#IT'S WILD TO ME AND I LOVE IT 💞💞💞

[cryptidwrestling]

...I love all of you very much.

[dizzybizz]

GUYS THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE RESPONSES TO MY PREVIOUS POST IT MEANS THE LITERAL WORLD TO ME SORRY IF I STRAIGHT UP DONT REPLY IM LITERALLY SPEECHLESS 💖💓💞💞💕❤️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💘💓💖💞💝

[twistedappletree]

wanna show some gratitude to y’all for the love on ‘Thank You and I’m Sorry’ especially being as short as it is!!! Like wowowowow honestly didn’t expect that, I love my fellow zhuiling babes so sooo much 🌸🥺🥺🌸

[yourflame]

tag drop, amy, tangle, surge

💞 there's no need to fear! ( amy ic. ) 💞 the moon is shining for you. ( amy vibes. ) 💞 cute and full of energy! ( amy images. ) 💞 i just do whatever comes to me naturally. ( amy headcanons. ) 💞 it's the true kinda love. ( amy study. )

☀️ to the beat of my own drum. ( tangle ic. ) ☀️ i could be your helium! ( tangle vibes. ) ☀️ hey child! stay wild! ( tangle images. ) ☀️ i'm a little bit‚ a little bit off the wall. ( tangle headcanons. ) ☀️ pure of heart. dumb of ass. ( tangle study. )

⚡ heavy is the crown. ( surge ic. ) ⚡ can't ignore the mental torture. ( surge vibes. ) ⚡ see the lightning in your eyes. ( surge images. ) ⚡ i only wanted to be part of something. ( surge headcanons. ) ⚡ ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece. ( surge study. )

[noorsh11]

📢Please dont skip this post. 🙏💔

Hello,❤

No one donates to me 😢 please help me to make them pls donate to me share my link.🙏💔

📍I swear I will tell you my real story.🙏❤️

🌧️💔 I am Noor, a girl from Gaza, living in extremely harsh conditions. 🏚️ We lost our home to destruction and left everything behind, and the feeling of loss fills my heart. 💔 I am married and a mother to a baby girl, Lin, who is 11 months old. 🌼

📎My husband, Yousef, has been unemployed for a long time, and we suffer from a lack of support. We are living in a fabric tent that does not protect us from the harsh winter cold, and we feel like we are living out in the open, exposed to the winds. ❄️

My baby girl, Lin, is in dire need of milk 🍼 and diapers, but we have no income to buy the basic necessities to ensure her safety. The price of diapers is 100$, and the milk is 50$, which is far beyond our means. 😔

We have been displaced several times, and each time we are forced to leave our lives and belongings behind. We feel like we are starving, and we don’t even have appropriate clothes to face the severe winter cold. 👚❄️ Every passing day, my fears about Lin’s future grow, and I am frightened that I could lose her. 😢

Please, if you can help, we are in desperate need of your support. Every donation will help save our lives and build a beautiful future for us all. 💖🙏

We cannot get through this crisis without your support. Let’s together build a new hope, and please don’t hesitate to assist us. Thank you. 💞✨

📍If you can do something, now is the time. Donate through the special support link, and let hope light up our lives again.🙏😭

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #406 )✅️

Thank you for your support and love. 💞🙏

🔸✨ Help us meet our basic needs. 🔸💖 Your donation can provide us with food and clothes that protect us from the cold. 🔸🌈 Let's make these difficult circumstances a memory that we can overcome together.💔😢

@ibtisam @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half @7amaspayrollmanager @kaapstadgirly @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @toughknit @flower-tea-fairies @the-stray-liger @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vivisection-gf @communistchameleon @troythecatfish @the-bastard-king @4ft10tvlandfangirl

[thejolteonmastertj]

[Image description: Linked Universe fanart of Legend with prominent dark circles under his eyes, his long pointy hylian ears drooping sadly & a tiny frown…. all wrapped up in a huge pink blanket. Tiredly sitting up & sadly looking up & to the side at something off-screen. Boy is not feeling well.

End of image description.]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERRY @perryelornitorrinco !!!! I hope you enjoy this silly artwork and a very special sickfic made just for you! You've been a downright delight in my life and I hope this makes you smile.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65180374

[rowanhoney]

the regularity with which I cry happy tears atm is pretty sweet tbh

[humanjarvis]

call it what you want

synopsis: when you visit a gathering of childhood friends, they’re wary of you and caleb’s relationship. and while you take it in stride, he takes it to heart. 

tags: fluff, angst, heart to heart, happy ending, calebmc judged by childhood friends for their relationship, mc withstands it but caleb withdraws, barely yandere caleb, he does watch mc when they’re apart though, caleb breaks somebody’s teeth with his evol, calebmc relationship depicted as the jumbled up mess that it is, there’s not really pseudocest though, calebmc are each other’s first kiss, caleb is insecure, mc comforts the hell out of him, references to caleb’s mental illness, allusions to sex. inspired by “call it what you want” by taylor swift  pairing: caleb x fem!reader, reader is mc word count: 8.1k (woah!)

a/n: behold my thesis on the intricate siblingfriendpartnership of calebmc. it’s the best thing i’ve written and i’m so glad. but also this has ended up doubling as my 2k followers special 🎉🎉🎉 that is an unfathomable amount of people subjecting themselves to my writing and i’m seriously so grateful. thank you for motivating me to create! anyway, i truly hope you get something out of this, but even if you don’t, i’m proud of it 💞

“C’mon, pip-squeak. We can't ignore it forever. I’m here now, and I'll be right by your side. All those bad memories…you won’t have to face them alone anymore.”

“I know. And I’m glad. But still, it’s…different now,” you smile weakly, failing to suppress a heavy sigh. 

Caleb was in Linkon for the week, having put his foot down about his well-earned time off. And you, having gotten used to the constant Fleet interruptions, had gone the extra mile to make him unreachable: locking his communicator in your bedside drawer. 

After three days of making new memories—you’d ticked the movies, the zoo, and a concert off your list—his love for nostalgia had finally gotten the better of him. He’d set his sights on reminiscence, and all morning, he’d been pestering you to visit your old neighborhood. Where your childhood home had once stood.

“We can just take a look around. Five minutes, tops. Aren’t you curious about that old playset you used to drag me to? Always made me spot you under the monkey bars in case you fell. I’m sure they miss you,” he teases, hope shining in his ametrine eyes. 

And as you picture it—the iron bars of the jungle gym, now rusted with time; the grayish, well-traveled cobblestone streets; the wild honeysuckle bushes scattered around the block—you know this is a battle you can’t win. 

“Fine,” you huff. “But you’re driving.” 

“As if I’d refuse. And hey,” he softens, grabbing your arm gently. “If it’s too much, let me know. We’ll come back right away.” 

***

Your stomach roils as familiar street signs come into view.  

Green lawns and picket fences. Symbols of safety you could no longer trust. 

Humming along to an old pop hit on the radio—a valiant attempt to distract you—Caleb turns into your neighborhood, and you clench your teeth involuntarily. 

Luckily, you don’t have too much time to worry. Because seconds later, he pulls over a few houses from home and puts the car in park. 

You sit for a moment. Watching. Breathing.  

Thinking of how the last time you came here, he was dead.

“I’ll race ya,” he says suddenly, shutting the engine off and throwing his door open. And with a strained chuckle, you follow suit.

You lose on purpose, slowing your steps the closer you get to Gran’s house. You know he can tell.  

But soon, you run out of room to stall. 

As you stand beside the “FOR SALE” sign, feeling like a stranger, the freshly polished wood and foreign color scheme deepen the pit inside your stomach. 

Caleb whistles lowly. “Sure looks different, doesn’t it?”

But you’re not listening. You’re remembering. 

You remember the smell—the charred scent that stuck with you for so long after the explosion, your nostrils blistered from too much blowing. The way ashes fell endlessly from the sky, and you didn’t know what—or who—they were made of. The last-minute salon visit you’d had to schedule to chop the singed ends of your hair off. 

“C’mon. That playground is just this way,” he offers, coaxing voice saving you from too much rumination. 

“Okay,” you whisper, sliding your hand into his.

It was an age-old lesson, one you’d learned a hundred times: summer heat and monkey bars don’t mix.

As you flinch away with a startled hiss, Caleb casually pulls spare gloves from his pocket—as if he kept them on him for a situation like this—and carefully slips them onto you. For someone whose hands dwarf yours, they fit suspiciously well. 

“Up you go,” he sings, lifting you to reach the handles. And just like all those years before, he walks beside you as you cross, steadying you with his gentle touch. 

When you reach the end, instead of jumping down, you shift your momentum to swing backwards, skater dress twirling with the motion. 

But as your front faces the street again, you realize your mistake a moment too late. 

“Oh my gosh, is that who I think it is?!” 

As a vaguely recognizable voice squeals, you freeze in place, hands squeezing around the iron bars in a death grip. 

“Oh, it totally is! You haven’t come around here in forever—it’s so good to see you!” the voice continues. 

Turning your head—slowly, like the main character in a horror film—your eyes land on an all too familiar figure. Sarah, a girl around your age you used to envy for her toy collection, stands just feet away from you, long leash corralling a massive German Shepherd held tightly in her manicured hand. 

With two light taps on your back—Caleb’s signal for you to come down—you loosen your hold and land almost gracefully on the pea gravel below. 

This was a situation you’d only been in once before. When Gideon had crossed paths with you at the cemetery and learned his dead friend was, well…not. 

In any case, the circumstances then had been rare enough for you to carry on without establishing a protocol. And now, as you stand at the mercy of someone with no reason to keep Caleb’s secret, you’ll be forced to improvise. 

“Hi…Sarah,” you grin awkwardly, fiddling with your hands in front of you. “Thought you’d have moved by now.”

“Nope!” she chirps, not catching your apprehension. “We’re gonna give it one more year. After my husband saves up from his new job, we want to travel a bit before settling down.” 

You nod brusquely. 

“By the way, we haven’t really seen you here since the accident. I’m so sorry about your grandmother and Caleb—I know how close you two were. But—oh! Excuse my manners,” she pivots, looking behind you as if a lightbulb flicked on overhead. “Who’s th—”

Sarah’s tanned face blanches. 

“Hey Sarah. It’s been a while,” he greets casually. 

And the woman in front of you looks between you both as if she’s seconds away from siccing that dog on you. 

“You…caught us at a bad time,” you giggle nervously. “It’s kind of a secret, but…that was a…false report, after the explosion. Caleb actually managed to flee the area with a few burns. The authorities just kept the whole thing under wraps in case it was a targeted attack, or something. So I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since!” you smile tightly, squeezing his dry palm with your clammy one. 

“Oh…well…what a relief, I guess!” she chuckles uncomfortably. “Well…if you’re not laying too low, Caleb,” she starts, extroverted nature beating out her rationality, “we’re having a get-together with all the neighborhood kids tomorrow! You guys should totally come. We’d hate to miss our favorite duo—you were always so funny, nagging each other like siblings.” 

You bristle at the term, gripping Caleb’s hand so tightly it could bruise. “Um, thanks for the offer, Sarah, but we…” you trail off, looking at him to help you. 

“We’d love to come!” he doesn’t. 

“Uh, we…would?” you question, perplexed by his sudden enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, why not, pips? It’d do you good to reconnect with some of the girls you liked hangin’ around. Plus, I’ll be right there with you,” he smiles brightly. 

Though his reasoning barely quells your anxiety, your heart softens at the gesture.

“Alright, then,” you turn to Sarah. “We’ll be there.”

The old mall down the block is halfway through renovations. 

Neon orange construction cones litter the parking lot, and every door but the main entrance is sealed off with yellow caution tape. 

Navigating through the weekend traffic, you and Caleb wander through the swarming, noisy corridors, leaving store after store empty-handed. 

You don’t know what to wear. 

Meeting so many people after such a long time…there’s an irrational need to impress, to look like you have your life together.

And somehow, every outfit seems off on you. It’s not false advertising—the mannequins are gorgeous as ever. But there’s something about you that ruins every look. 

As you rummaged through different displays, Caleb had done some light hovering—staying near, but letting you do your own thing, overall. 

But as you return another dress to the rack with a frustrated growl, he swoops in to put his scary intuition to good use. 

“This would suit you,” he grins kindly, brandishing a pastel blue sundress. “Wanna try it on?”

You eye the fabric skeptically. It’s not your usual style, but you take it into the dressing room anyway. 

And of course, the first thing Caleb picks out for you is perfect. 

“Told ya,” he laughs when you call him inside, back hugging you in the mirror. “You look beautiful. ‘Course it helps that it was my idea, and all.”

Swatting him gently, you giggle as you try to push him out of the cramped space, grunting with annoyance when he sandbags you. 

“Get out of here!” you protest. “We still have to find your outfit, and the mall closes soon.”

“Okay, okay, I'm going,” he relents cheekily. “Snap a picture for me before you take it off, though, alright?”

***

Once you’d paid—or he’d paid, having levitated your purse in the air while you scowled at him—you’d dragged him over to the men’s section, where you’d found an outfit just his size with a similar color scheme.

He’d preened when you held it out to him, puffing his chest out with pride at the fact you knew his tastes so well. And in his sparkling eyes, you’d spotted a flicker of possessiveness as he looked between your clear garment bag and the clothes in his hands, not so subtly comparing the blues to each other. 

And evidently, with the way he’d refused to even try anything on before heading back to the register, he’d been satisfied. 

As you make your way back to his car, Caleb tugs you in by the waist to claim your lips in a tender kiss. 

“It’s perfect,” he breathes. “It’ll be perfect. And even though we’ll be matchin’…I get the feeling you’ll be the one people can’t look away from.”

Caleb’s hand is on the small of your back as you step through Sarah’s front door, but it leaves you as he encourages you to mingle. “Go catch up,” he urges with his signature grin. 

You know what he’s doing. What this whole thing has been. A way to push you out of your comfort zone, a prolonged apology, and a promise to be less overbearing, all in one.

He needs it just as much as you do. Needs you to know that he’s trying. So as you nod softly and make your way through the throng of laughing faces, you hope he sees you trying, too.

Sarah’s parents had both been lawyers, and if the diplomas lining the far wall of the living room didn’t make that clear enough, the sheer size of their house sure did. 

The layout is vaguely familiar—Caleb had been friends with her older brother, and you’d practically begged him to tag along on playdates so you could see the fancy house down the street. 

As you take it all in—the flat screen TVs (plural) broadcasting different channels, the iridescent streamers lining the bannisters, the variety of appetizers spread out across the first floor—you only grow more envious. 

Turning away with a petty huff, you focus on the people instead. As you study faces new and old, you wonder how many guests here brought their partners. How many know that you brought yours.

Sarah—ever the gracious host, never the gossip—had informed the attendees about Caleb’s situation in hopes that he wouldn’t be bombarded the second he stepped inside. And it was working, somehow, as far as you could tell. Aside from a few wary glances sent his way, people greeted him just like they did before: as the golden boy whose presence was a gift. 

At some point, as you’d hovered aimlessly by the drink table, a girl you remembered fondly had strolled up to you. Marley, her name was. With her lively eyes, kind smile, and eagerness to play dolls with you, she’d been your closest non-Caleb friend in the neighborhood. 

“Who would’ve thought the girl next door would grow up to be a hunter, huh?” she jokes, gently elbowing your ribs. 

“It’s really not that special,” you laugh, halfheartedly dodging her pokes. “Just something necessary, I guess, since the Wanderers came. I thought it’d be cool, high-stakes action movie stuff every day, but I kinda feel like a firefighter saving a cat from a tree sometimes.”

“Oh, please. You’re practically a superhero! Caleb, too, being a whole pilot and all. Time really flies—I still remember when he helped you set up your lemonade stand that one summer,” she giggles. “You were always so in sync.” 

“Still are,” you smile softly, gaze subconsciously finding Caleb from across the room. He's chatting in a group of his old buddies, but as always, it’s like he can sense you looking at him. His eyes find yours in an instant, as if he already knew where you were standing—because of course he did—and he shoots you a boyish wink.

“But, if you don’t mind me asking,” Marley hesitates, her eyes shifting perplexedly between you. “Are you two…together…now? You seem even closer than you were as kids, if that’s even possible,” she mutters sarcastically, talking from the side of her mouth. 

As the question hits you for the first time that night, you plaster a big, fake smile on your face. “We sure are! It was five months last week.” 

“Well, congrats, I guess,” she tries to exclaim, but her confusion stunts her sincerity. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just…I never expected you guys would date! You always seemed more like…ah…friends,” she cringes, her own fake smile twitching slightly.

Friends.

As the word fights its way out of her mouth, likely beating several less polite alternatives, the weight of her hesitance is not lost on you.

“Friends, huh?” you echo, and your smile is real this time. A show of your teeth, a hint that she’s just entered dangerous waters. “What kind of friends grow up in the same house, Marley? Raised by the same person, and all. Pretty rare if you ask me,” you cock your head in mock contemplation. “C’mon, what do you really mean to say?”

You’d been taught well. 

“Okay, okay!” she huffs, folding like a lawn chair under the pressure. “I always thought you were like siblings. Thought you guys thought you were like siblings. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“There’s nothing to be surprised about,” you nod curtly. “You lived next door, not with us. You don’t know how we felt about each other.”

Your voice is robotic as you meet her with a deadened stare. No matter how much you’d expected it, no matter how much you’d prepared, the judgment catches you off guard. 

The rumors, the gossip—it’s one reason you thought Caleb would decline the invite. To protect you, if nothing else. But with a bitter, inward laugh, you guess that him trying means letting you be in situations you might’ve begged him to shield you from.

“I need some air,” you decide suddenly, interrupting Marley’s frantic apologies to turn toward the door. “It was nice catching up.” 

A cool breeze kisses your exposed skin as you watch the fireflies blink from the patio. And as beautiful as they are, glittering in the night sky, there are other things on your mind at the moment.

If Caleb was ever a brother to you, he was the best brother anyone ever had.

You’d seen the way your friends acted with their brothers. Always kept a watchful eye on their interactions, as if comparing their relationships to yours. Middle school, high school, college.

And over all those years, no brother had ever been as attentive—as doting, as patient, as loving—as Caleb. 

After the explosion, when you were left to deal with your feelings alone—no nagging, oversized puppy to distract you—you’d pondered how you saw him. Deep down, under the structure and order and propriety that was forced upon you too young. Regretted that it was too late to ask him how he saw you. 

And if those quiet nights crying so hard it felt like drowning had taught you anything, it was this: as much as Caleb was brotherly, he had always been more—so much more than what he had to be to you.

He could’ve shut himself in his room for hours, leaving you to fend for yourself. He could’ve ghosted you the minute you no longer went to the same school. Could’ve found a girlfriend, had kids early, and moved his real family far away from you. All these things, you’d seen happen.

But through it all, Caleb had stayed, and he’d done it with his signature smile. Even when you’d worried he’d outgrown you, had outpaced you with his stellar achievements, he’d just pinched your cheek with a fond grin. Who d’ya think I do all that for, silly? he’d laughed. 

By your reunion, when he’d stared down at you so cruelly, you’d known what he was to you. The only man you’d ever loved, in all meanings of the phrase. That’s why it had hurt so much. 

And Caleb had scared you off. Your feelings were fragile, only newly realized. But his…were developed. Intense. More intense than you were ready for, coming from someone who���d been off-limits for 15 years. 

So you’d resisted. Resisted his spiraling admissions, resisted the feelings you knew he had for you, resisted his frantic attempts to steal you from the world. 

It would take time for you to accept a love like his. You’d told him as much five months ago—that you needed to meet in the middle. And he’d promised to try. 

As the days went by, you got used to treating him like a lover. To putting new meanings behind every touch. And every time you kissed him, he carved out more of his own paradise in your mind, escaping the liminal area he’d occupied in unfulfilling restraint. 

It was only in moments like this when prying eyes and hushed whispers wore you down. People who thought that, because they knew you once—for a summer, for a semester, for a school year—they knew who you were and how you felt. But there was something paradoxically mercurial about you and Caleb: the more you stayed the same, the more you changed. And only the two of you were privy to it. 

Even still, some leers and questions got to you, just as they had tonight. Apprehension and a resented sense of shame had filled your gut, as if you’d been “caught” stealing from your own wallet. 

But of all the things Caleb was to you, only one mattered: he was yours. And as a firefly lands on your outstretched palm, twinkling beautifully in the darkness that threatens it, you know no one can take that from you. 

Caleb had had better nights. 

He’d had worse, for sure—agony and loneliness come to mind—but he’d definitely had better. 

He’s spent this one mingling among the names he hadn’t cared to remember, all as an attempt to show you he won’t cage you in. You can have fun, have friends outside of him, as much as the thought makes his stomach churn. 

And what better way to start than with people he already knew? Baby steps.

As he cranes his neck to find you again (which shouldn’t be hard, since he just has to look for the one dressed like him), he vaguely registers an incessant buzz of a voice talking his ear off. Jared, he calls himself. 

“Anyway, I can’t believe you did that to her. That’s fucked up, man,” the voice says, clapping Caleb’s back with an obnoxious chortle. 

And as much as he needs to find you, Caleb really wishes he’d spared some of his attention for the homunculus beside him. 

“What exactly are you implying?” he asks lowly, lifting the hand from his shoulder with a firmness that any sober person would find threatening. 

He’s almost certain you’re not in the room, now, your calming presence lost in the sea of discarded memories. Alarms sound in his head at the realization, only to be drowned out by something more damning.

“It’s just…you grew up together! Had the same grandma. That's like your sister, dude. But you know what, to each their own. The way she looks, I can’t say I would've held myself back any better than you did. Probably worse, man. Matter of fact, you fucked her y—?”

The force of Caleb’s Evol clamps Jared’s mouth shut.

And, if his muffled yelp is any indication, hopefully breaks a few of his teeth, their bloodied chips settling on his tongue.

“This sorry excuse for a conversation is over. Leave. Now. And if I see you talking to her on your way out, I’ll make sure you never get the chance to again.”

Jared nods fearfully, and after one last snarl, Caleb lifts his Evol, albeit begrudgingly. It takes Jared a few seconds to notice his newfound freedom, but the moment he does, he’s scurrying out of the house. Good. 

You’re back in Caleb’s sight, now. But as he takes in your shy smile, the faint melody of your laughter filling his keen ears, he doesn’t feel the comfort he normally would. 

Instead, he feels his dog tag. 

Your precious gift to him. A symbol of how you needed him, of your anticipation that he’d always be in your life. Of his hope that one day, you’d return his feelings. 

He recalls the once comfortable weight, the way his body heat would flow into the cool metal, linking it to him in a warm embrace. 

The chain now burns against his throat.

Jared had been brash.

Crude, crass, and certainly cocky, thinking he was deserving of you. 

So as Caleb watches you chat among a mixed group of guests, swirling his full cup in agitation, he decides he doesn’t care about the delivery. It’s the content that troubles him. 

Because Jared, in his drunken state, had managed to hit a nerve Caleb had tried to sever five months ago. 

Are you sure you want this? he’d asked you shakily. Want it from me? With me?

And in clear confirmation, you’d claimed his first kiss.

But even still, the thoughts lingered at the back of his brain. That he was tainting you, taking advantage of you, stealing your life away. 

He knows Jared isn’t worth the scum beneath his shoe, but those unsavory thoughts made his own worries resurface. 

And as fickle as his mind was, he’d only ever known to trust it. 

So when Caleb sees you beam at another man’s compliment, glowing like you’d been sent from heaven itself, he feels like maybe he’d been right.

For the rest of the night, Caleb dreaded the drive home. Luckily, you’d slept for most of the way back. 

But as he parks outside your building, gently rousing you from your sleep, the feeling returns in full force. 

“Good morning,” you giggle, stretching drowsily. “Sorry I fell asleep on you—I can’t remember the last time I talked that much. Did you have fun?” 

“Something like that,” he says, popping the driver’s door open. “You?”

“I did, I think,” you start, opening your own side and sliding out of his car. “I really did. It was a little rough at first, but it got better. What about you? Anybody try to stab your brains out? Since you’re undead and all.” 

He chuckles dryly. “Not exactly.”

As you trudge toward your apartment, Caleb trails behind you. You’re so dazed, you almost don’t notice it. But you miss the familiar warmth of his left hand.

Your tired fingers quiver as you fail to unlock your door, and with a gentle nudge, Caleb slides the key in for you. 

Mumbling a “thank you,” you step through the doorway, making space for him to follow. When he doesn’t, you turn to face him, frowning lightly in confusion. Gleaming in the moonlight, the metal threshold separates your feet: yours on the inside, his on the outside. 

“I’ve been called back to Skyhaven. It’s nothing too serious, but I’ll have to cut this visit short. Don’t worry about me.”

The words pierce your chest like a dagger, but his cold delivery twists the knife.

“Oh,” you breathe, not knowing what to do or where to look or how to hide your disappointment. “I didn’t know they had any way of contacting you. Your communicator’s still in my nightstand, you know,” you quip lamely. “But I guess four days has to be enough this time. I’m lucky to have gotten that.”

Smiling weakly, you lean in to kiss him. But with his sudden reservation, the moment is more chaste than you’d intended. 

As he starts to turn away, you instinctively grab his hand. “Are you…is everything okay? You’re being weird,” you whisper, eyes searching him in concern. 

“No I’m not,” he retorts, forcing life back into his voice. The weight of his hand ruffling your hair feels wrong, somehow, and his airy tone is a contrast to the darkness in his gaze. “Get some rest, pip-squeak.”

Caleb never thought the jewelry box you’d left at his place would come in handy. 

He had no use for it—the only piece he truly needed to preserve stayed looped around his neck at all times. 

But as he stares at the silver chain hung carefully on a hook, its ruby-crested apple dangling in the evening sunlight, he silently thanks you for your forgetfulness. 

It’s been two days since he returned to Skyhaven, but the events of that night remain fresh wounds in a fragile mind. 

I can’t believe you did that to her.

I can’t believe you did that to her.

To you. Not with.

As if his love was an assault. 

All his life, Caleb had tried to show you only the good sides of him. To tamper down his intensities so you’d eat from his palm. You were a skittish thing, failed one too many times by an inadequate world. So he’d approached you gently, practicing docility until it became second nature. To keep his eager hands from defiling you. 

He’d molded himself into whoever you needed him to be, never admitting what he wanted to be to you. All so you would tolerate him, want to keep him around for his services, if nothing else. Because as much as he claimed to protect you, your safety was his anchor. If you were loved, warm, and unharmed—if he kept you that way—then every consequence was worth it. 

He’d learned to live like a chameleon, his temperament matching your mood. And as much as a forgotten part of him yearned for identity, it was a role he’d settled into playing—until his weakened back had snapped under the pressure. 

When you’d confessed that you felt the same—that you loved him in more ways than the one you should—he’d deluded himself into thinking those years of restraint were over. That he could stop watching over you and start walking with you. That you would fall from propriety hand in hand. 

He’d never thought himself naive. Always launched himself ahead of the curve so that would never be an option for him. Naive was something someone with his responsibility couldn’t afford to be. 

But now, as his lifeline swings back and forth on its new perch, jingling with what could only be mockery, the feeling swallows Caleb whole. 

It would’ve killed him to see you with someone else. He’d had nightmares about it every month, save for the last five, ever since he was a teenager. But even if you chose to live with someone else by your side…at least he would have gotten to see you do it. To watch you be happy, carefree, without you wondering if it was your right to be. Without the guilt of robbing your life from you, tainting your purity with his sin.

He knew you were wary. You’d gotten better about it—at hiding it, at least—but he could still feel the panicked clench of your hand in his when someone looked at you too long. You were trying, for him, just as he tried for you. But if trying meant the unfiltered scrutiny that Jared had spewed could one day reach you, it wasn’t worth it, he decided. 

You deserved more than the headache he’d give you. 

***

The days drag on. 

Caleb’s vacation ends as little more than purgatory, and when he dons his Colonel uniform once more, the Fleet’s affairs feel his presence now more than ever. 

He’s sharper now, meaner. Mistakes that would usually earn a light slap on the wrist now end in termination. Figurative or literal, the recruits aren’t sure. 

He knows he’s spiraling. He hears the whispers: “The Colonel’s finally lost it” met with “As if he ever had it.” But rebuke from any voice but yours doesn’t reach him. 

During flights, he plays his missions a little less safe, making rash decisions sure to end in incident, eventually. He justifies it, in his head, by thinking that maybe an injury would inflict upon him the suffering he deserves. 

He’s been drifting, lately. Through the hallways, through the streets, through space. 

But aimless as he is, Caleb can’t bring himself to desert you completely. Those 15 years of gentle servitude had become so ingrained in him, he thinks a total cutoff would only make him more reckless. So he pacifies you with brief, polite answers, sharing none of his usual charm and emoticons. This flighty, diluted version of himself was all that he could offer. 

But each day, when Caleb stumbles back into the necessary solitude of his house, wheezing with overexertion, he heads straight to the hidden room where you’d discovered his bionic arm. Where, under dark wooden panels, a row of monitors hide. 

Their feeds are clear as they’ve always been. Your cubicle, your route home, your front door, your kitchen. Your bedroom. 

And until he succumbs to exhaustion, Caleb watches you. 

Watches you sift through reports, eyes open but unseeing. 

Watches you stumble on the way home, your foot catching on a stray root that he would’ve spotted in time. 

Watches you crumble, after a while, and curl up on the side of your bed where he always slept. 

Watches until the rhythmic rocks of your crying body lull you to sleep in place of his heartbeat.

As the clock strikes midnight, you complete your count to 23.

It’s been 23 days since you’d received anything more than a one-word response from Caleb. 

At first, you’d given him grace—thought he just wasn’t feeling well. He was always one to withdraw from you when sick, locking himself away for a while before emerging like nothing happened. 

But even then, he was never this curt with you. He always reassured you that he was okay.

Days passed, and the mysterious illness theory flew out the window. As you fired off another concerned text, all but pleading for him to say something, you wondered if he was mad at you—but what could you have done? Not to mention that when he was mad at you, it usually ended with him apologizing, somehow. It’s always Caleb’s fault, huh? he’d cooed at you, rubbing your back tenderly. I’m sorry, baby. 

Something was just…wrong. Terribly, scarily wrong. And whatever it was, you had to figure it out alone.

With a frustrated growl, you snatch your phone up from its place on your nightstand and scroll to your latest messages, hoping he’s decided to take you out of time-out. 

you: hi. i know you’re probably sick of me asking, but can you call when you get a chance? haven’t heard your voice in a while.

>:( : later.

Nothing. He was giving you absolutely nothing.

You want to scream. Want to hunt him down, grab him by the collar, and thrash him around for being so difficult. But as your gaze flits to the photo on your desk—a silly selfie you’d taken on your first official date—your heart constricts from how badly miss him. 

You miss him so desperately that the pain in your chest is worse than when he left for college. At least you’d known he would come back to you, then.  

As hot tears well in your eyes—far from the first time—you remember the words he’d written to you once, never intending for you to read them: “Any man who makes you cry isn't worth your time,” you repeat, snorting softly at the irony.

But unluckily for him, Caleb wasn't any man.

Any man wouldn't braid your hair from childhood to now, never teaching you to do it yourself because he wasn’t willing to give up doing it. Any man wouldn't skip the senior trip he’d saved hundreds for just to nurse you through a stomach bug. Any man wouldn't dedicate half his life to making sure yours was painless. 

So no, Caleb wasn’t any man. He was smart, skilled, and devoted. He was reliable, doting, and selfishly self-sacrificing. He was the reason you’d grown up so well, always wanting to make him proud. And he was yours.

Tugging harshly at the roots of your hair—a habit he’d always tried to break—you pace around your bedroom like a frenzied animal.

You were going to go to him, that much was obvious. To ambush him and make him explain what you’d done for him to discard you like this. To apologize, if he’d hear it. 

But how, if he wouldn’t give you the time of day? The man lived in a giant sky fortress, for God’s sake. And with his neverending suspicions, it wasn’t like he trusted any other members of the Fleet enough to give you their contact informati—

Except, you interrupt yourself, freezing mid-step. He did.

Liam.

Caleb’s faithful adjutant, the one you’d spoken to—or spoken at, while he looked at you unnervingly—just a handful of times.

Sometimes, bad ideas are the only ones available.

Retrieving your phone from where it lies face down on your rumpled blanket, you scroll and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, where Liam’s name stares back at you forebodingly. 

Steeling yourself with a shaky nod, you press call and wait with bated breath. He answers on the second ring. 

“Miss, may I ask why you’re calling? Are you in any trouble?” his deep, dispassionate voice, devoid of any true concern, rings out.

You swallow thickly before trusting your voice enough to sound as anything more than a pitiful squeak. “I-I have Caleb’s communicator,” you maneuver skillfully despite your nerves. “He left it at my apartment. Can you take me to him? So I can give it back.”

“You’d be better off turning it in to one of our administrators. The Colonel is very busy right now and—”

“Take me to him, please,” you repeat stubbornly, raised voice echoing off ivory drywall. 

“Miss, I'm only allowed to speak with you if you’re in immediate danger. I'm under strict orders not to facilitate any interaction with the Colonel.”

He’s going to hang up soon, you panic. And then your only chance is gone. 

A flare of anger heats your skin as you realize you don’t have an appointment to see your own boyfriend. The one who can pester you and break your boundaries with a barely apologetic smile, but shuts you out the second you try to do the same.

Channeling your tears from earlier—they still line your eyes, after all—you sniffle into the speaker. Desperate times… 

“What do you think will happen when I tell him you made me cry? You won’t be under any orders anymore,” you bait him quietly, relying on the fragile hope that Caleb was still as fiercely protective of you as he’d been before. 

The pregnant pause on the other line tells you you’d succeeded. “I…” he clears his throat. “Please arrive at the Skyhaven airport at your earliest convenience. I'll be there to take you to the Colonel.”

When Liam’s aircraft lands on the familiar floating island, you rush out with a muttered “thanks” and jam your thumb onto the sensor.

But as the doors slide open and you stomp inside, the silence you’re met with tells you Caleb isn’t home. 

Sighing heavily, you survey your surroundings: the spotless kitchen, barren like it hadn’t been used in weeks; the dust collecting on his most-used surfaces; the tray on the coffee table, missing its usual array of apples. Had he been eating? Had he been coming here at all?

Your worries carry you through the other rooms, but none hold the answers to your questions. 

And as you step into his bedroom, the place you were most likely to find a clue, you wish you hadn’t. 

Because there, hanging tauntingly on a familiar looking jewelry box, is Caleb’s dog tag. The chain he never went without. 

The ache in your chest becomes a gaping void. 

Blood rushes to your ears and makes them ring so loudly that you can’t hear the despondent noise you make. On unsteady feet, you lurch farther into the room and lower your trembling body onto the mattress. 

As you stare at the mahogany jewelry box, looming mockingly on the dresser, you think the walls spin around you. 

In all the years you’d known Caleb, he had never been one to just give up—so what about you was so condemnable that it finally made him?

He wasn’t here to answer. 

So you take the chain for what it is: resignation. Eviction. 

It feels like you shouldn’t be here anymore. Like you’re an intruder in a sacred space. Like maybe you shouldn’t have even made it in, but he just hadn’t had the time to axe your thumbprint from the system yet. 

You need to leave. That much is clear. But here, stranded in the sky, you don’t exactly have a getaway plan. 

Without the leverage of Caleb’s love, you doubt Liam would take too kindly to being threatened again, just hours after the first time. 

As fruitless minutes tick by, it’s clear that waiting is your only option. But as you curl up in the center of the bed, chest heaving with labored breaths, you no longer anticipate Caleb’s return. 

When your eyes blink open in the dead of night, you know he’s there before you see him.

The air in the room feels different. Heavy and charged, like just before a thunderstorm. 

Anything could happen when you face him. But he’s deprived you of so much lately, that at least something would. 

Shoving the thought to the front of your mind for motivation, you raise your head to find him in the darkness of the room, lit only by a lone streetlight. 

And the sight of him makes your stomach drop.

Caleb, uniform torn and tattered, slumps against the wall closest to the bed, eyes closed and head lowered. 

A smear of blood paints his cheek, and as you zero in on it, you notice the eyebags so dark they look like bruises. Like he hasn’t slept in days. 

But even with his eyes closed, you should know by now that you don’t have the time to ogle him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Where else would I go?” 

And those violet irises find yours. 

“Do you regret it? That you have nowhere else to go?” he asks softly, bloodshot gaze searching your huddled form. Checking, like he always did. 

No is your immediate answer. But you figure you should ask him first. That way, when you say it, he might actually believe you. “What?”

“Do you regret what I’ve done to you?” he elaborates, voice dropping near the end. 

The explanation doesn’t help. “What have you done to me, Caleb?”

He winces at the phrasing, though he knows it’s not an accusation. 

Cocking his head cynically, he lets a hollow chuckle escape. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to go to that party. Guess that’s what I get for trying.” 

“What are you talking about?” you probe, shifting to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me,” he mimics, “is that I’m trying to stay away from you. For your own sake.” 

“You weren’t there to see it. Hung up in another room, or outside, or something. It was the only time I lost sight of you,” he recalls bitterly. “And this guy started mouthin’ off about how fucked it was for us to be together. Said I was sick for the things I must’ve done to you.” 

A sliver of understanding eases the tension in your muscles. But you need to hear it from him. “And you believed him?” you ask, eyeing him warily. 

“It wasn't him who I had to believe. I already knew. Have known, for a while now, no matter how much I tried to pretend I didn’t. The way I thought my hands deserved to touch you—it’s a sin, isn’t it? One you shouldn’t have to carry. That’s why I left—so you could live a life unburdened by me.” 

At his words, an all too familiar irritation stirs within you. Alongside sadness that he’d thought it best to feel this way alone. 

Pushing forcefully off the bed, you kneel between his knees, gripping his bloodied face between your hands. “Who said you had permission to leave?” you ask lowly, and you hear his voice in yours. 

“I asked you what happened that night,” you continue. “More than once. And I'd have listened if you told me. Would’ve been there to tell you that none of it mattered. But you said it was nothing—another way to protect me, I guess. And then you left me on my doorstep, wondering how I’d hurt you.” 

Caleb’s mouth drops slightly, but you don’t let him interrupt. “When you said you would try, you overlooked one thing. Part of trying is considering how I feel. Like when I saw your necklace—how do you think I felt? I thought…you didn’t want me anymore. That you’d decided I was too big a burden for you,” you breathe, and when your voice breaks at the end, Caleb covers your hands with his.

“If your sin involves me, you don’t get to live through it alone. You pulled away from me without wondering if I wanted to be complicit. If I wanted to share it with you. You don’t get to make me a victim without asking if I feel like one. And I never have.”

He freezes at that, gazing up at you imploringly. When he finds what he’s looking for, he turns his head slightly, lips brushing your wrist in a hesitant kiss. “I know—” he swallows. “I know you feel ashamed sometimes. Of being with me, now, when I was who I was to you. Even if you don’t want to be, when we go out together, I can feel it.”

“You’re right,” you nod simply, and he fails to stifle a choked gasp. “But I don’t let it change anything.”

Now, it’s Caleb’s turn to ask. “What do you mean?”

“Remember Marley?” you start softly, stroking his tousled hair. “Girl I used to play dolls with when you were too busy? She asked about us, too. And I told her the truth: we’re together, and we’re happy, and our story is ours. It’s not just your choice, Caleb. I’m with you because I want the same. I always have.” 

And as much as you know he wants to believe it, to accept it and move on, things were never that simple with him. 

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs shakily, returning your hands to your lap as if they’ve burned him. “I can't…I've only ever wanted to keep you safe. No matter who I had to be to you. And when you let me have you—how I want to, how I’d wanted to…I wasn’t strong enough to turn you away. I’m not strong enough to do what’s best for you,” he whispers with glistening eyes.

Slowly, gently, you reach out to him a second time. To splay a hand on his exposed chest, to get him used to the feeling of your touch again. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you murmur, stroking your thumb against him. “Because I think you’re very strong.” 

“I thought you were strong when you saved me from those bullies in middle school. Still remember the black eyes you gave them. When I saw that…I thought you were a hero. And I wanted to be just like you.” Pausing, you lean down to kiss his collarbone, and though he shudders, you take his pleading gaze as a sign to continue. 

“I thought you were strong when Gran got really sick, and you had to do everything. Cooking, cleaning, taking me to school. And you did it with a smile.” Giving him one of your own, you cradle his flushed face in your hands, stroking his darkening cheeks tenderly. Violet eyes watch you with disbelief—a reflection of six months ago, when you’d entrusted your first kiss to him. 

“And when you kissed me back that first time? When I felt how much you wanted to, how you kept it bottled up inside you for so long—I thought you were so strong,” you whisper, mouth hovering over his. “You’ve always been strong, Caleb. It’s why I love you so much.”

In time with his sharp inhale, you press your lips to his. But as large hands flex against your sides, he doesn’t respond to your touch. 

So you press harder, deeper, as if your kiss will awaken what’s dormant within him: his molten, unabashed need for you. The need that holds purity in its paradox, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

And when you circle your hand around his throat, where his necklace once collared him in your name, Caleb kisses you back. 

It’s an exploratory kiss, but a passionate one. As if your reacquainted lips are making up for lost time. 

You guide him with the steady suction of your lips, and when you tug at his frayed lapel, Caleb takes the lead. 

His tongue surges into your mouth, reclaiming what he’d missed, and you moan at the welcome intrusion. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, backing away slightly. “Sometimes I just wonder…if you’d be better off without me.” 

“I wouldn't,” you soothe, pulling him in for a reassuring peck. “You’re a part of me. I want you wherever I am, whichever version of you will have me.”

“All of them,” he mumbles against you. “And then some.”

And as you slip his hand under your shirt, there’s no reluctance in his tender grasp. Like he belongs there. 

Soft strokes on your bare shoulder wake you as the sun rises. 

“I missed seein’ you like this,” murmurs the voice you’d missed just as much. 

“And whose fault is that?” you chide, cutting your eyes to glare up at him playfully. 

“Mine,” he concedes instantly. “All mine.”

“Mhm. Speaking of,” you begin, stepping out of bed gingerly. “If you’re going to be my Caleb, there’s one more thing you need to do. Close your eyes,” you instruct. 

And Caleb complies—something that’s come easy the past six months. 

The room is silent for a moment, with only the distant sounds of jet planes piercing the air. 

Then, a soft clink. 

And as the mattress dips with your return to him, Caleb lifts his head instinctively. And the cool surface of metal slips around his neck. 

As Caleb spares you a glance from the passenger’s seat, the apple charm on his dog tag glints in the sunlight. 

Row after row of familiar houses comes into view, but you seem calm, this time. Unburdened. 

With some compliments and exaggerated enthusiasm, Sarah had been more than happy to host another party. And you’d been more than patient as you’d encouraged Caleb to attend. 

He’d been cautious, at first, for obvious reasons. But you didn’t dare push. 

So as the date loomed closer, he’d decided to try. 

And when you cross the threshold hand in hand to a sea of curious faces, the tension he expects to compress his pulsing heart never comes.

Instead, something kinder blossoms: pure, weightless pride.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

18+ Sextrology Observations

I feel like Water Moons and Earth Moon’s are the main ones who really struggle if there’s not a connection to the person they are having s*x with. Water, they need an emotional connection, and Earth they need to feel valued.

People with 5th house placements are easily aroused, always hor*y, or hook up a lot.

If you want a person that lasts in bed you have to find a water Venus, but they will only last if they love you

Women with Cancer placements and men always wanting to c*m in you

Water mercuries and moaning/whispering during s*x

Air mercuries and talking you through it

Fire Venuses and liking aggressive s*x

Mars in earth signs giving the best org*sms because they want to take their time to get you there

Mars in Pisces always fantasizing about the s*xual encounters they want

Mars in fire signs and masterb*ting a lot

Taurus Moons can only want pleasure for themselves in bed and then once they orga*m they are done

9th house placements and down to try something new, new positions, sex t*ys, video tapping

To me Scorpio placements in personal planets have a complex relationship with s*x, they sometimes struggle to feel comfortable s*xually expressing themselves until later in life ( this is even more true if they dealt with rejection or trauma)

A lot of people talk about Capricorns being good in the bedroom, I will say Capricorn placements have a point to prove in the bedroom , sometimes though, not going to lie, I feel like they compensate for their insecurities by being good at s*x

Aquarius placements can be weird in the bedroom and too in their head, maybe that’s the Aquarius with water placements, Aquarius with fire placements can be freaky

Anybody with a lot of mutable placements can be big whor*s

Pisces placements specifically Venus, Mars, and Moon and eye contact during s*x, they fold

I feel like there’s a reason Capricorns are so reserved ( less expressive) they are into some very wild and kinky shit especially s*xually

Sagittarius placements can easily be s*x addicts

Speaking of points to prove, so do Leo Mars, Leo Venus, and Leo Moons if you try to downplay their s*x game they will have something to prove to you

Air mars and overthinking s*x, getting bored in one position for too long too

Air mars and threesomes, orgies, and video taping it

Earth venus’s and kisses everywhere all over their body

Water Venuses and loving getting head

Fire mars and skipping foreplay

That’s all, thanks for reading! 💞

[feralgodmothers]

OOOHHHHHH MY GOD THIS IS SO INTERESTING

Drenched in Shadows

Label Mature 18+

Summary When you can’t reach Patrick all day after he promised dinner reservations at Dorsia, concern drives you to his penthouse—and what you discover there chills you to the core.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥Patrick suffering psychosis • mental break•Patrick vulnerable • Patrick on his knees •oral on fem •clit play •shower sex • love bites • orgasms • creampie •Patrick desperate to keep you 

🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine Inspo : His Interview Mag shower photoshoot *🥵 *

Drenched in Shadows

The elevator dings as you step out into the hallway to Patrick’s penthouse. The stark, minimalist design of the place feels colder tonight. 

Your heels walk across the polished floor as you approach his sleek black door. He hasn’t answered any of your calls all day, and the unease that something is wrong  rises as you reach for the handle.

To your surprise the door is unlocked, and you push it open.

“Patrick?” you call out, stepping inside. The open space is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of running water. The usual order of his penthouse—a temple of perfection—feels slightly off.

Your pace quickens as you head toward the bathroom, the sound of the shower drawing you there. The light spilling from the half open door makes you anxious and as you push it open your breath catches at the sight.

Patrick stands under the showerhead, fully dressed in one of his immaculately tailored suits. His head hangs low, the water pouring over him, plastering the fabric to his sculpted frame.

His hands are braced against the white marble wall, fingers splayed out as if he’s trying to keep himself upright. The water streams down his face, dripping from his sharp jawline, to the pristine floor beneath him.

“Patrick!” you exclaim, your voice sharp, almost drowned out by the steady stream of the shower. “What are you doing?” you ask, cautiously stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him.

He doesn’t move for a moment, his breathing deep and uneven, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. Then, his voice, low and hoarse, breaks the silence. “I’ve done something terrible.”

Your stomach twists into a knot the ache in his voice unsettling you to your core. “What are you talking about Patrick? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you take a hesitant step closer.

Patrick doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly turns, his blue eyes dark as they meet yours, full of something you’ve never seen before—guilt, vulnerability, a rawness that frightens you. He steps forward, water still streaming down his face, soaking the floor as he closes the distance between you.

Before you can say another word, his hands grip your wrists, pulling you into the shower with him.

“Patrick—” Your protest is cut off by the shock of the water hitting you against your skin, soaking your clothes instantly. But he doesn’t stop, his other hand slides around the back of your neck, tilting your face toward his as his lips crash into yours.

His kiss is unexpected, rough and desperate. His mouth moving against yours like he’s trying to tell you something without words. His lips are warm and persistent despite the water drenching you both. His hands cradle your face, holding you like you’re the most fragile, precious thing he’s ever touched.

You melt into him, the warmth of his body grounding you as the water drenches your hair, your clothes, your skin. He pulls away slightly, his hands trailing down your waist, gripping you gently as he guides you back from the water. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers, his voice trembling.

“Patrick?” you ask, confusion threading your voice as you try to piece together what’s happening, but he’s unable to meet your gaze.

Instead his eyes are fixated on your soaked blouse. It clings to you, heavy and uncomfortable, but Patrick doesn’t let it stay that way for long. 

His fingers slide down the buttons, peeling the fabric away from your skin as if he’s unwrapping something sacred. 

He presses you gently back against the cool marble wall, his lips finding the curve of your neck, trailing downward with an aching reverence.

Every kiss feels like an apology, his hands steadying you as his mouth explores your skin with a tenderness you’ve never felt from him before. 

His lips worship every inch of you, the water cascading over his broad shoulders and down the hard lines of his suit as he sinks to his knees. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a silent question lingering in their depths.

You don’t say a word, but your gaze softens, your body giving him the answer he already knows.

Slowly his hands slide up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the sides of your panties under your skirt. His sharp eyes never leave yours as he pulls the delicate lace down your legs.

Your pulse quickens as his gaze darkens, the intensity in his eyes stealing your breath as he pulls up your skirt, his palms gripping your hips like an anchor.

When his mouth presses between your legs  you’re lost to him, your knees buckling to the warmth of his tongue against you, like you’re the only thing that matters.

You moan loudly, your body shuddering as he claims you with unrelenting devotion, each flick and each desperate stroke of his tongue, sending shockwaves through your core, unraveling you completely. 

His lips seal around you, pulling gently as his tongue licks against you, lapping up everything your body gives him.

Patrick Bateman—the man who’s never soft, never vulnerable—satisfies you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

Lost in the moment, you don’t care what he’s done or what he won’t say. You only care that he’s here, holding you, making you feel like the most precious thing in his shattered world.

The tension inside you coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, your hips shifting uncontrollably as you release with a sharp cry, your moans echoing in the shower.

Your thighs tremble as you struggle to catch your breath, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth and tongue work you with relentless precision, his groans muffled against you as he laps up every bit of your release—like he is starving for you.

His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady as he finally pulls back, rising from his knees.

When he stands, his chest is heaving, water dripping from his soaked suit as he looks at you. 

Without a word, he turns you, pressing your chest against the cold marble wall as his hands glide over your wet skin, pulling your skirt up over your hips.

He pushes your legs apart, his grip firm and commanding and you shiver—not from the water but from the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence igniting something raw and undeniable within you.

“Patrick,” you whisper, your voice a soft plea, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens on your hips as he presses the head of his cock against you, the stretch overwhelming as he pushes inside.

Your breath catches feeling the thick ridges of his cock gliding in every inch, and your body arcs instinctively as a moan escapes your lips, desperate for everything he’ll give you—especially like this.

His grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging slightly into your damp skin as he pulls you back against him.

His pace is rough, each thrust leaving you breathless as your cries echo against the shower walls.

His hands slide up your sides, his nails dragging as if he’s battling an internal war between control and surrender. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, the tenderness stark against the intensity of his thrusts.

“I shouldn’t want you like this,” he pleads, his voice breaking slightly as if his guilt and desire are intertwined in him. “But I can’t stop—I can’t stop, needing you.” He confesses.

Your breath hitches, the vulnerability in his voice momentarily pulling you from the haze of pleasure. You try to respond, but a sharp snap of his hips leaves you gasping and he groans low in your ear, his forehead pressing against the back of your head.

“I shouldn’t pull you into my darkness.” he whispers, his voice low and strained as his movements grow more desperate.

His words send a jolt through you, your body clenching tightly around his cock as he lowers his teeth to graze your shoulder. Before you can react he sinks them into your skin leaving the faintest mark before his lips press softly as if to apologize.

The contrast leaves you shaken, a mix of need and fear coursing through you and he drags his teeth along the curve of your neck just below your ear, the sounds of pleasure raw and unrestrained.

The water runs loudly, the steam now filling the room, but nothing distracts you from him—his deep, rough thrusts, the way he presses you harder against the wall with each measured stroke. 

Your hands press the marble harder, your head falling back against his shoulder as his pace quickens, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, as though he’s punishing himself through you.

Your moans fill the space, rising in pitch as he claims you completely, your nails scraping against the marble as you struggle to hold yourself up.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow, not until your voice falters, a loud cry escaping your lips as the pleasure overtakes you. Your body trembles against him as you orgasm, and his hand moves to your clit, prolonging your release as his hips continue to drive into you.

His deep grunts fill the shower, and as he comes he pushes into you one last time, his movements forceful, his hips pressing hard against you before he finally stills.

His hands slowly slide up your sides as he lowers his head, his breaths labored and uneven against your skin.

The shower is silent except for the steady stream of water cascading down, and you reach forward, turning off the handle as the two of you stand together, catching your breaths.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out, and as he turns you to face him,his expression is etched with conflict. His eyes, normally so cold and calculated, are clouded with something you can’t quite name—shame, maybe, or something deeper.

“What is it Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.” you ask moving gently, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you begin to peel his soaked suit jacket from him. He blinks, taken aback by the gesture, his sharp features tensing slightly as you move with care.

“You don’t understand,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m not… I’m not what you think I am.”

You meet his eyes, your expression calm and unwavering. “I know who you are, Patrick,” you say simply, continuing to remove his silk tie and unbutton his shirt letting each piece of clothing fall to the tiles below.

His perfect physique is revealed, the water glistening over his chiseled chest and the deep ridges of his abs. His body is like a sculpture—flawless, commanding, yet now vulnerable under your touch.

Grabbing a towel, you begin drying him off, your hands moving over his broad shoulders and down his arms, the tension in his muscles softening slightly under your touch. You kneel briefly to pat his legs dry, your fingers brushing over the strength of his thighs.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Patrick says, his tone sharper now, almost bitter. “You don’t know the thoughts I have, the things I’ve… indulged in,” he says, looking down at you.

You stand again, your gaze meeting his dazed and unreadable expression. For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of his words and the intensity of his stare pressing down on you.

You shake your head, your voice soft but firm. “Patrick, whatever it is, it can’t be as terrible as you think,” you say confidently.

He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his expression sharp and unreadable. “You think you know me,” he taunts, his voice low and edged with something dangerous. “But you don’t. Because If you did…you wouldn’t be standing here.”

A faint unease creeps into your chest seeing his changed behavior, it’s unsettling, and for the first time, you truly begin to wonder what he’s hiding.

Still, you force yourself to stay composed, reaching for his hands despite the flicker of fear in your mind. “Come with me,” you insist gently, your tone steady but quiet as you take his hands.

You pull him from the shower and guide him into the bedroom. The city lights spill through the window, casting a faint glow across the room, and you pull him down to lay with you on his large, pristine white bed.

Patrick stares blankly at the ceiling, his body close but his mind distant. It’s a rare and unsettling sight, as if he’s momentarily stripped of the control and precision that define him. The faint glow of the city highlights the tension in his jaw and the startling vulnerability in his eyes.

-She doesn’t know—She can’t. If she did, she’d run. She’d scream if she understood what I’ve done—what I am.

-And I would have to silence her.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he turns to you, his movements cautious as though testing the weight of his own decision. His eyes meet yours briefly, yearning for something he doesn’t quite understand.

-This is weakness—Letting her stay—letting her see me like this—this isn’t control. This isn’t power. This is… pathetic.

-Why can’t I just end her.

Without a word, he presses himself against you, his arm draping over your chest, pulling you closer as though being apart from you is unbearable. 

His head rests against your shoulder and the weight of his vulnerability is laid bare in the quiet. His breath is unsteady, his fingers curling against your side as though he’s trying to anchor himself in reality.

It’s a haunting vulnerability, one he’s never shown, and you wonder what could have driven him to this? What terrible things lie buried in the silence between you.

You feel a slight tremor in his body as he buries his face against your neck, his breathing uneven, and you suddenly realize that he’s trembling.

“Oh Patrick “ you whisper trying to comfort him, your hand gently stroking through his damp hair as you hold him closer. 

His pain feels raw, exposed, as if the perfect façade he always wears has finally cracked.

“It’s okay, Patrick,” you reassure him softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“It’s not” He shudders, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thoughts, but you hold him tighter.

For the first time, he seems entirely human, and you realize just how much he’s been hiding from the world—and from himself.

In the quiet, dim room, with his body against yours, you feel his intensity subside, his breathing evening out. As he falls asleep, his grip on you doesn’t loosen, and you don’t let him go—desperate to know what he’s done, and terrified of the answer.

END

🔗 Masterlist

Leather & Lace (Work in progress)

Summary Patrick becomes increasingly distant after showing vulnerability—until he invites you over for a late-night rendezvous. You confront him, demanding answers, but instead he pulls you into his depraved world, using you to satisfy his dark and insatiable desires.

🏷️ Always Tag Me

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika@feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier@magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @thejeywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1@ @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader/3 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesticsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog

[captainsweet]

My friend just sent me the trailer of Madame Spider and I looked into her and I LOVER HER SM I WANT HER SO BADLY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND SHE'S MY WOMAN

[mediocre-writing]

Fic recs Yoongi

Some fics I read this week, and I need to make people read them too lol I'll probably do it with the other members too.

Interlude | MYG | Series Masterlist @yoongiofmine (Idol!Yoongi X Deaf!Reader)

Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.

– This is simply the most beautiful Yoongi series I've ever read.

——

The Consequences of Fucking Up @borathae

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

– You won't regret reading it, trust me.

——

his entire world | min yoongi x f!reader | a serendipitous life series @serendipitous-seven

summary: you and yoongi are trying to enjoy your friends' wedding with a very fussy baby

– THIS WAS ONE OF THE SOFTEST THINGS I'VE EVER READ 😭💞

——

F*ck Tradition | Yoongi @dancinglikebutterflywings ( Min Yoongi x Fiancee!Reader)

- Synopsis: Y/N takes Yoongi with her to go wedding dress shopping because her fiancées opinion is the only one that matters.

– I feel like this story and this writer deserves much more recognition, MY GOD IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL.

—

you're okay | myg (m) @taegularities

Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.

– This here comforted my heart in a way 😭😭💞💞

—

ex-things - m.yg. @namfinessed

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

– That was adorable and made me smile like a fool.

—

impression | yg @namjoonchronicles

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

– This is so cute, I love the husband!Yoongi

—

The Final - Day 02 | MYG | ONESHOT @yoongiofmine

Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

– it made me wild and crazy

—

dissertation | yg @namjoonchronicles

↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying. 

– Yoon being the person we all need, This writer is wonderful, please give him a chance. (I'm telling you this writer is amazing)

—

Shy - Yoongi X Reader @7ndipity

Summary: You’re desperately craving your boyfriend's attention, but are too shy to ask for it outright. Luckily, Yoongi knows what you want anyway.

– This is something cute and warm.

—

YES, I WILL DO MORE BECAUSE WE HAVE MANY TALENTED WRITERS.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men React to Your Different Hobbies

Request: Hi hermit! I noticed your requests are open and wanted to ask if you could write about a reader who is a complete nerd for something specific. It could be anything from anime, to reptiles, to astronomy, to novels, to literature, anything really. Maybe they start off more reserved and quiet but once they get comfortable they let the floodgates open and now the guys get to witness the pure, unfiltered joy when they talk about something they love. Bonus if they don’t necessarily seem like the type to be interested in that sort of thing. I just need something cute and fluffy where angst isn’t destroying my heart. It can be as silly and/or serious as you want it to be. You handle writing different scenarios so well I feel like you are the best when it comes to these kinds of scenarios. I hope this isn’t too big of an ask. Thank you for reading this! I hope you take care of yourself and that you have a good day/night! 🫶🫶🫶💞💞💞🍀🍀🍀

AN: I love this request so much!! I've been daydreaming of this so much. So here is my attempt at this. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading my works :))))

Pairing: LaDS boys x gn reader

Genre: people in love

Ingredients: 100% fluff

My Fav: Sylus and Caleb. My heart 🥺

(I do not own any of these characters)

Xavier:

He’s your reader boyfriend. You’re the gamer. He’s just here for the vibes.

He’ll nuzzle next to you while you curse ten generations of a 14-year-old with suspicious aim.

Just peacefully flipping through a romance novel as you become the ultimate baddie of Vice City.

You can convert him to join you on the Switch. He loves Pokémon Go, Mario Kart, even those ridiculous farming simulators.

He’s that one PewDiePie cooking simulator video come to life.

Xavier is most likely to doze off with his legs crossed over yours, your moans of despair functioning as peaceful white noise.

You build him a castle in Minecraft, but he’s honestly more content just watching you game, cheering softly from the sidelines.

Rafayel:

You were born to repurpose.

A ratty old ladder? Planter. Scrap cloth? Braided technicolor rugs. Crumbling grandma furniture from eBay? It’s now a “boho-chic” nightstand that Rafayel lovingly uses to pile all seventeen of his earrings.

You steal his paints constantly. The good ones. The ones labeled in French. Does he mind? Not even a little. He calls it “collaboration.” (It’s theft, but okay.)

He watches you work like it’s the Louvre. Which is wild, because you’re in overalls, sanding down what used to be someone’s broken cabinet-slash-pet coffin.

You’ve got sawdust in your hair and paint on your ear, and Rafayel is just standing there, in awe, like you’re building the Sistine Chapel out of literal garbage.

You’re also slowly “Rafayel-proofing” the penthouse, one corner at a time. No more stubbed toes. No more nightly opera of him cursing the furniture like it personally betrayed him.

You call it DIY. He calls it love.

Perhaps it is.

Zayne:

You don’t have a green thumb. You have a green vendetta.

Zayne swears the plants grow out of fear. And honestly? He might be right.

The sunflowers outside your house are seven feet tall and actively reaching for the second-floor window like they want in. The neighbors have started calling it a local attraction.

He’s the one lathering you in sunscreen as you stand armed and ready to wage war on a new army of weeds.

He works from the patio more these days, just to sneak glances of you in the garden, sweat on your brow, yelling at a tomato plant like it is a new recruit to your battalion.

You plant a vegetable patch. A blessing, really. Because Zayne is an absolute wizard in the kitchen with fresh produce.

He’s obsessed with homegrown ingredients. You’re obsessed with terrorizing invasive species.

It works.

Sylus:

"You're pretty," you murmur, tilting his chin up with your fingers. "Now be good and sit still for me, dragon." You grin as Sylus shakes his head, pretending that didn’t just work on him.

You pick up your sketchpad, charcoal already smudging your fingertips, and begin tracing the outline of his eyes. Fierce, yet soft when they rest on you.

"Did I ever tell you your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever sketched?" you murmur, shading the lashes with a flick of your wrist.

"You say that about everything, kitten," Sylus replies smoothly, though there’s a hitch in his breath.

You love this. Overwhelming him with affection. Praise. Backing him into a corner where all he can do is take it. He never wins.

"And your cheekbones..." you say, smudging a shadow across the apple of his cheek. "So dramatic. So sketchable." You press a kiss there, just to prove your point.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You don’t resist.

Your eyes drift to his lips. "These," you whisper, eyes locked on his mouth, "I dare not draw. They’d inspire passions in anyone who might stumble upon this page."

He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, cheeks flushed. "You’ll be the end of me," Sylus groans softly. His voice all gravel and silk.

And you? You smile, smug and starry-eyed.

Because you’re Basil to his Dorian.

Caleb:

He’s lost you. Again.

Caleb wanders through the mind-boggling bookstore for the tenth time, the aisles blurring together. There’s no rhyme or reason why the classics are right next to cookbooks.

Achilles’ Fig Pastries and Twenty Cakes for Jane Austen Girlies (he bought that one for you).

So it’s no surprise when he finds you in the far-off corner of historical fiction. A pile of used books already half your height sits beside you. Books are your world. Rooms full of them. Brimming nightstands, stacked floors. Stories, so many of them.

Caleb grew up watching you devour them. Any and every book you could get your hands on. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope... I have loved none but you," you quote from Wentworth’s letter, just in time to meet Caleb’s eyes.

He pauses, heart in his throat. Words written by another shouldn’t hit this hard. But they’re true. Truer than anything.

Books have held your pining. They’ve understood your heart. And they’ve delivered it to him, in folded pages, tearstained stanzas, and scribbled notes of passion.

[ohtobeleah]

Idk why but the idea of Jack falling in love with a teacher feels so right to me. I can imagine this sweet kindergarten teacher having to bring in one her students bc of a little accident during a field trip and Jack is all heart eyes for her. Her being all soft and tender, soothing her student’s cries, Jack swoons and his heart is beating a little faster 💞

Fuck off. This is insanely sweet.

His eyes soften the second he sees you. But he knows he shouldn't be seeing you in his place of employment…so panic kicks in. Jack only ever panicked when it had someone to do with you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with a worry threatened between his words. Its beyond wholesome.

“Leo had an accident on the school playground. Mum couldn't leave work so I offered.” You explain all the while Jack is crouching to assess little Leo. He's got dry blood on his forehead and down his chin.

“Lets get you taken care of buddy,” Jack says. “Nice to see you, Miss Y/l/n.” Jack teases with eyes that take in every inch of your being.

“Dr. Abbot” You reply with a shy smile. He knows your into him way more than you care to admit. But you want casual. You want to be wild.

Jack Abbot was your choice of wild.

“You coming over after work?” Leos's eyes go wide…he’s young but he's not stupid.

“Is Dr. Rabbit your boyfriend Miss Y/l/n?”

“WHAT!?” You're so embarrassed. All Jack can do us laugh. “No! He's just a friend—” But Dr.Rabbit was too funny not to laugh at.

“Sure I am, sweetheart,” Jack sends you and wink and a Th in nbs up from the other side of the bed.

God…hes so old. But so fucking hot.

[tarotwithavi]

You from the eyes of your lover

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist 🌷 extended masterlist

Paid services

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 💞🫶🏻

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

When I look at you, it feels like the world slows down just a little. You are the place where my restless heart finds its rhythm. With you, it’s not just love, it’s recognition like my soul has been looking for you in every lifetime and finally, finally found you.

There’s a fire in you that keeps me awake at night, a spark that makes me want to dream bigger, run faster, live louder. You move through life like a storm wrapped in sunlight, fierce, beautiful, unforgettable. You make me believe that maybe, just maybe, love is supposed to feel like this. Wild and free and terrifying in the best way.

You make me want to build a life, not just a moment. To hold traditions close, to create a world with you where things are sacred and real. You’re not just someone I love you’re someone I trust without even trying. Someone who feels like something ancient and holy written into my bones.

I see the way you guard your heart sometimes. I see the walls you’ve built, and I see the strength it took to still leave the door open. And I swear to you, every time I see that quiet bravery in your eyes, I fall in love with you all over again.

With you, love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a journey I want to be on every single day. Through storms, through silences, through dreams I haven't even dared to speak yet.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

You are the warmth that fills the empty spaces inside me. You are laughter echoing through lonely rooms, sunlight spilling over broken places I thought would never heal. With you, love feels real, not something imagined or wished for, but something I can hold, something I can build a forever with.

When I look at you, it feels like watching a heart in motion, choosing between fear and hope with every breath. You carry such a soft strength, the kind that does not scream for attention but moves mountains quietly. You are the pause before the promise, the calm before the celebration. Being near you feels like arriving somewhere I have been searching for my whole life.

I know you have seen the kind of endings that leave marks on a soul. I know there are mornings when you still carry the weight of yesterday in your chest. But to me, even your scars are sacred. Even your sadness is beautiful. You are not what happened to you. You are what rose after it.

Sometimes I see you lost in thought, drifting away from the moment, wondering if you are enough, if happiness is something meant for you. I wish I could press my hands against your doubts and kiss them away. I wish you could see yourself the way I do, not just beautiful, but unforgettable.

With you, love feels like building something real with hands full of dreams and a heart full of courage. You are my foundation and my flight. You are my reason to believe that love can be both soft and strong at once.

You are not standing still, my love. You are moving toward everything you ever deserved. And I will be right here, choosing you over and over, with every step, with every breath, with every piece of who I am

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

When I look at you, it feels like every forgotten piece of me wakes up. You are laughter wrapped in sunlight, a melody sweeter than anything I could have ever asked for. Being near you feels like breathing in a life I had only dreamed of from a distance.

You are my warmth, my safe place, my wild joy. You are the reason the world feels beautiful again. Your smile could tear down walls I built around my heart without even trying. You carry a kind of happiness that feels like magic, the kind that stays, the kind that heals without asking for anything in return.

I see your strength, the way you carry your battles inside you and still choose to shine. There is a power in you that humbles me, a softness that makes me believe in forever. You are made of the kind of courage that bends but never breaks, the kind of love that holds and forgives and chooses again, even on the hard days.

There is something about you I cannot escape. Something that pulls at me like gravity, like a song that only my heart can hear. You are fire and freedom, temptation and tenderness. Every time I touch you, it feels like being set alight and saved all at once.

You awaken every dream in me. Every hunger. Every hope I thought I had buried. With you, love feels like creation itself, raw and wild and sacred. You are the spark behind every risk I am willing to take, every future I dare to imagine.

And still, beyond all the wildness, there is a quiet in you that I worship just as much. A soul that needs space and silence, a spirit that goes deep where the world cannot follow. I would wait a lifetime just to sit beside you in your silence, to be the hand you reach for when you come back into the light.

You are not just my love. You are the universe written in skin and soul. You are the reason I believe that some loves are written long before we are even born

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[formulamar]

puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 2

part 1

max verstappen x vet!yn

fc: girls from pinterest

summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?

rumorhasitf1

liked by butfirstmax, exusername and 6,083 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 JUST IN 🚨

Max Verstappen spotted kissing a mysterious brunette while on vacation in the Bahamas 👀

1,672 comments

maxisfast: mama a frat boy era max behind YOU 💜

dutch1: call me crazy but she has the same hair length as the girl in barcelona

maxiellvr: that or he just has a type 🤔

vermax: OHHHHHHH AGAIN?

frmlamax: he's just kissing everyone at this point (jk it's been like 2 people)

maxstap1: me 3 drinks in

butfirstmax: and what if it's vetyn...

albon33: i mean she is brunette..

vermax: and so are a million other girls lets chill guys

rbgirl: ANDDDD may he enjoy it *insert Olivia Wilde nodding gif*

maxlovescats: no fr people are acting like he's a hoe or something like his life up until now has been so hyper focused on racing. dating has always been a secondary thing and he's always been in long term relationships let him have some funnnn

rbgirl: TRUTH.

userloves1633: not max's ex in the likes...

30three: honestly it could be that they're back together or that she's not leaving him alone which not surprising considering the break up aftermath.

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3,781 others

vetyn: a summer for the books 📖🌅🌊🫧

1,782 comments

ynbestfriend: oh FOR SURE 😏

vetyn: hehe 🤭

f1fan: omg that looks like one of Max's cats

frmlamax: WAIT...

lilymhe: gorg girl I miss you!

vetyn: i miss you so so so much. see you soon tho xx

ynfriend: prettiest girl!

liked by vetyn

maxverstappen1: Paddel rematch?

vetyn: oh you're on but i’ll win!

maxverstappen1: We'll see about that

rbgirl: ARE WE ALL SEEING THISSSSSS

ynsister: THE KITTTTYYYYY 🥰

vetyn: my baby 🥹💞

girlstappen: ok maybe i'm just delulu but that watch looks a lot like Max's

maxlovescats: NO I WAS THINKING THAT TOO

albonooo: omg were you at the Monaco GP???

vetyn: yes ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux: 💕

liked by vetyn

rumorhasitf1

liked by alex_albon, vermax and 6,523 others

rumorhasitf1: Max Verstappen was asked about his new relationship in the media pen.

1,873 comments

lexalbon: NOT ALEX IN THE LIKES???

twenty33three: that really makes me think he was the wingman

maxiellvr: notice how the interviewer says "newly" hehe no ex here!

verstappen4life: true and he looks so re-energized

notmaxver: guys it has to be @/vetyn

userloves1633: THE DIRECT TAG IS CRAZY LOL

frmla1girl: true but i mean the clues are there

frmlamax: he looks sooooo happy aweee

rbgirl: BLUSHING AND SMILING

maxisfast: I hope we get to see them together soon!

ynbff story

[caption 1] new tradition? [caption 2] thank you for letting sassy spend the day with auntie 🥰 @/vetyn @/maxverstappen1

user: yn's bff.... is "auntie" to a bengal...named SASSY AND yn's bff tagged MAX VERSTAPPEN on the story...

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS AHHHHHH

user: wait was this posted on accident i thought they were keeping it lowkey

user: yes I think she didn't mean to post it LMAO

user: the third story omg 💀

user: this is so funny 😭

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1, ynsister and 14,267 others

vetyn: a very special weekend 💙🦁 met some very cute dogs and reunited with others! oh and my boyfriend was there too!

9,523 comments

ynbff: omg hard launch awesome 😱 so can we just pretend i didnt lowkey leak your relationship on accident 💕

vetyn: right okay…

maxverstappen1: Don’t worry we forgive you

ynbff: THANKS MAX 😄

girlstappen: THE PICTURE 🥹

ynfriend: so happy for you!!!!

liked by vetyn

notmaxver: OHHH I KNEW IT

rbgirl: why is no one talking about the caption i burst out laughing 😭

f1fan: no cause same

dutch1: the drinks same girl

maxiellvr: when cat lovers meet 🐈

liked by vetyn

alex_albon: Where’s my credit?

lilymhe: what are you talking about? this was all my doing? 🤨

alex_albon: I LITERALLY SET THEM UP

vetyn: alex don’t lie!

alex_albon: At this point you guys are just ganging up on me

maxisfast: new wag alert!

frmlamax: cutest couple ever omg

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a/n: anddd here’s part 2! sorry for taking forever school was really stressful for like 2 months straight but i’m so happy the semester is over 🧚🏻 also congrats to max and kelly on their baby!!!! i think i posted part 1 to this like a week before that was announced lol!

taglist: @anilovessadbooks @raizelchrysanderoctavius