#Imagine going from a life where you have no financial worries to one of the poorest neighborhods in imp city

[mandareeboo]

Listen being off your meds do be like that.

[natalievoncatte]

3. Dress

Kara wore dresses. Lena had seen her wearing sundresses and skirts and even a cocktail dress once, and of course she’d worn a dress at the wedding and look very

(Painfully)

pretty

(Gorgeous)

in it.

So it wasn’t as if Lena had never seen her in a dress before. Still, if you asked Lena to picture Kara in her head, Lena would imagine her best friend in khaki pants that hugged her hips and displayed the impressive girth of her thighs, and of course the buns of steel. She would further visualize Kara wearing a plaid button-down tucked into a broad belt that emphasized the inhumanly flat plane or her muscular belly or the broad set of her block shoulders.

(If she didn’t visualize her wearing nothing at all)

Dresses simply didn’t seem to be her thing. She just felt right when she was a little… masc, one might say. Kara had a way about her, a swagger that worked with the belts and a habit of setting her arms with her hands in her hips that emphasized her physique.

Lena sometimes wondered how a pair of glasses had actually fooled her.

For the last eight weeks or so, Lena had been living in Kara’s apartment, sleeping on the couch in a weird state of limbo after she sold her penthouse. They had decided that Lena would soon be moving, but not where or when. Obviously she’d stay close -her life was here now, after all- but she wanted a change.

In a way, Lena was following in Kara’s footsteps, trying to relate to the world as her whole self. She’d come upon the idea of using a sort of checklist- reinventing herself with the same ruthless efficiency she brought to the lab and the boardroom. That was one part of herself that needed to go.

Lena’s whole life was constructed. She did everything she for a purpose, and that purpose no longer meant anything anymore. There was no longer a Lex or a Lillian to outmaneuver, no longer a board to persuade or dominate. She was running the Foundation, but from her laptop, and had hired Sam to handle the financials. She wasn’t even meeting with benefactors; she had people for that. Her main work focus now was a science education program for elementary school girls.

It was so liberating, not having to be the badass boardroom bitch. She’s stopped straightening her hair, abandoned her contacts in favor of chunky glasses, and, in a colossal shock to everyone, Kara included, stopped dyeing her hair black, a habit she’d picked up and kept because it pleased Lillian and kept up because stopping would be annoying.

She had even worn sweatpants. In public. Everyone in her family had been gifting her goofy clothes to wear; she was currently swaddled in a “Why Hex a Little When you Can Hexalotl” t-shirt that Kara had regifted, originally from Nia.

That was when Kara walked out of her bedroom area of the loft and Lena’s brain spun around and smacked against the front of her skull.

Kara was dressed to the nines in a black a-frame halter top mini dress that bared her shoulders and magnificent back, and she’d matched it with dark eye shadow and plum lipstick that was striking against her sun-kissed skin, and a pair of strappy high heels.

“Hey,” she said, sounding glum.

“Where are you off to?” Lena said, trying not to add the mental dressed like that.

“A date,” Kara sighed.

Lena kept her face even, despite the fact that her mind had just ripped in half. She was desperate to know why Kara sounded so glum, and also flat fucking terrified.

The idea of Kara going on a date horrified her. It made her instantly sick with worry -not just for Kara which was honestly a little silly- but because… because…

Lena was suddenly very aware that she didn’t want Kara to date. At all.

(Because she should be dating me)

Which sucked, because Kara was straight, because there was a god and he hated Lena Kieran Luthor and her accursed blood. That had to be why Lena was cursed to suffer a crush on

(be madly in love with)

the perfect girl who came from the sky.

“You look lovely,” said Lena. “Have fun.”

Kara blushed for a moment, then Looked at Lena a little oddly, a little forlorn.

“I’ll text you.”

Okay.

Kara left, and Lena was alone in Kara’s

(their)

loft with just herself and Zillow open on her laptop.

Lena browsed for a while, but none of the places looked right. They were all as if HGTV had puked onto an old house. The minimalism and open concepts reminded her too much of her Old Life. She wanted quirky. She wanted unique. She wanted a place that reflected who Lena really was.

Jesus H Christ, was this a mid life crisis? She wasn’t that old.

Lena was startled out of her reverie when the door swung open and Kara stormed in, slammed it shut, and kicked off her shoes, storming barefoot across the loft.

“Fucking asshole,” said Kara.

Lena blinked, stunned by the profanity, only to be filled with outrage.

“Kara? What happened?”

“This is the last time I let someone at work set me up on a date. I didn’t even want to go, Alex badgered me into it.”

Lena put her computer aside. Kara grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge and popped the lids with her thumbs as she sat down, which was literally one of the hottest things she did on a regular basis. She offered Lena one and took a pull on her own.

“He was a jerk,” said Kara. “I tried asking him whether a hot dog is a sandwich, and he just said ‘who cares’.”

“Kara, a hot dog is a sandwich. We’ve been through this.”

Kara glared at her. “I’m not doing this again, Lena. Not until you admit that a burrito is a sandwich.”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“The last straw was when he told me I shouldn't work out so much. He said my muscles make me look like a man."

Lena blinked. "Where did your coworkers find this jerk?"

"Accounting. He wouldn't shut up about his finance degree. He insisted on paying for everything, too. Oh, and he told me I eat too much! All I did was order some appetizers!"

Lena drained her beer and grabbed another. She listened patiently as Kara vented about this guy and the other various jerks she'd gone one date with.

"I'm doomed, Lena. Every guy is a dick and insecure around me."

At around this time, she finished beer five. Lena nodded.

“Even if I think it’s working I lose the spark. Like when James finally wanted to go out with me and I was just like ‘nah.’”

“James… was nah for me too,” said Lena.

(Honestly, Kara, you should try dating girls.)

“Wait,” said Kara, “What?”

Oh.

She said that one out loud.

Shit.

“Um,” Lena said, lamely panicking, “I um, that was a joke, I meant… well it… worked out for your sister?”

Kara gaped at her.

Lena swallowed hard. “Would you believe it sounded funny in my head?”

“Have you… ever dated girls?” said Kara.

Lena’s stomach almost shot out of her throat. She put her most recent beer down to keep it from sloshing as her hands shook. She looked at Kara, who looked back, expectant… and hopeful?

“Yes,” Lena admitted. “Jack was the only man. I ever dated except James, but there have been women, too. Not that many. Despite my reputation I was never that social.”

“Who?” Kara asked, immediately.

Lena licked her lips. “Andrea.”

Kara stared. “Andrea? Andrea Rojas? Really?”

“It was a teen thing that ended in our eariy twenties, but it was serious. So do you remember how I told you I knew Roulette from boarding school?”

Kara nodded.

“Well, I knew her, um, biblically.”

Kara snorted. “No way. Who else?”

Lena smiled. At least she wasn’t being weird about it.”

“You’re not saying no to trying it yourself,” said Lena.

Kara looked away.

“I…”

She took a drink of beer.

“There are no queer people on Krypton, Lena. There weren’t, I guess I should say.”

The pain in Kara’s voice made Lena shift closer, set aside her drink and curl a hand softly around her arm.

“You don’t have to tell me this if it hurts.”

Kara shook her head. “I… my culture would not allow anything, uh, gay. Or homosexual. Like we literally don’t even have a word for it, it’s so foreign to us. We were taught that the only acceptable pairing was for the best possible offspring. Most of my people didn’t have sex at all, it was all artificial. My aunt and uncle were some who did, they had Clark naturally.”

“So Kryptonians can’t be gay?”

Lena’s heart sank.

“I didn’t think so, but, there was this girl once and she made me feel something I never felt before… and seeing her made all of my other feelings feel different. After I saw her I suddenly felt like I was just going after guys because I was supposed to. Even when I was with Mon-El I had this feeling that… I mean it felt good and I liked being able to cut loose but it felt like…”

Lena waited, not wanting to push her.

“Frankly, it felt like using him as a sex toy. Nothing else in our relationship really felt that deep. Even when he came back and went to Argo with me, I was more happy about my mother seeing me continue our family line than I was about him actually being with me. The second time he left I almost felt relieved.”

“That’s a lot, Kara. I had no idea.”

“I had no idea you liked girls either,” said Kara.

“I really do,” Lena admitted. “Who was she, this girl that stole your heart? High school crush?”

“No,” said Kara. “I met her as Supergirl. The first time I ever saw her, I saved her.”

“Very romantic.”

Kara sighed. “She was the prettiest. She’s so soft, so inviting, and whenever she looks at me I feel like she’s staring right through me, seeing everything in a good way. She’s smart and kind and brave and she has the prettiest blue-green eyes and one of them is a little more blue and the other is a little more green.”

Lena felt the blood drain from her face as her hand shook. Kara smiled wistfully.

“I was always too scared to say anything. I didn’t think she’d ever want me the way I want her.”

Lena looked up and met Kara’s gaze.

“I want more than to not be alone,” said Kara. “I want to be understood. I want to be with someone but I want to be together with someone I can be alone with. Somebody who gets me, who likes what I like, who takes joy in sharing the things we love. Who looks really cute in my clothes. Especially the hexalotl shirt.”

Lena blinked.

“Oh.”

(Oh)

“I like all that stuff but also blondes with big muscles who fly.”

Kara lunged across the couch and had Lena’s arms in her grip, and suddenly was lying on top of her, in that dress. Lena stared up at her.

“I wonder who we know who fits that description,” said Kara.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Kara smirked and leaned down, bringing her lips to Lena’s, and Lena honest to god moaned into her mouth as the kiss deepened, panting with excitement. As if her intentions weren’t obvious, Lena ground herself against Kara, working her thigh between her legs.

“I thought you were straight,” Kara blurted out.

“As spaghetti,” said Lena.

“What?” Kara blinked.

“I’ll explain later. As great as that dress looks on you, darling, it’d look better on the floor.”

[meazalykov]

its never enough

barca femeni x platonic!alexia putellas x reader

summary: the team had to intervene after seeing the amount of things you own

warnings: overconsumption, financial issues, childhood trauma, angst

you’ve always been a fighter, y/n. 

growing up in a small, cramped apartment with not much more than a kitchen table and a flickering television, you learned early on how to make the most out of little. your world was filled with the sounds of exhaustion: the tired creaks of your mother’s joints as she came back from long shifts, the gentle rumbling of your stomach as you lay in bed at night wondering if tomorrow would bring a meal or just another day of uncertainty. 

when you were younger, you were happy because you didn't know better. there was no one to tell you that many other kids didn't go through the poverty that you had to go through.

there were nights when you would curl up under a thin blanket, feeling the hunger gnaw at your insides, wishing for just a slice of bread or orange juice to ease the ache.

your mother worked tirelessly, holding down two jobs and often coming home with her eyes clouded from exhaustion, but she always made sure you had at least one decent meal a day, even if that meant sacrificing her own. the smell of burnt rice or old beans became an ordinary experience, an echo of sacrifices made out of love. 

she sacrificed a lot, even if you started to resent her after seeing all of the rich kids at your school with no worries about when they're going to eat next.

you remember the days when you would sneak out to the local park, pretending that the kids from the academy didn’t have talking points that revolved around the latest gear or shiny new sneakers. you wore the same worn-out cleats for years that you found in a thrift store, and while those shoes may have drawn odd glances, they also pushed you to play harder, to train longer.

those white colored adidas cleats of yours slowly turned yellow and green overtime due to the grass stains. 

the first time you were signed to an academy, it was through scholarships. you took public transport (sometimes without paying) back and forth from home to the academy from 6am to 9pm.

that’s where it all began—out in the sun-kissed fields—the heartbeat of your journey. every dribble, every sprint, made you feel alive. the coaches quickly noticed your raw talent; your feet danced like a lyrical melody, weaving in and out of opponents with fairy-tale grace. 

they’d call you into training sessions meant for the older girls and suddenly, you found yourself in a world where your poverty didn’t define you.

many of the nice coaches offered to pick you up from your home in the poor neighborhoods outside of your city, knowing that they couldn't afford to not have you on the pitch.

those were the fabrics of the beautiful game that would one day pull you from those struggling days into a life of unimaginable opportunity.

your childhood academy, once you graduated high school, called you up to the senior team. the salary was small but it was enough to finally see breakfast, lunch, and dinner all in the same day instead of sacrificing one or the other. sometimes, you're lucky that you still have muscle and strength for someone who was not eating enough.

fast forward to after you turned nineteen, a year after your first senior team callup from your childhood club.. you were standing in the hallowed halls of barcelona, far away from home.

the weight of your dreams now intertwined with the club’s crest stitched delicately onto your new jersey. barcelona had been keeping an eye on you for years.

the contract you signed with the catalan team was something you could hardly comprehend—it felt surreal, almost like playing in a fantasy. the money you received dwarfed anything you had imagined during those starving nights as a child. suddenly, you had means far beyond what you had deemed possible.

the first time the signing bonus hit your account, you stared at the numbers blinking feverishly on your screen, unable to process it. the world opened up before you like a child’s storybook, each page filled with opportunity. and so, you rented a bright little apartment in the heart of barcelona, sunlight pouring through oversized windows, casting warm hues upon your brand-new life. 

it felt like a fresh canvas; you could paint it any color you desired. and paint it you did—perhaps too much.

at first, it felt liberating. a new superpuff jacket from aritiza? an absolute must. four different colors? obviously, because how could you choose just one jacket? each item in the store beckoned to you like love notes, whispering promises of happiness that you’d long been denied.

body washes in five different scents? a practical necessity because—how could you ever pick just one that felt right? you bought them all, bringing home bags filled with excitement and haste, giggling as you unwrapped each item in your sunny living room, often spilling the contents across your pristine floor in a flurry, and marveling at your newfound abundance.

having a space to yourself where the shelves were always stocked, the floors were always cleaned, and the heater actually working was something that gave you more peace than you expected.

sometimes, looking around your apartment often made you realize that the walls were suffocating under the weight of your possessions. clothes spilled from closets, shoes lined the hallway and your closets, and accessories filled every surface; a delightful chaos really, yet one that made your heart race with a strange sort of anxiety. 

you owned everything you ever wanted, but somehow, it still felt like a little too much.

your relationship with your teammates blossomed, particularly with alexia. she was a guiding light for you; her encouraging words sculpted you into a more confident player, and her laughter felt like a reminder that you were not alone in this world. 

she took you in after seeing how much potential you had for a twenty year old. the way you'd tackle world-class forwards like you had ten years of experience under your belt was something that caught the spanish woman off guard.

at barcelona, you gained the closest companion in your life, esmee, your best friend.

esmee visited your apartment frequently, often gaping at the sheer amount of items you owned, her eyes wide as she stepped over a particularly extravagant pair of heels that you probably haven’t worn once.

“y/n, do you really need all of this?” esmee asked playfully during one of her visits, standing at the entrance as if she were an unwitting tourist exploring a museum filled with ridiculous wonders.

“of course! look at this,” you laughed, sliding on a pair of trendy sunglasses you had bought just that week. 

“i could be a runway model with these prada ones.”

esmee chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief, careful not to trip over the plethora of colorful items sprawled about. 

the dutch places her jacket in her walk-in closet, hoping to not mix it up with all of your other ones. seriously, it looked like a whole family lived in your apartment instead of yourself.

“the fashion runway maybe, but i genuinely wonder how many outfits you have.”

as the months went on, whispers began to circulate amongst the team, drawing a bit of humorous attention. 

mapi once teasingly commented to alexia, “you know, i’ve never seen y/n in the same outfit twice. it’s like she has a new look every single day!”

alexia raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the countless intricate combinations you’d flaunted during practice and the matches that followed. 

“are you serious?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. 

“you think she actually has that many clothes?”

“esmee and i were talking,” mapi continued, her lips curling into a smirk, 

“and we noticed that y/n always has new shoes, new clothing, she's always walking by with a new fragrance scent—it's hard to keep track. i don’t get it.”

the curiosity started to whirl in alexia’s mind. she respected you immensely and admired your skills, but now she felt a tug towards something deeper. the urge to check in, to see if this was just youthful exuberance or something more. 

so, she decided to probe a bit further, casually nudging esmee one afternoon while both of them waited for practice to begin.

“does y/n have, like, spending habits?” alexia asked casually to esmee, pretending to tie her shoelaces, her expression deceptively nonchalant. 

“not that it’s any of my business– nevermind.. who am i kidding, it is because i need to watch out for her.”

esmee looked a bit uneasy, weighing her words carefully. 

“you know, she does get a lot of packages delivered to her apartment,” she admitted after a short pause. 

“it worries me a little. she’s got a lovely place, but, um, some of the things she buys are expensive—like that vintage prada jacket she flaunts all the time.”

alexia nodded, her mind racing at the thought. 

“okay, but how does she really feel about it? do you think she realizes it’s become…well, a problem?”

“i don’t want to start anything,” esmee replied quickly, clearly hesitant. 

“but…i’ve noticed some little things here and there.”

a few days passed. you found yourself bustling through your apartment, obsessively tidying up as you waited for a batch of brownies to finish baking. the sweet aroma was filling the air, comforting and familiar, hard to resist. 

you had always loved experimenting in the kitchen since having your own space. growing up, you had no idea what brownies were until your childhood academy threw an, "end of the season" party for getting top of the league. they were delicious, but you knew that your mother at the time only had enough to feed your rice, chicken, and pinto beans.

a knock broke your reverie. you wiped your hands on a dish towel and opened the door, revealing alexia dressed casually in a simple t-shirt and sweats, looking relaxed yet focused. she stepped in, offering you a warm smile.

“hey, y/n!"

"ale!!" you say, hugging her before leading her into your apartment.

"whats that smell? are those brownies?” ale asked, stepping over a pair of athletic shorts you’d carelessly discarded near your living room. 

“mind if I grab one?”

“sure! they’re almost ready!” you chirped, feeling a bit of giddiness wash over you.

as you neglected the untidy piles around you to shuffling around the kitchen, you could feel alexia’s gaze wander.

she noticed your open closet door by your front door, she didn't notice the amount of jackets and shoes you had stored in there when she first walked in.

alexia knew that you didn't have a roommate, you or esmee would've told her. all of those items belong to you.

the older woman turned to you, her expression turning serious. 

“y/n, listen,” she began slowly, 

“i wanted to talk about something.”

you froze for a moment, piecing together the gravity of her tone. the brownies, still cooling, were suddenly secondary to her serious demeanor. 

“what’s up?” you asked with a slight frown, putting the tray down on your kitchen island to focus on her.

“i’ve been meaning to bring this up,” she said, taking a deep breath. 

“i heard some things about your, uh, spending habits, y/n. i think it might be good for us to talk about it?”

you instinctively shook your head, the edges of denial creeping in. 

“my spending habits? what do you mean?” you asked, your voice suddenly edged with defensiveness. 

you hoped that your bedroom door was locked, you thought inside of your head. that would’ve gave away all of your issues that alexia is concerned about. 

“it’s not like i’m, you know, drowning in debt or anything.”

“i—I know that,” alexia kept her eyes locked with yours, her gaze gentle yet unyielding. 

“but y/n, it’s a lot. i want to make sure you’re okay. i mean, it’s easy to go a bit overboard when you’ve finally got the chance to buy things you’d never dreamed of.”

“what do you mean? it’s not overboard,” you insisted, crossing your arms. 

“i grew up fine, really, i am not–” 

“y/n, please don’t lie to make yourself feel better.” 

“alexia–i–i just…i like looking nice, and it’s not just about the clothes. it’s—you know, it makes me feel good.”

“trust me, i get that, really.” alexia's voice softened, understanding behind her words. 

“but don’t you think all of this,” alexia points to all of your shoes in the hallway leading to your bedroom. 

“could be something more? an underlying problem?”

your heart suddenly felt heavy. 

“underlying problem? what are you saying, alexia?” the defensiveness you felt turned to an urgent need to protect the parts of yourself that had been so fragile for so long—the parts that still whispered fears of never being able to escape your past.

“i know how you grew up,” alexia said gently, the weight of her words settling like a blanket between you. 

“almost everyone on the team knows, y/n. and it’s okay. we all love you but you don’t have to be afraid of going back there—I promise, you’re safe now.”

you shifted uncomfortably, grappling with the urge to retreat, but alexia’s words were like a balm, soothing your frayed edges. yet, discussing your financial problems felt almost impossible.

“it’s hard for me,” you finally admitted, almost a whisper. 

“i’m scared, okay? scared that i’ll get back to being that poor little girl who was always hungry ale…i don’t want to be that person again, even if it was years ago.”

alexia stepped closer, her eyes radiating kindness. 

“y/n, you don’t have to live in fear anymore. you can have the nice things you’ve always wanted, but maybe you should think about getting a financial advisor? someone who can help you save, invest, and still enjoy life? you really can have both.”

you pondered her words, the idea gently pulling at your heartstrings, unsure of how you could intertwine the idea of safety with spending. 

“i don’t want to give everything up,” you breathed. 

“i just…I don’t want to feel like i’m back there—not again.” 

“you won’t,” she assured you. 

“you have the power to change, and you did. you can still get nice things, you deserve that since you work hard on the pitch with us– but maybe focus on less quantity and more quality? your childhood doesn’t have to dictate your future, y/n. believe me. you can have the nice things you still want.”

you nodded slowly, feeling a sense of warmth envelop you. 

“maybe that’s true,” you whispered.

“you don’t need to hide your past either, y/n. many of us did not grow up with a lot of dinero either. aitana’s family suffered while she was growing up, same situation as you but you didn't have the politics involved.” alexia lightly smiled, hoping to see you less scared of the conversation. 

“oh,” you said, leaning your arms against the kitchen island across alexia sitting on your stool. 

“i am just saying that all of this stuff and the idea of buying it will only last temporarily. you do not want to spend so much money to the point where you’re broke. i have an idea on how much your salary is at barca and with adidas, its a lot and you should not blow through that much money in one month.” alexia and you giggled at her last sentence. 

“i know, and i’m sorry.” 

“don’t apologize to me, you didn’t do anything to me. i’ll set you up with the financial advisor i have and we will put you on the right track okay? maybe a therapist at barca too?” 

“anything you think will help me, capi.” you leaned against alexia for a hug. 

masterlist

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening the Deal.

Summary: Feeling stuck and desperate for a change in life, you meet Melissa Schemmenti, a sophisticated and wealthy woman at a bar. As you talk, a beneficial arrangement is made —you become her sugar baby in exchange for financial support and a life of luxury.

Tags: @italianaidiota @lisaannwaltersbra

Part 2.

It was supposed to be easy. You’d been in these types of arrangements before — usually with someone older, someone with the means to provide. A little fun, some affection, an exchange of care and comfort for the right lifestyle. It was straightforward.

Nothing that serious, just someone to take care of you, spoil you with a luxurious life, and maybe provide some excitement every once in a while. And you’d gotten good at playing the role, keeping the personal stuff at arm’s length and only showing the parts that were needed to make it work. You had your own reasons for this, but when it came down to it, it was all about getting something you needed, and being charming enough to keep it flowing.

You were only twenty-four, yet the strain of trying to make ends meet had already worn on you. You lived in a rundown apartment with leaky pipes and cracked walls, a place that felt more like a shelter than a home. The thin walls meant you could hear every fight between your neighbors, every sound from the street below. It was cheap, sure, but every night you’d lie awake, listening to the hum of the old radiator, wondering how long you could keep going like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You’d always imagined yourself living with a bit more security by now, maybe even enjoying the occasional luxury. Instead, your days blurred together in a monotony of bills, grocery budgets, and stretching the little you had to last. You’d settled into a job that, while stable, had slowly begun to drain you. The paychecks were barely enough to cover rent, groceries, and the never-ending list of repairs your landlord promised to fix but never did. Each month, it felt like you were just one unexpected expense away from drowning.

The job itself didn’t help. It was the kind that offered no thrill, no satisfaction — just a steady flow of hours clocked in and clocked out, all while your dreams of something more started to gather dust. You’d watch others, people who seemed to glide through life without a care, and wondered what it would feel like to have even a fraction of that ease.

So when someone with money crossed your path, offering more than just their captivating presence, it felt like a window opening, a brief glimpse into a different world. A world where you didn’t have to worry about leaky pipes or thin walls, where you could shed the weight of all those unfulfilled promises and simply live — at least for a little while.

It felt odd to pretend to be interested in someone just for the benefits. Unfortunately there was no out. Since you were a child, you’d known that life was rarely fair. Your mom had made sure of that. She was a single mother, a fiercely determined woman who raised you on her own after a messy divorce. She didn’t sugarcoat things, either; she’d tell you straight-up that the world could be a cruel place, especially for a woman trying to make it alone.

From her, you learned early that being good wasn’t always enough. She taught you resilience, to work hard and keep your expectations realistic, to push forward even when things felt impossible. And, maybe unintentionally, she taught you that sometimes, you had to rely on yourself more than anyone else because no one was going to hand you anything.

Even as a kid, you’d seen the way she struggled, how she’d sacrificed and held herself together. You watched her scrape together everything you had, keeping a brave face for your sake even when the weight of it all clearly pressed down on her. She made it through, but not without that look of fatigue that never seemed to leave her eyes.

So you understood, maybe better than most, that life wasn’t likely to hand you anything easy — and that the only way to get what you wanted was to reach for it. Maybe that’s why you found yourself here now, doing what you needed to do to get by, even if it meant letting someone else take care of you for once.

But then you met Melissa Schemmenti, and everything you thought you understood got turned upside down. And most importantly, your life changed in ways that you never imagined it would.

The first time you’d first spotted her, you weren’t even focused on choosing her as a target.

It was a rainy Friday night when you first saw the mysterious fiery redhead— sitting alone at the bar in a rich neighborhood in Philadelphia. She was sipping on a whiskey neat, her sharp features softened in the dark light, the flicker of the warm candles in the background making her sharp green eyes gleam in a way that almost took your breath away. It wasn’t her beauty that struck you, though. It was the way she seemed untouchable, confident in her own skin, like she didn’t need anyone, but still drew people in with an effortless ease.

You were just finishing a drink, waiting out the weather, when your gaze drifted back to her in the corner of the room.

She looked intense, yet somehow at ease. Her red hair, loose and wild, framed a striking face: strong cheekbones, sharp nose, and expressive green eyes that had a way of flicking around the room, as if daring anyone to get in her way. And yet, there was a warmth there too — a quiet vulnerability hidden in the curve of her mouth, softer than you’d imagined someone with such a sharp, no-nonsense face would carry.

“Interesting,” you whispered to yourself after realizing that no one, not a single man or woman, dared to approach her.

You’d seen people steal glances, some lingering a bit too long, but no one made a move. It was like there was some unspoken rule, as if the invisible space around her held a warning.

It made you even more curious.

For a while, you just watched, mesmerized by the way she sipped her whiskey with a kind of measured focus, her full red lips pressing into the glass like she was enjoying every second of it. The sleeves of her fitted blazer clung to toned arms, and her fingers were adorned with rings, each one sparkling softly in the light. Melissa’s neck was full of golden necklaces. That you assumed it had a Catholic meaning due to her small cross. Her frame was strong, curvy in all the best ways, carrying herself like someone who knew exactly who she was.

She looked like she didn’t need anything from anyone. But there was something in her gaze that suggested she’d be open to the right offer.

“Why isn’t anyone going up to her?” you scoffed, shaking your head and getting up from your seat. Unable to hide your intrigue. “I mean, she’s… well, she’s gorgeous.”

You’d barely taken a few steps toward the bar when Fran, the bartender leaned over, giving you a look that was somewhere between concerned and amused. She was a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a motherly vibe, the kind of person who seemed to know everyone’s business — especially when it came to her regulars.

“You sure about that one, sweet face?” she asked, nodding her head toward Melissa, who was still nursing her drink in the corner. And had ordered a lemon margarita.

You glanced back at the stranger, then back at Fran, frowning slightly in confusion. “What do you mean, Francis?”

The woman chuckled, wiping down the counter with a practiced hand. “Schemmenti doesn’t exactly do things halfway. People say she’s got a temper like a firecracker and a heart just as tough. You’d be surprised at how fast things get messy with her.” She paused, giving you a pointed look. “Not to mention, she doesn’t have the patience for games.”

Intrigued, you raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “And why’s that?”

Fran shrugged, but her gaze softened a little. “She’s been through some things, that’s all. Divorces and family issues. Got her walls up pretty high. Not just anyone makes it past them. If you’re thinking of walking up to her, just… be ready for whatever comes with it. She doesn’t like anyone wasting her time.”

You felt a spark of excitement mingle with the nerves, and your frown shifted into something closer to a smile. “Well,” you said slowly. “I guess I like a challenge.”

The middle aged woman shook her head, a knowing smirk on her face. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

But despite the warning, you couldn’t shake the pull you felt. If anything, it only made you more determined.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

With that, you picked up your drink and walked over to her, ignoring Fran’s amused shake of the head as she muttered. “Good luck, kid.”

Alright, here goes nothing.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you as you made your way toward her. The atmosphere in the bar seemed to quiet, the soft murmur of conversations fading into the background. Every step felt deliberate, calculated — but your heart was racing nonetheless.

Sliding into the seat next to her, you gave her a bold smile, one you hoped was as confident as she looked. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Melissa didn’t even glance your way. She lifted her glass, taking a slow sip, her gaze still focused across the bar, as if you hadn’t spoken at all. She looked composed and relaxed, her red waves falling around her shoulders, but there was an edge to her silence that made it clear she wasn’t the type to entertain small talk with strangers.

Still, you weren’t one to back down easily. You leaned in just a touch, close enough to catch a faint hint of her perfume. Something dark and warm, with notes of amber.

“So… is there a reason you’re quiet and alone, or do you just enjoy intimidating everyone who looks your way?”

At that, she finally turned to look at you, her gaze sharp and assessing. Those green eyes bore into you, sizing you up without an ounce of pretense. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a spark of curiosity there — maybe even a hint of amusement, though she hid it well.

“You know, it would be inelegant for a pretty lady like you to refuse a drink offer like that.”

That earned you the slightest shift, a flicker of her eyes cutting in your direction. But just as quickly, she looked away once more, taking another deliberate sip from her glass, pointedly ignoring you.

Alright, she was tough. But you’d expected that.

Clearing up your throat, you tried again. “Can I buy you a drink?”

For a moment, Melissa barely looked at you again, her attention fixed on her drink, her elegant fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Then, slowly, she turned those sharp eyes your way, raising a single eyebrow in skepticism. “You think I can’t buy my own drink, sweetheart?”

Caught a little off guard, you chuckled, brushing off her cold response. “Oh, I’m sure you could buy out the whole bar if you wanted. Just thought you might enjoy a little company."

The corner of her mouth quivered in a faint, almost amused smile, though her expression remained guarded. “Is that so? Are you always this forward with strangers, or am I that special?”

You met her gaze, refusing to back down, though you felt the intensity of her stare like a challenge. “I could ask you the same thing. I doubt I’m the first person who’s tried their luck tonight.”

That actually made her laugh — a low, genuine sound that surprised you with its warmth. She finally looked at you fully, leaning back just a bit, her eyes still sharp but now a little more intrigued. “Plenty try. Few get this far,” she said, taking a sip of her drink, studying you over the rim of her glass.

“Guess I’m lucky then,” you replied, matching her gaze. “Or maybe you’re just curious.”

She looked you up and down, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Y/N.“ You introduced yourself, feeling the thrill of her attention settling fully on you.

She offered a hand, her grip firm, fingers warm and soft against your skin. “Melissa,” she said simply, with a smirk that told you she already knew her name alone carried weight.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too, hon,” she replied softly, almost too sweetly.

The air between you felt different now, charged, as though something had shifted. You couldn’t quite place it, but you knew one thing: she was far more than the icy exterior she wore.

“So,” you started firmly, eager to keep the conversation flowing. “What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a knowing smile. “You really want to know?” she asked, her voice dropping slightly, the undertone suddenly sharper, almost dangerous.

You nodded, sensing you were getting somewhere.

“Maybe I just enjoy the quiet,” she said, her gaze sliding over to the rest of the bar, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. “Or maybe I like the kind of people who think they can handle me. You know, the ones who think they can get past the walls.”

There it was. That wall. You hadn’t been wrong about it earlier.

You leaned a little closer, the space between you diminishing. “Well, I like a good challenge,” you said, tone lowering slightly as you met her eyes. “And I don’t back down easily.”

The older woman studied you for a long moment, her lips pressing together in contemplation. There was something unspoken in the way she looked at you, like she was trying to figure out if you were just another curiosity or something more.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the space between the two of you suddenly too much. It was as if you were both waiting for the other to make the next move.

Finally, she spoke again, but this time, her voice was quieter, more intimate. “Is that so? Well, I hope you’re not disappointed.”

Without another word, she stood, surprising you for a moment, and you couldn’t help but follow her gaze as she turned her attention to the bartender.

“I’m leaving for now,” she said, her tone dismissive but with a hint of warmth beneath it. “But if you want to keep up, sweetheart, you’ll have to be quicker than that.”

Before you could respond, Melissa leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek — quick, but there was something sensual about the way her lips lingered for just a second longer than you’d expected.

“Melissa? What are you doing?” you prompted nervously. Your body language gave away how much desperate you were.

Her breath brushed against your ear as she whispered. “You better be ready for more than you bargained for.”

And just like that, Melissa Schemmenti was gone, but not before she slid a sleek business card across the counter toward you. “Call me if you think you can be a good girl and handle it,” she said, her eyes meeting yours one last time, a smirk on her lips.

The card was heavy in your hand as you stared at it, wondering what the hell you had just gotten yourself into. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the shivers racing through you.

Before you could process it all, the bartender's voice cut through the moment, the amusement clear in her tone. “Looks like someone’s in for the ride of their life.”

You didn’t even respond, your focus still entirely on the card in your hand. that redheaded woman had left you breathless, but there was no denying it — you were already hooked.

After Melissa left, you spent the rest of the night at the bar, her business card tucked safely in your pocket, your mind racing. Who was Melissa Schemmenti? That name. “Schemmenti,” lingered, something about it sparking a vague sense of familiarity. It didn’t take long for curiosity to win over. The moment you got home, you grabbed your phone and typed her name into the search bar.

Almost immediately, a series of results popped up — news articles, restaurant reviews, family business profiles. The Schemmentis were, without a doubt, a well-known name in the city. They were a prominent Italian family with a long history of running high-end, family-owned restaurants and food businesses. Each article seemed to mention the family's deeply rooted traditions, their reputation for intense loyalty, and an unyielding commitment to quality that set their establishments apart.

There were photos of various family members attending restaurant openings and charity events. Most of them shared that same unmistakable look: sharp features, intense eyes, a confidence that seemed to radiate through the screen. But none of them held the same aura she had. You kept scrolling, searching, until finally, a photo caught your eye — a candid shot of Melissa herself, standing beside what looked like an older family member at an event. She was dressed elegantly, her green eyes striking even in the low-quality photo. Her signature smirk was there, too, as if she knew more than anyone else around her.

Digging a little deeper, you found hints that the Schemmentis weren’t just known for their restaurants. Whispers and rumors hinted at connections beyond the culinary world. It was all speculation, of course, nothing concrete — but there was talk of ties to old-school family loyalty, the kind that ran a bit deeper than the surface.

You couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Melissa. She had a presence that felt untouchable, like she existed in a world all her own, one you’d barely scratched the surface of. Still, that made her even more intriguing.

Scrolling through more photos, you spotted one of her in front of the family’s flagship restaurant, a chic Italian bistro that was famous across the city. It looked upscale, all dark wood and gold accents, the kind of place you’d need a reservation months in advance for. The family had a reputation for authenticity, keeping recipes as close to the homeland as possible — a fact that seemed to add to the almost mythical image they cultivated in the food scene.

“Crap,” you sighed softly. “She’s more powerful than I thought.”

You leaned back in your chair, your mind spinning with the informations. Melissa was far more than just the striking woman you’d met at the bar. She was a part of this powerful, well-established family, one that had its hands in nearly every major social event and high-profile gathering in Philadelphia. The more you thought about it, the more you realized just how far removed you were from her world. But that only made you want her more.

You found another link, this one detailing a series of more extravagant gala events the. Subtle shots of Melissa made their way into the article — always in the background, always looking stunning, but always with that same cool, untouchable demeanor. The more you saw, the more you wanted to know.

A part of you wondered if you were getting in way over your head. But the other part — the part that was curious, that wanted to know everything about her — pushed those thoughts aside.

You glanced back at the card, and something in the back of your mind clicked. The business card. It wasn’t just a way to contact her. It was a way into her world. It was a ticket, maybe, to something bigger than you’d ever imagined. If you were going to do this, to pursue whatever this was between you two, you’d have to play it smart. You’d have to prove you were more than just another curious young woman.

With a deep breath, you typed in the number on the card. Your thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, then pressed it. Your heart beat faster than usual. This could be the start of something dangerous, something intoxicating. Or it could fizzle out, like so many other fleeting moments.

But you didn’t think it would. Not with her.

You took a breath, steeling your nerves as you composed the message. It took you a few drafts to strike the right tone, something that wouldn’t come off too eager but still got the point across. Finally, you sent a simple, Hey, it’s me from the bar. Would love to see you again if you’re interested.

A few seconds passed. Then a minute. You began to wonder if you’d misread everything and were ready to chalk it up to a learning experience when your phone buzzed, and her name — “Melissa Schemmenti” — appeared on your screen.

Thought you would never reach. Meet me tomorrow. At seven. La Sirena. Ask for a table under ‘Schemmenti.’ Don’t be late, sweetheart.

Shit.

La Sirena was a well-known Italian restaurant. Upscale, expensive, and not the kind of place you could typically afford. Just seeing her name there made your stomach flutter, excitement mingling with nerves. You quickly typed back an “I’ll be there” and spent the rest of the evening thinking about what you’d wear, what you’d say, and how you’d keep your composure.

On Saturday evening, you arrived at La Sirena early. You wore the nicest outfit you could put together, something classic and understated, hoping it would hold up to the restaurant's sophisticated atmosphere. Walking into the lavish space, you felt a bit out of place, but you kept your head high as you approached the host and asked for the Schemmenti reservation.

“Right this way,” he said with a polite smile, leading you to a private table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Melissa was already seated, her gaze locked on the menu. When she looked up at you, a slow smile spread across her lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how stunning she looked, her red hair cascading over her shoulders, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones and the piercing green of her eyes.

“You made it,” she said, almost surprised as she gestured for you to sit. “And on time, too. I like that.”

You settled into your seat, feeling her eyes on you as you tried to calm your racing heart. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you replied, offering her a face that you hoped masked the mix of awe and nerves.

The redhead frowned, setting her menu down to focus fully on you. “So, tell me, what exactly are you looking for? A young woman doesn’t approach me in a bar without a reason.”

Her directness caught you by suprise, but you appreciated it. Taking a breath, you decided to be just as straightforward. “Honestly? I need some support. Financially,” you admitted, your face softening. “My job barely covers my bills, and… well, I could use a hand.”

Melissa’s expression didn’t change, though her eyes lingered on you for a moment, weighing your words. She leaned back, crossing her legs, her gaze assessing. “And in return, you’d be… what? At my beck and call? Or are you looking for something more traditional?” Her voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness there.

You swallowed, feeling the intensity of her words. “I’m open to whatever you’re looking for. I want to be someone you enjoy spending time with, whatever that might look like.”

Her smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement flashing in her eyes. “I don’t do traditional. But I do like arrangements that benefit both parties.” She reached for her glass, taking a slow sip as she considered you. “Here’s what I want: someone who can hold a conversation, someone who knows when to keep things discreet. I don’t need drama, and I don’t need clinginess. Think you can handle that?”

You nodded, your own excitement growing at the proposition. “I can handle that. I’m not looking to complicate things — just to be here when you want me.”

She seemed pleased by your answer, nodding slightly. “Good. Then I think we understand each other.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “And let’s get one thing straight, pretty girl. If I want to spoil you, you’ll let me. No protesting. Understood?”

A small smile crept onto your lips, the warmth of her presence making you feel bolder. “Understood, ma’am.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Green eyes softened for a moment, her gaze dropping to your lips. And before you could process what was happening, she leaned across the table, her hand cupping your cheek as she pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her lips were soft, her touch featherlight yet intoxicating.

When she pulled back, her voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “Then it’s a deal.”

Your pulse raced as she sat back, casually reaching into her black purse to pull out an envelope. She slid it across the table toward you, her fingers grazing yours as she did.

“Just a little something to get you started,” she murmured, with a wink that was both playful and possessive. “It has a sum of five thousand dollars inside. It should help you for now, every week I can send you more. If you keep your promise.”

You took the envelope, feeling the weight of it in your hands. The gesture was more than generous, but it was the way she looked at you — with that blend of intensity and control — that made you realize what you were truly getting into. And for the first time in a long time, you felt safe, secure, and undeniably captivated.

As the evening unfolded, you couldn't help but feel the weight of what was happening. There was a sense of excitement, of possibility — but also a sharp, nagging thought that reminded you to tread carefully.

Don’t confuse things.

You couldn’t afford to get attached.

That was the key. This was supposed to be a simple arrangement, something that filled the gaps where your paycheck fell short. You weren't looking for something complicated, something emotional. Not with her. Not with someone like Melissa, who had power, elegance, and control in everything she did. She could snap her fingers, and people would fall in line. She was the kind of woman who played the game and always won.

You knew how this worked — a sugar baby and a sugar mommy. It was transactional, not romantic. You could enjoy the new life, yes, but you couldn’t let yourself get caught up in the emotions. You couldn't fall for her. You couldn’t let yourself start imagining more than what this was.

As the conversation carried on, Melissa’s wicked smirk never faltered, her focus entirely on you as she made her offers and requests while learning more about you. But underneath it all, you kept reminding yourself: No fucking attachments. You couldn’t afford them.

But even as you made that mental note, as you stared at her with those smoldering green eyes and that effortless poise, you felt something shift inside. A part of you that couldn’t quite ignore the magnetic pull she had over you, the allure that was impossible to escape.

Still, you had to stay grounded. This was just a business arrangement. Nothing more, right?

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 2

Understanding Yourself Starts With Being Honest

Hi Goddesses! Yesterday we talked about what becoming our best selves means, and today we're diving into something really important, meeting ourselves exactly where we are.

Picture yourself packing for a journey. You'd check what you already have in your suitcase before deciding what else you need, right? That's exactly what we're doing today on our path to 2025, taking a inventory of where we are right now.

I know, I know. Self-assessment can feel a bit intimidating. Maybe you're worried about facing some truths, or perhaps you think it might be discouraging. But think of it as like turning on the GPS before starting a journey. You need to know your starting point to get where you want to go.

First things first: breathe. This isn't about judgment. Think of it as having coffee with your most supportive friend (that's me!) who just wants to help you reflect and grow. Ready? Let’s start.

Start With Your Gut

Remember when you wake up in the morning and have that first quiet moment to yourself? That's when our gut feelings are often the clearest. Take a moment right now. How do you feel about where you are in life? Not what others think, not what social media says you should be doing, just your honest feelings. Grab a notebook (or open your Notes app) and write down whatever comes to mind. No filtering, no judging.

The Life Wheel Check-In

Here's something I find super helpful: imagine your life as a wheel with different spokes. Think about these areas:

Your physical health and energy levels

Your relationships (family, friends, romantic)

Your work or studies

Your personal growth and learning

Your fun and recreation time

Your living space and environment

Your financial situation

Your emotional wellbeing

For each one, ask yourself: "On a scale where 10 is 'couldn't be better' and 1 is 'needs serious attention,' where am I?" Be real with yourself, this is just between us.

The "What's Working" List

Here's something we often skip: celebrating what's already good! Before diving into what you want to change, write down what's working well in your life. Maybe you're great at maintaining friendships, or you've been consistent with your morning routine, or you finally learned how to cook that one dish you love. These wins, big or small, are your foundation for growth.

The Honest Reality Check

Now comes the part that requires some courage: looking at areas where you feel stuck or unsatisfied. But here's the twist, we're going to do this with compassion. Instead of thinking "What's wrong with me?" ask yourself:

What's challenging me right now?

What keeps coming up in my thoughts as something I wish were different?

Where do I feel like I'm not living up to my own standards (not anyone else's)?

Your Future Self Letter

This is one of my favorite exercises: Write a letter from your future self (let's say December 2024) to your current self. What would they thank you for starting now? What changes would they be grateful you made? This isn't about pressure, it's about connecting with your hopes and dreams.

Getting Real with Yourself

Now, let's make this assessment more practical. Pick just three things:

One thing you want to maintain (because it's working well)

One thing you want to improve gradually

One thing you want to change significantly

Write these down somewhere you'll see them daily. Your phone wallpaper, a sticky note on your mirror, wherever works for you.

Remember This, you're not broken and you don't need fixing. You're a human being on a journey of growth, just like all of us. This self-assessment isn't about finding faults, it's about understanding where you are so you can move forward with purpose.

Take a moment to appreciate yourself for doing this work. Seriously. Self-reflection takes courage, and you're already showing up for yourself by reading this and (hopefully) doing these exercises.

Stay tuned for the next post in our "Become Your Best Version Before 2025" series! Remember, you've got this!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[monsoonceroom]

New Spy x Family chapter! Let's Gooooo!

So Damian & co (but mostly Damian) are studying when the above drops. I did google this & apparently 'Mitera' means 'Mother' in Greek, so this is likely their version of Ancient Greece. Pretty neat imo.

With Ostania's economy probably in shambles after the war, I wonder if this boom was partially because of the country's citizens hoping for a way to get back on their feet financially by selling some sweet ancient relics.

It's nice to know that they had twitter in 1960/1970's Ostania. Weak joke, I know.

Anyways, treasure hunting happens & while the boys are in proper attire, the 3 butlers are in suits in the middle of a freakin' forest. This would be absolutely miserable in real life. However, with this being Spy x Family, I automatically assume they're much too professional to allow even a single speck of dirt to sully their clothes & will be vaporized immediately.

Also, it looks like their hair colors are inversions of the kids? Instead of 1 brunette & 2 blonds, it's 2 brunettes & 1 blond. Also that Egeberg butler does look pretty fine.

Shush you! Damian already knows his family life is shit; let him be happy!

It's cute to see them explore the wonder's nature has to offer. Also did they not bring enough water, so they had to resort to drinking from waterfalls? Props for getting it from fast running water rather than a stagnant pool though.

STRRRIKE! Maybe I'm just exaggerating, but I lowkey wonder if Jeeves can give Martha a run for her money when it comes to physical prowess. While not much in terms of what we've already seen throughout the series (especially compared to Yor) I imagine not many people would have been able to use an acorn like a bullet.

:(

Have some food to cheer up, Damian!

Hold up; wild-caught venison? Did the butlers hunt deer while treasure hunting? They probably brought the food with them but the image of guys in suits stalking a deer is hilarious.

Lol, Ewen & Emile are like 'Did he just call us peasants?'.

Damian is calling upon the spirits to guide him.

Oh crap, it backfired & now he's possessed!

Not to worry! A kind spider has come to help!

Maybe the real treasure was the big ass flower we found along the way.

A quick google search says that 'Geschocran' when translated into English means 'Projectile Crane', so nothing too crazy there considering the pistil on that thing. I checked to see if maybe the name 'Witch's Crib' had any real-world equivalent although nothing came up aside from baby cribs & witch hazel. I wonder what the in-universe lore is on the 'Witch's Crib' name?

Goddamn kids these days & their helicopters. Back in MY day we had to wait hours in the car to get somewhere, uphill, both ways in the snow in 180 degree weather.

More sad Damian & Jeeves trying to talk to him about it. Also no one else is home? Where the frick did everyone go? Let's see; Melinda has her own place so she's probably chillin' there, Demetrius is likely studying at a library, & Donovan is, I don't know, concocting evil schemes in his lair or something.

Yooo! Damian's accusing Jeeves of being a snitch! At least Damian forgot he was sad.

KSKSKSKSKSKSKSKSK Looks like Damian tried to impress Anya & then complained to Jeeves about it later. I wouldn't doubt it if Jeeves is feeding Melinda info, but alas, we have no proof.

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 1/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: how did it all start? word count. 1.9k cw. marriage pact au, potential mature content a/n. this is my first time writing fic! hope you all enjoy this story! (♡ n pls let me know if you do enjoy them ♡) Masterlist

Every month, Motoya Komori, Sakusa Kiyoomi, and you meet up to catch up and enjoy each other's company. Surprisingly, despite the passage of time and the changes in your lives, you have managed to maintain your friendship well since high school. Your bond remains strong, bolstered by frequent chats in your group chat, where you exchange life updates.

Now you’re all in your late 20s, with you and Sakusa the same age, 27 years old, and Motoya a year older. Each of you is navigating your own unique path in life. Motoya Komori, always the cheerful one, shares his latest thoughts and plans. "Nothing much," he says with a grin, "just thinking about coaching some kids in my block." Then, he adds, "Mia thinks that’s a good idea too," his eyes light up when he talks about his wife, his smile widening. It's been a year since their wedding, and he’s never been happier. He met his wife during an open trip to Europe in his early 20s, a serendipitous encounter that changed his life forever.

Sakusa, on the other hand, often brings up his ongoing struggle with his fame. "I keep trying to decline gifts from fans," he admits, a hint of frustration in his voice. Despite his attempts to maintain some semblance of normalcy, his popularity often complicates things. 

It’s no wonder you think that Kiyoomi is popular among women. A single, talented man who looks dedicated to his career is bound to attract attention. People on the internet often compliment his looks too. Standing at 6’4” with a lean build, his black wavy hair adds to his appeal. You can imagine his struggle a bit—balancing his demanding career with the expectations and attention from fans and potential romantic interests alike.

As for you, you share your own challenges of juggling your main job with multiple side jobs. It’s a constant balancing act, trying to manage everything without letting anything fall through the cracks. Yet, despite the hectic schedule, you find solace in these monthly meet-ups, a reminder of the enduring friendship that has weathered the storms of life.

“Why do you have to do several jobs?” Komori asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

You chuckle lightly and start explaining the reality of life outside the athletic world. “Well, life actually works a bit differently for non-athletes,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. You go on to explain that you're still early in your career, and your current job is only a mid-paying one. “I need some more money to cover my living costs and to send some to my retiring parents,” you add, your tone growing more serious.

Komori listens intently, nodding in understanding. He realizes that while his career path as a professional athlete offers certain financial stability and perks, your situation requires juggling multiple jobs to make ends meet and support your family.

Komori agrees with your statement about the high living costs, even for him. You continue, “Well, now that I think about it, in this economy, for average people, I think marriage helps a lot in a financial way. I mean, by having two incomes in the household. If we didn’t put children into the equation, though, maybe.”

Komori agrees, “Well, maybe that’s true. But I don’t know much about that since my wife stays at home. But financials aside, having someone to come home to… I don’t know how to put it. But it’s less lonely and, y’know? Feels like someone always has my back no matter what.”

Sakusa interjects, “But you don’t have to get married, you know? You can just move in with your girlfriend.”

Komori shakes his head, “I don’t know, man. It’s a different sense of security.”

You chime in, “Ooh, I get it. Maybe it’s kinda like… all these paperwork you sign? So, it feels verrrry official?” You raise your eyebrow, prompting Komori to laugh.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just happy and secure. That’s all I feel,” he says with a contented smile.

You sigh and slam your hand on the table, “Man, I don’t even think about that. I just think it’s nice to split rent and chores with someone.”

Komori hums at your statement, then turns to Sakusa. “What do you think, Omi?”

Sakusa shrugs, “I just think being married makes it more convenient for me to politely decline some of the persistent and creepy fans.”

You chuckle, “Ha. Ha. Okayyy starboy. Totally not relatable.”

Komori adds thoughtfully, “Hey, in a sense, that applies to you as well in terms of being more secure when walking at night. Ward off some creepy men, y’know?”

You nod, a wry smile on your face, “Hey! That’s so fucking true. Pfft, I hate the world that we live in.” You sip on your drink, finding a moment of solidarity in the shared laughter and understanding.

“Okay. Now this conversation made me want to get married. But I can’t even afford a relationship right now. Trying to start a relationship is too urgh,” you say, scrunching your nose. “Too many steps to deal with. And don’t even talk about the emotional roller coaster! It’s just too tiring!”

You used to be a hopeless romantic at heart, dreaming of the day you would meet that one person, your prince charming. Falling in love so hard that your head feels dizzy, experiencing all those cute butterflies in your stomach, and seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses due to the happiness of love.

However, the idea seems more and more impossible as you grow older. Reality has hit you hard. Maybe it’s just bad luck, but you’ve never been lucky in your romantic life. It’s not like no one wants you; there are men who approach you. But the ones who do either don’t meet your standards or turn out to be douchebags when you try to get to know them better and pursue more, leading to frustrating situationships. It’s exhausting to be attached to them and constantly ride an emotional roller coaster.

Moreover, you can’t think of anyone or any way to meet someone new at the moment. You’re not keen on the idea of dating apps either, as you feel like you’re not that fun in chat, and it just feels too unnatural to meet someone new that way. Especially a potential lover. Damn all these standards you’ve set for yourself!

Sakusa speaks up, “I get that, and I don’t understand what girls want either.” Sakusa doesn’t usually talk much during your discussions, but he enjoys listening to you and Komori's thoughts. Right now, he finds himself agreeing with you on the topic. Everyone knows that Sakusa isn’t the most socially adept person. He doesn’t easily make new friends, despite knowing many people from all the training, practices, and matches he has been involved in. However, he can't exactly call them friends. That's why he treasures this friend group, even though one of its members is literally his cousin. It’s something he can describe as “cousins by blood but friends by choice.”

Given this, it’s not hard to understand why it’s not easy for him to have a romantic relationship either. He can be attracted to someone—he experienced it several times during his school days, having little “relationships” that lasted only a few months. But these days, it’s getting harder to form meaningful connections. Lots of girls try to approach him, fans and acquaintances alike. Some have piqued his interest, but nothing has gone beyond a few dates. So, he truly gets it when you say it’s tiring.

“What?! So you don’t understand me?” you exclaim.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “No, I understand you. It’s different. We’ve known each other since high school.”

“Ha. Right,” you reply with a hint of sarcasm.

Komori is silent, looking at both of you intently. He clears his throat, “Hey, you know, right? There’s something called platonic marriage?”

Sakusa stares blankly. “What’s that?”

“I know!” you chime in. “It’s like you’re married, but you’re not actually involved romantically.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of them. Interesting, I guess,” Sakusa responds.

“Yeah. It’s like you can get the marriage benefits without having to deal with all the emotional roller coasters that relationships give you,” you explain.

“True. But it’s too creepy and risky, right? To marry some random strangers?” Komori folds his arms and laughs.

You give a distasteful expression and respond quickly, “Of course! I wouldn’t dream of it. If I ever wanted to do a platonic marriage, it would be with someone that I know quite well.”

The three of you suddenly become silent. Komori smirks at you and Sakusa.

“What are you even implying?!” you demand.

“Hey! It’s not crazy, though! You mentioned it yourself.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers. “It would be with someone that I know quite well.”

You widen your eyes. He’s right, you think. But still, it’s borderline crazy and something that never crossed your mind. Sakusa? And you?! Sure, you think he looks good. But then again, you’ve never considered any of your friends ugly! Moreover, you’ve always seen him as your friend since the beginning. Which… is actually the definition of platonic. It’s perfect! Shit… But Sakusa would never agree with this kind of thing… right?

You steal glances at him. Fuck. He actually looks like he’s thinking about it. It’s not the usual indifferent face he’s making. He’s thinking. Wow. Years of friendship really do give you the ability to differentiate his micro-expressions.

“Look. It’s just… an idea. A good idea, can I say?” Komori wiggles his eyebrows and smiles proudly. “Given you guys’ predicaments. It’s like the stars aligned, y’know? I’ll definitely support you guys. There. You guys have my blessing,” he laughs.

You and Sakusa exchange quick glances. He shows a lack of repulsiveness. Now that you think about it, this thing actually fits him. But does he really think it is a good idea?

“Some friends do make marriage pacts or whatever it’s called,” Komori adds.

Oh, right. You definitely have heard about that. Something like if we’re not married by the age of… we should marry each other.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard something like that. But isn’t it complicated?” you ask.

“What would be complicated? It’s all for convenience, right?” Komori replies.

“That’s just insane, though…” you mutter.

You all go silent for a bit but then you try to change the topic and continue to talk about other trivial life updates. Other things that aren’t awkward and, again, crazy to think about. Your mind isn’t ready to handle the full visualization, especially with Sakusa right in front of you.

After another hour, you and the other two decide to head home. You still have to work tomorrow, after all. Urgh, the work thoughts on Sunday are the worst. These meet-ups with Sakusa and Komori always prove to be very recharging to your mental battery. You’re so glad to have this monthly meet-up with your two precious friends.

On your way home, you replay the conversation you had earlier about the platonic marriage and can’t help but think of how good of an idea it is. The words “financial” and “someone to come home to” ring in your head. Shit. You do often feel lonely in your apartment nowadays.

If you ever agree to do something like a platonic marriage, the idea of being married to Omi doesn’t sound bad at all. Your very dear friend since high school. Someone you’ve known for more than 10 years. Someone who knows your antics and vice versa. He can be a pain in the ass a lot of times, insensitive at times. But the good thing is that you can be blunt with him. He might be an ass, but he does always listen whenever you scold him for anything insensitive he does.

But anyway, it’s just an idea. It will be forgotten, right?

Spoiler: No, it’s not.

[iloveyanderes]

Yandere idea but longer: warning mature and sexual themes

Imagine a darling that is like gorou or tighnari and has animal ears and tail. Everyone consistently teases them, most of the genshin characters would think of darling as a pet, not a human being. They baby darling and infantilize them to the absolute max.

In mondstadt darling would probably have the most freedom, though you do have to worry about albedo trying to turn you into a in actual animal so he can trap you and pet your ears whenever he wants. Kaeya would constantly tease you and surprise attack you ears and tail whenever you least expect it. Jean and Lisa make sure you never have to work and all of your needs are taken care of like your their dog. Diluc is probably going to trap you in the dawn winery and keep you as a house pet. Pray you have cat features so venti can't go anywhere near you, in a way he is worse then kaeya never leaving you alone, your best bet is diona as she'll take you under her wing.

Liyue would be a financial nightmare for darling, you've got the Richie's like ningguang,Childe, and yelan constantly trying to convince you to wear a collar, ningguang constantly send you gold and diamonds while Childe and yelan may or may not consistently hire treasure borders to kidnap you so they can show up last minute to save you and appear like a hero. Xiao would probably not kidnap you but he would watch you at all time, anytime you try to leave liyue he's suddenly their. For zhongli it really depends if it's morax or current day zhongli. Morax would most likely trap you underground and pet your ears while he's In a meeting with the adepti, Zhongli would probably just blackmail you to lay with him as he monologues about random stories. Baizhu would probably drug you and then inspect your ears for hours.

Now for inazuma, how inazuma I've got the biggest brainrots for this ever and it all comes down to one single man: ayato. This bish is a sadist, gentleman, and Infantilizing person ever. Bro would never talk to you as if you were a human, to him your a pet and he's going to make sure you never think of yourself human again. Have fun being punished whenever you try to speak English, being forced to eat straight from a bowl with your hands tied behind you back, he'll love to push all of your sensitive spots until your nothing but a whining mess as he mercilessly scratches your ears. Yae Miko would probably be the second worst in inazuma despite being somewhat of an animal herself she would still find a way to tease you, maybe pulling another miss hina with you and blackmailing you into going to one of her "fun" public events, where you ears and tail definitely don't get groped by people. Thoma would probably be the best, he would constantly want to brush your hair/fur all the time and bath you, he loves animals so it be amazing. Ayaka would keep you as a handmaid while secretly making you play pet and master behind doors. I really can't think about anything for kokomi but for gorou he would take you as a mate and protect you with his life. Heizou would also be a big tease, he would also make sure small crimes get pinned on you just so he could "interrogate" you and tease yourself until you pass out. Itto would drag you to places and shinobu would probably take pity on you, helping you escape. Ei would drag you to her place and keep you their forever.

In sumeru tighnari would be like gorou but he would never let you out of the house and to collei you would be like an emotional support animal you always calm her down, al-haithem would monopolize all of your time and kaveh would love to dress you up, kind of like how people put outfits on dogs. Cyno would probably share you with tighnari and get really angry whenever al-haithem comes within a 100 mile radius of you. Nahida would be platonic and think of you like a childhood pet. Nilou would make dances dedicated to you and raise money to get you things. Candace and deyha would also team up to keep you in the desert and basically work together for everything.

Bonus:

Beidou, kazuha, and her crew: your officially the cabins pet, people are allowed to pet your ears and brush your tail whenever they want. People play card games to see who gets you the night but most often beidou or kazuha win. Beidou likes to baby talk you while kazuha uses you as a muse for his poems.

Harbingers (not Childe, pierro, captino or puncellia sorry if I spelt it wrong )

Dottore would experiment on you all the time and find ways to morph your human mind into an animal one.

Columbina would sing you to sleep and pet your ears, placing little clips in your hair, don't you dare get up from her lap when's she's singing, bad things will happen.

Arlecchino is automatically your mistress, you follow her orders or else. Anytime you disobey she'll swap you on the bottom with a whip, she mainly makes you take care of orphans and if you ever take off the collar she gave you bad things will happen.

Scaramouche, fatui scaramouche would torture you endlessly with electricity and humiliate you, wanderer would be clingy as heck never letting you be alone or leave.

Sandrome would most likely turn you into a puppet or make puppets of you, don't piss her off she had a bad temper

Signoria would automatically hide you in a house, she's like arlecchino in the way that she's your mistress but unlike arlecchino she never lets you do anything, your only job is to be like a pet and pay on her lap as she does business.

Pantalone would spend billions on you, making sure your clothes were expensive, you haven't worn anything but still for years, he's also very monopolizing, paying people lots to stay away from you and set the two of you up.

Sorry I didn't do all of the harbingers, Pierro and puncellia are to old for me, I really don't feel capitano, and I did Childe in the liyue one.

[justporo]

My new bestie, I honestly would love to see you write Father!Astarion 🤤🤤

How would he react to the news? Would he want a little girl or boy? How would he react when they are born, and they look just like him, but pre vamp eyes?

(Vampires can sire babies, with the highest chance after they are fully well fed)

Hello my tadpole bestie and thanks for the request! Astarion as a father really seems to be on people's minds, hm?

I get it, I like it too, but let me put this out there (yeah yeah, I know it's all fictional, but let's be real for a second): I would much rather imagine this when Astarion has done some much needed healing. This man hasn't had autonomy in two centuries and really needs to find himself again and work through trauma - with Tav on his side of course. And children are a huge responsibility - mentally, physically, emotionally, financially - I imagine (I wouldn't know, I'm not a parent...). I'd really wish for him to be ready for something like that.

But the thought is incredibly sweet, so let's go:

Headcanons about Astarion being a father

When Tav tells him she's expecting, he's truly speechless for perhaps the first time in his life; and then he can't sit still: swinging from delusionally happy to overthinking and being worried; but Tav takes his hand and reassures him that they'll be in it together

Has he thought about having kids? Yeah sure, but he'd never thought of it being possible until it happened, although when Cazador forced him and the other spawn to behave like a family he'd sometimes thought about what could've been

He's absolutely overprotective when Tav's pregnant: "Oh no, no, darling, you are not carrying that around, think of the baby!" "Astarion, it's A MUG OF WATER!"

Also he adores her body that is creating such a miracle: "You're glowing, my heart. You are truly a goddess!"

If he was handsy before there are now no moments where his hands aren't on Tav's body and on her belly

When he feels the first movements, he cries, and then Tav cries and then there's just a fountain of happy tears and lots of "I love you"s

He's taking such good care of Tav; especially when she doesn't feel well or when she's exhausted - she'll get all the herbal teas and massages

Birth though is scary - for both of them; but I'm sure he'll have some friends by his side (because think about the adventure troupe waiting with him while he's pacing the room like a panther: Karlach's biting her nails off, Gale's just blabbering to distract himself, Shadowheart is praying for everything to go well, Wyll tries to calm Astarion down (unsuccessfully), Lae'zel is unusually silent with crossed arms hoping everything will be okay, Halsin's keeping the group fed and all because "Nature will make it all right")

Boy or girl? Doesn't matter at all, all that's important is that Tav and the baby are healthy and ready to receive all his love

First time holding his child - he can't even cry because it's such a miracle; "This... this is the best thing I've ever had and created!"

The tears come later when you're alone - just the three of you

He's absolutely a very loving father, caring so much about his kid - and also equally taking on responsibilities and care with Tav

When the kid's eyes become their real colour and it sparks a memory Astarion had long forgotten, he's too stunned to acknowledge what he's seeing: the kid has his eyes - the way they were before he was turned

Later, when the child's already a little bigger he loves to show them stuff, teach them, read to them; also inciting them to go and annoy Mom - which makes Tav want to push him off a cliff but also hug him to death - because who'd have thought it would ever be possible?

Alright alright - I've gotten almost off the rails with this one. Because honestly, there's a lot to imagine there. Also maybe I wasn't prepared for the things that would make me feel (and I don't mean baby fever).

Alright, hope you enjoyed this headcanons, time for me to go to bed!

[raeniskaies]

how to fix your mindset ♡

- your mindset is one of the most powerful things in the world . how you depict the world , what you believe , can absolutely change it all . .

001 , respect yourself

- so most of you attend school , right ? whenever you talk to the teacher , you call them by their honorific titles or speak to them with respect . or if you meet a stranger , you greet them and ask how they are. now , forget about teachers or strangers , imagine you are greeting a member of the royal family , you curtsy or bow towards them with a great amount of respect. you are a member of the royal family. every single morning , look in the mirror and tell yourself you deserve a great amount of respect and you deserve the freaking world . don't expect anybody to love you if you don't even like yourself ! look at your room. is it messy ? if so , go clean it right now because having the place where you sleep , study and lounge be messy is extremely disrespectful to yourself. not having the respect or even a frick to clean after yourself is disrespectful to you and you might not even realise it. treat yourself like you're the most precious thing in the world because honey , you are .

002 , stop being lazy + pathetic

- you may be still searching on how to stop being lazy or how to get back up. do it. I don't care if you're tired because whose fault is that ? some people can not afford to be lazy. the financially struggling can not afford to be lazy. the single parents can not afford to be lazy. the workers can not afford to be lazy. you sit around on your butt all day watching tiktok or reading tumblr blogs or whatever to do absolutely nothing. God has given you the gift of life , out of billions , you were the one to be placed on this earth and you spend your life doing nothing ? don't say you're unlucky or your life is terrible. that's absolutely pathetic. let that be your motivation. it's okay to take breaks or rest but please get back on track. only the privileged can afford to be lazy.

003 , don't follow people around - you're not a dog

- have you watched ' mean girls ' ? had you seen gretchen and karen ? did you notice how they follow regina ? don't be like them , don't waste your time , your life on following someone like they own you. don't seek someone's attention like you live off of it ; you don't ! it's also disrespectful to yourself because you're lowering yourself to the position of a dog or any other pet , following it's master to the end of their time. life is only once. use your time on something more important.

004 , idgaf

- please don't care if somebody hates or dislikes you. they are just jealous. no seriously , they spend most of their time obsessing over you and your life just to " hate on it " , they're jealous , hun. also face it , we are all going to die , life is too short to care about it , you are way more important to just worry your pretty little head on some obsessive parasite !

" so and so said this about you - " okay.

" they said this - " okay.

okay. idgaf.

005 , life is survival of the fittest

- your future matters. your teen years go way too fast and before you know it , you're already grown up. get a decent education. get to the top.

my mother always tells me I am pretty , I am smart , I have potential and I actually do. at the age of 10 she would already know what private university she would attend and she would have that as her number one goal. 5 years later , she travelled away from all of her family , her friends , her home to reach her dream ( the uni ) and she did. she knows others who have done the exact same as her who are billionaires and others who haven't who are financially struggling. throughout her parenting ( the first couple years were an extremely tough time for her ) journey , not one person , not even her bestest friends had come to our home offering gifts or money , not even for her kids. everybody else is focusing on their own families and their lifes ! if you have an opportunity , take it , like my mother had + be prepared ! because at the end of the day , in 10 years , your " friend " will not pay your rent.

006 , your mind is blind but not deaf

- your brain has no eyes of some sort that can lookout and know what's happening. whatever you tell your brain is happening , that's what it will believe , e . g ::

♡ " I'm ugly " then you'll be ugly. you'll perceive yourself as ugly.

♡ " I can't achieve anything " then you won't. you'll get nothing done in your life.

instead , tell yourself affirmations in the mirror , remind yourself that you're absolutely stunning ! it will come true !

007 , every setback is a blessing in disguise // see the bright things in everything

- now I do not care how bad something was , or how much it had impacted you , that is a blessing in disguise from God. God has your back. God is with you 24 / 7. He is greater than everything in the entire world. Don't ever erase that from your mind if something as small as not being able to go to your bestie's bday party or having strict parents. When I moved to the other side of the world , I felt like my life was over. 2 months later , I realised how toxic some of my old " friends " were and I got amazing opportunities where I live now. " When a door closes , another one opens " that is one of the most truthful sayings ever.

008 , don't wallow in your own self pity like a pig

- did you lose a competition or your partner broke up with you ? its okay to feel sad and you can cry about it but afterwards , get up. Move on. im sorry but nobody really cares. "oh my life is so unfair" so is everybody else's ? Get over it , please ! you can try another competition and your ex was clearly not for you so move on. nobody will care because they have their own problems to deal with. they may say sorry or give you a pat on the back but that's it. It won't change anything. they will be a whole lot ahead of you whilst you're still in the same spot in life , wallowing in your own self pity. whether you like it or not , life moves on and nobody cares , ml ♡

009 , set boundaries

- do you not like it when someone makes fun of you or touches you in a way you don't like ? you do not have to endure that , honey ! set your boundaries and if someone breaks them , take a break / leave them ! if they cannot respect your boundaries , they don't deserve you ! ♡

010 , drop toxic people

- it doesn't matter if you've been friends with them since kindergarten , or you don't want to seem mean. drop toxic people. this includes "friends" who just talk about themselves and say things like "oh , my life sucks" all the time , put everything in a negative mood. they don't deserve you. don't ruin your mental health over someone else , ml ! ♡

sorry if I sounded mean , I'm just trying to be honest !! ♡

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

this may be out of your wheelhouse but I have no one else to ask because my entire circle is conservative Christians

my best friend just got his girlfriend pregnant (we’re all 15/16), what’s the best way to offer support?

hi anon,

that's a really big life change, and it sounds like one that will be especially hard to navigate in your particular social circle.

at 15 and 16 it's totally understandable that you might not be able to offer your friend anything like financial help, and that's totally okay. you can still be his friend, and he and his girlfriend are going to need a friend very badly whether they decide to keep the pregnancy or not.

even for people in more stable circumstances who planned to get pregnant, pregnancy can be a really hard and lonely time. there are a lot of physical changes for the person who's pregnant, of course, but also a lot of mental and emotional stress as both parents worry about the growing baby and try to adjust to the idea of themselves as parents. in this case, I imagine there's an extra helping of stress and your friend and his girlfriend try to decide what the best future for the baby will be and how they want to cope with being teen parents. even if they want to terminate the pregnancy, that comes with its own stressors, especially in areas where access to safe abortion is heavily restricted and with families who aren't supportive. even for people who want to have abortions, there may be complicated, painful feelings afterwards.

your friend and his girlfriend will both need someone willing to listen to their problems and let them know they have someone who cares about them and is willing to accept the choices they want to make for themselves and this pregnancy. just having somebody who's willing to listen without judging, especially if they're receiving a lot of that from their families, can make a huge difference.

[kickthecan-revolution]

I had a major issue this morning with my long-term disability paycheck. It was less than a third of what I was expecting based on my conversations with the company and I was cutting it razor thin with what I was expecting.

In the past I would have absolutely lost my shit. I probably would have started yelling at people. I went outside, I took a deep breath and had a little talk with myself. “You are not poor and all alone, no one is trying to hurt you. No one is pulling the rug from underneath you. Those days are over. You don’t have to pawn anything, you don’t have to sell anything. That’s not your life anymore. You can figure this out, you just need to get some facts.”

I didn’t really believe any of that in my heart but fake it til you make it. I drank a big glass of water and then called the two companies involved. I spoke with the customer service reps respectfully. Asked a lot of questions, listened as carefully as I could. We finally got to an understanding - it’s a temporary fix until February but I’ll figure it out then.

I have some deep, irrational terror about being able to survive financially. I know it’s from watching my parents agonize and curl up into the fetal position for years over it, I never knew if we were ok or not. We were loved with money, it was the elixir of our parental relationships, almost the only thing we ever talked about. I never talk about it, my friends and family would consider it insane given I’m planning on retiring next year and I get it. (that is all locked up until next year). For them, it’s like Imelda Marcos worried about where her next pair of shoes is coming from (though I’m not quite that evil of a character). l feel uncomfortable writing about it here, I know people are struggling in real, not imagined ways but I use this as my journal so I’m going to keep doing that, as weird as it feels.

What I’m proud of is I didn’t lose my shit. I listened. I didn’t spiral, then rage. I was able to calm my mind and think a few things through, I didn’t immediately catastrophize. I worked *with* the people on the phone, they weren’t the enemy. They ended up being trustworthy. They helped.

This is big growth for me. To not expect others to hold my irrational fears at any level of engagement. The bigger healing is not feeling that trigger at all but I’ll get there. I will.

For now, I love you. I’m proud of you for not giving into your fear. You can take care of you, you have for such a long time.

[fairestar]

“awakened imagination” by neville goddard · a summary

this post is the first of a forthcoming set in which i summarise and simplify neville goddard’s book “awakened imagination”. you can read the original here, and you can check other summaries here. please note this book is heavily reliant on his religion and, as much as i will try to make it as non-religious and simple as possible, there are still passages and comparisons that i can't take out without hindering neville words’ meaning. take these posts as if i were taking notes for future reference during class.

❁ chapter I : who is your imagination?

“imagination” is the kind of word that has been used for so long it has gathered plenty of different meanings, which often oppose each other: thought, hallucination, suspicion... neville identifies “imagination” with the power that makes achievement of our goals inevitable. there is only one thing in the world: imagination, and all our deformations of it. imagination is the very gateway to reality.

according to blake, man is only a natural organ subject to sense; the eternal body of man is imagination: god itself, the divine body. by imagination we have the power to be anything we desire to be; only as we live by imagination can we truly be said to live at all.

with this book, neville wants you to function imaginatively, to open your “immortal eyes inwards into the worlds of thought”, where you have all of your heart's desires ripe and ready to harvest. imagination is the hidden mystery from the ages, the hope of glory.

“every man is mary and birth to christ must give”.

imagination's birth and growth is the gradual transition from a god of tradition to a god of experience. if the birth of imagination in you seems slow it is because you are unwilling to let go of that comfortable, but false, grasp to tradition.

man is the garden in which christ —imagination— sleeps. man is awakened by his imagination getting lifted up to heaven and being made god-like. in the moment of awakening, he meets the test of sonship, of his imagination being christ: the forgiveness of sin (“sin” meaning failing to achieve one's aim in life, falling short of one's ideal; “forgiveness” meaning identification of man with his aim/ideal in life). this tests man's ability to inhabit the nature of his opposite (go from the state of the undesirable self to the state of the desirable self), to perform the work of an awakened imagination.

is imagination power sufficient to, not only enable us to assume, but to execute the idea too?

suppose i desire to be in some other place, but i lack the social and financial resources to do so; could i, just by imagining myself in such place, cause the physical realization? would only my imagination be sufficient to incarnate my desire? does imagination understand what is deducted from the senses? does it recognise the outer world?

suppose i am capable of sustaining the feeling of the wish fulfilled, of acting with continuous imagination; will my assumption harden into fact? and if it does, will i find that my actions throughout this period have been reasonable? after assuming that i already am that which i desire, must i constantly guide myself by “reasonable” ideas and actions so as to cause the fulfillment of my assumption?

the answer to all these questions is that an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact; continuous imagination is sufficient for all things, all of our “reasonable” plans and actions won't ever make up for our lack of continuous imagination.

“imagine that you are and you shall be”.

truth depends upon the intensity of imagination, not upon external facts. you become what you imagine. you have a self-determined history. imagination is the truth, the life revealed.

but the thing is, we cannot get hold of truth with the logical mind (stop thinking and worrying about the how! logic does not come into play here, let it go, you don't need it), it cannot be enclosed by facts: as we awaken to the imaginative life, we discover that imagining a thing is to create it, that true judgement doesn't need to conform to the outer world to which it relates (this means, the truth doesn't always look the same as the 3D does at that moment).

the imaginative man does not deny the reality of the sensuous outer world (3D), but knows that the inner world of continuous imagination (4D) is the force by which the outer world comes to pass. he sees the 3D and all its situations as projections of the 4D. to him, everything is a manifestation of the mental activity present in his imagination, without the outer, reasonable man being aware of it. he knows that everyone must become aware of their inner activity, and the relationship between the inner and outer worlds.

the moment you discover that your imagination is god-like, you accomplish acts that can only be described as miraculous. but until you realise that everything you come across is part of yourself, you won't accept that you are the one that has chosen the conditions of your life, that they are in affinity to your mental activity. you must firmly believe that reality lies within you, not without; although others have bodies and lives of their own, their reality is rooted in you and ends in you.

it is a marvelous thing to discover that you can imagine yourself into the state of your wish fulfilled and escape the prison of ignorance. embrace this new knowledge and let go of your past beliefs for they're untrue. live in continuous imagination and make your desires come to pass.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.

[cupids-dove]

That's Not My Neighbor Head cannons I won't stop thinking about.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Arabella (oc):

Hopeless romantic

That one friend who's always dressed nicely even when having a breakdown

Would bail you out of jail

Easily flustered

Swears in french but says it in a sweet way, so people think she's complimenting them.

Can't pronounce "declaration"

Very insecure but acts like she's the best

Likes to be the dumb blonde because arguing with men is dumb

Dramatic queen

Marina and the Diamonds coded

Francis:

Runs off of coffee 24/7

Forgets to eat all the damn time

At some point he stopped giving a fuck about doppels

MAN CANNOT FLIRT TO SAVE HIS LIFE (it's okay bc he's unintentionally hot)

Terrible at English (grammar, etc)

Some days just talks in mumbles, and no one ever knows wtf he says

Punched a doppel without realizing it (he thought it was his coworker who wouldn't leave him tf alone-)

Milkshakes are a guilty pleasure

Got chased by a dog during a delivery, and now hates them

Basically, the batman of the building

Nacha:

Bicurious fr fr

A girl's girl

Type of woman to have pads/tampons/liners, etc, in case anyone needs one

Drops off food for Francis because she knows he forgets to eat

Honestly the best mom ever-

She's actually not very good at baking

Her relationship with Francis was: the opposite eyes where one is like happy and the other is tired-

Or like: grew up with a big family x grew up an only child

The one who actually suggested the divorce

Left handed

Has an odd fascination with pears

Anastacha:

She walked in on her parents once, and now whenever Nacha needs her, she has to go to Ana instead of Ana going to her.

Thinks it's cheesy her name is so similar to her mom's

Pretty close to both her parents

I think she'd really like The Addams Family

Good at math

Picked up saying "whatever" from upper classmen

Kinda hates the idea of romance

The type of person to just stare into your soul but in reality was zoning out (got that from her dad fr fr)

Likes picking flowers to bring to her mom after school

Steven:

Bad boy with a heart of gold

Looks like a fboy but this guy got no bitches

Kinda dumb most of the time, but gets serious when it comes to piloting

The cool uncle

Wear sunglasses even if he can't see shit

Insecure about his eyes

Definitely the type to try and fight a goose

He's an only child and wishes he had some younger siblings

Doesn't like to drink all that much

Definitely knows how to play guitar or some sort of instrument

Mclooy:

Most loyal man ever

His wife died before the doppelgangers, but once you get him talking about her he won't shut up

Taught Steven how to play guitar

Everytime he smokes he thinks of how his wife would nag him about it </3

A lot of the guys go to him for advice

I imagine he's got one of those warm hearty laughs

Was in the military for a bit

Worries about Steven everytime he goes out

Doesn't understand mental health, but does his best

Lois:

Sweetest old woman, you'll ever meet.

Carries candy on her all the time

Loves roses so much

Her and her husband are definitely grumpy x soft

Can be kind of an air head sometimes

Had a dog named Puffles when she was young

Has at least 3 kids who write her letters with pressed flowers, which she keeps

Never really liked pearls until Roman bought her a pearl necklace

She's a bit tone deaf

Roman:

Grumpiest man ever

Questions how he ever got with Lois

Knows how to play piano

Is very good with numbers

Hates he's balding but Lois reassures him all the time he's still handsome

Very uncoordinated man

Dislikes pomegranates for some reason

Loves his children very much and gives financial advice

Selenne:

More on the slim and regal side

Has begged Arabella for clothing advice

Loves matching with Elenois

Hates being separated from her sister

The friend who goes partying every night

Definitely the type to gossip with her sister

Cannot keep a secret to SAVE HER LIFE

Has the tendency to talk about topics she doesn't fully understand

Elenois:

Does Selenne's makeup because Selenne always begs her to

Definitely has accidentally called herself by her sister's name

Technically the older twin

Worries that she's not as pretty as her sister even though they look alike

A secret lesbian

Wears cherry chapstick

Hated yellow/orange at first and grew to really like it.

The type to scold you about doing something wrong, but in the process is giving you comfort items

If it wasn't for her sister encouraging her to join her in modeling. She probably would've been a sectary.

Mia:

Loves the color red WITH. A. PASSION.

Loves receiving apples too <3

Probably smells like apple blossoms too-

Very good at English

Teaches third graders

Wants to be a mother with lots and lots of kids

Her relationship with Dr. W. Afton is literally gorgeous wife x dork

Loves her silly fiance

Dyes he hair blonde

Dr. W. Afton:

Man is clueless

Also has no idea how he bagged such a beautiful woman

Loves how smart Mia is

Does questionable shit all the time

Has a thing for bunnies that doesn't feel entirely normal

Has been mistaken for a doppel by neighbors because sometimes he creeps them out

He gives me quiet kid

Definitely grew up with no siblings and extremely awkward around other women

Looks like he would freak out over a bug

Angus:

This man MOST DEFINITELY knows how to dance

He reminds me of Waluigi

He looks like he enjoys pineapple on pizza

A lady's man fr fr

Would treat you so well

A romantic

Smokes a lot, though, because work is hard

Drinks red wine

Has a fancy ass bathrobe that lowkey Slenne is jealous of

Izaack:

Chad

Peaked in highschool

Nosiest mf ever

He's somewhat sweet

Misogynist

Very good at his job

Likes Selenne and gives her all the gossip

Has flirted with all the women in the building at LEAST once (shoot ur shot ig)

He's most proud of his jaw line

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Author's note: Someone should lmk if I should do more :P also I might do something with Arabella more dive deeper into her- I'm just doing this for fun, for myself really because I was just gonna wrote most of these in my notes app. I doubt many people will read this so-

[mari-writes]

🦉❤️

“Hey’ kaashi, do you think we would’ve met no matter what?”

Akaashi blinks, glancing at his boyfriend behind him. They’re sitting chest to back on Bokuto’s bed, absently watching some dumb video on his phone. “Huh?”

“Do you think us meeting was inevitable?” Bokuto hums. “Wait… did I use that word right?”

“You did.” Akaashi nods. “But what do you mean?”

“Like, if you hadn’t come to Fukurodani. If you’d never seen me that day, or even if you did, you were convinced by your family to go somewhere else. Would we have…?”

Oh. Akaashi swallows, unsure of what to say. It isn’t uncommon for Bokuto to start up random conversations like this. But usually, they’re about inconsequential things, such as if jellyfish had feelings or something inane like that.

More serious, even philosophical questions like this were rare (though not unheard of).

“Babe?”

Akaashi hums. “That’s an interesting query to ponder, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto raises one eyebrow. He silently mouths “query,” trying out the word, but allows Akaashi to continue.

“But I can’t deny, I’ve wondered that too.”

“Oh!” Bokuto nods rapidly. “Yeah, it seems so weird to imagine! You and me, never being classmates at Fukurodani? Never playing volleyball together? Where else could it have happened?”

He seems almost distraught. And Akaashi can’t blame him—it’s nerve-racking, imagining what might’ve been, if something had prevented them from meeting.

Akaashi sometimes have to pinch himself to believe that the life he has now is real. Here is is, studying literature at his first choice of university, starting setter for his volleyball team (again), plus dating THE Bokuto Koutarou??

It’s insane, really. Fifteen year old Keiji would never believe it.

“I don’t know,” he admits finally. He feels Bokuto’s body sag at the words. The man huffs, burrowing his nose into the side of Akaashi’s neck.

“Oh. Yeah, me neither…” Bokuto’s voice is almost a whine, but there’s a sad quality to it that pierces through Akaashi’s heart. Bokuto might not let his emotions control him so much anymore, but he still feels so openly, so intensely.

Akaashi sighs and shifts in place, turning to throw his long legs over Bokuto’s lap. He snuggles into the other’s warm, solid embrace. “Bokuto-san.”

“Mhm?” The man’s arms tighten around him.

“It… doesn’t matter.” His hands, a bit shaky, reach to cup to his boyfriend’s jaw delicately. “We don’t need to look back. We’re here now. Together.”

They’re both silent for a moment. The video on Bokuto’s phone has ended, and only the sound of a distant passing train and a few voices on the streets below can be heard. Akaashi feels a bit squirmy under his boyfriend’s fierce gaze, but he holds it, determined to soothe his worries.

Eventually, Bokuto lets out a long, contended sigh. His eyes soften and his lips quirk into a lopsided grin. “Yeah,” he breathes,  “We are.”

//

I had A LOT more planned for this, but it’s been a crazy week. I now have two jobs, plus all this continuing family/financial drama… it’s been a lot. I still wanted to share it with you guys! I hope you liked it. Please comment and share if you did. 

[1d1195]

Tulips Extra I

You can read Tulips here. I wouldn't read this if you're having a good day, lol. The original was therapeutic for myself so it's a little on the sad side for sure. It was good timing since I've not been feeling very positive lately.

Anyway, it's probably very angsty with a bit of fluff.

Thank you for reading my diary 😉

~4.7k words

Highly recommend listening to: Lung (Vines version) by Vines & Adrianne Munden-Dixon while reading.

“Shh,” he shook his head. “I got it,” he tilted his head at her. His voice was so sure. Like he was telling her the sun would come up tomorrow.

She supposed it would.

If she looked in the mirror, she would see a lot of growth. It had been six months since Harry moved in and she was more open, more communicative, and delegated more. Harry was perfect. Probably too perfect. It was almost unfair and if she thought about it too long, she worried a little too much about the ramifications of her own inadequacy.

Harry never let her feel that way. When she made dinner, he nearly threw a parade. If she was at Target and saw something she thought Harry would like and bought it, he thanked her for hours. It was a little overwhelming sometimes to be praised so highly. In previous relationships, she thought about the fanfare she would get from doing those kinds of things but after years of never getting it, she assumed it wasn’t in the cards for her.

But she hadn’t met Harry. He never let her feel that way. Everything she did was thanked with the utmost gratitude. It was unnerving sometimes that he adored her exactly how she imagined love was supposed to be. There were days, weeks, years, when she thought she wasn’t worthy of the love she dreamed about. Harry came along as if all that time feeling sad never existed. He praised her for things that didn’t need it, but it made her smile.

“M'a lucky guy, kitten,” he kissed her on the forehead while they watched TV. She had brought over a cup of hot water. Harry always had a cup in the middle of the afternoon. It was good for his throat, which was prone to colds and good for his vocal cords when he spent so much of his job talking to other people.

*

There were still hard days for her. Days when her mind ran wild and told her that she wasn’t good enough for Harry. That if she didn’t do everything perfectly or if she forgot something at the grocery story, she didn’t deserve to have Harry in her life any longer. Those years of not being good enough, or rather not feeling good enough, were hard to stamp out of her mind. Harry did a wonderful job getting most of it to disappear. But a bad day was a bad day; and it was hard to predict that. Hard to know when her mind would play a trick on her.

Work was okay except everyone was on edge close to the holiday. The end of the year was always a tricky time. Things needed to be wrapped up financially and socially. Honestly, she was probably the calmest one at work, but she was kind. Helping others with their workload because hers didn’t entail the same types of problems that everyone else was facing. But it did require a lot of her mental load. The satisfaction she felt from helping others was really good for her emotional well-being, but it came at a pretty significant cost: she had a really hard time saying no—especially when she needed to say no.

This led her to carrying several grocery bags into her apartment with Harry. She didn’t want to take two trips. Except she was struggling. Two trips would have been better. Or calling Harry when she got to the parking lot would have helped. He wouldn’t have minded either. He probably didn’t know she was grocery shopping after work, or he would have offered to go with her.

But unfortunately, they had gotten into a bit of a... disagreement the night before. Which only added to her stress emotionally. It was a well-based disagreement. Harry worried she was doing too much for her coworkers and thought (in the kindest way possible) that she should set some boundaries where she felt comfortable helping but still able to get her own stuff done.

In her head she did something wrong. Harry was so kind. Extremely understanding of all the boundaries that she failed to set in her work life and with her family. He knew it wasn’t easy for her. But it was hard for him to watch the person he loved struggle to feel okay with anxiety and stress plaguing most of her thoughts over things she didn’t necessarily need to worry about.

She was almost at the door. Her arm was sore from holding the bags up for so long. The circulation in her hand was disappearing from the bags that had slid down. Why she didn’t just set the bags down at the end of the hall will always make her wonder. But instead, of course, the bag ripped open. The one stupid paper bag she had to get from the store to fit everything. Of course, it had eggs in it. While trying catch it, she dropped the gallon of milk she had in her other hand that naturally exploded onto the floor with the eggs. She gasped and looked at the mess she created in the hall. Fortunately, her neighbors weren’t affected. She was so close to her own door the only one impacted would be herself or Harry.

“—her location says she should be home—oh,” Harry stuck his head out from the door. He heard a loud thud from inside the apartment. Paired with his missing girlfriend, he worried she had hurt herself or something coming up the stairs. Harry watched her for a moment, a frown settling onto his lips at the sight. Her shoulders shaking, her lip wobbling while tears filled her eyes. “Love, m’gonna have her call y’back. She jus’ got home. Think she had a tough day,” he murmured. “S’okay. I’ll take care of it. She’ll call y’back,” he promised. “Okay, bye,” he slid his phone into his pocket. Her gaze didn’t move from the mess on the floor, but she could sense Harry approaching her. Like an injured animal in the wild.

“Was that my sister?” She whispered.

He nodded, but she wasn’t looking. “S’nothing serious,” he promised.

“I think she needed help with her assignment or something. I was supposed to call her when I got home so I could read—”

“Love,” he stepped directly into the mixture of eggs and milk and put his hands on her shoulders. “S’not important right now,” his voice was so gentle. Almost too gentle. “Let’s go inside,” he tugged her gently toward the door. “M’gonna clean this up,” he offered easily.

She looked up at him, her eyes so blurred with tears that his expression was hard to make out. The only good thing her tears did was magnify her perception of Harry’s pretty eyes. They actually looked like emeralds and made her heart flutter despite how sad she was. “You don’t have to,” her voice cracked. “I dropped everything. I should clean it—” the tears fell from her eyes in slow motion. It was like she was watching one of those movies where the girl tries to keep working even though she just found out the love of her life died and she was basically ignoring it. She hated those scenes. They hurt so much. She swiped her hand across her face. “I just need to grab—”

“Kitten,” Harry stilled her movements as she tried to push away from him. “Angel,” he whispered softly. “Please stop.”

“No, I’m okay,” she promised, the saddest smile falling across her lips. Harry looked at her with so much worry and he shook his head.

“No, kitten. You’re not,” his voice was low and he cupped the side of her neck and held her in place. “What happened?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing,” but the words were choked and only half-uttered by the mixture of tears and her throat closing around the sound trying to force its way out of her vocal cords. “I’m fine.” It was like her body was trying to repel the words because she almost folded in half, she crouched and covered her eyes as she let the sobs take over for a second. She would be fine; she just needed a second to get some of the emotion out.

“Angel,” Harry crouched right beside her. “C’mon, kitten. S’not nothing,” he murmured.

She shook her head. No, things with Harry were fine. She wasn’t going to burden him with needless worries and all the anxiety that was coursing through her head. It was all in her head. Truly. It wasn’t something that he needed to—

Harry pulled her toward their door where milk and eggs hadn’t spread to yet. The remaining pile of groceries was mixed in the mess. She crouched by the door again, unable to stop the emotion long enough to make it past the entry way. Gently, Harry pulled her toward him and kissed the top of her head. He knelt beside her, hand cupping the back of her neck and the other gently rubbing up and down her arm. A neighbor peered into the hallway raised his eyebrows at the mess before turning to see Harry and the girl in their doorway. Harry shook his head so minutely he doubted she noticed. Fortunately, their neighbor saluted ever so slightly and retreated inside.

“I’m. Sorry,” she hiccupped.

He shook his head feeling so awful she was this distraught. This upset. He wished he had checked her location before her sister called to ask if she was ignoring her. Wish he had gone down to see where she was when he realized she was supposed to be home. “Shh,” he hushed. “S’nothing t’apologize for, kitten,” he promised quietly.

She continued sobbing and Harry wondered how on earth someone so beautiful, so kind, so utterly adoring could be so sad. It pained him to no end. Watching her breakdown like this felt like someone stabbed him right in the heart. He wanted to do whatever he had to do to make it stop. He knew she kept a lot of her emotions to herself. Years of bottling them up so as not to inconvenience others for simply existing.

“Kitten,” he whispered when her sobs subsided to sniffles. “Y’gotta talk t’me,” his voice was gentle but filled with worry. “M’sorry people let y’down. M’not one of them, though.”

“It’s hard,” her voice was so crackly and broken. Harry almost let it go because he wasn’t sure he could bear the weight of how sad she was.

“I know, baby, I know it is, but I love you so much. I want nothing but t’help you,” he hoped she heard how sincere he was. “I hate seeing y’like this. It hurts me, kitten,” he cupped her face and gazed into her eyes so hopefully she would understand how much he adored her and how much it hurt him. It wasn’t to minimize what she was feeling. It was to hopefully help her reach the conclusion that he was on her side, always. He would do whatever it took to make her smile.

“M’scared,” she whispered. “You’re just going to tell me that I’m being ridiculous—because I am, Harry. I am being ridiculous. I have you. You’re so perfect. You love me so much and you don’t care that I’m a little crazy and you don’t—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “I would never tell y’that you’re being ridiculous. Please tell me y’don’t really believe that,” his heart felt even worse. How could she think that?

“Because,” she croaked. The seconds it took her to speak after felt like years. Harry waited so patiently, his heart pounding. “Because whenever I felt so overwhelmed,” she shook her head and looked down, despite Harry holding her face so she would have to look at him. She closed her eyes and sniffled.

“Tell me, angel.”

“I have never had someone,” she started again, squeezing her eyes tight. They felt red and swollen. She was certain she looked as terrible as she felt. “It was my own doing,” she whispered. “The reason I get so overwhelmed. When I complained even a little it was turned into something about how I did things wrong. I overwhelmed myself. It was just... in my head,” she whispered.

Harry wasn’t completely sure how he managed to stay upright. He swiped his thumbs below her red rimmed eyes. He thought she was beautiful even when she cried but it hurt him so much to see her like this. “S’not in your head, m’love,” it was hard to say the words without breaking out into cries himself. Seeing her hurt like this made him feel like the worst boyfriend in the world. “Love doesn't have t’be even, kitten. Being mad doesn't have t’be even. Being upset with something I do doesn't mean I have t’be upset with something you do. Y’can be annoyed with me, and I don't have t’bring up something m’annoyed by—which is nothing,” he assured her quickly because he could spot something he said creating a spiral easily. “But love, y’have t’tell me... talking has t’be done. I can't do this alone, kitten. I can't do this without you,” he explained as gently as he could.

“It’s not important,” she shook her head. Her voice cracked again.

Harry winced. “No, but it is, kitten. I can hear how important it is. I see it. I can feel it. Y’need t’tell me. I need you t’tell me everything y’feel. I can tell it hurts. All of it. I want t’fix it. I don’t want you t’hurt. M’not going anywhere. Ever.”

“But it’s… so bad to talk about... exes,” she whispered the last word like it was a curse—like she would be sent right to jail for it saying out loud.

Harry frowned. “Yeah, maybe if y’still in love with them. Do y’still love him?” It was rhetorical honestly. He knew she didn’t.

Her face paled immediately, her sad eyes filling with more tears. “Of course not!”

“I didn’t say it t’make y’mad, m’love,” His voice was gentle again. “I want you t’process this. I can’t have you all bottled up. I need t’know signs and feelings you’re having when y’don’t want t’share them. He messed with you so good,” he smiled without an ounce of humor behind it. It was the saddest smile she had ever seen on his face. He looked… so... disappointed. “M’usually good at figuring out what m’supposed t’do as a boyfriend. But y’stump me sometimes,” he admitted shyly. “It hurts me t’see you flustered and hurt without telling me why. I want t’be there for you. Always. In ways he never was because you—”

“He was always late,” she sobbed again. Harry pulled her to him immediately letting the tears pour out of her and he rocked her so gently. The words spilled out of her as fast as the tears did. “I swear he did it to piss me off and then he would say I was too controlling or neurotic. I was too planned out. He never got me flowers and my mom knew how much that bothered me. She knew he didn’t, even though I lied and said he did. I lied about flowers,” she felt so pathetic saying it out loud. “I lied about so many things he didn’t do because I was disappointed in myself. He didn’t see the point in romantic gestures. He didn’t think about how it kind of made me look like an idiot. I know that’s not the point of a romantic gesture, but I kept doing them for him and I—” the sobs choked her voice for a moment but Harry stayed silent. “I ignored all those red flags. All of them. Every single one of them. Why did I do that?” She cried; her voice sounded so tired. She looked so tired. Harry was quiet for a long time while more tears than he thought were possible fell across her cheeks.

“Because love is also red,” Harry whispered eventually. “Rose colored glasses are red… tulips, my sweet love,” he paused to kiss the top of her head, “are red.” It felt like hours she sobbed against him. The milk spread on the floor probably getting warm and souring the smell in the air and Harry just held her rocking ever so softly. “Thank you,” he said after way longer than anyone would have waited to speak. “For telling me that. I know that was hard. I promise I won’t be late. Ever,” he vowed. “Everything else between us? Might have t’be some compromises and more talking and we might argue. I might get mad, but it doesn’t mean it’s going t’end us, kitten. You have t’know that. M’here for the long haul... But late? On purpose? It won’t be me,” he promised easily. “Whether m’mad because I had a bad day at work or because of traffic, you’ll know the moment I know. M’not going t’miss a single time y’tell me. I will be there early.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head and kissed her temple, letting his lips drag along her skin for longer than he needed but it felt so soothing she nearly cried again. “S’nothing t’be sorry for,” he promised. “C’mon,” he stood, his knees aching from crouching for so long. He held his hand out to her and pulled her to stand beside him. He pushed her toward the sofa.

“What about—”

“Shh,” he promised. “S’fine,” he murmured pushing her to sit. Once seated, he pulled her shoes off, wrapped a blanket around her and kissed her forehead. He placed a book in her lap that she had started earlier in the week and hurried to the kitchen to bring her a bottle of water. “Stay here,” he kissed her forehead again, this time cupping her cheek at the same time and rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“But I—”

“Shh,” he shook his head. “I got it,” he tilted his head at her. His voice was so sure. Like he was telling her the sun would come up tomorrow.

She supposed it would.

*

As low as she got, she felt so much better, much quicker than she usually did. Harry was grateful for the change and was extremely mindful of things that caused her stress. He tried to read her mind as much as possible and was successful more often, which made him feel a lot better.

Talking was so much better. She had never felt so free. Harry knew her every thought. He didn’t belittle her emotions or make her feel like an inconvenience. Right before they fell asleep, she was snuggled close, her eyes watching Harry breathe evenly. The only light coming from a streetlamp outside their window. It wasn’t too bright but illuminated the room enough for her to make out Harry’s shadow beside her. His hand skimmed up and down her arm making her drowsy. “I love you,” she sighed.

“I love you, too, angel,” he murmured.

When they were out with friends Harry was mindful of her well-being. If she wanted to leave, he could sense it before she wanted to go. In fact, he even said he wanted to leave before she mentioned it. Taking her out of the equation made her anxiety lessen profusely.

If there was a problem Harry had (and rarely did that happen because he truly believed she was an angel) he looked her dead in the eye every time and promised her that he wasn’t mad. “I am not mad,” he held her face in his hands like she was a fragile vase. He waited until she nodded, he could see the emotions scrolling through her eyes like an index searching for one to land on for a moment. Only when she nodded would he continue. “I don’t like when y’leave the remote in the couch. S’hard t’find,” he explained. “Can y’try t’leave it on the coffee table?” He asked. She nodded. “Are y’okay, kitten? M’not mad,” he said reassuringly.

She nodded again. “I know,” her voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “S’okay,” he smiled encouragingly. “Do y’have anything y’want t’share with me that’s bothering you?” She shook her head. “You’re sure? Not even the whole pizza thing?” He eyed her suspiciously. Harry put the whole box of leftover pizza in the fridge, and he could see the distaste in her eyes when he did so.

“It just takes up a lot of room,” she admitted.

“Good,” he smiled excitedly that she was telling him the truth and he kissed her forehead. “I’ll go fix it now; can y’find the remote?” He found giving her a manageable task was a good distraction when she voiced her worry. He could see her eyes fill with tears despite the fact he wasn’t upset, but he knew it was because she was more than likely overwhelmed with how easy that was. She swiped her hand across her cheek and dug between the cushions to find the controller. When he returned, she handed him the remote to put on a movie. He pulled her toward him, her body half resting against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, so much, angel,” he promised.

“I love you,” Harry could hear how much that really meant to her in every syllable.

*

She was carrying her work bag, her lunch bag, and her clunky water bottle when her mom called. Most of the time her mom texted her. So, she assumed it was bad. She settled her things onto the counter as she answered.

“Do you know Harry texted me?” She asked.

“What?” Her heart leapt to her throat. Harry hadn’t ever texted her mother to his knowledge. She knew he periodically texted her siblings but never her mom.

“He shared a whole album with me. I had to have your sister help me open it because you know me with this contraption,” she laughed but she didn’t want to hear about her technological illiteracy. She wanted to know what the album was. “It’s just a bunch of bouquets of flowers. At least two dozen. Maybe closer to three. He said it’s every bouquet he’s ever bought you and the reason why. Birthday. Christmas. Valentine’s Day. Bad day at work. Being brave at the dentist,” she laughed again. She had a hand on her heart as she tried to quell all the emotions rapidly flowing through her in quick succession. “Sweetie,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “He said he was going to add to it every time he got a new bouquet, but he wanted me to know that he got you flowers. Wanted me to have proof. Do you know what it’s about?”

She felt tears thicken her throat. “Yeah. Yeah I know,” she whispered. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she promised.

“I know you lied to me,” she said softly. It wasn’t accusing. It was exactly how a mom would react to such a statement. “You never lie about anything so it’s pretty obvious when you do. Especially about something so...little,” she felt horrible. But honestly, she didn’t feel like telling her mom that the flowers weren’t little. They were huge, in fact. It was a huge, glaring, obvious thing that she should have known was wrong. “I’m not too sure what’s going on with you and Harry lately, but I can see how much that man adores you and I know he would do anything to make you smile.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” she responded. “I know why you did it.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she repeated.

“Okay, well... I’m glad you have that album,” she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a couple of chores to do, Mom.”

“I know, that’s fine. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you, sweetie,” she could hear her mom’s encouraging smile in her voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Almost as soon as the call ended, she sniffled. Then just as quickly, Harry came through the door and found her wiping her eyes. “Oh, kitten,” he frowned. “S’matter?” She wanted to say ‘nothing.’ But he was holding another bouquet of flowers. Half the tulips were red, and the other half was white. So, she was unable to utter a word and began to cry again. “Angel,” he set the bouquet on the counter beside her stuff and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “M’sorry, love,” he murmured into her hair and squeezed her.

“Can we get married?” She asked through her tears.

Harry didn’t even care how ridiculous she sounded. He continued as if this was a normal conversation that he had every day with her. As if she wasn’t sobbing on a Thursday night for no reason. Or if he asked her if she wanted fish for dinner. “Of course we can, baby, but I have t’propose—”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t care. Right now. Please. I love you so much. So, so much. I can’t—” she hiccupped.

“Hey, hey,” he pulled away and looked at her. “Kitten,” he smiled gently. It was a sad smile, but a cute one. Like he didn’t want to set her off completely. “I love you, too,” he assured her. “I want t’propose the right way and make sure you’re—”

“Then give me the ring now,” she looked at him squarely in the eye. The smile melted off his face and other than her soft sniffle, there wasn’t a sound in the apartment. “Please,” she repeated.

“Kitten,” he sucked his cheek in a bit and looked at her nervously. Like this was a break in her tired mind that he wouldn’t be able to handle. “What happened? Please tell me, you’re worrying me.”

She wiped her eyes again. “You told my mom you got me flowers.”

His entire body deflated, and it was like he just knew. “Stay here,” he said simply.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodded, and watched as Harry walked through their apartment. She wondered if he was walking so slowly on purpose. By now, she was used to Harry’s footsteps, and she listened to the sound of them: light and quiet on their hardwood floors. From the kitchen she could hear his dresser drawers sliding open and closed. It was as if he took ten times as long to come back to the kitchen as he did to leave it.

“How did y’know?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t.”

He smirked and pulled the little box out of his pocket and set it on the counter beside the flowers, her bags and her water. “I was going to wait until Christmas, y’gonna have nothing t’open.”

“I don’t need anything,” she promised.

He chuckled. “Kitten,” he sighed. “What am I going t’do with you?”

“I don’t know. But you have a lifetime to figure it out,” she vowed.

He smiled, shook his head. “Will you—”

“Yes.”

“Can you let me do it the right way—”

“No.”

He sighed. “Kitten,” he chided with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she wiped her cheeks again and shook her head.

Harry took a deep breath. “Angel, will you—”

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry. Please just kiss me,” she begged.

He laughed, shook his head, and pressed his lips to hers. He held her so firmly in his embrace, dipping her backwards in the middle of the kitchen like this was the most romantic place in the world. When he stood her upright, her cheeks were flushed, and she was silent. She no longer looked anxious as she had when he entered the apartment. He grabbed the ring box, pulled the ring out of the safety of its little cushion and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. It wouldn’t need to be resized or anything. “Will you marry me?” He managed to ask without her interrupting.

Her response was immediate, though, barely finished the word ‘me’. “Yes."

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