#I have water next to me like at all times!!!!

[cutetanuki-chan]

sometimes I see people being confused where alectostasia ship came from so here's a little bit of run down

I'm not really good with words so it might be clunky

what we know from the text

Anastasia tries to achieve 'perfect lyctorhood', something goes wrong during her ascension, John kills Samael, Anastasia fails her attempt

Anastasia moves to the ninth, continues working on the house or only founding it at that time

John asks Anastasia to help build the tomb 'I built that tomb with Anastasia, designed every inch of it.'

somewhere between working on it and Alecto's entombment, Alecto and Anastasia make a vow where Alecto basically swears as a cavalier to her 'Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.'

as John leading Alecto to the tomb, she asks to see Anastasia 'She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. Where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia.'

presumable Anastasia is the one to inflict to the ninth house importance of keeping her bloodline and worshiping of the tomb through all of those years

Anastasia's bones are in the tomb 'She looked back beyond, and she saw Anastasia, tucked where nobody would find her: Anastasia, all bones. Not really Anastasia. But Anastasia’s body without the meat on it, snuggled right into the curve of the rock, ready to close the door whenever it was opened. She remembered Anastasia.'

Alecto immediately getting chill after tasting Harrow's blood 'The child was silent; but her blood was on Alecto’s lips, and through that blood Alecto was made to understand what it was, and was astonished exceedingly. Alecto put away wrath and said: Thou art the blood of the tomb-keeper.'

Alecto saying sorry for Samael

the implications

the vow on itself is very interesting, at first we all know how usually normal cavalier and necromancer relationships are. then for Alecto to comply to that, indicates she should be pretty trusting of Anastasia, and their relationships at least somehow better than with other lyctors who were terrified of her

then there's also the tombkeeper blood thing, what serves as a check note for Alecto after waking up, and means the initial purpose of the ninth house was actually waiting for rock to roll away

and one part of the vow seems to imply 'if anyone beside a tombkeeper wake you, slay them as they came to hurt you', as could hinted on a protection from other lyctors who wanted to kill Alecto? (Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her.)

then the matter of Anastasia's bones laying in the tomb next to the rock. not sure if it's just her skeleton or she made herself a some construct mechanism from her bones. and not clear if she got entombed on her own volition or John closed them both there, but being entombed together five feet apart cause we are not gay

there's also some oddness in Alecto immediately after waking saying she's sorry for Samael, but I won't go into that here, anyway Anastasia was trying to find a better way to lyctorhood and I think in her more close relationships with Alecto she figured out something that John wasn't telling them, before or after her ascension

and some theories

I think I first heard this theory from @/mayasaura, that ninth house tradition of telling secrets while submerged in the salt water could've corelate with Anastasia trying to have a talk like that with Alecto since she feels the most at ease in the salt water, so means pool time for alectostasia too

another one that I really like but not sure how much legs it actually would have in canon, one of the reasons Nona was so enamored with her body cause Harrow is a spitting image of Anastasia, first saw @/corvophobia talking about it

coming back to Harrow, could there be anything more to her taking immediate affection to the Body a la some fuckery with Anastasia's spirt/tombkeeper's blood

more people explained it better, I try to reblog most of the theories in my side blog, you can check it out there but some of it explicit just in case

anyway in conclusion, as I keep procrastinating with my work, I don't think they were making out 24/7 in Canaan house in canon but something for sure happened there between them

[kashverse]

can i request babykuna when she was still in the womb? like sukuna being all sweet and caring to reader when she’s pregnant and talking to her baby bump.

the day sukuna found out you were pregnant, he screamed. not in fear, not in shock—but in sheer, unfiltered, snotty-nosed joy. one moment, he was staring at the positive test in your hands. the next, he had his face buried in his monogrammed handkerchief, honking out the loudest, wettest happy sobs you’d ever heard.

you wondered if you had accidentally married a goose.

“oh my god,” you muttered, watching him go through all five stages of parenthood in under a minute. “we’re having a baby,” he sniffled, pulling you into his arms like he was never letting go. “holy fuck, we’re gonna be parents.”

“yeah, that’s kinda what happens when you—”

“shhh.” he dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to your stomach. “the baby’s listening.”

“… sukuna, i am barely six weeks. there's nothing to listen to.”

he ignored you, humming deeply like he was communicating with the soul of the unborn child. then, after a few moments of wise, fatherly contemplation, he sat up and clapped his hands.

“both of you need rest. now.”

“but i—”

“now.”

and thus began the nine-month saga of sukuna baby-proofing the entire planet.

he refused to let you lift a finger. not even a pinky.

“babe, can you—”

“no.”

“but i just—”

“no.”

you reached for a glass of water right in front of you. he intercepted. he became the ultimate husband, reading baby books, forcing you to take naps, buying enough pregnancy pillows to construct a small fortress. one day, you caught him in the study, wisely reading through the classics.

he squinted at the page, frowning. “… countenance.”

silence.

he flipped the page back. then forward. then he snorted.

“why the fuck does this word exist? just say ‘face,’ dumbass.”

he built two entire walk-in closets for babykuna. one for a boy. one for a girl. “you never know,” he said wisely, surveying his masterpiece.

“sukuna, it’s one baby.”

“you never know.”

it didn’t matter, though. he didn’t care about the gender. “as long as the kid’s happy and healthy,” he muttered one night, resting his hand over your belly, his voice soft, reverent. then, after a beat: 

“but if it’s a boy, i am not naming him after me. too much pressure.”

when the day finally came, and you held babykuna for the first time—her tiny fists curled, her chubby cheeks already resembling her father’s, her rebellious little tuft of hair standing up in defiance—sukuna knew he knew he was right where he was supposed to be.

"she looks like you," you whispered, exhausted but happy, brushing her soft little cheek. he snorted, reaching over to push a strand of hair from your face. "nah," he said, smirking, voice thick with emotion. "she's got your hair."

and for the first time in his life, sukuna felt complete.

[hanniebaeee]

Honey Cakes

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, smuttyyyy, fluff

Summary: Hyunjin had it all planned out - a romantic dinner date (plus the surprise). But then he gets almost stood up, and then edged to near insanity. By the time dessert is done, so is his patience.

a/n: Someone sent me something, and I went feral ( @kittentaegu sweetheart, thank you for inspiring me hehe)

The first thing you see when you wake up is chaos in the form of a hundred texts and missed calls from your boyfriend. 

You are still groggy from sleep, but your heart nearly stops as you pick up the phone.

Hyunjin [7:30 PM]: Baby. Love of my life. Where are you?  

Hyunjin [7:30 PM]: I swear to God, if you’re dead, I will kill you.

Hyunjin [7:31 PM]: I’m literally sitting here looking like an abandoned puppy.

Hyunjin [7:32 PM]: The waiter asked if I needed water and was looking at me funny. 

Hyunjin [7:35 PM]: Just say it. You don’t love me anymore.

Hyunjin [7:36 PM]: I was a fool to believe in love.

Hyunjin [7:38 PM]: BRB ordering the most expensive wine so I can SOB into it.

Hyunjin [7:40 PM]: There's a happy couple at the next table. Omg I wanna die 😭

Oh, shit.

Your heart drops as you realize that your fifteen-minute power nap has turned into a one hour coma. It had been such an exhausting day at work, and all you wanted was to take a short nap before you met Hyunjin for your dinner date.

And now your dramatic ass boyfriend is left unsupervised in a fancy restaurant with his overactive imagination. You fumble with the phone as you call him immediately. He picks up in half a ring.

“Oh finally you called,” he sighs, voice dripping with melodrama. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” You sit up too fast and almost fall off the bed.

“You stood me up for thirty minutes,” he declares dramatically. “I am SITTING HERE ALONE in a romantic, candlelit, EXPENSIVE ASS RESTAURANT, looking like a HEARTBROKEN FOOL.”  

You press your lips together because you absolutely cannot laugh right now. Not when he’s being so serious about his suffering.

“Hyunjin, baby,” you say, raiding your wardrobe for something that will make up for this little mishap. And you grin as your eyes land on that dress. 

You haven't worn it before. Another one of Hyunjin's gifts - because he daydreams of you in all pretty outfits his eyes fall on and comes home with the said outfit, begging you to wear it for him. 

“I didn’t stand you up, I just -”

“Oh, so neglect is different from abandonment now?” he challenges, sniffing for dramatic effect. “Interesting.”

“Baby I accidentally took a nap -”

“Oh my God.” He gasps. “You slept through our date?”

“I love you Jinnie, and I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t gaslight me with love.”

You do a quick job with your makeup, and he's still ranting on the other side as you grab your keys and sprint out the door.

“I’m on my way right now, honey bun, I swear.”

“You’d better be,” he grumbles. “Because if I finish this glass alone, I’m throwing myself into the restaurant fountain.”

When you get there, panting from running in heels, Hyunjin is sitting at a candlelit table in the corner looking like a masterpiece and a neglected princess all at once.

You rush over, but before you can even apologize properly, he exhales exaggeratedly. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” he says coolly, twirling his wine glass.

You bite your lip, willing yourself not to laugh.

“Hyunjin, baby -”

“No. It’s fine.” He looks away dramatically. “I understand.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You slide into the chair next to him, lean in so close your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “I said I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you.”

His entire body freezes as your warm breath fan his neck. Then he exhales, eyes dropping to your neckline, hand gripping his wine glass tight.

“This dress…” he mutters, clearing his throat.

“I knew you'll love it. I also haven't eaten all day, so I’m starving.” You smirk, running a teasing hand down his thigh.

He chokes on air.

“Okay. I’m sure we can work this out,” he announces, eyes dark. “In fact, I am not even mad anymore.”

“Thought so.” You grin cheekily, and Hyunjin sighs because it's no secret that you have this man wrapped around your little finger.

He rests his chin on his hand as gazes at you, a soft smile playing on his gorgeous face.

And just when you think that you've won this round, Hyunjin reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a cute velvet box.

“I was going to wait, but honestly, you’re gonna put me in an early grave. So let's do this, yeah?”

Your heart stops as he opens the little box and inside it sits the prettiest ring you've ever seen. His eyes are so gentle, so full of love - none of his usual teasing or the drama. Just him.

“I had a whole speech ready for this, but you stood me up and I panicked and I -”

You swallow hard as he rambled on. He's stumbling on his words, and he's so sweet, you just want to squish cheeks and cry for days. 

“So, marry me?” His voice is so soft as he asks you that, and he's looking at you with those pretty puppy eyes, and you are sure you feel the sting of tears forming in your eyes. 

“You sure?” You tease. “I did stand you up just now.”

He groans, head dropping into the table with a mild thump.

“Just say yes before I have a heart attack.” he says, looking up at you with a smile. 

You laugh, cup his perfect face in your hands, and say the only thing that’s there to say.

“Yes.”

And Hyunjin, the love of your dramatic life, kisses you breathless before slipping the ring on your finger. And you both giggle, foreheads pressed together, and he whispers, “We’re gonna need more wine now.”

Less than fifteen minutes later - Hyunjin is suffering, to say the least. 

Like, genuinely on the verge of passing out in this very fancy restaurant where he just proposed and you said yes. Because instead of rushing home to let him show you just how insanely in love with you he is, you’re… eating. 

Like nothing life-changing just happened. The diamond ring glittered on your finger as you ate like you haven't eaten in days. Literally wolfing down the pasta in between long sips of wine.

Like your hand isn’t resting on his thigh, your fingers idly stroking his inner thigh in a way that is definitely NOT innocent. 

And Hyunjin?  He is in shambles.  

You moan as you take another bite of that darn pasta, completely oblivious to the way he grips the edge of the table like his life depended on it. 

"This is so good," you sigh, licking your lips. 

Hyunjin closes his eyes. Lord, grant me strength.

You hum in absolute bliss, and say, "Baby, you have to try this -"

Try? TRY? Oh you've been trying him for the past fifteen minutes. And now he wants to try something, alright.

He wants to drag you out of this restaurant, throw you onto the first surface he finds, and have his way with you. There is a lot he wants to try right now. 

But no.  Because he’s a gentleman. A respectable, self-controlled, newly-engaged man (who's so close to losing his shit). 

"Are you okay, honey bun?" you ask, blinking at him with innocent, pretty eyes. And Hyunjin forgets how to breathe for a second. 

His thigh tenses under your touch, and he swallows audibly.

"I’m fine," he grits out. 

You tilt your head, unconvinced.  

"You’re not touching your food." 

Because his appetite is for something else entirely, and it is not on this goddamn menu.

"Just -" He clears his throat, shifting a little in his chair. "Just thinking." About all the ways he's going to wreck you the second you both leave.  

You hum thoughtfully, dragging your hand up his thigh just a little higher, and Hyunjin prays. Because if you don’t stop, he is fully prepared to drop to his knees in the middle of this restaurant, and beg for you to let him take you home immediately.

You stab another forkful of pasta and beam at him.  

"So, what are we getting for dessert?" You ask, giving him a sunny smile. 

Hyunjin blinks. Dessert? Then he laughs. It’s a broken,  hysterical laugh. Like he just realized he might not survive the night. And you just smile sweetly, your hand still very much resting on his thigh, way too close to a growing problem. 

The final nail in his coffin was of course, dessert. 

Honey cake. Warm. Moist. So damn sweet. You take your first bite, and Hyunjin swears he saw stars.  

Your head tilts back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in pure bliss. And Hyunjin stops breathing. So this is how he goes - sweating in his silk button down shirt, rock-hard under the table, watching a damn cake give you an orgasm. More like a foodgasm? 

You let out a soft, sinful moan, and Hyunjin grips the table for dear life. Oh hell. 

You lick the spoon slowly, completely unaware that you are seconds away from being dragged out of this restaurant by your ankles.  

"This is so good, Jinnie," you murmur, voice low and warm. "You have to try this."  

No. He cannot. He physically cannot. Because he was this close to throwing you on the table and getting banned from this restaurant for life.  Which, honestly, might be worth it at this point.  

But then you load up a spoonful, hold it up to his lips, and whisper, "Open up for me, baby."  

OH. SO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY. 

Hyunjin glares at you, jaw so tight he might break his own teeth. But when has he ever denied you anything? He parts his lips, because he’s a damn fool. 

The second the cake melts on his tongue, his eyes slam shut. It's warm and sweet. And it is so deeply unfair that whatever culinary masterpiece this was, wasn't even close to what he actually wanted to taste right now. 

He groans, head falling onto the table again, rolling the taste over his tongue. And when he opens his eyes again, you are grinning like the devil you are.

You tilt your head, eyes full of mock innocence, and murmur, "Good, right?"  

Hyunjin inhales so deeply his lungs feel like they're ready to collapse. He stares at you and leans in, lips so close to yours, as he whispers, "Finish your cake. Then we're leaving. And when we get home, I hope you're ready, baby." 

The moment your fork clinks against the empty dessert plate, his soul fully detaches from his body. Okay. It's done. You're done. 

Now he can finally do what he has been plotting for the last two hours. His chair scrapes back so fast, and he grabs your wrist, and nearly drags you up and out in record time. 

You giggle shamelessly as Hyunjin literally throws you into the passenger seat of his car.  

He slides into the driver's seat, slams the door shut, says nothing for a minute. His head falls back against the headrest, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing. His fingers flex against his thighs.  

And you? You are having the time of your life.  

"Honey bun, why are you so tense?"

Hyunjin lets out a deep laugh. 

"Tense?" He turns his head to look at you, his blown-out eyes locking with yours. "Baby, I have been on the verge of dying for the past two hours." 

You bite back a grin, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to his neck.  

"Mm." You hum against his hot skin. "So dramatic."  

His hand snaps out, grips your jaw, forcing your face up and his lips barely brush yours as he growls, “Wanna say that again?”

The minute you two step into your shared apartment, Hyunjin has you pressed up against the door. And he doesn’t just kiss you. He devours you.

His hands are everywhere at once - one tangling in your hair, the other gripping your ass, pulling you flush against his firm body.

He kisses you like you owe him your soul for making him suffer like that. He's so hard, it's literally painful, and he can't wait a damn minute.

He lifts you up, hands gripping your thighs, making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, as he pins you there, caging you between his body and the door. 

His kisses are messy and sloppy, and he's sweating so damn much. You kiss down his jaw and neck and he groans as you nip at the skin around the little black mole on his neck.

Well he couldn't wait anymore. He's stumbling through the apartment, straight into your bedroom and drops you on the bed before he pulls his shirt off. You watch him strip, your eyes roaming his perfect body. 

And his eyes are on you, his hands reaching down and under your dress to pull your panties down your legs and off. He quickly gets rid of the rest of your clothes before your lips connect again. 

He's so impatient. Grabby and needy. But the minute he's finally inside you, he slows down. Because if he didn't, he'd be cumming without literally any action. 

It’s so slow and deep, and both your bodies are so sensitive with need. Your body arches into his, desperate for him to touch you. 

It doesn't take long for both of you to come crashing down from your peaks, and you can barely breathe. Sweaty, breathless, completely spent -  you’re both a mess. Hyunjin’s chest heaves, skin glistening in the dim light. Even his skin was so damn dramatic. 

“I have never known pain like tonight," he says, voice hoarse, eyes closed. 

You snort, nuzzling closer to kissing his damp shoulder.  

"You survived, baby." 

His arm tightens around you, rolling you over so he can pin you underneath him again.  His dark eyes flicker down, lips trailing down your jaw, your throat and your collarbone.   

"Barely."  

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world

[captain-kit-adventuress]

Let me tell you some things about American plumbers probably almost none of you know, especially because I've seen people complaining that plumbers make "$42 an hour while I can't even make $15!"

[Note that much of this is state-specific, so ymmv, but most states have an interest in keeping it pretty similar to what I'm going to outline.]

First of all, you have to be licensed, and anything licensed takes forever and costs a fortune. You spend 7 years as an apprentice plumber, which means taking full-time classes on top of full-time work, for which you definitely do not get paid $42 an hour, and you're lucky if you get $20. You're on the hook for all of the tuition and books and whatever else, tools and whatnot, and we all know tuition and books are out of control, but have you seen what decent tools cost these days? This in addition to all of the regular school stuff like a computer, an internet connection, probably a mobile phone of some description, etc. Some you may have already and some you may not.

That's just the education part. Next, even after you've completed your 7 year apprenticeship under extremely strict and exacting standards, for which you get paid almost nothing and have tons of expenses just like any other student, you're still under some kind of supervision for another few years. So you've put in about 10 years into this already and you're nowhere near pulling in the kind of income that people say plumbers make.

But once you actually get into being licensed and bonded and the whole shebang, maybe you get a job with a company, because it's really hard to hang your own shingle, especially in the larger communities where nobody knows anybody else or the quality of their work. You'll work for a plumbing company like anyone else, and let me tell you, it's like any other company where profit matters most and it's for shareholders and not anyone else.

Now comes the part you probably have never heard about: many, many, many plumbers don't really have health insurance for most of their careers, and if they do, it's like the shittiest insurance possible and they have to pay for much of their healthcare out of pocket. Except that these are plumbers, they're constantly on hands and knees on hard, unyielding surfaces, bending, lifting...really physical, difficult work. How many of you actually know how much a toilet weighs? it's anywhere between 50-120 lbs depending on a variety of factors. All that, in addition to actually diagnosing whatever the problem is and knowing how to fix it. Do that for the next 20 years of your life and you're not going to have any knees left, you're going to have a bad back, probably most of your other joints are shot or on the fritz in some way, and this is if you were healthy to begin with and didn't have many health problems during your career. Depending on the collective bargaining agreement, sometimes the unions will cover your healthcare at close to 100% after that, but when it was easier to prevent a lot of it by having time off and the ability to afford care? None of that is covered.

Not only that, but most plumbers don't really get paid time off from work, either, depending on what the agreements are. I know it doesn't seem like plumbers ever work timely, but everyone thinks they have an emergency when the plumbing breaks, and you've got to triage the for-real emergencies alongside the "Timmy backed up the toilet again because he keeps flushing his toys and now there's water and poop and who knows what else everywhere." That's not including the emergency answering services where they're relaying that stuff 24/7/365.

How is that different from most of us today, you might wonder? Because they're literally knee-deep in your shit from morning 'til night. All of the weird stuff you do to screw up your toilets, your sinks, your showers, your fixtures, your pipes, they have to deal with all of it. All of the clogs, the gross hair masses, the half-eaten food from when the disposal stops working, the people who don't know not to flush things they shouldn't, the people who do know and don't care, the floods when the sump pump stops working or there's so much rain it just completely overwhelms it, the people who are sure they can "fix" it, the people who listened to youtube or tiktok and picked the wrong accounts for advice, and most of all, metric tonnes of your actual shit and vomit and whatever other bodily excretions you've got. That is all hazardous enough on its own, and if you think it's gross, I don't think plumbers feel any differently, but it is a part of their job and there's no getting around it. They are paid to deal with all of the stuff no one else wants to even think about. And after they've been exposed to your biohazards for 10 hours a day, they themselves have to pay for any care they need to make sure they don't die from it. You know how many people have dangerous mold in their bathrooms and don't know it? I bet a plumber can tell you.

Those are the conditions with unions trying to fight for them.

[As one more note, not everyone wants to leave home, and that's fine! Why does anyone assume there are no tradespeople in cities when that couldn't be further from the truth? Don't be arses about geography.]

tl;dr: plumbers don't make the money you think they do, they spend half their career earning next to nothing and then when they finally start catching up their bodies are so shot they can't enjoy it; in the middle they have to deal with everybody's grossness and basic repair illiteracy, and they pay for most of it themselves.

source: I was an external auditor for a lot of trade unions.

some of the worst classism is white collar middle class americans against blue collar & minimum wage workers. “why does that plumber make more than me” because he’s been perfecting his craft for 30 years and you send emails. “they’re in the trades bc they’re too dumb to do anything else” ok take that engine apart and put it back together real fast babe. “they’re boring bc they never left their home town” have you considered they financially couldn’t? I am not saying it is anyone’s job to educate, nor you need to respect people who do not respect you, but while you maybe never sympathize we need to learn to empathize. consider why (who) allowed for massive parts of country to be uneducated and how many impoverished areas of this country haven’t had a voice for a very long time. we are all victims of the rich. remember it is up vs down

[jaikoyaki]

My Lover

//Kang Haerin x 6thMember!Reader//Short Oneshot//

SYPNOSIS ♡︎ Haerin isn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what she tells herself—until she starts seeing clips of you and Minji all over the internet.

WARNINGS ♡︎ Jealousy, Possessiveness (soft and non-toxic), Brief Miscommunication, Shipping culture, Hidden Relationship(the members know lol)

WORDCOUNT ♡︎ 1.7k

TAGS ♡︎ Jealous!Haerin, Established Relationship, fluff, FLUFF(was literally kicking my feet while writing this), Light Angst??

A/N:This is a little 1am brain fart so If I cringe at it tomorrow, I’ll probably end up deleting it lol

"MINY/N SUPREMACY!!"

"Their chemistry is insane, are we SURE they’re just best friends??"

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

Haerin scrolls through the comments under the latest clip of you and Minji’s interactions. The video itself is nothing special, just you laughing at one of Minji’s jokes, leaning into her like it’s second nature. But the fans eat it up.

The video loops again.

Your eyes crinkle when you smile at Minji. She reaches out instinctively when you stumble, her hand lingering just a second too long. And it’s not just one clip, there are dozens of them now. Edits spliced together, set to soft love songs, moments slowed down to exaggerate the way you two look at each other.

You aren’t Minji’s girlfriend.

You’re Haerin’s. Only hers.

But no one ever ships Haerin and Y/N. No one ever slows down the moments where she is the one next to you.

The thought settles in her chest, foreign and unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

But Haerin doesn’t get jealous.

…Right?

"They’re reaching." Haerin mutters under her breath.

She locks her phone and tosses it onto the bed. It’s just fan edits. Just harmless shipping. She’s known for a long time that people see what they want to see.

"Don’t let them get in your head.” 

But then why does her chest feel so tight?

Because one comment keeps repeating in her mind.

"Minji and Y/N have been inseparable lately."

And it’s true.

Lately, you’ve been stuck to Minji like glue. On stage. In the waiting room. During interviews. Even in practice.

And Haerin remembers—earlier, while filming behind-the-scenes content, you had shoved your phone in Minji’s face, barely able to contain your laughter.

"Min, look! "Minji looking at Y/N like she's the love of her life" oh my god, the heart eyes emoji is killing me! They're reaching so muchhh."

You wheezed, whispering the last part, playfully smacking Minji’s shoulder over and over as she groaned in embarrassment.

The members had laughed. Even the staff chuckled.

Haerin hadn’t.

She had been standing by the water station, fingers curling a little too tightly around a flimsy paper cup, watching as you laughed with Minji like it was the easiest thing in the world.

‘You’re not Minji’s girlfriend.’

She let the water run down her throat, but it did nothing to wash away the strange, unsettled feeling gnawing at her chest.

‘You’re mine.’

Before she even realized it, she was walking back toward the group.

She didn’t say anything, but you noticed immediately.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" You stepped in front of her, voice soft, concern evident in your eyes.

Haerin barely nodded.

You frowned, about to press further—

"Alright, break’s over!" the choreographer called.

You hesitated, eyes scanning her face, but eventually sighed and gave her hand a light squeeze before stepping back into position.

Haerin watched you go.

She told herself it didn’t bother her.

But that was a lie.

And now, before she even realizes it, she’s standing in front of your door.

Her jealousy isn’t loud. It never is.

But when she pushes the door open, stepping into the dim glow of your room, you feel it instantly—heavy in the air, simmering just beneath the surface.

The kind of jealousy that doesn’t need words to be known.

You barely register the sound of the door creaking open before a familiar presence fills the room.

“Rinnie?” Your voice is soft, questioning, as you sit up in bed. There’s only one person who wouldn’t bother knocking.

Your girlfriend.

Sure enough, Haerin steps inside, her small frame swallowed by an oversized pink hoodie, the hood pulled up with little bear ears perched on top. On any other night, you’d tease her about how ridiculously cute she looks.

But something feels off.

Despite the cozy hoodie, her posture is rigid, her expression unreadable. Haerin has always been hard to read, but this, this is different.

You frown slightly, setting your phone aside. “Rinnie?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, then another, her gaze locked onto yours. And for some reason, the air between you shifts, thicker, heavier.

You swallow.

Something is definitely wrong.

You frown slightly. “Is something wrong, love?”

The second the word love leaves your lips, Haerin stiffens. Then, as if short-circuiting, she speed-walks toward you, her ears turning the faintest shade of pink.

Before you can react, she climbs onto the bed, quietly straddling your lap. Her arms snake around your waist as she buries her face into your neck, pressing impossibly close.

Warmth instantly floods your chest.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her in return. "You’re clingy tonight" you tease lightly, rubbing slow circles against her back.

Haerin hums in response, but doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, she tightens her grip, nuzzling further into you, her soft hair tickling your skin.

Gently, you murmur, “Seriously Though, what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. A few beats pass, filled only by the quiet sound of your breathing. Then, finally, she mumbles against your skin, her voice barely above a whisper—

“Do you like seeing those videos?”

Your fingers still against her back.

Oh.

So that’s what this is about.

Smiling softly, you shift slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of her hood. “Rinnie…”

She doesn’t lift her head, but you feel the way she tenses ever so slightly, waiting for your answer.

You sigh, pulling back just enough to cup her cheeks to meet your eyes. She resists at first, gaze flickering away, but you don’t let up. Your thumbs brush over the warmth of her skin, and slowly, reluctantly, her eyes find yours.

Her lips are pressed into a pout, her usual neutral expression betraying just the faintest hint of something vulnerable. It’s almost too cute to handle.

“The edits are kind of funny,” you admit, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “But they don’t mean anything.”

Haerin’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t respond.

A small pause.

“You’re always with Minji when we film,” she mutters.

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the shift in her tone.

“Minji isn’t your girlfriend,” she says, quieter this time. “I am.”

Your chest tightens at how small her voice sounds.

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it—not out of mockery, but out of sheer disbelief that this is what’s been eating at her. That your Haerin, quiet and composed, is sulking over some fan edits.

“Wait, are you jealous?” you tease, poking her cheek playfully.

Haerin doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she gently takes your wrist, her fingers curling around it, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin. 

“…You don’t act like that with me.”

Your teasing smile fades.

“On camera, no,” you clarify, voice softer now. “You know how careful we have to be, Rinnie. I didn’t want to make things harder for you, so I thought keeping some distance was the best thing.”

Haerin stays quiet, her gaze locked onto where her fingers are still brushing against yours.

You tilt your head slightly, watching her. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I don’t like it,” she murmurs.

You exhale, squeezing her hand. “Then tell me what you do want.”

“I don’t want you getting shipped with Minji.”

“I don’t want you to distance yourself from me on camera.”

You hold her gaze for a moment before nodding.

“Okay.”

You don’t break your promise.

The next time the cameras are rolling, you make sure Haerin feels it.

During a phoning live, when Minji passes you a snack, you thank her without much thought—but instead of eating it right away, you turn to Haerin, holding it up to her lips first. She blinks, startled, but opens her mouth after a small hesitation. The chat explodes instantly.

📌@stayrkieeiiw

"Did I miss an update?? Since when were they like THIS???"

💬 @ynhaerinupdate

"WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? WHY WAS I NOT INFORMED???"

🔁 @haerinno111

"Haerin’s little hesitation before eating lmao she was definitely malfunctioning."

During a music show, while the members are waiting backstage, you casually walk up behind Haerin and rest your chin on her shoulder. The cameras catch the moment as she flinches slightly in surprise before relaxing against you. You don’t move, just standing there with your arms loosely draped around her. The staff members barely react, too used to your antics, but the fans? They lose their minds.

📌 @gay4haerin

"WAIT, Y/N AND HAERIN?? HELLO???"

💬 @haerinsoftie

"They act like a married couple and expect us to be normal about it"

🔁@kpopfangirl24

“Y/N and Haerin have been so touchy lately???”

During a variety show game, you and Haerin end up on the same team. Every time she gets an answer right, you don’t just cheer, you grab her hands and shake them excitedly, or wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in celebration. At one point, you’re so excited that you practically tackle her into a hug. She stumbles slightly, laughing, and the members tease you, but you don’t let go.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

“The way Y/N is all over her I CAN’T.”

💬 @njzrawr

“golden retriever x black cat energy”

🔁 @idkwhotostan

“Y/N and Haerin are so clingy In here, I need them to explain themselves IMMEDIATELY.”

On a phoning live, you’re seated next to Haerin, and for some reason, you can’t stop messing with her hoodie strings. You keep tugging them playfully, leaning in close whenever she tries to bat your hands away. Eventually, you give up on the strings and just rest your head on her shoulder instead. She freezes for a second, then lets out the softest sigh before tilting her head slightly so your temple rests against hers. The moment is short, but fans catch it instantly.

📌 @ynhaerin4life

"Haerin’s little smile when Y/N leans on her 😭.”

🔁 @multistan010

"Omg...do they know we can see them..?"

💬 @fuckhybeomg

"ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS?? IS THIS REAL??"

After a long day of promotions, the group films a short vlog in their practice room. You’re exhausted, so you naturally gravitate toward Haerin, flopping down beside her and resting your head against her lap. She stiffens at first, her hands hovering awkwardly over you before she hesitantly starts running her fingers through your hair. The fans don’t miss the way she tries to hide her smile, but the cameras catch it anyway.

📌 @haerinupdates

"SHE TRIED TO HIDE IT BUT WE SAW IT. WE ALL SAW IT."

💬 @idkiwannasleepsb

"DID YOU SEE THAT. DID YOU GUYS SEE HER SMILE!?"

🔁 @Y/nupdates

“Theyre not even trying to hide it atp. #YNsold”

🔁 @haerinwinning

"Y/N used to keep her distance from Haerin, now she’s acting like a lovesick puppy… what CHANGED???? 🤨"

📌 @ynhaerin_cult

"THEM. THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE TWEET. #YNSold #Theyremarriedsir"

💬 @minjynomg

"Miny/n shippers are in shambles rn"

Later that night, you scroll through the comments with a smug smile. Next to you, Haerin peeks at your phone screen, then flicks your forehead.

“Stop looking at those,” she mutters, trying to act indifferent.

You just grin, nudging her gently. “You like it, don’t lie.”

She huffs but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she shifts closer, intertwining her fingers with yours under the covers.

————

OG MY GODO I CANNOT WRITE PET NAMES WITHOUT CRINGING OFMG KILL ME NOW😭🙏

Taglist: haha I'm lazy

[calypso-rt]

HONEYMOON

with Rafe Cameron

-> Rafe x F!Reader

📍 Amalfi Coast, Italy 🇮🇹

You knew honeymooning with Rafe Cameron would be an experience.

But as you step onto the sun drenched terrace of your private villa overlooking the endless stretch of the Mediterranean, waves crashing gently against the cliffs below, you realize nothing could have prepared you for this.

It’s breathtaking. The kind of view that belongs in a postcard, all golden light and soft ocean breeze, the scent of lemon trees lingering in the air.

And then there’s Rafe, grinning like he planned this entire thing himself (he didn’t), hands in his pockets, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he prompts, shifting closer, voice dipping into something softer. “Worth marrying me for?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Jury’s still out.”

Rafe hums, unconvinced. “Mm. Guess I’ll have to spend the next week proving you made the right choice.”

Before you can fire back, his arms loop around your waist, pulling you into him with that effortless ease, the kind that still makes your breath catch, even after everything. His lips find your temple, lingering just long enough to send warmth spreading through your chest.

And suddenly, you don’t care about the luggage still sitting by the door. Or the very long flight it took to get here.

Because Rafe is here. And he’s yours.

And if the next week looks anything like this?

You’re definitely in trouble.

☀️ Lazy Tanning on the Coast

The afternoon sun is warm against your skin, a lazy breeze rolling in from the water as you stretch out on the lounge chair. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below is almost hypnotic, so much so that you don’t even notice Rafe shifting closer until you feel his fingers graze your wrist. “You’re not even trying to tan,” he murmurs, lips curving into a smirk. You peek at him over your sunglasses. “Maybe because I don’t need to turn into a lobster like you.” Rafe scoffs, dramatically offended. “Lobster? Baby, I’m gonna be golden.” “You’re gonna be burnt." He ignores that, reaching over to steal your drink without asking, sipping lazily before setting it back down, closer to his side of the table. You huff, but before you can snatch it back, he shifts onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he studies you. “What?” you ask, suspicious. His expression softens, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “You just look good. Happy.” The words settle warm in your chest, and for once, you don’t have a teasing remark ready. Instead, you reach out, threading your fingers through his where they rest between you. “I am,” you admit. And with him under the golden Italian sun, you really are.

🏍 Him absolutely renting a Vespa just to “impress you”

“You’re going to kill us.” Rafe scoffs, revving the Vespa like it’s a full blown motorcycle. “Baby, have a little faith.” You tighten your grip around his waist, already regretting this. “Last time you drove something this small, you ran over Topper’s foot.” “Okay, first of all, that was his fault for standing too close. Second, this is different. I’ve got it under control.” Famous last words. The Vespa wobbles as he takes off, and you let out an actual scream, clinging to him for dear life. Rafe just laughs, one hand way too casually gripping the handlebar. “Relax,” he says over the wind, sounding downright smug. “You’re in good hands.” You peek over his shoulder, past the stunning coastline, the rows of pastel-colored buildings, the winding cobblestone streets you’re probably about to crash into, and sigh. “Just try not to get us banned from Italy, okay?” Rafe chuckles, his free hand reaching down to squeeze yours where it rests against his stomach. “No promises, Mrs. Cameron.” And despite yourself, despite the very real possibility of disaster, you can’t help but smile.

🍝 Romantic candelit dinners where you can't keep your eyes off of him

The restaurant is tucked into the cliffs, candlelight flickering against white linen tablecloths, the sound of waves crashing below blending seamlessly with the soft hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place straight out of a dream: warm, intimate, effortlessly romantic. And yet, the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. He sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, tanned skin golden in the glow of the candles. There’s a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. “You’re staring,” he murmurs. You roll your eyes, spearing a piece of pasta with your fork. “You’re imagining things.” Rafe leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Mmm. Don’t think so.” His voice dips, teasing but quiet, like it’s meant just for you. “Starting to think you like me, sweetheart.” You hum, pretending to consider. “Well, I did marry you. So, I guess you’re not totally awful.” His smirk deepens, but instead of responding, he reaches across the table, fingers grazing your wrist before curling around your hand completely. The warmth of his touch sends a flutter through your chest, one you pretend not to feel as he rubs slow, lazy circles against your skin. For once, there’s no bickering. No teasing. Just him. Just this. And as the night stretches on, wine glasses emptied, dessert shared, his foot nudging yours under the table, you realize something for the millionth time. You don’t just like Rafe Cameron. You love him.

🌊 A boat ride that ends with both of you in the water.

The sun is high, the water impossibly blue as the boat drifts lazily along the coast. It’s quiet except for the occasional hum of the engine and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull. Rafe stands at the bow, arms outstretched like he owns the ocean, wind ruffling his sun-bleached hair. “See? Told you renting a boat was a genius idea.” You lean back against the railing, sipping your drink. “Mmm. I’ll be impressed when you actually do something.” He turns, raising a brow. “Is that a challenge?” You smirk. “More like a fact.” And then, before you can react, Rafe strides toward you, that dangerous glint in his eye as he sets your drink to the side. “Rafe—” Too late. His arms wrap around you, warm and solid, and in one swift motion, he dives off the side, taking you with him. The water is a shock, cool against your sun-kissed skin, bubbles rushing around you as you resurface with a gasp. “Rafe!” you splutter, shoving wet hair from your face. He’s already floating beside you, grinning so smugly you could throttle him. “You said I should do something.” “You’re impossible!” You flick water at him, but he just laughs, swimming closer. Then, his hands find your waist beneath the waves, tugging you against him effortlessly. His voice drops, lower, softer. “But you love me anyway.” You roll your eyes, but your arms loop around his neck, your legs tangling with his in the water. “Unfortunately.” He grins before closing the space between you, his lips warm despite the cool water, the sea carrying you both in lazy circles. And maybe his boat idea was kind of genius.

🛏 Mornings spent tangled in crisp white sheets, sunlight spilling through open windows, his lazy grin the first thing you see.

Morning comes slow, golden light spilling through the open windows, the soft rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through sheer white curtains. The sheets are a tangled mess, warm, wrinkled, wrapped around your legs and twisted somewhere between you and Rafe. You blink sleepily, stretching against the pillows, only to be met with the sight of him. Rafe lies beside you, arm thrown lazily over your waist, his bare chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His hair is a mess, sun-kissed strands falling over his forehead, and when he stirs, just barely, his lips curve into a lazy, lopsided grin. “Morning, Mrs. Cameron,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. Your heart does that stupid fluttering thing, but you roll your eyes anyway, fingers tracing absentmindedly along his jaw. “You just like saying that.” He hums, eyes still half-closed as he tugs you closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Obviously.” You sigh, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his skin, the steady press of his heartbeat against yours. Neither of you rush to move. There’s nowhere to be, nothing to do but exist here in this perfect little pocket of time where the world is quiet and love feels as easy as breathing. And as Rafe buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about five more minutes, you know, without a doubt, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

A/N: Inspo struck guys I'm on a roll

[thetruemasterofgames]

Okay I'm seeing confusion on this so let me help out to people who don't see the path chose.

Pedophilia, grooming, sexual abuse ect. is nearly universally hated it makes a knee jerk reactions of fear and hatred in most people.

In that reaction people act irrationally they will support a bill without fully reading understanding that it hurts predators and that's enough for them.

Next either hidden in addendum or in a seperate bill they sneak in a less publicized vote to consider expressions of same sex attraction or gender nonconformity to being "explicitly adult material".

Now you may be saying "ttmog it's been culturally adult material for generations what's the issue?" Well I'm glad you asked hypothetical questioner. The difference is it wasn't in legal documentation. The moment it becomes legal documentation it doesn't matter how defiant or polite you are it's seen as adult only material.

Now what does this do? Well it is illegal to distribute or expose adult material to minors. These bills would wager that by a child seeing two men kissing, or a amab in a dress, it is inherently exposing them to adult material. Which classifies the people observed as displaying adult material to a minor, which could be classified as grooming so now....:

We have a gay couple getting executed for displaying affection because a child happened to be present... despite the fact they see straight people do this every day on tv...

These bills are dangerous, they set dangerous precedent, and give means to change the word groomer to mean whatever the hell they want it to mean.

Leading to them being able to execute any group they want.

Be safe, be vigilant and keep fighting. These can not be let to lie we can NOT let them twist things.

Why am I telling all this? Well partially for your education maybe somebody will read this and be inspired to stand up in newfound clarity. But that's not the only reason. Those of you fighting need to be prepared to explain this. Because every time we just dismiss the people posting that "why are you saying it targets you" meme with that dumb goose it tells onlookers who are undecided that we can't answer the question.

Remember its not our goal to convince our opponent it's our goal to refute them well enough that onlookers won't be pulled into their den of propaganda.

Even if you think it won't convince the person you are arguing explain it so others don't get dragged down. And if you can't handle it? That's fine everyone needs a rest. Feel free to use this post as a way to explain if you wish or even tag me I have no qualms fighting bigots. I'm disabled I'm stuck at home and am working on making things for the family most the time. If I can use the times I need to rest my back to fight against stuff like that? Then I'm glad to just to make sure people are more safe.

Stay safe all drink yet water and remember you are loved and matter. You have a whole community behind you no matter what you aren't alone.

LGBT people, I need you to know that any “pedophile execution bill” passed in the US is meant to put you, personally, to death. When the right says “groomer,” they’re talking about you. When they say “predator,” they’re talking about you. When they say “pedophile,” they’re talking about you. Any actual child sex abusers who are convicted and executed would be, to them, a happy accident, a cherry on top of a law that’s meant to exterminate anyone who deviates from the cisgender, heterosexual norm.

[arc-misadventures]

A Pokémon Trainers Adventures

Today a group of Pokémon trainers in training were all meeting together at a diner catching up on their adventures throughout the lands of, Sinnoh on the way to becoming, Pokémon Masters

Ruby: Whoo! It's great to see you guys again!

Blake: It's great to see you too, Ruby.

Nora: It feels like it's been years since we last met.

Ren: It's only been five months.

Nora: Years...

Pyrrha: It's been years in, Nora's time.

Ren: ...

Weiss: That makes sense.

Ren: An uncomfortable amount of sense.

Yang: So, what crazy adventures did you guys go on while becoming Pokémon masters?

Nora: Oh, me first!

Yang: Alright, go ahead, Nora.

Nora: Okay... I was deep in the industrial zone, searching for, Pokémon to add to my party... When suddenly from out of the shadows appear a derange vacuum cleaner coming straight at me, with murderous intent in it's eyes! I call out my, Bronzor, Blingy ,and we engaged in a grueling duel to the death with this killer vacuum! It was a fierce duel, but we managed to defeat the vile vacuum cleaner! But, after we destroyed the evil vacuum, a Pokémon flew out of the machine, but before it could escape, I threw a Great Ball at it, and I caught, Rotoma!

RWBYP: Rotoma?

Ren: The vacuum cleaner was possessed by a, Rotom. When, Nora caught him, so she named it, Rotoma

RWBYP: Ohh!

Yang: Nice name!

Ruby: Okay, my turn! So, I recently defeated the gym leader of, Veilstone City, Gym Leader, Maylene!

Yang: Oh, nice job, Ruby!

Blake: Well done!

Ruby: Thanks! It was a tough to fight her, and her fighting type Pokémon gave my guys a run for their money. We barely managed to eke out a win. I've been doing some training to strengthen my, Pokémon so we're not stuck on the ropes again.

Pyrrha: Smart move, Ruby. That's what I did after I beat, the gym leader of, Calavane City, Byron. He may have mostly metal type, but my, Luxray was knocked out in the first round with ease!

Weiss: Yeah, gym leaders may specialize on one type of Pokémon, but that doesn't mean they're a pushover if you have a Pokémon that their pokemon is weak against. Like when I lost to, Gardenia with my, Glaceon.

Ruby: But, aren't water type, Pokemon, weak to grass types?

Weiss: Vaporeon is the water type eeveelution. Glaceon is the ice type eeveelution.

Ruby: Ohh! So she curb stomped your Pokémon then?

Weiss: She bullied poor, Mr. Snappy...

Yang: Mr. Snappy?

Blake: That's what, Weiss calls her, Sharpedo.

Yang: Oh that's cute!

Blake: So, what about you, Ren, anything interesting happen to you?

Ren: Oh, well... I found a Pokémon egg a while ago, and I was nursing it, and it recently hatched into a, Riolu.

Yang: Oh, a Riolu! That's a nice Pokémon to have!

Blake: Are you having a hard time training it?

Ren: No, she's a delight to have around, I'm enjoying training her with the rest of my other Pokémon. What about you, Yang, did you do anything interesting?

Yang: Oh, I've been entering some Pokémon beauty contest lately. I haven't won anything yet, but we've gotten pretty close to. So, we've been training for the next competition. What, about you, Blake?

Blake: Not much, bar getting my ass handed to me by the gym leader of, Hearthome City, Fantina. Her ghost type Pokémon do not play around...

Pyrrha: Yeah, I still haven't beaten her myself.

Weiss: Her Pokémon scare me...!

Nora: Me too!

Ruby: Well, I don't I think her Pokémon are really cool!

Yang: Of course you like ghosts.

Ruby: What, they're cool!

Pyrrha: Hahaha! So, what about you, Jaune?

Jaune: Hmm... what?

Pyrrha: You've been pretty quiet. Has something interesting happen lately?

Jaune: Well... kinda...

Yang: Ohh~! You got an interesting story to tell! Let's hear it!

Jaune: Well...

~~~

Unlike the rest of his friends, Jaune was just having an adventure, exploring the lands of, Sinnoh. Exploring the land, meeting new people, and Pokémon. Occasionally engaging in a battles with his fellow trainers, and when he decides he ready to, engage in a match with a gym leader.

He didn't have a lot of problems, or more accurately, challenges whenever he got into a Pokémon battle. He even had a fight against, Sinnoh's Pokémon champion, and honestly, he enjoyed the conversation the pair had afterwards more so than the battle itself. So, instead of worrying about Pokémon battles, gym badges, and what not, he just went on an adventure with his Pokémon, and meeting new Pokémon, and people.

And, one day while, Jaune was enjoying the beauty of a pound filled with lily pads, enjoying the elegant lotus blossoms upon the lily pads. A content sigh escaped his lips as he just enjoyed the moment. But as, Jaune was watchin the pound, he saw a dark shadow from the cave the pound fed into grow darker, and darker across the lily pads, as he eyes were drawn upward. His eyes widened in stunned awe, as he looked into the deep crimson eyes of the being on the other side of the void: Giratina.

Jaune: ...

Giratina: ...

Jaune: ...

Giratina: ...

Jaune: Hi.

Giratina: ZEHHAAA!!!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay...

~~~

Jaune: ...

Pyrrha: Jaune? Jaune you okay...?

Jaune: I have a date with the, Sinnoh Pokémon Champion, Cynthia!

RWBYNPR: WHAT?!

Yang: You've got a date with who?!

Weiss: That's fucking bullshit!

~~~

Jaune: Oh gods...

: So because you thought your friends wouldn't believe the fact you saw the legendary banished Pokémon, Giratina. You instead said that you had a date with, Sinnoh's Pokémon champion?

Jaune: Honestly, I don't think they would believe me if I had a date in general, much less with who I said it was with.

: Honestly, I have a hard time believing it myself.

Jaune: Cynthia, we're on a date right now?

Cynthia: ...

Cynthia: Oh yeah...

[kitkat13001]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⤷ eijirou kirishima x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, kiri implied to be taller than reader, inspired the song “look after you” by the fray

compassion is second nature to eijirou kirishima. he’s always willing to lend a helping hand, no protest and no questions asked. 

he’s the ‘bro’ friend, the big-brother of the group standing over you all like a shield. they don’t call him the sturdy hero for nothing. 

he’s saved your life plenty of times, common in your line of work. but most often the things kirishima saves you from aren’t as big as falling buildings or supervillains. 

he always carries an extra hoodie for you in case you get cold. he makes sure everyone drinks water on the weekend group hikes. he always, always offers to share his snacks and insists even when you refuse. 

he texts you to make sure you got home safe, even when he’s the one who drove or walked you. 

for god’s sake, this is the man that sprinted two blocks to a corner store to buy tweezers when you got a splinter one time a few years ago. 

you wonder sometimes how a heart as big as his even fits in his broad chest. 

every other weekend bakugou insists on dragging everyone out for a hike because he can’t catch up with you all over dinner like a normal person and needs to do something active. 

today’s hike had taken longer than you’d originally thought. bakugou got a little too ambitious with his destination, and then mina and denki had wandered off the trail, and then sero twisted his ankle chasing after them. 

it’s nighttime now, and everyone’s been dropped off. you’re the last stop, sitting in the passenger seat of eijirou’s car and wondering how long you can linger without it being weird. 

you sigh after a long moment of sitting in peaceful silence with the faint radio music, finally moving to get out of the car. 

“night, kiri,” you say in the voice of someone who really doesn’t want to say goodnight. 

he moves when you move, clambering out of the drivers seat with a little smile. “i’ll walk you up.”

you stop, meeting his big crimson eyes. “it’s a ten foot walk to the door.”

“yeah.”

“you could just watch me from here, y’know?”

he shrugs, coming around to your side of the car. “‘s no big deal.”

you can feel the warmth coming off his body from when he’s standing next to you. you’re staring up at him curiously, and he blinks down at you. 

“i can see your breath,” he chuckles, taking his scarf off and wrapping it around you loosely while you stand there, stunned. his hands linger on the fabric, warm on your shoulders as he beams down at you. 

“eiji, don’t you ever get tired of looking after everyone?” you ask after a minute, walking up to the door at his side. 

kirishima hums thoughtfully, thinking on it for a second. “i mean, maybe sometimes i guess? but not really, ‘cause i look after the people i care about. so it’s not really work for me, y’know?”

“but don’t you ever want someone to look after you?” you’re at the door now, but you don’t want to go inside just yet. 

“you do,” he replies with a little smile, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you blink, stunned by the revelation.

“you always check up on me. text me good morning and good night. make sure i rest when i’ve been working too hard. carpool front seat so i don’t have to drive alone in the night.” he’s ticking them off on his fingers, an indescribable fondness in his voice. “and besides,” he adds cheerfully, “seeing you happy always has me feeling brand-new.”

you stare up at him with big, soft eyes. “kirishima, i love you.”

he laughs bashfully, scratching at his neck. “yeah, man, i love you too.”

“no, eiji, like i love you.”

he looks at you, meeting your loving gaze. his cheeks darken, and he looks almost nervous. “you…you do?”

you don’t dignify him with a spoken answer. you try to put any words you might’ve strung together into the kiss you pull him in for, clutching at his jacket to bring him down. 

he almost gasps into your mouth, but after a moment he’s cradling your face in big, careful hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. 

he’s grinning when you pull away, eyes like melting rubies. “i love you, too. but i think maybe you knew that already.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/anitalenia — one hug from kirishima could fix all my problems. no further comments.

[sai-int]

So, my favorite headcanon for Simon Riley is that he's an incredibly silly guy, but through trauma and shit, the only way he can express his silliness is subtly like with his shitty jokes and one liners.

All of this to say that I think he would have a great time mildly gaslighting his friends for pranks as well as occasionally doing something so out of character in a secluded area with the specific intention of getting caught, just so he can tell his victim that no one will believe them.

His most common victim is Johnny, and like Simon said, no one ever believes him.

THIS but it starts with johnny, then it spreads to the rest of the 141...

simon knows he’s the easiest target. the man is loud, expressive, reactive, which makes it so much worse when no one ever believes him. the gaslighting starts small. missing gear, things moving an inch to the left when johnny swears he just put them down, ghost walking into a room seconds after soap saw him leave it.

soap: "ye were just here-"

ghost: "no, i wasn’t."

soap: "ye-"

ghost: "y'sure y'sleepin' enough, sergeant?"

but then simon gets bored and starts pulling bigger stunts. like the time johnny walks into price's office looking for something and catches simon, full tac gear, standing on top of price’s desk, balancing on one foot, arms outstretched like he’s doing some kind of weird fucking yoga pose.

"steamin' jesus-what the fuck- the desk??"

simon just turns his head slowly to look at him, holds eye contact for a long moment, then-

"what desk?"

-before stepping down and leaving without another word.

johnny tries to tell price.

soap: "he was on yer desk-"

price: "uh-huh."

soap: "just stood there, like a fuckin' bird-"

price: "right."

soap: "ye dinnae believe me."

price: "not even a little."

ghost: "sounds like a you problem, mate."

next, it’s gaz. and simon takes an entirely different approach with him. gaz is logical, grounded, harder to mess with, but simon finds the perfect way.

he mirrors him.

gaz reaches for his coffee? simon reaches at the same time, like he was waiting for it.

gaz crosses his arms? simon crosses his arms, same angle, same stance, eyes locked dead on him.

gaz starts to say something? simon says the same thing moments later, like some kind of demonic mime act.

it gets so bad that one day, gaz just snaps.

gaz: "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

ghost: "dunno what you mean, mate."

but price? price takes the longest to crack.

because simon knows that man is unshakable. he knows it’ll take something subtle, something long-term.

so he starts misquoting things.

price: "all due respect, i've been running ops since before you were born-"

ghost: "no, yeah, i get it. 'live, laugh, love,' an' all that."

price: "…what."

or:

price: "we’re not outta the woods yet-"

ghost: "yeah, yeah. "an apple a day keeps the wolves in the henhouse."

price: "that’s- no. what? that’s not-"

it takes weeks. weeks of price catching simon slipping complete nonsense into casual conversation, weeks of simon saying it all with that flat, deadpan expression. weeks of price trying to correct him-

price: "that’s not how the saying goes."

ghost: "yeah it is."

price: "no, it’s not-"

ghost: "okay, boss."

-and never getting anywhere.

until finally, one day, price just exhales hard, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters,

price: "i fucking hate you."

ghost? just shrugs.

"s'all water under the fridge, cap."

[cottonlemonade]

He Realizes He Has A Crush

word count: 1539 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: congrats!! for breakfast Im gonna grab a 12 then study with kiyoomi :) || fluffy, project partners with crush, Sakusa

Snow was not so bad. Snow you could have dealt with. Sideways gusts of icy cold sleet that slipped between the tiny gaps in your scarf and hair to trickle down your collar were unacceptable. You shivered and cursed the wind that stopped you from using your umbrella as a shield as you waited, frozen to the core, for the bus to arrive. The day just kept getting worse - and you didn’t want to go in the first place! Sakusa intimidated you. He was always in the top ranks of any exam, indifferent to most people he met and dubbed as quite the loner, but nonetheless carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew how to spell entrepreneur and charcuterie. You guessed he couldn’t have been happy when he was paired with you for the semester’s most important project.

With slumped shoulders, you trudged onto the bus. It was mercifully warm, but the ride was too short to make any headway in drying your clothes, so when you arrived at the tall, imposing apartment building Sakusa had told you to come to, your drenched shoes had you slip a few times on the clean marble tiles of the lobby. The squeaking and squelching of your steps echoed in your ears as you hurried to catch the elevator.

“What happened to you?”, Sakusa asked with his usual frown as soon as he opened the door. It took you a moment to realize what was different about him. He wasn’t wearing his mask. Huh. So that scowl really did stretch all the way over his face. He watched with his arms crossed as you took off your shoes. Your socks were two different shades from the water that had pooled at the soles, and he noted the wet footprints you left behind. “Didn’t you pack an umbrella?”

“I did, but the wind was too strong.”

“Hm.”

He didn’t step aside.

“Are you really not gonna let me in?”, your voice was higher and more annoyed than you would have liked, but you were very cold and very wet and would’ve loved to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“There is a bathroom down the hall.”, he nodded to his right.

“Great.”

“Go take a hot shower, you must be freezing.”

You looked at him with stunned silence. In the meantime, Sakusa tilted his head and scanned you from head to foot.

“I’ll find you something dry to wear. Extra towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

He walked off, leaving you to question if you heard him correctly.

The bathroom was smaller than you expected it to be in such a home. Peeling out of your wet shirt and pants, you looked around. Above the sink was a large mirror and a shelf lined with products, all of which from designer brands you’d only ever seen on pages of magazines. You examined the tubes and tubs a little closer and noticed that they were all men’s. Only one towel was draped on the warming rack next to the shower, just like only one black bathrobe hung on a hook behind the door, and only one fancy electric toothbrush was plugged in by the sink. To test your budding theory, you picked up the bottle of high-end cologne and gave it a quick sniff. Either all men of this family wore the same scent or… you were in Sakusa’s personal bathroom. It took you a solid minute to debate whether or not to put your cold wet underwear on the towel warmer while you showered, but in the end, you decided what the eye does not see, the heart doesn’t grieve over and moved his towel aside to make space.

Sakusa meanwhile carefully sifted through his closet. It was no use checking his sister’s rooms. They both had rather wispy figures, and even their looser clothes were highly unlikely to fit you. Turning a pair of black socks in his fingers, he now had to realize that his shirts and sweaters weren’t any different. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by having to tell him whatever he picked was too small. And so without further hesitation, Sakusa went into his older brother’s room, stepped over the clutter on the floor, and slid open the wardrobe. His brother was a boxer and built like a tree, so something in here should be big enough for you. Underneath a pile of numerous identical compression shirts, he found a slightly wrinkled, washed-out varsity hoodie and after a little more digging added some gray sweats. Refolding everything neatly and stacking them on top of one another, he brought it to the bathroom and knocked. While the clothes were pushed through the hand-width opening in the door, he told you that he would make some tea and wait in the living room.

Happy shuffles made him lower the book in his hand about 15 minutes later and with an inner pat on his back, he congratulated himself for picking something comfortable for you. A fluffy white towel was wrapped around your head, and you wiggled out of the monogrammed family slippers before settling down on the floor in front of the couch. He cocked a curious brow, wondering if he should slide down to sit next to you or not, but his social awkwardness was interrupted by your blissful sigh.

“Thank you.” You turned around to him with a bright smile and instead of leading on that it temporarily made his train of thought do an emergency break, Sakusa frowned and nodded towards your backpack.

“Oh, right!”

You pulled out your book, notepad, and a pen and flipped to the relevant chapter.

Originally, he suggested his home because, around exam time, the library was filled with the kind of last-minute desperate air of people who had no idea how to prepare and study throughout the semester. Focusing in that atmosphere would be impossible. Little did he know that watching you read, mouthing silently along with the words on the page and the marks left by your lip balm on the teacup was more distracting than anything the library could have thrown at him.

When you untied the towel from your hair, he studied with great interest how you gave it some additional squeezes to dry. You looked so at home sipping on your tea and studying at the coffee table, all bundled up in comfy clothes. He became increasingly aware - and bothered by the fact - that these were his brother’s. Maybe he did have something that would fit you somewhere in his room. Sakusa vaguely shook his head. It would be absurd to ask you to change, especially with no concrete reasoning or alternative readily available.

You could feel him staring. Nervously, you chewed your lips and, without meaning to, kept running your tongue over them. They still tasted like the almond-sugar lip scrub from his shower caddy you hadn’t been able to resist. Undoubtedly he had noticed and was thinking of ways to reprimand you for what was effectively theft! But in the end, you only used a little bit of it. He shouldn’t be mad about it! Maybe it wasn’t about the lip scrub at all, actually. Maybe he was annoyed because you were here in the first place. In his home. Everyone on campus knew how much he valued his personal space, but it wasn’t like you asked to be put on the project with him.

You’d been here less than an hour, and he hardly said more than a dozen words to you since you sat down. Did he already feel like you overstayed your welcome?

When you couldn’t take the silent tension anymore, you asked, “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You hungry?”

“I- am- what?”

“It’s almost dinner time, and we still have a lot of work to do. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet so I’ll order something. Is sushi okay with you?”

You sat back, resting your shoulders against the couch, and crossed your arms.

“Sakusa.”

“Hm?” He looked up from his phone when you turned around, talking more to the sofa cushion than him, in fear of what level of disgust or judgment you’d be met with.

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me?”

He placed the book from his lap on the coffee table and slid down to sit next to you on the floor. His dark eyes found yours and the usual frown appeared on his face.

“Am I usually not nice to you?”

You squinted and clicked your tongue, then hummed in thought, “Uhm… if you ever were, then it was never out loud.”

He studied you for a moment, before unceremoniously saying, “You smell nice.”

You furrowed your brow with a mixture of confusion and pity, “I smell like your shower gel.”

“Well… then I have good taste.”

You couldn’t help but snort and used this opportunity to come clean.

“I used your shampoo, too.”

He nodded. “I figured.”

“And your lip scrub.”

“I see.”

“It’s really good.”

“I know.”

“It’s sold out everywhere, I was just curious.”

“You can keep it.”, he shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you touched it now.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “So, dinner?”

a/n: request for @act-nat-ural I’m so sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ A FLAME BLOOMS, LIKE A FEVER

02z WHEN YOURE SICK

pairings: enha (02z) × reader genre: fluff wc: 0.55k warnings: use of petnames notes: I accidentally bought kids panadol when I was sick and it was so fire I think it was called calpol but it was so good yo | LIBRARY

JAY — acts of service!!

Don't expect to move a finger, you're hungry? He'll cook. You need something from another room? He'll get it. You need to go downstairs? He'll carry you.

“Jay you can't do everything for me, honey.” You'd croak out, coughing. And Jay would already be standing with a glass of warm honey water for you to soothe the ache in your throat.

He takes your words as a challenge. He absolutely can do everything for you. Just you wait and see.

You're pulling your jumper over your arms, feeling too hot, and Jay runs, practically sprints to your side.

“Arms up love,” you don't have the energy to argue with him, and if you did, you're sure you'd lose anyways, letting him pull the material over your head in one swift motion.

You can expect that jumper to be freshly washed and neatly folded in your closet the next time you get up. Maybe even with a couple of sprays of his cologne to make it smell just like him.

JAKE — bribes you with kisses

Is a mother. He knows you're going to be sick even before you are. It's like an instinct. He'll warn you, telling you not to go out with wet hair or to take a jacket when you go out. You don't listen, of course, and Jake nags you endlessly.

Still, he takes care of you meticulously, spoon feeding you home cooked meals he's spent hours making.

“Jakey, I'm really not hungry.” You'd say, but he was having absolutely none of it.

“I know, baby, but you have to eat.” he'd coo before the idea comes to him, “One bite and i'l give you a kiss, hmm?”

Ever greedy for kisses, you'd agree, not realising Jake would probably end up the same as you a week later. He doesn't mind, though, just wanting you to get better.

Despite your hair being absolutely soaked with sweat, Jake still traces his fingertips across your head, massaging it. Only feeling relieved when you finally fall asleep.

SUNGHOON — medicines galore

At first, he tries to fix everything with wet paper towels and some panadol, but when that doesn't work, Sunghoon goes above and beyond.

“I got some headache medicines from the pharmacy, a few flavours of cough drops in case you don't like them all, I got these cute tissues, some herbal medicine and apparently chewing on ginger helps too.” He'd only have been gone for half an hour, not wanting to leave you alone for too long, and he'd come back with enough medicine to last you both a lifetime.

One you take the medicine, he watches you like a hawk, monitoring your condition, checking for any side effects. And if the medicine doesn't seem effective within a few hours, you practically have to beg Sunghoon not to buy more.

“Hoon, it's not going to work that quickly.” You have to tug him from walking away with all your strength.

“But you're sick.” He looks at you, frowning, with pouted lips and puppy eyes. You know just how much he hates seeing you in pain, with those low energy levels, and the missing spark in your eyes. It makes your heart swell.

“Hmm, they say the best medicine is—”

Sunghoon leaps out of your hold, ecstatic, “What, what is it?”

“Cuddles.”

taglist : @nanawrlds @flaminghotyourmom @mystverse @chenlezip @lotties-readings @jenobubbles

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[mapis-putellas]

𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍/𝑰.𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒏

Ingrid had no idea how much effort you’d put into today. She had no idea that from the moment you woke up, a dull ache had settled behind your eyes, your body sluggish and achy. She had no idea that every moment of the day had felt like pushing through water, heavy and slow, exhaustion creeping up your spine. She had no idea because you wouldn’t let her.

It was her birthday. She deserved the best.

You forced yourself through breakfast, picking at your food while Ingrid happily ate hers, eyes lighting up when you handed her the little wrapped box you had placed beside her plate.

“For me?” she teased, already reaching for it.

“Of course, for you. It’s your birthday, is it not?”

She shot you a playful look before carefully unwrapping the paper, always so precise, never the type to tear into things. When she finally opened the box, her breath hitched.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, subtle and elegant, the charm in the shape of a heart with her initials on one side and yours on the other. She ran her fingers over it, her expression soft, eyes flicking to yours.

“You like it?” you asked, suddenly nervous. You had a couple more presents for her to open, but they could wait until later when she didn’t have to rush to do so. She looked at you like you were ridiculous for even asking.

“Baby,” she murmured. “It’s perfect. Help me?” She held out her arm towards the centre of the table. You smiled, reaching over to fasten it. You gently trailed your thumb over the inside of her wrist as you pulls your hands away.

She flexed her fingers, turning her hand this way and that, admiring how it looked in the soft morning light. Then, without warning, she rose to her feet, rounding the table and tugging you up before cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips, slow and lingering.

“Thank you,” she whispered against your mouth, and you tried to ignore the way your head spun when she pulled away. Your eyes fluttered closed, head falling against Ingrid’s shoulder, and Ingrid, none the wiser, simply cupped the back of your head as she held you close to her body, her hand trailing up and down your back.

The hike was next, something Ingrid had been excited for since you’d planned it weeks ago. She loved hiking, loved being out in nature, loved the stillness of it. Normally, you enjoyed it too. But today, every step felt like an uphill battle. The sun pressed down on you, your skin hot and clammy, sweat sticking to your back even though it wasn’t that warm out.

Ingrid, oblivious, was in her element.

“Look at this view,” she said, pausing to admire the landscape.

You forced yourself to smile, leaning slightly against a tree as you nodded. “It’s beautiful.” You tried not to sound as breathless as you felt.

She turned to you, grinning. “Come here.”

You did, and she pulled you into her side, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You internally winced a little at the action, because you were very, very sweaty, but Ingrid didn’t seem fazed.

“I love you,” she murmured, and you could hear the happiness in her voice, feel the warmth radiating from her.

Your stomach clenched; not from your illness this time, but from the overwhelming love you felt for her.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, hoping she didn’t hear the strain in your voice.

Dinner was the final part of your plan, the grand finale of sorts. You had managed to secure a reservation at the restaurant you’d both been eyeing for months. The waitlist was ridiculous, and when you had somehow gotten a last-minute booking, you had practically jumped for joy. Ingrid had been delighted when you told her, her excitement only growing when you arrived and were led to a beautifully set table near the window.

“This is amazing,” she said, reaching across the table to take your hand. “I can’t believe you planned all this.”

You smiled, squeezing her fingers. “You deserve it.”

The food was incredible. At least, you assumed it was. You could barely stomach it, pushing it around your plate while Ingrid happily ate hers. The nausea that had been lingering all day was now a roaring beast in your stomach, threatening to spill over at any second.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’ll be right back,” you said quickly, standing up and scurrying away before she could respond.

You made it to the bathroom just in time, leaning heavily against the sink as you tried to steady yourself. The room swayed around you, the overhead lights too bright, too sharp. You gripped the counter, breathing through your nose, willing your stomach to settle. Just a couple more hours, you tell yourself. Just a couple more hours and then you could go to bed and sleep whatever the hell this was, off.

You had made it this far. You could make it through dinner. A knock at the door startled you.

“Baby?” Ingrid’s voice was soft, laced with concern.

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly before walking over and opening the door. She took one look at you and frowned.

“You’re sick,” she said, no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though even you didn’t believe it at this point.

She narrowed her eyes, and by the way her arms twitched at her sides, you could tell she was refraining from crossing them over her chest like she tended to do when she was upset with you. “You barely ate today. You were burning up on the hike, and now you look like you’re about to pass out.”

You tried to protest, but Ingrid wasn’t having it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, and this time, her voice was softer, laced with something like hurt.

You swallowed. “Because it’s your birthday. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Her expression softened. “Oh, baby,” she murmured, stepping forward to cup your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch. “I just wanted you to have a good day,” you admitted.

“I did,” she assured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I’d rather spend my birthday taking care of you than watch you suffer in silence.”

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me on your birthday.” You grumbled. “It should be all about you.”

“And it was.” She cut in. “You treated me just like a princess. And now, id really like it if you let me spend the rest of my day taking care of you.”

You sighed, hesitating for just a second before begrudgingly nodding against her.

She wrapped an arm around you, guiding you out of the bathroom.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. TE PERDÍ ⭑

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary daniela messed up- badly. now, she’s standing in the rain, desperate to fix what she broke. but sometimes, wounds don’t heal, and some love stories don’t get second chances.

disclaimers: angst... because it's fun. cheater daniela (sorry), i used lizeth selene as a face claim, but there is no physical description in the fic, so you can imagine whoever!

01. 25. 25 10:43 pm

"hey, y/n... it's me. again."

"i know you probably won't listen to this, but i just -fuck, i don't know. i don't even know why i keep calling. i just- i can't stop thinking about you."

"i messed up, i know that. but please, just call me back."

01. 27. 25 12:17 am

"saw your post today. you looked good... happy."

"i mean, i guess that's the whole point, right? you're moving on. you're showing me that you don't need me. but-"

" - i need you."

"please, y/n. just let me talk to you."

2:04 am

"you wanna know the worst part?"

"i wake up, every morning, reaching for you. i still sleep on my side of the bed like you're gonna walk in any second and crawl under the covers like you used to... like we didn't fuck everything up."

"like i didn't fuck everything up."

"just tell me how to fix it... please. tell me what to do. say anything. say you hate me... just... don't leave me in silence."

—

you stared at you phone, thumb hovering over the play button on the next voicemail. 4:38 am. you don't press it. you already knew what it would play.

another broken apology. another desperate plea.

you should've blocked her. you should've deleted these messages days ago.

but some part of you -maybe the part that still remembered how daniela used to whisper 'I love you' against you skin- couldn't bring yourself to do it.

not just yet.

a loud knock at the door made you jump, breaking you out of a trance.

you already knew who it was.

you debated ignoring it, letting her stand out there in the rain until she finally got the message. But you knew dani. you knew she wouldn't leave until she had her answer.

exhaling sharply, you opened the door.

and there she was.

daniela avanzini. drenched, from head to toe, rain dripping from her lashes. her hoodie, soaked through

but her eyes- they were what undid you the most.

they weren't cocky, weren't full of the usual cheeriness daniela held.

they were just...pleading.

"y/n..." her voice was hoarse- desperate. "please."

you didn't say anything.

daniela swallowed hard, shifting on her feet. "can i-just five minutes. that's all i'm asking."

you hesitated. but then stepped aside.

daniela entered, dripping water onto the floor, but neither of you seem to care. she was too focused on you- like she was scared you'd disappear if she looked away.

"i fucked up," daniela started, voice raw. "i know that. and i know i don't deserve a second chance, but i need you to hear me."

you crossed her arms. "fine."

daniela let out a shaky breath. "i was an idiot, okay? i thought... i thought i could have it all. you. the group. the late nights. the fans." her voice grew quieter. "the girls."

you clenched your jaw.

daniela noticed and stepped closer, eyes shining. "but it wasn't real. none of it was real, y/n. it was just- just...bullshit. and by the time i realized that, by the time i realized you were the only real thing i had -" she stopped, shaking her head. "it was too late."

you inhaled sharply. "you cheated on me, dani." the words cut through the air like a blade.

daniela flinched. "I know." her voice was barely a whisper. "but i need you to know that it didn't mean anything. that she didn't mean anything."

you scoffed. "and i'm supposed to believe that?"

daniela's face crumpled. "you're supposed to believe that i love you."

you looked away, blinking hard. "you don't do that to someone you love."

daniela exhaled shakily. "i was scared.

you chuckled, head snapped up. "of what?"

daniela ran a hand through her wet curls, frustration flashing across her face. "of getting too close. of needing you more than i should." her voice cracked. "and i did. i needed you. and i fucked it up because i was too stupid to realize that needing you wasn't a weakness-"

all you could do is stare at her.

daniela stepped forward, hesitantly, like she wasn't sure if she was still allowed to.

"i can be better. i want to be better. for you. for us." she swallowed hard. "just give me one more chance."

you let out a bitter laugh. "one more chance?" you shook your head. "do you know how many times i've given you one more chance? how many times i let the late-night texts slide? the flirting? the bullshit excuses?"

daniela's shoulders sank.

"i loved you, daniela" you whispered. "god, i loved you..." your voice wavered. "and all i ever wanted was for you to love me enough to choose me. just me."

daniela's breath hitched.

"but you didn't." you swallowed the lump in your throat. "and i'm not gonna be the girl who keeps waiting for you to figure it out."

daniela took a step forward, eyes shining with something desperate. "but i have figured it out." her voice was breaking now, cracking under the weight of it all. "i choose you, y/n. i choose you right now. please, don't let this be the end."

your eyes burned. you wanted to believe her.

gosh, you wanted to.

But you couldn't.

you had spent too many nights waiting. too many nights wondering if you was enough.

and you refuse to do it again.

you exhaled softly. "i can't daniela."

daniela sucked in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly. "y/n-"

"i can't," you repeated, firmer this time. "i won't."

daniela's face crumpled. for a second, she looked like she might argue again, like she might drop to her knees if it meant you would take her back.

but she didn't.

instead, she let out a slow, shuddering breath and nodded.

daniela glanced at the door, then back at you, memorizing you like it was the last time she'd ever see you.

because it was.

and when she finally turned and walked out, you didn't stop her.

you let the door close.

and outside, the rain kept falling.

and somewhere on your phone, another voicemail went unheard.

"i know i couldn't give you what you gave me”

“and even though i'm dying to have you here, i know i lost you... te perdí"

a/n: te perdí was literally the best song from rebelde. netflix was messy for not putting it on spotify. also this is my first time writing a fic so please lmk how it was 😭🙏

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Jello Incident

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You come home from work and tell Quinn all about the jello incident at school and then fall asleep on him.

Notes: For the sake of my American audience I have changed Jelly to Jello...um, life imitates art or something like that?

Honestly this is a silly little fluffy fic because sometimes life throws you events that inspire you and sometimes (all the time) you just want to write cute shit.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

The only thing you want as you trail in from a long day of teaching is to take your shoes off and curl up on the couch next to your boyfriend. It's why you're so quick to drop your bag at the front door, very little consideration for the work laptop inside or your water bottle that gives a loud clank. You're practically kicking your shoes off half way down the hallway, one kicked off so hard it goes flying and hits the wall beside Quinn's stupid painting of a monkey with headphones on, before making your way to the couch where Quinn is watching a hockey game, what looks to be a rerun of his most recent game actually. Probably trying to figure out what went wrong and what went right.

"Hey, baby," He greets you as you press a kiss to the top of his hair on your way past the back of the couch, smiling at the familiar gesture, arms already open and ready for you to join him, the game far less interesting than you and your day. Especially after the third run through of it. He's watched it so many times he's not even sure he's comprehending what's happening anymore.

"Hi..." you sigh out, flopping down on top of Quinn on the couch, face pressing into the crook of his neck as his arms come to wrap around you, running over your back in soothing motions.

"Rough day?" He huffs out a laugh as you almost crush him into the couch, not that he'd ever complain about having you on top of him. An ideal way to die to be honest, being smothered by his girlfriend. At least he'd die happy.

"Nggghh," You groan out into his neck, wondering how on earth you were going to explain your day because, "There was a jello incident..." You lift your head to look at him and Quinn's look of confusion, one brow raised, green eyes a little wide says it all. It's how you felt at walking in to the situation itself. Baffled. How does one even begin to explain a jello incident, how on earth did you even get involved in a jello incident when you taught teenagers not toddlers...

"A...a jello incident?"

"Yeah...." You press your cheek against his chest, settling in to recount your day, "There was a sub next door and...I heard him screaming at the kids, so obviously I decided to go make sure everything was okay..." A stupid decision really...you should have remembered the age old adage of 'not my circus, not my monkeys' it would have saved you a ridiculous amount of stress.

"And jello factors into this how?" Quinn twists one of his legs with yours, locking you closer against him as his fingers start to scratch over your scalp in a soothing pattern.

"Would you believe me if I told you the grade 7s had decided to throw pots of jello at each other in Religious Studies? And some of it hit the sub...and I had to take 3 kids into my room as punishment and..." You can't help the way you snort and the thought of it because...fuck, it's ridiculous.

"And?"

"And one of them was sat there with jello on his shoulder the entire time!" You can still picture it, a 12 year old sat with bright pink jello blobs wobbling on his shoulder and cheek because he hadn't bothered to clear it up, proof of his guilt physically on him.

"And you didn't laugh?"

"No, I didn't laugh!" You laugh along with Quinn, mouth pressed into his hoodie while you look up at him from where you're lying on his chest. His own laugh has you bouncing slightly as his chest rises and falls and it doesn't help you to try to take the situation seriously.

"I'd have laughed, baby, sorry."

"That's why you're not a teacher, Quinn..." You roll your eyes even though you know he'd actually make an excellent teacher if he ever decided hockey wasn't for him anymore. He had the patience for it, the calm temperament and steadfast approach.

"Hey! I'd be a great teacher...maybe..."

"Keep telling yourself that." You sigh out, letting the silence fall over the two of you, just enjoying the sound of his heart beating steadily beneath your ear, the feel of his fingers running through your hair, trimmed nails scraping across your scalp and the back of your neck.

You hum as your eyes start to close, feeling like you might fall asleep right there like that with Quinn's warmth against you, the sound of a hockey game playing in the background, Shortie singing Quinn's praises again.

"You wanna watch a movie and cuddle?" He mumbles into your hair, snuggling you closer to him as he reaches for the remote.

"I might fall asleep, the jello incident has me wiped.." your eyes are barely open, feeling like you might drop off at any moment. Not helped by how warm Quinn is, how utterly comfortable it is to lie on him like this.

"That's okay, baby, you can fall asleep on me. I don't mind." He huffs out a laugh, watching the way your eyes blink open as if you're shocking yourself awake every few seconds. You're adorable as you try your best to refuse to nod off, determined to stay awake for Quinn.

"You sure?" You lift your head again with some effort, taking in the soft smile Quinn sends your way, the genuine affection in his eyes.

"Certain, baby..." You plop your head back down on his chest at the reassurance, snuggling closer and letting your eyes close properly this time, "Dune Part 1?"

"Dune Part 1." You mumble even though you both know you're going to be asleep in less than half an hour.

If he's being honest there are few things Quinn likes more than you falling asleep on him or around him. There's something about it, the complete display of trust and comfort, that you're so comfortable around him that you can just fall straight asleep, that fills him with a sense of masculine pride. It's what has him reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch, pulling it over your back so you don't get cold. It's what has him slipping his hand under your shirt, tracing small circles into the warmth of your skin, the sort of circles that always help you drift off. It's what has him keeping the volume of the movie low because he's not really watching it anyway, he's watching you.

He spends most of the movie just watching the way you breathe against him, slow and even, so deeply asleep that you start to drool a little on him. He knows you'd hate him to see that, but he finds it adorable, a compliment really that you can sleep that deeply around him.

Every now and then you shuffle and twist in your sleep, strands of hair falling into your face and each time he pushes them out of the way, tucking them behind your ears so that they don't annoy you in your sleep.

He wants this, he thinks, for the rest of his life. You coming home from a mad day of teaching, some ridiculous story on your lips, him holding you close while you drift off, being the comfort, the safety you deserve at the end of a long day. Maybe eventually a couple of kids, tucked in besides you, him shushing them so that mommy doesn't wake up. Maybe a dog, or a cat, you always said you wanted a cat...

Yeah, he thinks this might be the sort of normal that he wants for the rest of his life.