl, I mean look at his arms, you yearned for him, but out on the road it wasn’t a time to start a confusing relationship; Maybe now is you thought…no no I should just go to bed. You plopped down on the bed tossing and turning unable to sleep.

You hesitantly got up and thought a minute before walking to the door. As you opened it Daryl was right outside. You took a breath and looked at eachother for a minute. Before you knew he lunged at you holding your head into his. You vicously made out and he slammed you against the wall as you kicked the door shut.

[rachoka]

Skipping the Pocky

Note: Happy happy late birthday to my dear @inkys-garden, I love you so much!! I'm sorry I'm late again with another gift but I hope you still like it <3 One more Chev fic never hurts hehe.

He figured he'd find her here.

Chevalier smiled to himself. It wasn't often that Ink actively avoided people, especially him, but when she did, he had to give her the credit of being impressively good at it. Her soft pink hair barely stood out from the sea of roses and petunias—and anyone else might mistake her for just another lovely rose in the garden—but she had to hide better than that to escape from Chevalier.

He approached her with his usual, graceful gait, thinking she'd take note of his presence, but walking closer, he understood she was much too endorsed in a book to pay attention to her surroundings. How very like her. In addition, there was a long biscuit stick absently hanging from her lips. Next to her on the bench sat an opened packet of the very same treats, and upon seeing it Chevalier put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“And here I was under the impression I married a selfless woman.”

Ink looked up, startled, to be met with Chevalier’s teasing gaze.

“Instead I find her hiding away with a romance novel and a case of foreign snacks without a word about missing lunch with her husband.”

He could see the words forming in her mind, her golden eyes squinting in thought as she created a believable excuse for her disappearance with practised ease. However, he was pleased to see that she knew better than to think trickery would work on him. Thus, Ink sighed deflatedly, hanging her head. “Not you too, Chev.”

“Hm, what do you mean?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Everyone's been begging me for this pocky ever since the delivery came this morning. First Luke and Yves, then Clavis and now you too. This is my last packet.”

Chevalier had thought as much. He'd seen all those pestering brothers of his carrying one as he'd combed through the castle looking for his wife. Out of the four packets of those foreign biscuits Ink had barely managed to get her hands on only one remained after she'd shared them out of the sheer, foolish kindness of her heart. Now, she was here in the gardens, sulking about the consequences of her actions, hiding from anyone who might persuade her to give up her final treats. On any other day this would make a valuable lesson, but right now Chevalier couldn't allow such a frown turn more sour on her beautiful face. She really had turned him soft, but he guessed he'd known this for a while as well.

“Hmph, you really think I'd take away the one thing that you've been talking about for days on end?” He said, inviting himself to sit down next to her.

Ink hummed, lowering the book. “Well, I suppose not.”

“Correct. I am after something far more valuable.”

“Ah, this novel I stole from your personal collection?”

Chevalier didn't bat an eye. “No, you can keep that too.” He placed the book aside, making room to close the gap between them. He loved the surprised look in her eyes, as though he hadn't spelled it out to her in the very beginning. “Do I need to give you a hint?”

Ink nibbled on her biscuit in thought until Chevalier ran out of patience. He took the snack from her and replaced it with his lips. She tasted sweet, like the creamy strawberry coating on the pocky, and he almost couldn't stop himself from wanting more. When he pulled back it was with a lick of his lips.

“Oh.” Ink blinked and she broke into a soft, dangerously infectious fit of giggles. “Oh!”

“I don't see how missing our lunch amuses you,” Chevalier said, still holding her. “You have a lot of catching up to do.”

Ink shook her head, her gaze having regained their warm glint. It was all he could ask for. “I meant that it makes me happy. I didn't think that would be the reason you'd come find me all the way here.”

“I don't care you if you share or keep those treats to yourself, but you'll have to forget about them for now. You know I won't tolerate you hiding away from me.” There were few things in the world Chevalier would let stand between their quality time, and his patience had already been eroded. Nevertheless, there were still pesky but necessary issues to attend to.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gingerly. Then he let their eyes meet. “But first I'll ensure you are seen to a proper meal.”

“But Chev, one more kiss—” Ink whined as he pulled her up from the bench, already heading for the dining hall.

But Chevalier wasn't listening. He was too busy planning how to spend the rest of the day with her without any more interruptions.

[archive-of-the-lost]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @alt--er--love

Your ideal match is…Reiner Braun!

♡ Reiner fit most, if not all of the things you listed in your ideal type section, there isn't anyone else who is a better fit for you. Besides being taller than you, he's also gentle and considerate, and shares similar past experiences with you that must be healed from (more on this later). He is devoted above all else towards his loved ones, and easily falls into an all-consuming love with you the longer he gets to know you and realises the both of you share a lot in common.

♡ He really likes your supportive and reliable personality. It's so easy to get along with you, and the way you remember small details about your loved ones doesn't help with how quickly you become endearing to him. Over time, he'll come to trust you and open up about his feelings, an important turning point in your relationship with him. Your empathetic nature makes it easier for him to talk to you, and he appreciates it immensely. Of course, he'll make himself available whenever he can when you need him too.

♡ He's also extremely loyal and caring towards his loved ones, so he really appreciates that same trait you possess. It's great for him to know that you're always in his corner. As stated before, the both of you have this ride or die relationship where you'll never leave the other.

♡ Reiner can also struggle with seeing things as black and white. Sharing this similarity with you allows him to connect with you on a deeper level, fostering a strong bond based on understanding. The both of you can support each other in growing and making peace with your upbringing, moving forward to a kinder world.

♡ After having been through so much, Reiner has also come to appreciate the simple things in life, and wants nothing more than to live in peace. The both of you find it easy to take comfort in food or drinks that remind you of happy times, showing similar priorities for the most part. Being able to enjoy this simple domesticity with you brings him a joy he can't find with anyone else.

♡ Reiner seems like he would enjoy reading as well, as long as it's the right genre. He would love spending afternoons just reading side by side on the couch with you. On the topic of tarot cards, he'd be interested in receiving a reading from you at least once, just for the experience. He'd like discovering things in general, and looks forward to gaining new experiences and knowledge with you.

♡ Once he finds out about your love for nature, he starts bringing you to such places more often for you to enjoy the scenery. Picnics by a meadow quickly becomes a common date he plans for you, as well as trips to the beach. He would find a nice house near the shore for you if possible, if that would be something you'd like.

♡ He makes sure to take you somewhere nice for your birthdays, wanting to spoil you. Whether it's taking you to markets and secretly buying you something while you're busy looking through some nice clothes, or art exhibitions where he doesn't understand what's going on most of the time but maybe you can explain the artist's vision to him? When he plans to take you to events, he tries to keep it a secret but he's kinda bad at it because the flyers he keeps to remember the details are hidden somewhere in your home together, and let's just say the chances of you finding them aren't impossible. He changes the hiding spot next year but. he's not good at hiding physical things. The question is whether or not you let him know that his surprise was spoiled. What he doesn't know won't hurt him right?

[only-mostlydead]

Hello. Today is my 30th birthday, and I am in bed recovering from surgery. To entertain myself, I wrote up a list of 30 things I'm glad I learned before I turned 30, and now I'm sharing it with you. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't.

30 Things I'm Glad I Learned Before I Turned 30

You can decline to be weighed at the doctor's office. Seriously. Unless they're dosing meds or need to report it to your insurance for something, you can say no thanks. And if they have to weigh you, you can request that they don't tell you the number.

Fed is better than not fed. There are days when my stomach won't tolerate anything except cheese puffs, so I eat the damn cheese puffs, without judgment. Feed yourself the best you can, and know that this will look different every day

Eventually, people will always tell you who they really are. Believe them the first time (this one comes from my mom).

Not living up to family expectations is very often a good thing. Your life needs to make you happy. You are your own person with no obligation to be what they want you to be.

Having a creative hobby that you're not "good" at is important. For me, it's watercolors. I do them because they bring me joy, not because I'm trying to be good at them. That's not to say that I don't love what I paint - I do. But there's no pressure for it to be anything other than fun.

Your job doesn't have to be fulfilling - it can just be a fundraiser for the things in your life that do bring you fulfillment.

Mental health is every bit as important as physical health. Don't neglect either.

When you have nothing to be sorry for, say thank you instead. Thank you for listening instead of sorry I bothered you, thank you for helping me instead of sorry I needed help. I'm not always good at this one.

Throw away the clothing with holes. You deserve clothing that doesn't have holes.

Your clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around. Your body is the thing that carries you through your life. Clothes that don't fit are just scraps of fabric who aren't meeting their performance goals.

Everything is figure out-able. This one also comes from my mom.

Laziness doesn't really exist; it's almost always a response to something else (burnout, low self-esteem, etc).

Being your most authentic self is scary. It's also 100% worth it. Life has gotten better every time I've been even a tiny bit more myself.

There is no timetable for when you should hit certain milestones. You are not behind. You are on your own time.

Femininity means whatever I want it to mean, not what society tells me it means. Everything I do is feminine because I say it is, and no one can tell me otherwise.

Your job doesn't care about you. If you disappeared from the face of the earth, they would replace you immediately. You should bring them the same energy. You're the only one who will look out for you.

Use your PTO. Every damn second of it. When I started my current job, I was told that no one used all of their time off. I do. Every year.

Dieting literally does not work. Scientifically. Reading up on the Minnesota Starvation Experiment, Famine Response, and why BMI is literally sexist, racist bullshit changed my life.

Doctors might be experts in their respective fields, but they are not experts in what it's like to live in your body. Whenever possible, find one who makes you an active participant in your care plan.

Wear whatever the hell you want. Life is too short to worry what other people will think.

Live theatre, good meals, and beautiful tattoos are always worth the money.

Anger isn't inherently bad. Most of the time, it's your signal that something is wrong. This is the most impactful thing my therapist ever taught me as an ex-vangelical who grew up hearing that anger was a sin.

Don't put down the things that bring others joy. If they're not hurting you, themself, or anyone else, why waste your energy?

You cannot miss out on the things that are meant for you. If you miss it, it wasn't meant for you, and you should probably be grateful you missed it.

If I'm too much, go find less.

You are always responsible for your actions. Diagnoses, negative life experiences, and the like might explain bad behavior, but it doesn't excuse it. You are responsible for you.

Your feelings are always valid, but they are not always correct.

Go outside. Every day if you can. Even if it's for 30 seconds. Go get some fresh air on your face and look at a tree. If you can't make it outside, open a window, even just for a minute. Your brain will thank you.

You can leave. Hate the fitness class? Leave. Party too loud? Leave. Doctor not listening? L e a v e. As the famous tumblr post goes, if it sucks, hit da bricks!

You need nothing days. Days where you intentionally do absolutely nothing and feel zero guilt for that. Sit in bed, binge a Netflix show, eat some snacks, and don't think about all the things you're not doing. Let yourself rest, dammit.

[bloodyfixation]

Solo: Happy Birthday // TW: self-harm

A post-war drabble with Himiko not being so happy about remembering her birthday.

Her birthday had come. A day she always tried to forget. A day she didn't share with anyone else. A day that she wanted no one to remember, but that she would always remember.

She started trying to fit back into society since she woke up and recovered in the hospital, but she was already trying to sneak out and running when no one had an eye on her. Passing by the kitchen. Taking a small sharp knife with her before she ran, and ran, and ran.

For everyone's surprise, she didn't want to get to the center of the city, instead wanting to get lost in the nearest forest's thickness until she couldn't run anymore- until her lungs were burning and she would have to accept a forced pause against one of the many trees that surrounded her.

Firmly, Himiko held the knife with a hand and took a deep breath. Her body was trembling from the effort and she felt weak, perhaps due to her anemia. Another complication trying to get between her and her happiness.

After letting her back rest against the tree's trunk that she was using as support, the girl let herself fall to sit at the roots of this one; breathing heavily while her amber hues fell on the blade she carried.

It was in days like these that it was hard to keep smiling. Because she remembered her life at home, or how gradually her parents stopped celebrating her birthday because 'she wasn't worth it'. How slowly, they stopped treating her like a daughter. And how quickly, she felt like if a dagger got to her heart whenever she had to witness the birthdays of her sisters, treated completely different in comparison to her.

She even got to the point of feeling jealousy of the younger ones for having what she once had, but in the end, it was never the fault of those who were born in the family after her.

While she got lost in her own memories, the blonde frowned and tightened her hand around the handle of the knife, until her knuckles were white. And then, Himiko rolled up her sleeves while her heart sank inside her chest and tears started to form at the edge of her eyes.

With high skill, she stretched her legs and lifted the skirt that covered her thighs a little, and without thinking twice, she started to make different cuts on her own flesh.

There were scars already from before, but she didn't mind opening new ones or even opening those which have been open before.

At the same time, she moved up her free hand against her mouth, so that way she could bite and find the comfort of feeling the blood against her lips.

Visual comfort. Comfort with the scent of her own blood in the air. Comfort with that warm liquid against her palate.

She closed her eyes tight for a second before taking a breath- letting her bitten hand go, before she could carefully savor what was in her mouth. Swallowing without hesitation once a shiver went down her spine.

The tears already fell down her cheeks, sliding down her face before her eyes opened again, now making the sight of her scars blurry. But…

…she had to continue, for a little longer.

…she realized how much she missed Ochako.

…it was going to be a long day.

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday Newt!

@dont-offend-the-bees Inspired by your current love of Lockwood & Co., and your old love of DGHDA, here is “the two members who consider themselves the ‘sensible ones’ of their respective polycules complain to each other about their respective Disaster Boyfriends.” XD It’s at least ghost-hunting adjacent, as per what you said before? XD Anyway, enjoy!

---

“So. . .has yours ever come home and tried to hide the fact that he was ‘lightly stabbed?’”

“Not yet, but I would not be surprised if he did,” Todd replied, rolling his eyes. “Dirk is – not good with his own personal safety, let’s put it that way. He tries to blame the holistic stuff – ‘if the universe says I’m going to get hurt, Todd, there’s not much I can do about it’ – but I know it’s because he just doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions. Like, ever.”

“Yeah, Lockwood is definitely the same way,” Lucy said with a long-suffering sigh. “He’s always ‘rush in now, ask questions later.’ Which drives poor George mad.” She shook her head. “Poor fellow is always neck-deep in his research and Lockwood – well, he doesn’t actually ignore it, but he doesn’t listen to him as much as he could.”

“Yeah, I bet he doesn’t. . .I wonder if that’s how Mike feels sometimes,” Todd mused, taking a biscuit from the offered tin. “Thanks. . .he’s really into looking up all the weird phenomena we get tangled up in. Mostly because he’s always hoping it’s actually aliens, but still.” Todd dunked his biscuit in his coffee. “Dude works his butt off to get us as much information on the latest round of bullshit as possible. . .only for Dirk to ignore it because ‘I’m a detective who doesn’t look for clues, why would I do research?’”

“Mmm. . .admittedly, your ‘holistic’ bullshit seems rather different from our ghostly variation,” Lucy pointed out, taking a biscuit for herself. “Hopefully the boys don’t notice the change in the rotation. . .anyway, I thought the whole point of it is that it’s all coincidences and lucky breaks and bizarre accidents.”

“Yeah, but you can still write stuff down about it,” Todd responded through a mouthful of biscuit. He chewed and swallowed at her look. “Sorry. . .it’s not like people don’t do books on ESP and psychic readings and–”

“Isn’t Dirk very firm on the fact that he’s not psychic?”

Todd waggled a hand. “I think that’s more he doesn’t want anyone thinking he can see the future or predict shit on command. Like Blackwing thought he could.” He swirled his coffee, face hard. “He doesn’t talk much about what went down there. . .but I know it involved them calling him stupid a lot. And paintballing him in the face for some fucking reason.”

Lucy winced. “Right. I wouldn’t call myself psychic either if that’s what it meant.”

“Exactly. . .but he can still figure out shit that nobody else can, get these weird-ass hints from the universe that only he can piece together, so. . .” Todd sighed. “I dunno how to describe it, honestly. ‘Holistic’ fits as well as anything.”

“Yeah. What surprises me about it is that he’s still got whatever it is,” Lucy admitted, dunking her own biscuit. “The Talent. . .it doesn’t last long past a person’s twentieth birthday. And while I wasn’t happy about having it before – we’ve really started making a difference in people’s lives. And. . .” She sighed, taking a chomp of her soaked cookie. “I don’t know. It’s a dangerous life, but – someone’s got to do it.”

“Yeah, we all kind of feel that way about our stuff too.” Todd scowled. “Though we’re all in our thirties, not our fucking teens. Your ‘Talent’ is just one more thing I’m adding to the list of ‘shit I’d like to punch the universe in the face for.”

Lucy laughed. “If you ever figure out how, let me know. I’ve got my share of grievances.”

“No problem. Now – Lockwood ever accidentally set a house on fire while stealing a dog?”

---

[eonasrose]

How to be Bu

I don’t think I’ve ever told this to anyone before, except a therapist I saw a handful of times in 2018, so if you’re reading this, you’re part of a very exclusive club.

My name, Bu Remiè, isn’t actually my name. My legal name and the name I go by most often is Amelia, but the reason for why I use Bu as my name and its origins would best be explained from the beginning.

When I was a kid, fresh from the trauma of CPS taking me from my mom and all that came with that, my grandma gave me a teddy bear. I name that bear Berry Bear because I thought bears ate berries in the wild. He was my best friend until I made friends in school, years later. We did everything together, until I accidentally left that teddy bear in a target shopping cart. However, I was given a new teddy bear to replace the one I had lost and they inherited Berry’s name and identity. I still have that bear today, sitting on my bed.

Now to the origins of my name. When I came out as trans, I decided my bear would too, so I chose to name them Bu. There wasn’t any grand reasoning behind it, I just thought it fit; however, the name Remiè wouldn’t come about until a few years later.

In 2017, I was working at a Walmart in my home town. It was a pretty terrible job tbh. I didn’t pass at all, so people would regularly misgender me and laugh at me. It made working there hell. In addition to this, at some point during that year, my dad changed his phone number without telling me. I would call him regularly and always received the voice message that comes with phones by default. This bothered me a bit, but it wasn’t until my dad’s birthday that it broke me.

I called him on that day, wanting to wish him a happy birthday, and instead of getting that voice message, the person on the other end picked up the phone and immediately hung up. I took this as my Dad’s way of telling me he didn’t want to talk to me or be in my life anymore, as he hadn’t answered my calls for months. This was the first time I really wanted to self harm and resulted in the worst self harm injury I’d given myself up to that point.

These two things made my mental health take a nose dive into the ground. I was having emotional breakdowns every day. This eventually lead to having nightmares about it, where I’d be bullied by dozens of people. I’d be kicked, beaten to a pulp and mocked the entire time, until one night i had a nightmare that ended in a positive way. At the end of this dream, a short, white haired, green eyed person showed up to save me. That person’s name was Bu Remiè. In a way, I saw them as the spirit of my teddy bear, come to save me once again, in adulthood.

When I end up in the deepest, darkest parts of my depression - the parts where I feel like I can’t reach out to anyone, where I can’t ask for help and where I’m feeling more alone than at any other point in my life, that white haired person shows up in my mind’s eye and helps pull me out of that pit.

So in short, Bu Remiè is the non binary, white haired, green eyed spirit of my teddy bear, who protects me and cares for me when there’s no one else who can. Though at the same time, Bu Remiè is my name as well, despite what I said at the beginning of this post, because that white haired person is just as my a part of who I am as my love for chocolate milk or my gender.

(There is more to the origin of my name, but I’m not particularly keen on sharing it here. However, these are the important parts)

[stigmvtas]

welcome to marina, ARCHANA SETTY ( demi woman, she/they ) ! they are a THIRTY FOUR year old who has lived on the island for TWENTY TWO YEARS. word on the street is they’re currently living in LOCKE ROW and works as a PLAYWRIGHT. everyone also says they look a lot like SOBHITA DHULIPALA. what do you think? — JAMES, 24, THEY/THEM, EST.

MENTIONS OF DIVORCE, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, AND DRUG ADDICTION / ABUSE.

profile.

full name: archana omaira setty.

birthday: may 13th, 1989.

astrology: taurus sun, virgo moon, leo ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: you're dead by norma tanga.

last known location: [[[cannot be found]]]

PINTEREST.

brief history.

born to teen parents whose families cut them off once the pregnancy's revealed - they don't need them, they have each other; it's still a loss felt, a sadness that their child will not know their grandparents. maybe cousins, if lucky.

grows up in their household constantly veering on poverty. her dad works two jobs, her mom's desperate for her art to take off. but they're in love, and it fills the empty corners of their apartment with all its warmth.

ana feels the effects of having little of her own, hand - me - downs from her parents, tailored to fit. she works hard, because her parents do - because she wants them to be proud; she wants to be the one to carry them on her back one day.

she excels in school - english especially, drawn to literature; but her real passion is found in ballet - passing by a studio's windows to see dancers flying across the room. she mimics it all day in their tiny apartment, until the tenants below bang their brooms into their ceiling.

by sheer luck she finds a pair of ballet slippers at a consignment shop - too large, and still too firm; her feet blister for days on end but she's happy, she's shining. on one birthday, her parents funnel together all the extra money they have and enroll her in dance classes.

divorce; it's blissful, until it isn't. until her parents aren't happy with one another anymore, and they divorce. ana, age twelve, doesn't understand it - doesn't understand why her mother's leaving them, now - after all the hardship they've been through together. her new boyfriend's an art collector - he's bought every single one of her pieces. wants to put them in galleries. it's a new life - a new beginning; one that doesn't involve ana's father, and ana decides that it doesn't involve her either.

ana turns from an eager, bubbling girl to someone else completely. cynical and cutthroat. the only person who sees her softness is her father, and even then - he sees the rest of her too. the rest of what she's become. they move to marina shortly afterwards, a fresh start for the two of them. ana doesn't mind. she doesn't want to share the same state as her mother.

years pass, and she's never - changing. she takes up small jobs in between school and ballet, to keep the bills going - to keep her mind off of it all. she's bitter and proud - she no longer believes in love, and it doesn't bother her. everything good comes to an end.

a small filter of hope comes in the form of javier - their intensities match one another; same flame, same anger - same of a lot of things. same tendency to argue - over the smallest things, over and over. still - it isn't until javier calls from a jail cell that things are broken up.

car accident / injury; that's fine. it's fine. ana knows not to expect anything, from anyone - that's what she tells herself. it's fine - she'll push herself harder. she'll make things work. until one late night drive home from rehearsal ends up in a crash - her leg's fucked, shattered - her dream flashing behind her eyes before dimming to the nothingness she's always held so close too her. too close.

she can't dance - and it destroys her. it ruins her - but she masks it all. she goes onto school. she majors in theatre, in production writing - literature, whatever she can get her hands on. she directs plays during university until she's the one writing them. she writes and she writes and she writes. some things get produced - some don't. her latest play's just starting on off - broadway, but ana can't bring herself to leave the island. sometimes not even her home.

facts & temperaments.

not the friendliest person. she knows what she wants and how to get it and what to do to achieve those goals, even if it means stepping on others to get there. a leftover competitive nature from dance - cutthroat, even in her day to day life.

she doesn't mean to, sometimes. is working on being kinder on the most bare minimum of levels.

stubborn and stuck in her ways; it's hard to talk ana out of anything she's set her mind on. whether it's ideas, assumptions - actions. rational to the point where it's sometimes irrational how analytic she can be. very critical. expects everyone to always know better.

a little righteous, a little mean - likes to argue with those in positions of power. likes to argue with a lot of people, really. doesn't tend to reach out first otherwise. bad at keeping friends due to her pessimism. like get help girl.

walks with a cane. it's very sturdy and a little ornate and can double for a weapon. has used it on people before. is definitely a threat at times.

she tries to keep her composure often. may be angry, but it's rare to see her actively yelling. it's more of a silent rage - like when a teacher's mad at the class.

abandonment and commitment issues galore. can barely stomach friends with benefits because it's all too familiar. prefers one night stands at the very most - rarely likes to talk to them afterwards. nobody stays the night. can sometimes be seen with her ex, javier - they were on and off for a little while until. things happened. and now archana will swear up and down that she hates that man. hates him a little too much.

distrusting and can be pretty apathetic. doesn't really believe in being woeful or moping or like. any type of self - pitying and looks down on those who can't take anything in life seriously. can sometimes take a joke, though!

sentimental but she'll never reveal it. all of her stuff is things she's had from years, whether it's her father's or even her mother's things - as much as she hates her mother, she loves her culture and treasures the things that she left behind. still has her last pair of ballet shoes somewhere.

she owns a car and uses it on occasion but she's also scared of driving and scared of getting into another major accident. will walk if its feasible, even if it causes her extra pain.

drug abuse / addiction; been on - and - off pills ever since the accident. the pain just doesn't go away, and sometimes it feels like not even they are helping. they cut off her prescription a few years ago - but she finds a way. she always finds a way.

sometimes seen as high strung - it can't be helped. constantly feels stressed, even when things are going well. like she's waiting for things to sabotage on itself again. to ruin her again.

spiteful and petty and morally ambiguous. will do things because she's told not to - will keep grudges for years. never forgets anything.

but she has a soft spot for animals, for children - for other women, sometimes. deep down she knows there's still good in this world, and she just can't bring herself to be cruel to everything.

[astrowonder98]

Turning 25, and about time for a quarter-life crisis.

What a mess social media has found itself in. Facebook and Twitter are either seen as a joke or in disrepair, Places like DeviantART want to experiment with AI art and it has hindered the site, and no one is in a prime position to take over and be the new place we can all hang out. The internet is going though a major painful metamorphosis and I am not sure how to feel about it... cause who the heck knows the result? Not me!

It's probably a fitting time as ever. This month will mark the big 25 (specifically July 7th, give Ringo Starr my birthday cheer, too.) and I have been doing a lot of thinking in my life about what I want to do and how I can do it while still being able to survive. And the honest to goodness fact is that I haven't come up with any answers, at least not any good answers that I can work with.

I'm going to try and make my thoughts on what is going on with me as simple as possible.

I've worked in the same dead end part-time job for the past two years. It's above minimum wage, sure, but it's not a living wage either. It's also a highly physical job. Most of the time I'm in the parking lot outside. In the burning sun. Lifting heavy objects and pushing carts. Despite it being part-time, I feel wiped out after the fact and not want to do anything else. This has frustrated people who wonder why this can possibly happen (my workplace and a couple of my close family.) The only reason I am still here at this point is because I need the healthcare.

In spite of a degree in Computer Science, virtually every application sent with using it in mind has never been acted upon, not even getting to the interview phase. Just rejected. What's ironic is that applications sent to other retail places have gotten quick responses back. People look at my resume with my degree and see more readily a sales representative than a software developer and it doesn't make me feel great...

All of this culminates in coming back home without feeling a thing. Completely emotionless. I'm in therapy for this, but it's been a slow progress to get to this point. And unless I do something drastic I might be stuck in a loop for a while longer, which stinks.

It was a mistake thinking that making art and creating stuff for people to enjoy would do anything to change that and hoping, somehow, it could turn into an actual career. I really held out hope in this avenue but have now reached a conclusion that it will just be nothing more than a hobby I do on the side. The fact that any original material (Always Lagging Behind, Rocket Board, and other original character art) I've created has gotten less attention and praise than fanart does not help in me reaching this conclusion (especially with my involvement in Pokemon Mystery Dungeons and Dragons: Dark Heroes.)

By extension, I accidentally made things I like to do for fun or should be relaxing as work I must do, and that's just not good for my mind, let alone anyone's mind. It's probably why I don't feel happy when trying to relax and try to enjoy things, but it also might be more complicated than that...

All of this has made me reach this conclusion: I need to make a change immediately. There are a number of things I'll be doing, but here are three things that are relevant to the internet world specifically:

Howie's Convenience - Clean Up After Yourself! will continue as I planned before making this... post? monologue? snapping point? I'll let you pick. I will pick the voices for the characters in late July, record with the cast, and then animate the thing whenever I get a chance to do so when I'm not doing whatever I can do get myself out of this hole I dug.

I'm now only going to use social media to post things I want to post. That's it. No looking at what everyone else is doing and liking and sharing.

Twitter and YouTube are now considered cold turkeys. YouTube will only be used for when I'm uploading something to the site. My Twitter accounts will just not be used altogether and will be closed July 31st.

I know those of you who care about what I do might find it very sudden. It honestly is. I have a bad habit of putting things off on most days and then somehow finding the will in me to actually make a drastic step to change my life. With how I worded some of this stuff, you might come to the conclusion that I hate my audience or other people for just liking what they do and they don't match up with what I want them to like. I do not. I hate myself for even wanting to humor that notion. It's not my fault people just have different tastes and likes. It just means I should just keep drawing what I like in that moment and be proud of what I make.

I'll keep posting here on Tumblr to keep you updated on that Howie's Convenience project I've only just now told you about on this site (another bad habit) but for the most part, consider this post as me acknowledging the mistakes I've made and doing what I can to get out of it.

I'll be seeing you around.

Erin Strouder (HeyStrouder/AstroWonder98)