#in my sketchbook of me looking in the mirror and trying to sketch my face

[arinmoss]

Self portrait attempt ^_^

(he/him)

[valeisaslut]

Possibly cannon that collide Ellie draws some of her album covers?….. or even some of her singles😗😗

NONNIE. OMG. YOU JUST REWIRED MY BRAIN. I'VE BEEN ON PINTEREST FOR AN HOUR STRAIGHT. it’s SO canon now. also took a little bit of freedom and added so much more stuff!

COLLIDE ROCKSTAR!ELLIE'S SKETCHBOOK

collide ellie isn’t just a rockstar—she’s an artist in the most chaotic, sexy, VERY EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED way imaginable. like yeah she can shred onstage and yell into a mic, but she also stays up at 3am in hotel rooms with a pencil clenched between her teeth, sketching like her life depends on it.

her art style is raw and unhinged—scribbly pencil lines, charcoal smears, ink-stained fingers. it’s messy and moody and SO her. her sketchbooks are war zones. pages torn, corners bent. sometimes it looks like she attacked the paper in a blackout. other times it’s so delicate you feel like you’re intruding just looking at it.

she’s done some of the Fireflies’ most iconic album and single covers:

but here’s the real kicker: she’s got a private sketchbook. not the kind that gets left on the tour bus or tossed into her duffel. no. this one’s hidden. zippered into her guitar case or shoved between mattress and box spring.

and it’s full of you.

you think ellie’s moody and mysterious? babe. she’s sketching the curve of your spine, the indent of your hip, you mid-orgasm in obsessive, excruciating detail like she’s trying to exorcise it out of her system.

not just one drawing. we’re talking a series. a full-blown, chronological, positionally accurate collection of "you riding her into next week." some from memory. some from quick glances in the mirror. some from angles you don’t even remember being in.

her sketchbook is like if a horny Victorian painter had access to lesbian sex and insomnia. it’s less “study of the human form” and more like, “i’m losing my mind over this girl and the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth is compulsively drawing her bare pussy.”

she loves drawing your tits. like, spiritually. artistically. carnally. your thighs too. your eyes. the curve of your back. your collarbones. she’s got whole spreads dedicated to each. and in the margins? little notes. deranged notes. written in her messy handwriting around the edges like she's documenting rare wildlife:

“shaky hands here. she said my name when she came. HOT. why can't i sketch that.”

“draw this angle again but darker. deeper shadow. more tongue.”

“bite marks from earlier. left side deeper.”

“she bit her lip right here. fuck.”

“she always arches like this when i touch her there”

“don’t forget: her thighs shake right before”

“this one’s from that night. THAT night”

“do a side-by-side of the mirror reflection next time”

and the occasional pure chaos like “looks like a renaissance painting if you squint” or “god i’m so fucking in love with her KILL ME” or just "im so down bad."

sometimes they’re messy and fast, like she was racing to capture the memory before it slipped. sometimes they’re painfully detailed. shaded with love. and lust. and obsession.

meanwhile, jesse saw a single page once and practically had a religious experience. he didn’t even mean to. he was looking for a setlist, flipped to a page, and BOOM: a full-frontal, beautifully rendered graphite version of you doing...things. his brain blue-screened. he stared for 10 full seconds and went–

“jesus, your girl looks like THAT??”

ellie almost passed out when she saw it. tackled him to get the sketchbook back “GIVE ME THAT—IT’S FUCKING PRIVATE!! FUCK OFF!!!”

she didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the day and jesse still won’t make eye contact with you in certain lighting. he's kinda traumatized. but very impressed.

you’ve never seen these. she won’t let you. and if you even joke about it she turns bright red and buries the sketchbook under some old band tees, mumbling “they’re not ready,”

the only ones she’s ever shown you are the soft portraits—your face in the morning light, your hand curled into a pillow, the crease between your brows when you’re asleep. they’re beautiful. you love them. but you know she’s hiding more from you.

and then there’s the other pages. the ones she won’t even talk about. the ones never meant for anyone to see.

they’re raw. brutal. jagged lines and too-dark shading, like she pressed the pencil hard enough to tear through the paper. fractured self-portraits that barely look like her—hollow eyes, clenched teeth, limbs twisted or missing. some of them look like they were drawn during a full-blown breakdown, like she was trying to bleed something out.

eyes. strangers. cameras. flashes. everywhere. watching her. judging her. lines scrawled in the margins like “it’s my fault” and “i will never be enough” and “i never stopped seeing it.”

drawings of joel. not always his face. sometimes just his boots, the outline of his shoulders. him playing guitar in the backyard. once, a pair of hands—his—holding hers. the page next to it was blank, but smeared with something darker, wet-looking.

there’s nightmare stuff too. scratchy renderings of dark woods. of hands reaching. of her own face split down the middle. of you, once, too far away to touch.

“can’t forget what it felt like,” she wrote next to a sketch of her alone at a table, head in her hands, white powder ghosting the edge of the frame.

sometimes, she draws her heart. anatomically correct, messy and weirdly delicate—and cracked. stitched up with tiny letters. your name. again and again. “hold it together,” she scribbled next to one. “don’t let her see.”

you found one like that once. just a glimpse. and she snatched it out of your hands before you could ask anything. just shook her head and mumbled “it’s not for you.” like it would hurt you if you saw it too clearly. like she’s afraid of what it means.

she writes her lyrics in the sketchbook, too—tucked in the margins, between drawings, like they just spilled out of her without thinking. half-finished verses. little poems for you. stuff she’ll never sing out loud but still needed to write down.

“you look at me like im worth something.” “you showed me what real love is.” “don’t know how to be gentle, but i try for you.” they’re raw and messy and heartbreakingly sweet. and they live right next to sketches of your body—like loving you is this chaotic, overwhelming thing she has to get out of her system by every means possible.

she posts her sketches on instagram sometimes, but never the real ones. just a hand in motion. a mouth caught mid-laugh. a silhouette. something cryptic. mysterious. artsy. the comments always go insane: “who is this??” “this looks like album cover material omg” “is that y/n??”

but you already know.

her art is another language entirely—one made of ink stains and graphite dust and pages warped from being clutched too tight. it’s the truth, stripped down and shaking. it’s everything she can’t say out loud. and through every smudged line, every fucked-up detail, every sketch she hides from you—

she’s still telling you.

IMPORTANT: all of these drawings are from Pinterest—credits and deepest respect to the incredible artists behind them. their work captures so much raw emotion and intimacy, and truly helped bring the vision of ellie’s sketchbook to life. nothing but love and admiration for their talent! <33

[aquasarsstuff]

My Muse

Yandere Lilia x Reader

A/N: Very short

----

Each stroke he made on the canvas was precise and neat, but it was not your focal point. His focused face and echoed voice was something you can just stare at the whole day. You were cut off from your own trance at the sound of wood slightly hitting wood.

"Do you understand it now?" he asks, a light smile on his face. You didn't think he can get more attractive. You've really fallen for his pit.

"Yeah..." you said confidently, even though you have zone out after like 5 minutes because the real masterpiece is actually him, so you observed him instead.

"That's good. You're a fast learner," he started tidying up his workplace.

"Lilia, you forgot about this," you picked up his black sketchbook that was left on your side of the desk. His eyes widen for a moment, before snatching it away from you. "Oh uhm..." you awkwardly smile, wondering if you've done something wrong. But before any evil thoughts could surface to your mind, he already took your hand.

"Break is about to be over, you should go."

"Oh right...! Thanks again Lilia! I've got to go."

———

"Lilia, where are you going?" your eyes followed his movements. You were sprawled on his bed, an open book in front of you.

"Just off to go get some supplies. I ran out of paint."

"Oh sorry, you've been using more after teaching me. I'll come with you," you hurriedly sat up on the bed to fix your hair and crumpled clothing. He place a hand in your shoulder to stop you.

"No need to reimburse me. The shop is just around the corner. I'll be back, okay?" He kissed your forehead. The effect was immediate as you were too flustered to say anything back.

A few minutes after he left, you notice his sketchbook tossed in on the floor. Its pages were trying to support the hard cover laying on it. You know he hates searching for something, so you picked it up. He'd usually place it on his desk, so you decided to leave it there... until you slip by one his clothes that came out of nowhere.

A groan left your lips as you fell down on floor, hard. As you lift your head to makes sense of your surroundings, you notice Lilia's sketchbook wide open in front of you.

"This..." all the blood drained in your face. It was pictures of you, in an angle that could only be taken from your window. You wouldn't have freak out if the calendar on top of your bed wasn't captured too. The date was before you two even knew each other!

Each picture has a corresponding sketch. As you continue to flip the pages, you realized that Lilia has been planning this for years already. But what really creep the hell out of you was sketches of girls that went missing years prior. Each girl has a red circle drawn over one of their features.

He'd also illustrate the structure of his house on the small corner, a red mark on one of the rooms: the attic. Albeit scared, you chose to go up there. As soon as you turned on the lights, you kept yourself from screaming.

Someone, or whatever it was, was rendered immobile by the ropes holding it in its place. Its body parts were stitch over, from eyes, nose, lips, limbs, and skin. You took a step at how it mirrors you almost perfectly.

"This is..." your breathe quickened. You were about to turn around when your back hit something. Your heart begun to beat faster when you felt a warm breath on your neck.

"Ah... wandering are you...? This place is strictly off limits darling, I'm afraid. Even for you," he covered your eyes. And then the next thing you know, you woke up in his bed.

"Darling I'm back!" he slips in the room.

"Get away from me!" You screech.

He tilts his head a little, confuse. Then you notice the newly bought art supplies in his hands.

What...?

You looked around the room. His sketchbook was lying on the floor. Its state was like before you picked it up earlier.

"Are you alright?" he reaches out to your shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Lilia, you..."

"How about we go to the attic? The view of sunset there is amazing. It'll help you calm down, and keep my art supplies stored there for the meantime," he pats your head, smiling at you. "Let's go."

When both of you climb up to the attic, there was no creature to be found nor any traces of its existence. Maybe... it was just a dream after all.

You hug Lilia as you both watch the sunset, or at least you thought you both were. Lilia was staring at the small gap in the closet, glaring at it, as if daring for it to move or make a sound. He pats your head as you lay on his chest. "Rest easy, my Muse... You don't have to worry about what your just mind conjured. I'm here; I won't leave you.

[stottlemorgan]

Sketches & Scowls | Arthur Morgan x Reader Fluff

Summary: Arthur encourages your artistic journey but you lack patience. Word count: 952 Tags: Fluff, can potentially be read as platonic too imo! Author's note: I'm thoroughly pissed off whilst learning to draw so take this, dear hearts. If only Arthur were here with me to stop me from throwing my sketchbook through a damn window. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral! Lmk if it seems any different and I'll change the tags.

A scowl curls your upper lip and the weight of your frustration drags your brow south as you attempt to will a tear through the paper of Arthur's sketchbook. Bound betwixt the leather cover that rests snugly in the dip of Arthur's closed thighs is a gallery of beauty; countless paradigms of how graphite should be used to capture one's visions. The subject of your current envy is a drawing of yourself.

The slight dampness of early spring cools your rear through your clothes as you and Arthur sit together on a hill of green and lupine. A flurry of warmish wind rustles through the thicket further up the hill, pulling a chittering consonance from the birds inside. The afternoon sun casts a pretty glow upon Arthur's portrait of you, upon the perfect likeness he has achieved within such a short time. You can plainly see the way he has skilfully sketched your countenance, the shapes both rigid and round that make up your face, the subtle dips and marks that pepper your skin. Though in this moment, you're appearing to be all ridge and lacking any semblance of the tender grin that had graced your features when he'd requested you still yourself while he drew.

"Try loosenin' your wrist up a little," Arthur's eyes flit to your hand which seems to be on the verge of snapping the poor pencil within its grasp. He blinks and raises a brow, tempering the amusement in his voice, "And maybe show some kindness to your tool, hm? If you break it, you ain't gonna be able to use it."

Your glare drifts up to his eyes which are laden with their usual sympathetic amicability which has only furthered over the past weeks of trying to teach you how to sketch. As you hold one another's gaze, Arthur notices your hand reluctantly shift in his blurred periphery to mirror the way he is holding his own much shorter pencil. He can't resist the chuckle tickling his chest and the smile tugging at his lips as his heart fondly responds to your grousing.

"I hate this, Arthur," you spit, tipping your head down to look at your own sketchbook, the one which Arthur kindly gave to you from his slender collection of spares. Scattered across the centrefold are multitudes of sketches, messy and incredibly amateurish, though Arthur describes them as "Charming". Your most recent is your fifth attempt at a portrait of Arthur. You were almost smiling as you shaded about his eyes and crows feet, though the excitement quickly faded the more you scribbled and was replaced with a steaming exasperation. You feel that it looks like an awkward caricature, perhaps an oddly set doppelgänger donning the scar on his chin and the mole at his cheek. Arthur's voice sounds out into the air, a lilt of understanding and compassion about it,

"You're just frustrated. It's okay, you're learnin' somethin' new-"

"I hate this," you repeat with increased fervour, sighing. Arthur sighs along with you, but warmer and gentler; he tilts his head toward you and he looks at you with a raised reprimanding brow before peering down at his sketchbook,

"I been doin' this since I was a kid. It's not somethin' you just pick up in a few weeks. Takes time 'n' practice. Jus'... Think about how you learned to ride, hm?"

"You ride better than me-"

With a scolding click of his tongue, Arthur lifts his pencil and knocks the wood softly against the bridge of your nose to which you scoff and swat his hand away.

"This ain't about me. Now, how long'd it take you t'learn to ride?"

Your head lolls sideways towards him and you roll your eyes, your voice dragging on with infuriation, "I'm still learnin'."

Arthur makes a gruff sound of triumph.

"Exactly, you're still learnin'," he shifts fully sideways to face you, nestling his pencil between the halves of his sketchbook and placing it beside him in the grass before leaning an elbow on his bent knee.

"Drawin's like ridin'... Kind of. S'one of them things you ain't gonna master in a lifetime. Screwin' up's part of the process."

"Yeah, well, it'd be nice to not screw up once," you grumble, huffing and smudging your fingers over the unsightly Arthur's chin, marring the already wonky line of his jaw. Arthur rolls his eyes and slaps a palm to your back, rubbing large circles as he speaks with a firm affection.

"Now you're just bein' sour. Maybe I shoulda drawn you all mean lookin' like you're bein' right now," He moves to nudge his knuckles into your jaw, gently pushing your face and drawing your focus from your sketchbook in hopes of swiftly popping the bubble of self-loathing that had begun to form around you.

"Put'ch your book down an' lie back with me for a bit," he instructs whilst taking the sketchbook and pencil from you anyway, setting it atop his own and tugging you to lie down next to him in the grass, "It'll give your eyes a rest an' we can decide on whether we're settin' up camp here for the night."

Despite the sigh that slips from you, you let him pull you back, and as you do, you feel your head slowly land in the cradle of his underarm. You tilt your head, glancing up at him as he tips his hat to rest more comfortably on his head, a shade falling over his closed eyes.

"I think I'll give up on drawin' for today," you murmur, studying the faint raise of his brow and feeling the arrhythmic padding of his fingers against your shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, m'happy to settle for lookin'."

Tags for my sweethearts: @thundermartini @pinescent-and-gingerbread @arthurmorganist @thesweetestapplepie @zae-heeyyy

[daydaydayrk420]

Imagine whatever beetlejuice you guys want. I'm going with this one. Also i know that the picture on the right is probably a girl but we gotta deal with it because i couldn't find a better one. And i hope you guys like the changes i made. :)

Ew

Beetlejuice x male reader

⚠️major age gap, but who's counting after 100, right? Blow job, cock warming, oral fixation ⚠️

🚨minors and girls do not interact 🚨

Whispers.

That's all y/n hears when he's in the attick.

"Come on, sugar, i know you want it." The deep mucky voice called out from the towns sculpture.

Y/n looks up from his sketchbook. His eyes land on the mini figure of the poltergeist.

"For the last time off-brand Joker. I'm not calling your name."

Let me take you back a couple of hours. Or days. Who knows? Y/n isn't counting.

Y/n Deetz. Oldest kid of Charles Deetz.

Him and his family have just moved into an old house in Winter River.

Why is a 19-year-old still living with his family, you ask? Because he's 19. Why would he move out at 19? He's not even employed.

Anyway.

Lydia and y/n weren't too opposed to moving in. They actually liked it. Before their stepmother turned it into a modern house nightmare.

But after a couple of months Lydia and her brother found out that this place is haunted.

Thing is. Lydia found a lovely couple Adam and Barbara. But y/n? He found a weird green haired ant in the attic that just won't shut up. And even then? Y/n can't stay away. Why?

"Oh, come on, sugarplum, ya know that you want to." The tiny figure said as he leaned on his headstone.

"Nah I don't think I do." That's a lie. And they both know it.

It's not like the beetle man can't see the sketches y/n is drawing. Those definitely aren't pornographic sketches of said beetle man.

The green haired man groans with frustration. "Are you toying with me or do you not remember my name?" He asks annoyed.

Both. But y/n doesn't want to answer that. "You'll never know."

"Y/n! Dinner is on the table!" Lydia yelled from the bottom of the attic stairs.

"Well that's my que. Goodnight Mr freaky." Y/n said and took his sketchbook downstairs.

The green haired man groans in frustration and punched a tree that falls over. Not because he's strong. But because it's a plastic tree.

A couple of days pass and y/n is still refusing to say the name.

He promised himself he'd never do it. But...

Last night something happened.

Y/n sits up panting. What the fuck was that.

He looks down and sees a wet circle on his boxers. He groans and rubs his face. "What the fuck am I dreaming of..." He mutters to himself.

That's when he realized he was still hard. He stares in between his legs as he holds his head. His face is blank as he tries to process the situation.

He lays down. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His hand travels down his chest to his belly and eventually his boxers.

"Fuck..." He groans as he palms himself.

Those hands.

That tongue.

That voice.

"You alright sugar?" That rumbling and cocky voice fills the room. Or at least y/n thinks it fills the room. But it's in his head.

"Let me help you with that" he said with sickening eagerness. But nonetheless. Y/n imagined how the older man kneels in between his legs.

"y/n!" Lydia's voice snaps the daydreaming man out of his thoughts and looks towards the door.

"What!" He yelled back trying to sound calm.

"You're going to be late for class!" Shit. Y/n thought to himself. It's his first day at his new school, and he's already late.

He hurriedly gets out of bed and rushes to the bathroom to clean himself up and wash his face.

He splashed cold water into his face and cleaned his eyes. Once he looks into the mirror he lets out a brief yelp when he sees the poltergeist standing behind him with his sick smirk and a clear bulge in his pants.

But when y/n turns around he sees nothing. He quickly looks back into the mirror. It was just his imagination.. he hopes.

The day doesn't get better from there on for y/n. Anywhere he goes it's like the ghost is with him. He sees him in pictures. Reflections. Faces. Everywhere. He feels like he's going mad.

So the moment he gets home. He throws his bag in his room and rushes to the attic.

But when he storms in he freezes in place when he sees Adam and Barbara talking with Lydia.

He stands there awkwardly pondering whether he should leave or ask what they're doing.

"I'll just..." Y/n trails off as he turns to the door again.

"Actually no you should stay. You should know this too." Adam said. The younger man nods and closes the door.

Once he's next to Lydia he looks at the couple.

They sigh. "If you see him. Or his ads again. Do not call him." Barbara said as she placed the bio exorcist poster on the chair. Y/n looks at it finally realising what this is about.

"Why?" He questions.

"He's not a ghost.. he's a demon. He's disgusting.-" "And he's really horny." Adam added to Barbara's explanation.

"... right." Y/n mumbles.

"How do you know that?" Lydia questions.

"We called him once... It was a mistake..." Barbara sighed.

"Do we have to be near him to call him?" Y/n asked as he got an idea.

"No I don't think so... That's why you should be more careful." Adam said.

The siblings nod and look at the town's sculpture.

"Can we go now? I have some homework I gotta do." Lydia asked. Adam and Barbara nod and let the siblings leave.

Once y/n is locked in his room he flops on the bed. He closes his eyes. But even then his mind isn't at peace as all he sees is that mossy face.

His eyes snap open. That's it.

"Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice."

Poof. The chubby moss man appeared right in front of y/n's bed.

He looks around while y/n watches him. What did he just do. Fuck fuck fuck fu

"Fuck" y/n said without thinking. Beetlejuice looks at him with his sick smirk.

"If that's what you wish to do then I'm all willing." The bug man said with his sickly confident voice.

Y/n watches him stunned. Why is he suddenly frozen? He literally dreamt of this last night and all day.

"Oh, come on, pretty boy, don't say you don't want this," BJ said with a smirk as he turned around and squeezed his ass. Y/n obviously stared. And the green-haired man knows it.

"Beetle-" "Ah ah ah!" BJ hissed and jumped on the bed to cover the younger man's mouth. "Don't you dare say my name."

That's when y/n laughed. BJ looked at him with confusion. Y/n reached up and removed the man's hand from his mouth.

"Ya know guys usually say to scream their name when they're about to be intimate." He said with a chuckle.

The beetle man can't help but chuckle too.

"Well, we don't want me disappearing while we're in the middle of having fun, now do we." He said with a smirk and slowly positioned himself over the younger man.

Y/n watched with a smirk. Oh, this greenhead thinks he's topping? Ha!

Y/n lifts a hand, tangles it in the green grass hair, and pulls him down towards his crotch. "How about I call you BJ? Hm?" He said as he used his free hand to undo his belt.

"BJ?" The green-haired man scoffed. "Yeah..BJ. because that's what you're going to give me right now," Y/n said as he lowered his pants just enough for his dick to spring free.

And right on comical timing, y/n feels something poking his leg that the green-headed man is conveniently straddling.

"Oh come on now. Where's all that sickening confidence?" Y/n said with a smirk as he watched the poltergeist look at his cock nervously.

"oh no. Have you never sucked a guy off?" Y/n teased.

BJ gulped and looked up at the younger man before shaking his head. That only made y/n smirk and tug at those green locks of hair. "Let me guide you."

With his free hand, he takes hold of himself, and with the hand In BJ's hair, he tugs him closer. "Start off with kisses or licks." And as ordered, the green-haired guy did. He gives a nervous kiss to the tip and looks at the younger man.

Y/n hums in approval. BJ nods and keeps going. He kisses the tip again before his lips make their way down the shaft.

"Just like that," the younger man grins, and he watches the bug man try his best to please him.

"Open your mouth," Y/n ordered. And BJ did just that. He watches as the younger man grabs the base of his dick and lines up with his awaiting mouth.

The green-headed man sticks his tongue out eagerly.

And before he knows it y/n's tip is pushing past his teeth and all the way down his throat. He can't help but gag at the unfamiliar sensation.

Soon enough the green-headed man starts to hump y/n's shin. The younger man watches with hooded eyes. The bug man's mouth feels way better than the younger man imagined.

"You're doing so well. So so well." He pants as he starts thrusting up into that nasty mouth. BJ gags but pushes himself to take more of the younger man deeper down his throat.

Y/n uses both of his hands to hold the head of green mop of hair in place.

He thrusts up urgently. Using all his pent-up tension from the day to chase his relief. The deeper his dick goes the more desperate Beetlejuice's humps become.

"Are you enjoying yourself, bug boy? Is your sick mind getting off of this?" Y/n said between grunts as he thrusts up with fervor.

"Fuck!" The younger man said and his hips stilled.

BJ's eyes widened as he felt the familiar texture of cum filling his mouth. He tries his best to swallow. He doesn't want a single drop to get wasted.

As he swallows he looks up at y/n for praise. But all he gets is the view of that pretty face. Those pretty lips were wet and swollen as they parted to get more air. Those pretty eyes rolled back and hooded as the intensity of his climax shook through his body.

Bj feels pain all around his scalp because of how tightly y/n is holding onto his hair.

But the green-haired man's hips haven't stilled. In fact his humps might've gotten even more desperate.

It's been so long since Beetlejuice felt this good. And fuck he can't last for long.

And he doesn't. His arms wrapped around the younger man's thigh, and he buried his face into the bush of pubic hair at the base of y/n's dick. Yes. He still has his mouth full of dick.

Y/n gasps when he's now all down BJ's throat. He's so sensitive. He looks down to check on the demon. But all his eyes focus on is how the poltergeist's shirt rolled up and how he now has the perfect view of how his ass bounces.

Y/n groans and grips BJ's hair tightly when he feels the poltergeist moan around his dick as he climaxes into his underwear.

His hips still. So does his body. His eyes close as he holds onto y/n's leg like he's afraid to let go.

Y/n runs his fingers through the grassy hair and waits. But BJ doesn't move. So the younger man carefully tugs the older man's head up to pull him off of his dick.

But BJ shakes his head and bops his head back down.

"Wha-" y/n gasps. "You don't want to pull off?" He asks. The green headed man shakes his head.

The younger man sighs. "Alright then." He gets comfortably on the bed and runs his fingers through the older man's hair.

Beetlejuice relaxes and rests his head on y/n's hip while he enjoys the weight on his tongue.

They enjoy the silence. But the silence gets too suspicious. Y/n looks down and sees that the poltergeist has fallen asleep.

Damn him.

Y/n is going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out about them.

But he's too tired to think about that. So he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Maybe this time he won't have another wet dream.

[belit0]

Hello i rlly love ur blog! I just cant get enough of ur writings *^* could i request madara finding out that his crush secretly draws and paints him. And one day she secretly paints him a portrait of him and his brother izuna and she leaves it on his door in the uchiha compond. But he ends up finding out it was her bc he reconizes her signature with his sharingan. (This is in the leaf village and izuna is alive) could u put in how izuna and madara would feel about the painting and him confronting her but shes nonchalant and says she didnt do it but drops her book of her sketches right in front of him lmao

I hope u enjoy this idea as much ad i do. Who can get enough of madara?? Thank you so much for all ur madara posts!!

Love me these two so much

It arrived without sound.

No knock.

No chakra signature lingering outside his door.

Just a canvas—propped neatly against the entrance to Madara’s private quarters in the Uchiha compound.

He finds it early, before the village begins to stir, before even the birds commit to their morning songs.

The moment his eyes land on it, the air goes still.

It’s a portrait.

He recognizes the subjects instantly: himself and Izuna, as children. Young—before the war had hardened the edges of their mouths.

Before his eyes had grown so heavy.

Izuna is laughing, caught mid-gesture, one hand tugging at Madara’s sleeve. And Madara… Madara is looking at him.

Not scowling. Not brooding.

Just watching, eyes soft with something too gentle to name.

It unsettles him.

Not because it’s inaccurate.

Because it’s true.

Behind him, footsteps approach.

-Huh.- Izuna exhales, pausing beside him to look over the painting. His tone is lighter than expected. -Didn’t know we were someone's muse.-

Madara doesn’t answer.

His Sharingan spins slowly—once, twice—and there, in the corner of the canvas, beneath the shadow of a tree: a signature.

Small.

Subtle.

Inked in a shade barely darker than the bark.

(Y/N).

His jaw tightens.

//

She’s at the edge of the training fields when he finds her.

Alone, seated cross-legged beneath a canopy of trees, sketchbook in her lap, humming quietly like she belongs to a world with no enemies.

She doesn’t even flinch when his shadow falls over her.

-You’ve been drawing me.

His voice is quiet.

Sharp as a thrown kunai.

She doesn’t look up. -No idea what you’re talking about.-

-You left a painting at my door.

-Could’ve been anyone. Uchiha fan club’s growing by the day. You’re very drawable.

-You signed it.- His tone flattens.

She pauses, just long enough to hint that yes, she knows she’s been caught.

But she shrugs anyway. -Weird. I’d sue for forgery.-

Then she stands.

Too fast.

The sketchbook fumbles from her fingers, landing open on the dirt.

Madara doesn’t need to kneel. His eyes are already scanning the pages.

Dozens of them.

His face—turned in every direction.

Laughing. Frowning. Bleeding. Sleeping.

One where he’s brushing Izuna’s hair out of his eyes.

Another with his back turned, shoulder tense like he’s just caught sight of a battlefield.

She’s captured him in ways even the mirror doesn’t.

She doesn’t move.

Doesn’t try to stop him.

Just crosses her arms and waits like she didn’t just hand over her ribcage with the pages still warm.

Izuna appears a moment later, glancing between them.

His gaze lands on the open sketchbook.

-You painted that?- He asks, surprised.

But there’s no teasing.

No smirk.

His voice is quiet, reverent.

She rolls her eyes. -No. Madara painted it. I’m just here for moral support and criminal denial.

Madara closes the book carefully.

Wordless.

Something behind his eyes has changed—not softened, no, he’s not made of that—but stilled.

As if some question that once gnawed at him has gone quiet.

He looks at her again.

Really looks.

-You remembered what I looked like back then.

Her shrug is light.

Too light.

-Someone had to.

He doesn’t answer.

He just walks past her, slipping the sketchbook under his arm.

-Hey! That’s mine!

-Not anymore.

Izuna throws an arm around her shoulders before she can chase him down, half-grinning. -Consider it payment. You made him look human again. That’s worth something.-

-He is human.

-Convince him of that.

She sighs.

Later that night, Madara doesn’t hang the portrait.

He places it on a table in his room—facing the door, where the light hits it just right.

He doesn’t mention it again.

But he never moves it.

And he never returns the sketchbook.

[spiceofvy]

SKZ - Reader get's insecure during sex

cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, insecurities, body image issues, comfort, lots of praise, bottom reader (Minho), mirror sex (Minho), overstimulation (Jeongin), my Changbin bias is very obvious in this one

Chan: Kisses you softly after your confession. Worried about what made you feel that way. He feels so sad that someone or something in your past made you so insecure, that you even feel uncomfortable around him. Wants to make sure you don't ever feel like that again. "Let me take your mind off it, I promise I will make you feel better." From now on whenever you have sex he spends a ton of time complimenting you and caressing your body. Worshiping you, holding you close as he tells you again and again how lucky he is to get to see you in such a vulnerable position.

Minho: when you tell him he is taken aback a bit. He loves you so much, so he can't understand how you could not love yourself. "Can we try something? I wanna show you how beautiful you are." as he pulls you in front of his mirror, and fucks you in front of it. Making you look at yourself as you cum. Holding your face tightly so you can't break eye contact with yourself. After he is finished he carries you to the bathtub and slowly washes you body, whispering sweet praise into your shoulders.

Changbin: This man does not allow any kind of insecurities in his bedroom. He will worship it all out of your system. He lays you out in front of him and starts kissing every piece of skin. Every curve or angle. Every knuckle, every spot. While whispering the sweetest words into your ear. Calling you pet names. Tells you how beautiful you are to him. How perfect. How grateful he is to be able to touch you. And touching you he does. He probably makes you cum during so. And afterward, he holds you, not caring if he came too. He holds you and kisses your temple, promising the world to you. "So pretty. So perfect. My stunning love. I will not let you believe that you are anything but beautiful."

Hyunjin: He looks you dead in the eyes and pulls out his sketchbook showing all the stunning pieces of art he did inspired by you. Portraits of you with intricate sketches and watercolors are all so beautiful that it takes your breath away. "Would you call my art ugly too? Then why do you insult my muse like that?" He then makes some very slow love with you. Whispering in your ear how he hopes to someday draw you in a situation like this too.

Jisung: "Noooo babe, you're too hot to be insecure." He tries to pull a joke to put you into a better mindset. But in reality he is so heartbroken because he loves you so much and he wants you to always feel like the amazing person you are. Kisses you for a long time as you slowly makes love to you. He softly touches you all over you body, caressing your skin, telling you all his favorite parts of your body. Which are to no surprise: all of them.

Felix: He looks so devastated. He knows how terrible body image issues feel and to know that you feel like that too, it breaks his heart. He believes that you are too amazing to go through stuff like that, and that the world is so unfair to make you feel like that. Bites back some tears as he holds you tightly. "Please don't ever question your beauty." You have a deep conversation about insecurities, and how to deal with them. Afterwards he starts kissing you softly, and you making out turns into slow sex again.

Seungmin: He understands how you feel. He struggled with insecurities before and so he puts everything he has into making sure you can feel better. He whispers soft compliments into your skin as he slowly pushes you over the edge. During aftercare he wraps you in your favorite blanket and as he feeds you snacks he tells you about how he overcame his own insecurities. "You are the most beautiful person in this world, believe me please."

Jeongin: Oh sweet soft boy. He takes it slow. Pressing kisses to your skin. Holding you softly. He tells you how amazing you look to him. How lucky he is to have you. As he slowly kisses down your body. Whispering love into your thighs, looking up to you like you're the world. "Please let me show you just how beautiful I think you are." He makes you cum a lot that night. Whispering the softest words into your ear as he slowly pushes you into overstimulation.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Prompt: Artist Reader decides to give Astarion their sketchbook filled with sketches of him. Couple: Astarion/Reader

Frost actually gave me this prompt right as we opened up this blog. I knew I had to write it.

-Ren

~*~*~

"I'll be your mirror."

It had been a casual statement, handed forward with a small smirk and light words. It was taken casually, a fleeting kindness to be snatched by the night wind and forgotten.

The sketchbook being slipped into your small pack now speaks of a different tale, your fingers quickly but carefully tying the twine closed before sliding the strap over your chest. Glancing around, you spy your favorite vampire in front of one of the room's bookshelves, book in hand.

Hooking a thumb under the strap, you stride up, adopting an air of nonchalance. The rest of your fingers grip the leather as he looks up, a half smile bending his lips. "Well hello, darling." Tossing the book back on the shelf, he gives you his full attention. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," you start, trying your best to keep your fingers still, "I was hoping you'd follow me to the roof."

"The roof?" he echoes, eyebrows going up. "I don't believe we're allowed up there." His smile grows. "Which means we should definitely do it. I'm in."

The grin on your face almost hurts. "Let's go."

"One question." His eyes roam the room before tilting up, then back down to your own colored hues. "How are we getting up there?"

Pressing your lips together, your eyes dart away for a split second. "Aren't you the one good at getting into places you aren't suppose to?"

"Well yes, but. Hm." He holds up a hand, index finger half pointed and head slightly tilted. "Is this a challenge?"

You pause. "Yes?"

"Wait right here, darling. I'll be right back."

You turn and watch as he goes to his pack, rustling inside before drawing out whatever it was he was searching for. Then he walks to Karlach, who looks at him with confusion before her face bursts into a grin. Her axe is handed to him, her laugh boisterous as he tries - and fails - to hold it up. There's a bit more back and forth before Astarion physically huffs and comes back to you, tiefling in tow.

"So I hear you're breaking some rules?" is the first thing out of her mouth once you're in earshot.

A smile reaches your lips. "You could say that."

"Sweet. I'll help you guys get on the roof, follow me."

And so you do, out onto the veranda under the bright full moon. Karlach gestures for Astarion, who hands over rope, and she gets to work typing it onto her weapon. One of your eyebrows shoot up as she looks at the roof, bounces the axe a few times in her hand, and throws.

The sound of crunching wood meets your ears. Tugging onto the rope and grinning as the axe holds, Karlach sketches a bow. "Enjoy the stars. If you get caught, that's not my axe."

Astarion gestures to you. "Ladies first, as they say."

Karlach rolls her eyes and heads back inside, muttering, "Thank you, Karlach. You're very welcome, Astarion. Ugh."

You eye the rope warily. "How gentlemanly."

"This was your idea. Now go ahead, and don't worry, I'll consider catching you if you fall."

Huffing but unable to hide the smile, you make your way onto the roof with no issues. Settling onto the tiles, still slightly warm from the sun, you tug your pack onto your lap and look up.

While not as beautiful as they were on the Sword Coast, the stars still twinkle bright and fierce, the moon emphasizing their shine.

"You're not tired of the stars yet?" you hear Astarion ask, settling next to you.

"I don't think I ever will be," you respond, hugging the pack to your chest before turning to him. "That's not why we're here though." Drawing the strings open, you fish out the sketchbook and hesitantly hold it out.

His eyes drop to the book, noting the worn and dented leather, back to you, then back to the book. "What? Are these love poems? For me?"

"Just take it."

Grasping the book with gentle fingers, he settles it onto his lap and flips it open.

Your fingers twine together as his eyes lock onto the contents of the pages. His eyebrows furrow, and you feel your heart sink. "Am I suppose to know who this is?"

Oh. Glancing at him, you say quietly, "It's you."

His chest stills, fingers frozen above the pages.

So quiet, almost blending into the air, you hear him exhale, "What..."

"Turn the page."

So he does. And does again. And again. Each turn more slow, more careful, as his brain processes all he's seeing.

It's him, book in hand, face half in shadow. It's him, head on the owlbear cub's body, one knee up and fingers laced together over his stomach. It's him from behind, arms raised and to the side. It's him, a side countenance, hand on a hip. It's him, his face, the dips of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw, the arch of his brows and bend of his lips, the hair curling around his pointed ears and the nape of his neck.

It's him. On every page, a different angle, a different side of him.

He doesn't speak, barely even breathes, as he takes it all in. As his fingertips trace the panes of his face. Every line, every curve.

Chewing your bottom lip, you shift, unsure if you should break the stifling quiet but knowing you'll go mad if you don't. "I, uh. I said I'd be your mirror, so..."

His inhale is shaky. "You..." Pressing fingers to his eyes, he takes another rasping breath. "There is truly--" His voice hitches and he swallows. "There is truly no one like you."

"I'm glad you like it," you say quietly.

"Like it?" he echoes, hand falling from his face as his eyes snap back to the pages. "I love it."

Smiling gently, you scooch so your shoulders touch, reaching over to give a small, gentle peck to his cheek before slowly resting your head on his shoulder. "The entire book is filled."

He sniffs, a hand wiping across his eyes. "How can I ever..."

"Don't. I didn't do this so you'd pay me back. It's a gift, Astarion."

"A gift I will forever treasure." His head gently rests upon your own, eyes not once straying from the sketches. "Thank you."

You smile. "Always."

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (23)*

Happy Sunday release day everyone!

Just a reminder that chapters marked with * contain NSFW content! Read with discretion.

Enjoy!

-----------

The next morning you wake up early and sit in your window sill reading silently. After a while, Pansy gets up and starts to get ready for the quidditch match.

“Aren’t you going to get ready?” She asks.

“Oh…I don’t think I’m gonna go today.” You say, putting your book down.

“Ok well I can already tell you who else won’t be going…” she throws her hair up before continuing, “you two need to talk.”

“I know…” you say quietly. You were scared to talk to Mattheo. Scared of what it meant for the two of you. You guys hadn’t gotten in a fight yet at all and you blurted out something you shouldn’t have. You had no idea what this was going to lead to.

Pansy leaves the dorm shortly after that, leaving you alone. You change into leggings but keep on the shirt you wore to bed…Mattheo’s shirt.

You had to stare at yourself in the mirror for 10 minutes before finally deciding to leave and go talk to him. You had to get it over with.

You walk over to his dorm, thinking about turning around with every step. When you finally reach his door, you lightly knock. There’s no answer so you open the door slowly.

“Matty?” You ask as you open the door. The room is empty with the lights off. He wasn’t here.

You close the door and leave the slytherin house, walking outside. You knew where he was. You find him on the bench, your bench drawing in his sketchbook.

You walk up beside him and sit down, him not acknowledging you.

“Matty…” you say quietly, your arms crossed because of the cold.

He doesn’t respond at all, continuing to sketch.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it, I was just so mad.” You say softly, you felt like you were skating on thin ice.

Mattheo’s pencil stops moving, “I don’t want to be like them.”

“Hey, look at me.” You cup his face, making him turn to look at you, “You are not your parents. Do you hear me? You are not them.” 

You can tell his eyes are a little glossed over but he’s trying to hold it back.

“Mattheo I love you so, so much. Never in a million years could I think that you’ll become them, not for a second. You’re too good.” You hug him tightly, him reciprocating. His sketchbook and pencil fall to the ground but neither of you care.

After a minute, you back away. The silence hangs in the air for a few minutes before you remember his things had fallen. You bend over to pick his book and pencil off of the floor, “you look good in my shirt baby” 

“Ok now you’re trying to get in my pants” you laugh, setting the book down as he pulls you in and kisses you.

“I can’t help it, my girlfriends hot” he smiles as he continues to kiss you.

“Oh mi amor, you make my heart flutter” you whisper back.

He backs away, standing up and holding his hand out to lift you up.

“What?” You laugh.

“Don’t think you can say that and not get fucked into the next century” Mattheo says, your eyes widening.

“Mattheo!” You laugh, he was so horny but somehow you weren’t surprised.

“Oh don’t go shy on me now.”

You stand up, taking his hand, “ok fine, let’s go lover boy”

He grabs his book and you both practically run back to his dorm. As soon as you shut and lock the door behind you, you’re both ripping off clothes, desperately trying to touch each other sooner.

“I need you” you breath in between kisses, “right now” 

You help him unbuckle his pants and pull them down as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt. 

As he kisses you roughly, he pushes you back onto the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows as he puts on the condom.

He climbs on top of you, dropping down and kissing your neck, leaving hickies for sure.

Your hands explore his back, scratching at him, desperate for more, “Matty please”

“Ok baby” he lifts himself up off of you and lines himself up with you before slowly inserting himself, “still so tight for me”

He was…big. And you knew that but with the last few weeks being so busy, it had been a while.

You arch your back, your hair definitely getting tangled against the pillow. You reach for the sheets around you, desperate to grab onto anything.

“Ohhh” you close your eyes, feeling too much all at once.

“No, open your eyes” he breathes out as he pumps in and out at a slow but solid pace.

You open them, staring at himself with your mouth slightly agape, “you’re insane” you could barely get out.

He continues his strokes, quickening his pace.

“Fuck” he says, feeling you soaking wet around him.

You start to play with your nipples as you throw your head back, mattheo finding your g-spot.

He rests one of his hands on your stomach, the other holding up one of your legs.

“Matty I’m almost there” you breathe out, making sure to watch him the entire time.

“Cum for me baby” he whispers right before you reach your high.

He continues pumping in and out as you take deep breaths, finding it hard to see anything but stars.

Only a few moments later does he fill the condom with his own orgasm, pulling out of you. You stay lying there, still trying to catch your breath and touch back down to reality.

Mattheo wipes you off before laying on the bed next to you. You turn your head to him, “make up sex is the best actually”

“Oh for sure” he agrees before you lean in and kiss him, this time soft and tender.

You take Mattheo’s hand in yours and hold your arms up, staring at his veins showing.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing…” you laugh.

“No, I see you staring” Mattheo calls you out.

You drop your hands, still keeping yours intertwined with his, “so what? I just find your arms attractive”

“What don’t you find attractive about me?” He asks. You weren’t sure if he was being serious.

“Well for starters, your horniness. I just can’t keep you off me” you laugh, joking.

“you’re such a brat” Mattheo watches you, smiling as you play with your hands, not looking at him.

“Yeah maybe but I’m your brat” you smile, looking back at him finally.

“Absolutely you are,'' you two stare into each other's eyes for a moment.

“Alright, I’ll be right back” you say trying to get up but Mattheo doesn’t let go of your hand, “just give me 2 minutes” you laugh. You lean in and kiss him before he lets go.

You grab your clothes and walk into the bathroom, coming out dressed a few minutes later. Mattheo has put shorts and a t-shirt on and was laying back down waiting for you.

“See I told you” you say as you climb back onto the bed and lie down, resting your head on his chest.

“Did Pansy tell you what happened last night?” Mattheo asks you, his hand resting on your arm.

“No, what happened?” You ask.

“Theo finally hooked up with someone” 

“Oh?” He hadn’t been with anyone since you. It didn’t even feel awkward to talk about it since you were with Mattheo now but it was a bit of a shock.

“Oh yeah. I saw them myself. When I came down from the astronomy tower last night, I almost walked in on them. Luckily, the girl was not quiet, whoever she was.” Mattheo laughs.

“Are you serious?!” You turn and look up at Mattheo in shock.

“Dead serious. I left so quick” Mattheo responds, nodding his head.

“Wow, good for Theo” you say, resting your head on his chest again, “can I tell you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“So after you walked in on him and I last year…” you pause as mattheo takes a deep breath, “ I didn’t finish so I went back to my dorm and…”

“You did not…” he says, smirking. You sit up and look back at him.

“I pictured you as I masterbated.” You finish. You cover your eyes with your hands, “oh it’s so embarrassing”

“If by embarrassing, you mean incredibly hot then yes it is” he sits up as well.

“I never told Theo obviously because I never intended to do it again but then over the summer…I did it again”

“Good to know I was in your thoughts” he smirks, obviously satisfied with himself. “You know I wonder if I was in that girl's thoughts last night, obviously Theo doesn’t get the job done…” he trails off, still teasing.

“Okay, well if you’re just gonna tease…” you pretend to start getting up but Mattheo grabs your arms and pulls you back into him, kissing you.

“No you don’t pretty girl,” he says in between kisses.

Taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @hatakemrs @iamdnb @cindyss @swamp-box @schaebickel @princessluvssleep @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss

[toomuchsugar-hill]

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT: Sugarhill Ddot’s Secret Romance

(Xreader with chosen name fanfic)

The soft glow of neon lights bathed the small recording studio in hues of pink and blue. Sugarhill Ddot sat back in his chair, his hoodie pulled low over his face as the instrumental for his next track looped in the background. His phone buzzed constantly on the desk beside him—fans flooding his Instagram with comments about his latest single, My Baby, with Star Bandz.

The collaboration had set the internet on fire. Fans adored their chemistry on the track, the way their voices intertwined so effortlessly. But their obsession didn’t stop there. Every Instagram post, every story, every livestream was dissected for clues about the nature of their relationship. Were they just collaborators? Best friends? Or something more?

For Ddot, it was almost amusing. Almost.

He glanced at the tattoo peeking out from behind his ear, the name “Sonder” etched in delicate red ink. If only they knew the truth.

(The Beginning of Something Real)

Ddot had known Star for over a year. They met through mutual friends in the industry and quickly hit it off as collaborators. Star was loud, confident, and unapologetically ambitious—a mirror to Ddot’s own charisma. But it wasn’t until he met her sister, Sonder, that things shifted.

Sonder wasn’t anything like her twin. Where Star thrived in the spotlight, Sonder stayed in the shadows. She was shorter, curvier, with dark, coiled curls that framed her face. She rarely said much, but when she did, her voice carried a quiet strength that captivated Ddot.

At first, their interactions were casual. She’d pass through the room during one of Star’s late-night studio sessions, offering snacks or drinks before disappearing back to her room. But something about her lingered in his mind.

One night, after wrapping up a session with Star, Ddot found Sonder sitting on the back porch, her sketchbook balanced on her knees.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up,” he said, stepping outside.

She looked up, startled, before offering him a shy smile. “I like it out here. It’s quiet.”

He sat down beside her, glancing at the sketch she was working on. It was a beautiful design—an abstract mix of shapes and symbols.

“You made this?” he asked, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It’s just for fun.”

“Nah, this ain’t just for fun. This is talent.”

She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

That night, they talked for hours. It was the first time Ddot felt like someone saw him—not the rising star, not the face of Sugarhill—but just him.

________

Their relationship blossomed in secret. They knew the risks of going public, especially with the way fans were already shipping Ddot and Star. The industry thrived on drama, and the idea of him dating Star’s twin sister would send people into a frenzy.

Ddot didn’t care about the rumors, but he cared about Sonder. She wasn’t built for the spotlight the way her sister was. The idea of her being dragged into his chaotic world made him protective of her in ways he hadn’t expected.

Their moments together were stolen and sacred. Late-night FaceTime calls, long drives to secluded spots, whispered conversations in the corners of Star’s house when no one was looking.

“You really got me out here sneaking around,” Sonder teased one evening as they sat in his car, parked at the edge of a quiet park.

He smirked, leaning closer. “You complaining?”

She laughed softly, her cheeks warming. “Not really.”

_______

Ddot was never one to shy away from bold decisions. So when he decided to get Sonder’s name tattooed behind his ear, it felt natural—like a promise.

The ink was simple but meaningful, a testament to the girl who had stolen his heart without even trying. When he posted a close-up of the tattoo on Instagram, the caption read: “Something personal.”

Fans went wild. Theories swirled: Was it a song title? A tribute to someone in his life? Star’s name wasn’t Sonder, so the connection wasn’t obvious.

For a while, the mystery stayed intact. But that all changed during a now-infamous livestream.

(The Stream That Changed Everything)

Ddot was streaming with his closest friends—Brooklyn, DD, and Jay. The energy was high, the banter playful as they laughed and joked with the thousands of fans watching.

“Yo, Ddot,” Brooklyn said suddenly, leaning closer to the screen. “What’s that on your neck?”

Ddot froze, his hand instinctively flying up to cover the hickey just barely visible under his hoodie.

Brooklyn grinned mischievously. “Nah, don’t even try to hide it now! What’s that, my guy?”

The chat exploded. Messages like “WHO GAVE HIM THAT?!” and “DDOT GOT A GIRL???” scrolled by faster than he could read.

DD, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in. “Hold up, hold up. And what about that tattoo you posted? ‘Sonder’? That her name?”

Ddot laughed nervously, his usual swagger momentarily faltering. “Y’all doing too much, man.”

But Brooklyn wasn’t letting up. “So you got someone’s name tatted and a hickey in the same week? Bro, you in love or what?”

Ddot mumbled something unintelligible, then abruptly stood up and walked off-camera, leaving his friends—and the fans—buzzing with speculation.

_______

The internet went into overdrive after the stream. Fans dissected every detail, piecing together clues in their quest to uncover Ddot’s mystery girl. When one particularly persistent fan discovered Sonder’s private Instagram account, everything unraveled.

The account was filled with photos that told a story no one had expected. Pictures of Sonder and Ddot cuddling on a couch, selfies of them kissing, and videos of him laughing with her in the background.

The leaks spread like wildfire. Within hours, Sonder’s name was trending, and the narrative shifted from “Are Star and Ddot dating?” to “Who is Sonder, and why didn’t we know about her?”

(The Fallout)

Sonder wasn’t prepared for the attention. Her phone buzzed nonstop with notifications—some supportive, but many cruel.

“Stay away from Ddot!”

“You’re ruining his career!”

“You’re just jealous of your sister!”

The rumors hurt more than she let on, but she tried to stay strong.

Star, however, wasn’t having it.

______

During her next livestream, Star decided to address the situation head-on. She sat in front of the camera, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Alright, I gotta say something,” she began, her voice firm.

The chat lit up instantly, fans begging for answers.

“First of all, y’all need to leave my sister alone,” Star said, leaning closer to the camera.

The messages slowed, as if the viewers were holding their breath.

“Sonder didn’t ask for any of this. She’s not in the industry, she’s not chasing clout, and she’s definitely not trying to compete with me. Y’all don’t know her, so stop coming for her.”

Her voice grew sharper. “And for the record, me and Ddot? Never been a thing. My Baby was a song, not a confession. So stop trying to pit us against each other. That’s my sister, and I love her.”

Her words went viral, earning her praise from fans who admired her loyalty.

_____

Despite Star’s defense, the pressure on Sonder and Ddot didn’t let up.

One night, as they sat together in Sonder’s room, she finally voiced her fears.

“Maybe we should take a break,” she said quietly, her head resting against his shoulder.

Ddot pulled back to look at her. “What? Nah, don’t say that.”

“I just don’t want to make things harder for you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Your fans, your career…this could ruin everything.”

“You think I care about that?” he asked, his voice firm. “I care about you. That’s it. Let them talk. Let them hate. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, nodding as he wrapped his arms around her.

The next chapter———

Over time, the frenzy died down. Fans moved on to new rumors and scandals, and the industry shifted its focus back to Ddot’s music.

Sonder deleted her Instagram, choosing to stay out of the public eye. Ddot, meanwhile, doubled down on his career, channeling his emotions into his music.

Their love story wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs—a bond forged in the quiet moments they shared, hidden from the chaos of the world.

Because sometimes, the best things in life are worth fighting for.

[greyfongschemmenti]

This Is How It Feels | Part 3

Pairing: Regina Mills x reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 1k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant hum of life in the town square formed a soothing backdrop as you sat against the sturdy trunk of a tree in the center of Storybrooke's park. Your first week at this town and you decided to sketch. With your sketchbook propped up on your knees, you let your pencil glide across the paper, capturing the scene before you with practiced strokes.

Lost in the rhythm of creation, you barely noticed the approach of footsteps until a familiar voice broke through your reverie.

"Mind if I join you?" came Regina's smooth voice, her presence casting a shadow over your sketchbook.

Looking up, you were surprised to see Regina standing before you holding two coffee cups, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. Wordlessly, you nodded, gesturing to the space beside you.

Regina settled gracefully onto the grass, her gaze lingering on your sketchbook for a moment before turning to meet your eyes. "I noticed you sitting here earlier," she said, her tone curious yet warm. "I thought you might appreciate some company."

As she spoke, Regina offered one of the cups with a knowing smile. "Hopefully it’s to your liking," she said, handing you the cup. "Just the way you ordered it the first time we met."

Your brow raises in curiosity as you listen to her words “you…remembered my coffee order?” 

Regina’s smile falters “was that okay?” 

You smile and are grateful for the gesture, you accept the coffee with a nod of thanks, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. Regina's attention to detail did not go unnoticed, and you found yourself struck by the thoughtfulness of her gesture.”I really appreciate it. Thank you Regina”

After a moment and a soft dusting of the charcoal from your page you’re the first to break the silence. “So how’s your day going, Esteemed Mayor Regina” you give her a slight smirk. She lets out a soft laugh “Besides dealing with the citizens of Storybrooke, proposals and meetings all before my morning coffee. same old bureaucracy, different day. But it's all part of the job, I suppose. How about you? How's life as our newest visitor?” 

You take a deep breath as you think of a response then sigh “Oh, you know, just trying to navigate the ups and downs of everyday life. But a good cup of coffee always helps smooth out the rough patches. But you fixed that so my day just got better” you look up at her and give her a genuine smile which she mirrors on her own face. 

Regina looks down to hide her smile while she runs her hands on her lap, “Ah, the universal remedy: caffeine. Can't go wrong there.”As the two of you sat in comfortable silence, They both sip their coffee in silence for a moment before Regina speaks, “So, tell me about yourself. Where do you come from? What brings you to Storybrooke?” 

You let out a breath as you turn to look over at Regina and take in her features taking a pause to consider her questions. “Well, I've been traveling around the world for some time now. I’m a nature photographer with a side of art. Enjoying the world’s wonders.” you began smiling softly before it falters a bit “But despite all the beauty I've encountered, I've felt like something was missing. So, I embarked on this journey with no destination in mind, just following where the universe led me. And here I am, in Storybrooke.” Regina listened attentively, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed your words. And as you spoke of your desire for a new beginning, for a place to call home amidst the vast expanse of the universe, Regina's eyes softened with understanding.

"It sounds like you've been searching for a sense of belonging," she said, her voice gentle yet knowing. Regina knows all too well about her own sense of belonging. She looks over at you and you share a look. Her words resonate deeply within you, echoing the unspoken longing in your heart. In Regina's presence, you felt a sense of connection, a kinship that transcended words and borders. You nod “Sometimes, no matter how far we roam, we still long for that sense of belonging.”

“I can relate to that more than you know.” She looks away suddenly, not her confident self, but she quickly recovers “Your journey sounds fascinating. Traveling the world and having a talent to draw incredible things” she glances at your sketches of people and buildings of her beloved town.

You give a small smirk as you look down at your drawings “It has been, in many ways. But it's also been lonely at times. That's why I'm grateful for encounters like this, moments of connection with others.”

“Well, I'm glad to have met you” she softly smiled as she looked at you and noticed you sketching. 

You look up at her and smile “I enjoyed this. If you ever want to share a coffee and talk. I guess you know where to find me” 

You stand up, ripping out a page and close the book before offering a hand to Regina. Regina watches in surprise as you stand up and tear out a page from your sketchbook, the action unexpected but somehow fitting in the moment. As you close the book and offer your hand to her, she hesitates for just a moment before accepting it, noting the warmth of your touch as your hands linger longer than usual.

Taking the piece of paper from you, Regina's gaze flickers down to the sketch, her breath catching at the beauty captured on the page. The sketch of Regina sitting by the tree where she was moments ago. Her expression is soft and at peace, something she hasn’t seen in a long time. 

For a moment, Regina is speechless, touched by the gesture and the sentiment behind it. She looks up to meet your eyes, her own softened with gratitude and understanding.

"Thank you," she says softly, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that belies her usual stoic demeanor. 

With a small smile, you bid farewell and walk off to where you're staying, leaving Regina to gaze down at the sketch in her hands, a tangible reminder of the unexpected connection forged in the quiet moments of an ordinary day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the park, you realized that perhaps, in this serendipitous encounter with Regina, you had found the answer to your quest for belonging—a community to call your own, and a journey that had led you home at last.

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

Rayllum Month July 11th: Dream/Nightmare

Went back to writing angst again 😅 Anywho…

TW: Body Horror, Corpse

Callum looked all around him weirdly finding himself in a place that he only thought he saw inside of a mirror. But now, he was on the other side of it, inside that prison. He walked around curiously, then went straight for the book shelves towards the back. He wanted answers more than anything on how he kept ending up here. As he ran his finger over the spines of the books, he was startled by a loud thud behind him. He quickly turned around only to find Rayla lying on the ground, eyes wide open and frozen in place.

Callum gasped and nearly fell against the bookshelf. He felt his heartbeats grow violently faster and his sweat covering his whole body.

“Rayla! No!” He screamed as he ran towards her. He knelt down and grabbed her cheeks, which felt cold in his hands. “Rayla!” He called again, but to no avail. “Rayla please! Say anything! Please,” he whimpered. He pulled her in her arms and held her limp body tightly as he sobbed. Suddenly Rayla’s body recoiled violently out of his arms causing him to jump back and exclaime in horror. After her body unnaturally writhed around, she suddenly froze. Her whole eyes slowly and gradually changed to black. Then suddenly her upper body thrusted up with her head dangling backwards. Still confused, Callum slowly walked towards her, something wasn’t right. Then suddenly, her head to thrust up in his direction and her eyes now shined in bright purple.

Callum screamed as he sat up in his bed. He held his face and panted, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Thankfully, it was all just a dream. But sadly it wasn’t the first or only one of its kind. Last night, he had this same exact dream about Ezran. He’s had so many different dreams connected to Aaravos, especially of that one time he possessed him at the storm spire, and he knew for certain it wasn’t a coincidence. He got up from his bed and went to his desk. He sat down then opened his sketchbook to draw the prison from his nightmare when he heard a knock on his door.

“Callum?” He heard Rayla call, making him sigh in relief.

“Come in,” he replied as he continued sketching. The door creaked open and Rayla entered, walking over to him and peered at his drawing.

“Are you ok? I heard your screaming from my room again,”

Callum sighed and put his pencil down. He got up from his chair and walked with her to sit on the edge of his bed. “I don’t know, Rayla,” he buried his face in his hands as Rayla put a comforting arm around him. “I keep having these dreams about Aaravos. And I’m just so scared he might be trying to control me again. Or that he might try to hurt the people I care about,”

Rayla stroked his back and looked at him with concern. His fear of Aaravos grew even more ever since they brought back his prison and came back to Katolis. And it didn’t help that he kept the prison in his room for safekeeping. Callum looked back up at her and continued.

“I know you told me I was the ‘Destiny’s a book you write yourself kind of guy’ and that no one can control me, but Aaravos, he was just too powerful. When he first took over my body, I tried so hard to fight it. But I just wasn’t strong enough. That’s why I asked you to,”

“Callum,” Rayla interrupted, holding his face between her palms. “I will not. If he possesses you again, we will not leave you, not this time. We will find a way to get you back. We will get through this together, I promise,” Rayla told him determinately and gave him a reassuring smile. She then looked towards the crystal ball that was kept safely on his desk and walked over to grab it. “Tell you what,” she started. “How about we try to keep his prison in a different place in the castle, you know, maybe that might help with the nightmares?”

“I don’t know, Rayla. I’m just worried about it potentially falling in the wrong hands,”

“We’ll find a place where only a very few of us would know, and we’ll keep it that way until we go on our journey to the Starscraper, ok? And we’ll keep checking to make sure it stays there. In fact, we can even go for a small walk for you to take your mind off of that nightmare and then maybe look for the right hiding place together?”

Callum nodded and got up from his bed to join her. A walk under the stars with Rayla and some fresh air would surely be enough to relieve him of his stresses and perhaps take his mind off of his guilt.

[hintons]

lets get crazy: 7, 17, 18, 23, 27 👀

7. greekverse “You did what?!”

Menelaus, all of a skinny fourteen, wipes at his bloody nose, while Ponyboy keeps the package of peas pressed to his cheek. Both of them are roughed up from the damn near brawl they'd had outside, with stained shirts, bruised faces, blood in places where it shouldn't be. "Scott called Daisy that word, the bad one. I ain't repeating it, so I hit him in the face with my baseball bat." He gives Atreus a defiant look, mixed with pride. "It's not my fault he couldn't dodge a bat."

Atreus turns his head to Ponyboy. "And you, Daisy? What's your excuse for it?"

Much like his brother, Ponyboy mirrors that look of defiance and pride. "Jason's an asshole."

Coming from a normally soft toned ten year old, Atreus can't muffle his laughter.

17. ageswap

“This is all your fault!”

"Darry, I didn't just fall on his knot and get pregnant!" Ponyboy snaps back, moving in front of Dallas. "You know I had to give my suppressants to Soda, you know we could only afford it for one of us —"

"So why the hell weren't you careful?" Darry almost growls out, and Ponyboy doesn't pull back. "Dammit, I thought you'd care enough about your future not to fuck it up! How are you gonna go to college with a kid?"

A hollow, upset laugh bubbles up from Ponyboy's chest. "You think I'm still going to college? With what money, Darry? The scholarships are gone, Soda still has the entirety of high school to get through! Who's going to give a damn about me in four or five years?"

The silence that descends is deafening with everything that's gone wrong, with every reminder that things weren't the same anymore.

18. red, white, and bruised — soc au

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.” Ponyboy writes the words down, across the sketch of Dallas Winston in his sketchbook. They're in forlorn loops on the paper.

He shouldn't be. Dallas would hate him if he knew the full truth of things: that Ponyboy knew exactly who had hurt Curly weeks before. He would despise him if he knew that Ponyboy was terrified of Johnny, that he was trying hard to navigate what Johnny was dangling over him, a future outside of his brothers, and how unstable he was with liquor.

He thinks of it again, how Dallas looked angry, the way the greasers talked about Johnny.

He thinks about Johnny in that car, the alcohol on his breath, and thinks about his split knuckles.

The accusatory look on Dallas' face stares back at him and he knows that he can't keep this secret for any longer.

23. peepshowverse

“Just pretend to be my date.” Dallas says, ticking off his fingers, "Better, pretend to be my husband, if it's better. Pick out the expensive clothes, spend money as much as you want, stick out in however way you can as a mob guy's broad. That's what will get Randy's attention."

Beside him, Antonio goes on, "If you want to keep whatever you get afterwards, it's yours. The expenses, we're more than good for. We're in this til the end, and your services are essential to this heist. If you do exemplary, we'll even get you setup better than what you have now."

This is a lot to take in. Dallas knows it is, but he's counting on what they dug up too, a need for vengeance against the guy who killed Ponyboy's childhood friend, and he knows that they've done it when Ponyboy reaches for the liquor he previously hadn't touched. "Alright. I'll do it."

27. soc au

“I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore.” Ponyboy's voice raises, tinged with so much anger and spite to it that Paul is taken aback. "I'm tired of being here day in and day out, angry at you, at Darry, at everyone and no one caring about how I feel!"

Everyone is turning to look at him, everyone is getting a show to their dysfunction and Paul stands up. "Ponyboy, you're not feeling well. We should get you —"

"You fucking touch me Paul, and I'll shove my boot so far up your ass you'll be tasting it for another year!" Ponyboy snaps so sharply that it's almost a physical blow. "Stop treating me like I'm crazy, like I don't know what my own needs and wants are. I never wanted to come back, do you hear me?" He stands up fully, teeth bared, "I never wanted to leave Texas, and I never wanted to leave Dallas cause he never kidnapped me in the first place!"

[abbatoirablaze]

Hidden Love, Chapter 5

Word Count:  2.3k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut, angst, name calling, heartbreak, secrets coming to light, mentions of death.  

“Is anyone else home?”

Benedict’s eyes snapped up from his sketchbook and they fell on you.  He looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Amelia?” he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I went to visit Penelope this morning, but they left to promenade with Lord Featherington whilst Marina and the lady of the house went elsewhere,” you admitted, “I-I had not thought that Eloise and the others would be  gone....did they go out with your mother?”

“They are out with the maids,” he shrugged, “Hyacinth, Eloise, and Gregory went shopping while mother took Daphne to the modiste...and Francesca left just the other day to continue on her studies in Bath.”  

“And Anthony and Colin?”

“Out!”

“What are you working on?” you asked nervously, finding your way more into the room, “may I see it?”

He shrugged and you frowned, looking at the crumpled pieces of paper around him, “are you okay, Benny?”

“I mean to sketch, but-“ he sighed, cutting himself off.  You leaned down and picked up one of the pieces of paper.  He’d been sketching body parts.

“Th-they look good.”

“Do not lie for my ego, Amelia,” he chuckled, “I know what they are.  But I can’t make anything appear realistically if I do not have anything to draw from.”

“I-I could model for you...if you liked?”

His brow lifted, “you would model for me, princess?”

“I’ve sat for plenty of portraits, Mr. Bridgerton.” You reminded him, “I am a princess, after all.”

“A princess that is of age...and has denied entering the likes of the ton through a promised marriage.  You are a wedded woman, princess,” he reminded you, “and yet you close yourself in a room with me and offer to be a model for my sketches.”

“I would not tell if you didn’t.”

“Who would there be to tell?” he asked softly, his pencil tapping the edge of his sketch book, “but who would force me to sketch at such a time when you are sitting as a model?”

You felt a blush creeping down your neck.  You fanned yourself as a warmth spread out in your belly.  His eyes darkened as they eyed your form, “So....what parts of the body are you trying to sketch?”

“A-all of them...”

“Well...then maybe I should take off some of my garments?” you asked, “so that you can see the whole form of which you are trying to sketch.  These fashions leave very much to the imagination...and I suppose that you would like something that is more raw, and natural.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you dropped to your knees before him and pulled the sketchbook and pencil from his hands, placing them beside him.  Your hands reached out, cradling his face.

“Sweet angel, do not tempt me with heaven when I have already tasted it before only to have it pulled away in such a manner,” he whimpered as you leaned in close enough so that your lips grazed over his.  He shuddered with your feathery touch, “you have me trapped between the clutches of heaven and hell.”

“How is my touch hell?” you asked softly, your lips still teasingly touching his.  His eyes opened, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“To have but a taste is heaven but knowing that you belong to someone else is a hell that I am stuck in,” he whispered.  You shuddered as his hands reached up and cradled your face, mirroring your own actions.  His thumb grazed over your bottom lip, and you shuddered as he pulled his thumb down, parting your lips, “I dream of you so frequently that I’ve committed your touch...your essence to memory, Amelia.”

“Take me, Benedict!” you begged.

He was gentle in the way he pulled you onto the lounge with him, his sketchbook falling to the floor entirely as his lips caught yours in a heated kiss. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, and the world seemed to spin as his hands held your face against his. 

When you broke away from him, your chest was heaving, and you were left breathless. 

“Mr. Bridgerton!” you gasped softly.

“Yes, my princess?”

“Kiss me again!” you begged him. 

“Yes, princess!” He smiled, pulling you onto his lap while your lips reconnected. 

“Benedict!”

“I am to be a second in a duel between Anthony and the Duke Of Hastings!” he said quickly, sweeping you into his arms.  His lips connected with yours, and for a moment you let your eyes close.  But just as quickly as the words processed, your eyes opened and you pushed yourself away from him, “What?”

“If Anthony does not settle this with the Duke, or I am called upon to fill his shoes I want you to know how I truly feel, Amelia.”

“Y-You can’t.  You won’t do-“

“The duke dishonored Daphne, Amelia...” he said quickly as he shook his head, “I must do this.  I must be Anthony’s second.  I mus-“

“I love you!” you declared, “I-please, Benedict.  Don’t do this!”

He froze, “Wh-what?”

“I love you, Benedict Bridgerton,” you said firmly, “don’t do this.  Dueling is not only illegal, but it is stupid.  And to be your brother’s second-“

“I love you too...”

Your heart swelled as you looked into the eyes of the man you loved, “y-you do?”

He nodded, “th-that’s why I came over.  I-if I’m to be Anthony’s second, and things go wrong, I-I would be the head of the family.  And I would become Viscount Bridgerton.  That-“

“Marry me, Benny.”

He chuckled, “what?”

“Marry me!” you repeated, nearly begging him to do such a thing, “court me.  Marry me.  Make me Mrs. Bridgerton, Benedict.”

His amusement fell away from his face, and he looked at you more in-depth, “y-you’re serious?”

“Of course, I am.  I’ll leave Heinrich.  I-I’ll renounce all of my titles.  Please.  Just do not do this.  St-“

“I cannot marry you, Amelia.”

This time it was your turn to freeze.  All of the happiness that had come with him repeating how he’d loved you as well drained away from you when he’d mentioned that he couldn’t possibly marry you.

“What do you mean, you cannot marry me?”

“Y-you’re a princess.”

“So!” you spat, “I am more than just my title, Benedict.  And I would renounce it for you.  I-Edmunt and I could be here with you.  I-“

“And I’m the second son of Bridgerton.  I-“

“I don’t care, Benedict.  I love you.”

“And I you,” he repeated quickly.  But he was still shaking his head, “but I can’t-we can’t...I-“

“Then why did you come, Benedict?” you asked, “if not to proclaim your love for me before running off to get yourself killed with your brother, why else would you sneak to my home and tell me of these feelings that you have?  So that you could have some romantic false declaration to leave me with if you fall?  To let me know that you’re okay with dying while I raise Edmunt alone and-”

“Edmunt is Prince of Prussia,” he growled, “he may be my son but-“

“But what?” you cried, glaring at him, “but it’s only the fantasy of a life together that you can stand?  I am willing to renounce it all.  I’m willing to tell the world that you sired Edmunt.  I want you.  I love you, Benedict.  Why is that not enough?”

“I-it’s too much!”

“Too much?” you scoffed, “but yet it was not too much any other time.”  

“I-I do not know...” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “yes?  No?  I-I’m unsure, Amelia.”

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes, “you are horrible...”

“Amelia-“

You turned away, ripping your arm from his grasp as the tears slipped down your cheeks, “go...get yourself killed then.  I don’t care!”

“I-I never wanted it to happen like this.”

“You just never wanted a real life with me,” you sobbed, pushing away from him once and for all, “that’s fine...don’t you worry, Benedict Bridgerton.  Even if you don’t get caught, I will not darken the life you have with my shadow.  I will be your problem no longer.”

“Amelia-“

“Goodbye, Benedict Bridgerton.”

Penelope looked at you, eyes wide as you sobbed, “Amelia...”

“I was stupid,” you cried, shaking your head as you broke down into her arms, “I-I never should have allowed myself to love him.”

“I’m sure that everythin-“

“I don’t weant to live this lie anymore, Pen...” you cried against her shoulder, “it hurts too much.”

“Tell me...wh-“

“Heinrich left because their physician called him back...his father died when he came,” you sobbed, “I am to go back to Prussia for his coronation at the end of the month, after the festivities of his passing.”

“Y-you’re...what?”

“I do not want to be a queen!” you sighed, “I-“

“What’s wrong with that?’ she asked, curious about why you were upset over becoming a queen, “Amelia wh-“

“I told Benedict that I would renounce my titles and run away with him,” you told her, breaking down once and for all, “I begged him to marry me.  I-“

“You what?”

“He rejected me, Pen,” you informed her, “he told me that he would not marry me.  That the reality of us...it was too much for him to bear...but  I-I-“

“Spit it out!”

“I’m carrying his child again!” you sobbed, “I wanted to run away with him and be his wife...wanted to raise our children away from it all, because the only things that matter to me is my children and him...but he doesn’t want it.”

“Did you tell him?” she gasped.

You shook your head, “I couldn’t...n-not after he rejected me?”

“What a climp!” she scowled, “why I oughtta-“

“Pen,” you whimpered pathetically, looking at one of your best friends, “please, don’t do it.   Do-don’t write about this.”

She paled, “I-I would never let Whistledown write about you, Amelia...you-you’re my best friend...that would ruin you.”

“Please don’t tell the Bridgertons,” you asked softly, “any of them.  I know that you and Colin are close...and Eloise had all but written me off when she found out about-“

“Don’t worry, Amelia...your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Pen...”

“Haven’t seen Amelia around as of late...”

“Good riddance!” Eloise growled.

Penelope gave her friend a stern look, “that’s not nice, El.”

“You don’t know the real her,” she replied firmly, “she just uses people, Pen.  She-“

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Eloise,” Penelope frowned, “stop.”

“Is it true that she really went back to Prussia because the King passed?”

“Great...so she’s a queen now.”

“Eloise, you’re being inconsiderate.”

She rolled her eyes, “Pen...I know that you and her had this special bond because the two of you liked to act like sisters, but trust me when I say that she was probably just using you.  Just like she used us!”

“She never used me!” Colin said quickly, “what is your problem with Amelia?  You were friends with her too!  Maybe not as close as her and Daphne, but-“

“She is a lying whore!”

Penelope gasped, “ELOISE!”

“You don’t k-“

“I know about Edmunt!” she said quickly, cutting her friend off, “and I know more about it than you do, so stop what you’re saying, because you are the one that doesn’t really know what’s going on!”

“What are you talking about?”

“NOTHING!” Both women growled, glaring at one another. 

“Girls!”

Both of the girls paled as they looked at the dowager viscountess, who was standing at the entrance of the drawing room.

“Mama...”

“Colin, please clear the room!”

Colin gave both Penelope and Eloise a nervous look before following his mother’s advice.  Violet Bridgerton closed the door behind herself and took a few steps into the room, until she was standing behind one of the couches.  She took a deep breath and looked at both of them.

“Mama, we didn’t mean to-“

“Quiet,” she said firmly, “I heard what you were talking about, and I’m going to say this once and only once...and then there will be no more discussion of it, am I clear!”

“Lady Bridgerton...”

“I know what has been happening with Benedict and Amelia,” she said in a low voice, before looking between both girls again, “I’ve known since she found out she was pregnant with Edmunt.  She had admitted to me that the child was Benedict’s and asked for permission to name it after Edmunt.  I gave my blessing then...I also know about the arrangement between them, as the now King of Prussia is unable to give her children.  Eloise...you pushed away your friend because you thought that she was being untoward with your brother, but he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to it the first time.”

“Mama?” she asked softly, her eyes widening at the realization that her mother had known all along.

“She told me as well before she had left that she and Benedict have created another child...be it a boy or a girl, they are going to do as they did before and claim that it was sired by King Heinrich,” she told her, “But when that child comes of age, they will be the heir to the crown.”

Penelope’s eyes widened.

As did Eloise’s.

“What?”

“You two will stop discussing Amelia in such a manner,” she said firmly, “both of you.  If anyone were to hear about it, it could have consequences not just for her, but for the children.  Eloise, do you really want your brother’s children to be tossed aside?”

“Benedict was mis-“

“Benedict made his choices,” she said in an angry tone, “neither of them are victims.”

“Lady Bridgerton...she was willing to give it all up...”

“I know, child,” she proclaimed calmly, “Amelia confessed everything to me before she left for Prussia.  I know of how she asked Benedict to run away with her.  I know that Benedict doesn’t know about the child in her belly now.  And I know that he rejected her.  Just as he made his choices, she is making hers.  She’s providing not one, but two kingdoms with futures.  And we’re going to let it happen!  Is that understood?”

Chapter 6

[tiramisuucakeee]

7. TEACHING

twitter + written

!

"i'm bad at everything, i swear," y/n groaned as wonhee dragged her down the hallway toward the school's patio.

"no you're not," wonhee replied, her tone light. "my family always says that the people who struggle in school end up doing great things later. just you wait."

"sure, wonhee," y/n mumbled, her resolve fading. she suddenly stopped by the bathroom. "i'll be with you guys in a second, okay?"

wonhee nodded, heading into the bustling patio where niki sat under a tree, absorbed in his phone and munching on lunch.

y/n stepped into the empty girls' bathroom, taking a moment to adjust her appearance in the mirror. she reapplied her lip gloss and smoothed her hair. feeling more confident, she pushed the door open to leave. but as she stepped out, she collided with someone real hard, sending the person's belongings tumbling to the floor.

"oh my god! i'm sorry!" y/n exclaimed, looking down to help gather the scattered items, taking the worksheets and pencils.

"oh no, i'm so sorry!" hanni said, her cheeks turning pink from embarrassment as she knelt beside y/n. "i should've watched where i was going" she was lucky there weren't many people around.

as they picked up the books and materials, hanni's art sketchbook fell open, revealing some sketches and drawings of random things.

y/n stood up with the sketchbook on her hand, breath caught in her throat. "wow, this is really cool, hold on hanni." she flipped through the book, forgetting all about it not being one of her personal belongings.

hanni looked up and stood as well, surprise flickering in her eyes at her name being remembered, then a shy awkward smile spread across her face. "thanks y/n."

"no, i'm serious," y/n said, feeling the need to express the compliment until hanni understood how good she was. "you are really good at doing this, i wish i could draw naturally like you. i'm really bad at art, and i'm sure mr. park is going to strangle me if i don't get any better," she laughed at herself, making hanni giggle a bit too.

hanni blushed a bit at the comment, but took her chance to hint something. for the past month, from far away, she had watched y/n be bad at art, and she was etching to take over all her work, it bothered her that her art didn't make sense. "oh i'm in mr. park's art class too, you know. my friend told me he's very strict, so maybe you should try to practice a bit." hanni shrugged lightly.

but the uninterested act didn't cause any trouble for y/n at all when she talked to people. "definitely! i mean, you could totally help me out or something," y/n smiled, clapping in excitement, already picturing herself as the next picasso of the seniors.

there was a moment of silence as they both looked at each other, something unspoken hanging in the air. hanni felt a warmth spreading in her cheeks, and

y/n's curious gaze lingered just a bit longer.

"maybe... maybe i can try to" hanni looked down, her voice soft. "i mean, i'm not a teacher.." she trailed off.

"i'd love that," y/n interrupted and ignored the second comment, closing the sketchbook and looked at the tree in the patio, seeing her best friends already arguing. "text me, please. i'll do anything not to fail this class" she almost begged, and gave hanni the book back, their hands brushed against each other again.

hanni agreed breathlessly, giving her a small grin.

and so y/n left for her friends, but didn't forget to look back for a moment. their eyes met, and for a second, the two girls felt as if something really important had happened.

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[calamari-minecraft-corner]

“You make me feel safe.”

Those words escaped Dre’s mouth before he even had time to process what he even meant. He made a noise in confusion at that, soon feeling uneasy as he waited for Cala’s response.

Cala was in the middle of drawing in her sketchbook but she paused and looked up at him.

And smiled.

“Aw, well I’m glad to make you feel safe Dre.” She simply replied, that radiant smile never leaving.

He had no idea why, but she just felt pleasant to look at.

Like he could just stare at her and the itch of feeling like he’s forgetting something is just… gone.

She feels like a safety net.

He just nodded and she gave one more smile before she went back to drawing.

He stared at her for a few minutes, contemplating on what to say next before he floated behind her to see what she was sketching.

She was drawing a portrait of.. him. He almost looked startled at first as he saw the sketched version of himself, seeing the obscured face and the torn wings.

It felt like he was about to faint seeing that but, in a way he was also oddly calm.

“I know you don’t like looking at yourself in the mirror,” Cala began as she looked up at him, her smile softening as her eyes were soft with care,

“So I wanted to draw you to show you what you looked like.”

Dre paused, and a part of him still felt on edge. Like he was terrified of seeing how he looked.

It felt wrong seeing himself.

But when she was showing him it felt.. safer.

He stayed quiet and nodded, looming closer to her.

Cala stiffened slightly but let him, not minding that the green ichor was dripping onto her clothes or the paper.

He stayed quiet, admiring it for a minute before he spoke,

“…Do I make you feel safe?”

Cala blinked, almost surprised about his question before she pouted to think.

“…I mean. In a way, yeah. You’re scary looking and very foreboding, but that’s not a bad thing. I don’t judge by looks— and you ah, listen to me when I ramble a lot and you try to take care of me when I’m not doing my best so— I say yeah.”

She shrugged and soon laughed, a sheepish smile across her face as a blush formed,

“I think you’re a good person. You feel like a good person to me, so you feel safe.”

Dre felt his whole body heat up as green ichor practically dripped down heavily. Cala made a noise in surprise and he pulled away, shaking some as he stared.

He felt like a good person to her..?

Why did those words seem so foreign?

Like they felt new to hear.

He was expecting to be berated or her to be insulting but in reality she was nothing but kind.

This kindness felt so new but so… welcoming.

And terrifying.

He nodded wiping his face before his voice cracked,

“…Okay.”

He quickly disappeared, trying to figure out why he was feeling so scared by her saying those simple words.

And she was left alone, confused but worried about her ghost friend.