#LIKE NO WORRY ABOUT THE RIGHT PRESSURE AT ALL

[harryslittlefreakk]

recipe for disaster

summary: y/n is a stubborn, clumsy baker and harry is a stubborn, overbearing firefighter

warnings: none!

wordcount: 4k

a/n: hi my friends 💐 this is basically just setting up the story lolll it was meant to be longer but who has the time for that!! stay tuned for part 2 <3

masterlist 🫶🏼

Nothing felt better than a warm shower after a long day. Steam swirled all around you, the hot water pounding away the day’s fatigue - the morning rush, the non-stop hum of the mixers, the relentless work to keep trays filled with gingerbread men and warm cinnamon rolls.

You had always been proud of the bakery. The satisfaction of seeing customers bite into your creations - it was all yours. Every flaky croissant, every gooey cinnamon roll, every crusty loaf bore the unmistakable mark of your hands.

And that’s why, no matter how many times Claire told you to hire some more help, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You can’t keep this up alone,” she’d said in mid-October, standing in the doorway of the kitchen while you worked. You were wrist-deep in bread dough, kneading away as though the flour had wronged you.

“I’m fine,” you’d replied, the words curt and clipped. “It’s my kitchen. I’ve got it under control.”

Claire didn’t look convinced. She never did. “Christmas is coming, y/n. Orders are already piling up, and it’s not even December. This is too much for one person.”

You waved her off, refusing to look up. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”

But you hadn’t done it like this before. Back then, the bakery wasn’t so popular. There weren’t stacks of orders for holiday cakes, tins of cookies, and towers of Christmas pies. There wasn’t the constant pressure of phone calls and emails asking if you could squeeze in “just one more order.”

By the time December rolled around, you were drowning.

The days started earlier and ended later, the hours slipping away as you raced to keep up. You woke in darkness, stumbling into the bakery before the sun rose. Your hands ached from kneading, your back throbbed from bending over the ovens, and your head buzzed with the endless list of things to do. And yet, you’d refused to admit you needed help.

“I’m worried about you,” Claire had said one night, her voice soft but firm. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen again, watching as you haphazardly piped frosting onto yet another tray of sugar cookies. Your shoulders were slumped, your apron streaked with berry juice and chocolate.

“I’m fine,” you’d mumbled, though even you didn’t believe it.

“You’re not fine. You’re exhausted. You’re going to make mistakes.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. The words echoed in the kitchen, the air growing heavy. Claire didn’t reply. She just shook her head and left you to your chaos.

She was right. You knew she was right. And you knew that she’d snitch to your brother, who’d stop by to ask why you weren’t listening to his wife. Only to be followed by your parents, who’d ask why you weren’t listening to your brother.

They only cared for your well-being. They wanted you to succeed as much as you wanted to succeed. But you didn’t remember a time when the bakery wasn’t your baby. It had been your dream, your refuge, and your pride all wrapped into one - a living, breathing extension of yourself. The idea of sharing that, of letting someone else touch what you had built, felt like carving off a piece of your soul.

You squeezed your eyes shut until the screams of voices and thoughts were tiny whispers in the back of your mind, letting the water cascade over you, enveloping you in its warmth. The sound of the spray drowned out the noise in your head, a momentary reprieve from the chaos of orders, burnt loaves, and your own stubborn pride. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the water, the steam curling around you, and the faint rhythm of your breathing as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Every muscle ached, but the heat soothed it all into blissful numbness. It was pure paradise - at least until a rock came flying through your bathroom window, shattered glass crashing all over your tiles. What the fuck?

You turned the shower off with shaking hands, adrenaline coursing through your body. The cold winter air filled the room quickly, the evening wind whistling through the smashed pane.

You slipped your robe on with a groan, the fleece clinging to your damp skin.

That’s when the sound reached you - the incessant wailing of the smoke alarm from downstairs. Your stomach dropped. The bakery.

You’d sworn to be more switched on, to actually check the ovens before you retreated to your apartment. But the days were long, and your brain was goo by the time you waved the last customers out of the door.

The floors were wet beneath your feet as you slipped and skidded down the stairs, your mind cycling through every possibility of what would await you. A burglar who decided to commit arson? Your entire kitchen alight? The flower store next door burned to the ground, your beloved bakery an unfortunate casualty?

You reached for the light switch tentatively, your eyes landing on a curl of dark smoke seeping from the oven door. The entire bakery was dim, your soft lighting no match for the cloud hanging over the room.

That fucking deafening beeping was doing nothing to calm you down. You grabbed the broom, jabbing at the smoke alarm, and of course, missing the button every time, your hands shaking as the panic turned to adrenaline in your veins. Your free hand flapped wildly under the sensor, desperately trying to just Stop. The. Beeping.

“Hello? Let me in!”

A deep, husky man’s voice. The same man who was also pounding on your front door, his face pressed up against the glass.

If good things came in threes, how many bad things were you supposed to get at one time?

Your priorities might have been skewed, as they usually were, but getting rid of the axe murderer at your door was suddenly the most important thing in the world to you.

You charged towards the door, broom still in hand, throwing it open with a noise not too far from a growl. “It’s really not ideal for you to murder me right now! Come back later,” you shouted over the smoke alarm.

“I’m not- what?”

Okay, the murderer had a hot voice. But he was still a murderer. You pushed the door closed with your shoulder, but he wedged his shoe in the doorway, halting your attempt to shut him out. You glared down at the offending foot, your grip on the broom tightening.

"Look, I'm just trying to help," he said, holding his hands up. "I’m a firefighter. Saw smoke pouring out of your oven.”

“Help with what, exactly?” you shot back, trying to ignore the way his broad shoulders filled the doorway, or how his green eyes sparkled with the thrill of, presumably, rescuing reckless strangers. “Didn’t know firefighters made house calls.”

“Only the off-duty ones with nothing better to do,” he replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Now, can I come in and shut that alarm off for you, or are you planning to fight it out with your smoke detector all night?"

Reluctantly, you let go of the door, allowing him to step inside. He wasted no time reaching up to the beeping menace, silencing it with a practiced jab at the button. You couldn’t help but notice the sleeves of his t-shirt tighten around his arms as he reached up, the sliver of tattooed skin poking out from above his belt.

"Thanks," you muttered, crossing your arms as he looked back to you, his eyes sweeping over your chaotic kitchen, over your clearly naked body, and then back to your face, as if assessing the full scene. The corners of his lips quirked up as he turned to the oven, waving a hand at the remaining smoke.

You sighed, letting the last of your defenses fall. “You’re really not going to murder me, are you?”

"Not today," he chuckled, a low, warm sound that filled the small space. Your eyes caught on the way his strong hands moved, sure and gentle as he maneuvered around your kitchen. You leaned against the counter, pretending you weren’t staring at the way his arms flexed under the faded fabric.

He caught you looking, and to your utter embarrassment, he gave a small grin. “So… what exactly was this supposed to be?" he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he stepped closer, holding the charred remains of whatever had been inside.

“Oh shit. Mrs Fuller’s birthday cake,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. “I completely forgot I was baking that.” Great. Just another obstacle in the way of your early night.

“Hey, sorry about the window,” he murmured.

“Hm?” you asked, your voice distant, not really processing his words.

“The window,” he repeated, gesturing upward, your gaze following his hand to the ceiling. “Was only trying to get your attention,” he continued, his voice dipping into something apologetic. “Didn’t mean to break it.”

You shook your head, finally dragging your focus back to the mess in front of you. “It’s whatever,” you muttered, keeping your tone neutral, though your chest ached with the effort. “Just another point on my to-do list. Thanks for…” You gestured vaguely at the bakery, your voice trailing off.

“I can come by and fix it,” he offered, his voice tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bite his head off or accept the help.

“I can do it,” you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger, and you could feel your control slipping. You needed him to leave, needed the space to let the tears spill over before they choked you entirely.

When you glanced up, you saw the change in his expression. The slight upturn of his lips faltered and turned into a somber frown. He looked at you like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it.

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, the heat of guilt flushing your face. “I’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”

For a moment, he stood there, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He glanced between you and the broken cake, the smoke still lingering above, and something in his eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.

“Alright,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you cut in, desperate now. “It’s fine.”

He hesitated, his brow knitting tighter as if he wanted to say something else, but after a moment, he nodded. "Alright. If you’re sure."

You nodded back, barely looking at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if holding yourself together. The silence between you stretched until, mercifully, he turned and walked away.

The door creaked slightly as it began to close behind him, the faint sound of his trainers scuffing against the floor fading. You thought that was the end of it, but then the footsteps stopped. For a moment, the room held its breath, the silence pressing down like the weight in your chest.

Then, the door eased back open, just enough for him to lean his head inside. His dark eyes met yours, hesitant but determined, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake but decided to do it anyway.

“Harry,” he said, his voice soft but clear as it cut through the stillness. He lingered there in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his shoulders tense as though bracing for rejection. “That’s my name. Harry.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but not far from it. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden reappearance, the unexpected vulnerability in the way he said it. He waited, his eyes searching your face for some kind of response.

Your lips curved, just barely, into a weak but genuine smile. “Harry,” you repeated softly, like you were trying the name on for size. Then you added, “I’m…” Your voice faltered for a split second, but you pressed on, offering him your name in return. “Y/n.”

A spark of something warm flickered in his eyes, a hint of relief mingled with curiosity. He nodded once, as if committing it to memory, before straightening up and gripping the edge of the door.

And then he was gone.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the counter. Your knees felt weak, your chest tight, and the dam you’d been holding back began to crack. You stared at the mess around you, the cake you’d worked so hard on reduced to a heap of blackened crumbs, the endless pile of orders still waiting for you, and the tears you’d been fighting finally broke free.

It wasn’t just the window. It wasn’t just the cake. It was everything. The weight of trying to do it all alone, the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the constant feeling that no matter how hard you worked, it was never enough.

You slid down to the floor, your back against the counter, letting the sobs come. For a moment, you allowed your emotions to swallow you, the frustration, the helplessness, the crushing loneliness. But even as you cried, part of you knew this couldn’t keep happening. Something had to give.

You pulled out your phone, typing a quick text to Claire. we’ll start looking for help tomorrow. promise.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, slumped against the counter, staring blankly at the mess surrounding you. The tears had stopped at some point, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest and the gritty sensation of salt drying on your cheeks. But soft rapping on the door pulled you out of your misery.

Wiping at your face with unsteady hands, you forced yourself to your feet, every movement feeling heavier than the last. When you opened the door, there he was: Harry, standing in the dim light, his arms full of cardboard, duct tape, and what looked like sheets of plastic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice raw and quieter than you’d meant it to be.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged his way past you into the bakery, not waiting for permission, and glanced down at the materials in his arms. “You can’t leave the window broken in this cold,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Harry, it’s fine—” you began, stepping toward him, but he cut you off without looking up.

“It’s not fine,” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute.

You stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard as he looked back at you.

“Come on. Help me with this window,” he murmured, waiting for you to lead the way upstairs. When you didn’t move, he shifted the materials in his arms, freeing up his right hand before reaching out and pulling at your wrist.

It sent a chill straight through you, sharp and unexpected.

You froze for a second, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was fleeting, a playful tug, but it left behind a heat that spread across your skin, unbidden and unwelcome. You pulled your hand back too quickly, clutching it to your side as if it had been burned, though the sensation was far from painful.

He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He kept waiting, his focus unwavering, but you couldn’t say the same.

There was a hum beneath your ribs now, something restless and alive, thrumming just below the surface. Attraction. You recognized it immediately, though you almost wished you didn’t. It didn’t make sense. You barely knew this man. He wasn’t someone you’d invited into your world, not really, and yet here he was - ready to fix your window, trying to fix your life, filling your space, making you feel something you hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to handle.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to push it down, to smother the thought before it took root. It was nothing. A moment. A reaction to being exhausted, overwhelmed, and vulnerable. But when he turned to look at you, his gaze steady and clear, it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft, and you swore you could feel it reverberate somewhere deep inside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight and uneven. You cleared your throat, pushing past him to the stairs. “I’ll show you the bathroom, but I need to get started on redoing this cake,” you told him, cocking your head back towards the kitchen.

Harry raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “No.”

His hand pressed into your lower back, pushing you closer to the stairs. “I know better than anyone that being tired in the kitchen is a bad idea. When does Mrs. Fuller need her cake?”

“Tomorrow evening,” you mumbled, hesitating as your toes hovered over the first step. Your voice was low, almost apologetic, but the weariness that gripped you made it impossible to summon anything stronger.

“Then you can deal with it tomorrow,” Harry said firmly, cutting off any protest before it could begin. His tone softened just slightly as he added, “After you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

You turned back to face him, scowling instinctively. You were used to handling things on your own, not being told what to do, no matter how reasonable the suggestion might be. “You’re kind of overbearing, you know that?”

Harry only grinned, his expression as maddeningly charming as ever. “Wouldn’t be doing my duty if I wasn’t.” The hand on your lower back nudged you gently, urging you up the stairs as if you were a stubborn child refusing to go to bed.

You bit down on your lower lip, the indents of your teeth starting to feel like a permanent feature. As much as Harry was overstepping, he was clearly just as stubborn as you were, and it felt good to have someone forcibly taking care of you - not backing off in the hopes that you’d come around to their suggestions.

“In here,” you murmured when you reached the top of the stairs, an icy chill already filling your apartment. “I’m sure you can work out which one it is.”

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Harry slipped past you, your heart almost stopping as you realised for the first time that you were still just in your robe, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks, the scarlet heat of embarrassment burning through you just as Harry’s gaze flicked back toward you. His eyes swept over you briefly, lingering for only a moment at the hem of the robe before he cleared his throat and turned away.

“I’ve got it from here,” he said quietly, his voice steady and measured as he moved toward the window. He nudged a shard of glass away from your bare feet before giving you a pointed look. “Go on.”

You hesitated, torn between retreating to your bedroom and stubbornly insisting on staying. Ultimately, the embarrassment won out. You turned quickly, rushing to your room, your mind racing as that small, insistent voice in the back of your head screamed at you to not pull on your ratty old pajamas.

And yet, despite the voice, that’s exactly what you did. A threadbare cotton t-shirt and a pair of faded sweatpants found their way onto your body as you sat heavily on the edge of the bed, cradling your face in your hands.

There was a man in your bathroom, a man who quite clearly only wanted to help you - the same man you’d practically forcibly removed from the property. The same man that was causing some sort of chemical imbalance within you.

You’d have to grovel if you ever wanted to see him again - as if he’d ever want to see you again. You’d done nothing but snap at him and act like he was inconveniencing you.

Harry had seen you at your worst, your very worst, and you weren’t entirely sure you owed yourself the chance for him to see you at your best.

But you wanted him to.

You shook your head, forced yourself back to your feet and padded toward the bathroom. You stopped in the doorway, stunned, as he worked quickly, fitting cardboard over the shattered glass, layering plastic sheets on top, securing everything with careful strips of tape.

“I could’ve done it,” you muttered after a moment, your voice shaking despite yourself.

He glanced back at you briefly, his strong hands still busy with the repair, a smirk on those taunting lips. “Maybe. But you didn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet, staring at the makeshift patch and the man who had put it together. The tightness in your chest eased slightly, though a storm of inner turmoil was brewing.

“Thanks,” you said finally, the word coming out soft and uneven.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t mention it.” He hesitated, glancing at you with a look that felt entirely too knowing. “You should take a break,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Get some rest, maybe. You look... worn out.”

You huffed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a scoff. “Gee, thanks,” you said, trying to mask the lump rising in your throat.

He flashed you that dimpled grin, straightening up as he placed the last strip of tape on the window.

“That’ll hold for now. But you’ll need to get it sorted properly before the weather turns,” Harry murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

You followed him back downstairs, reiterating that yes, you’d get it sorted. Yes, you’d stay out of the kitchen that night. Yes, you’d double check how to work your alarms. Yes, you’d double check the ovens before you went upstairs. No, you didn’t want your business and home to burn down.

He turned to you when he reached the door, his green eyes laced with sincerity. “Take care of yourself, y/n. Seriously.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind a patched window and an unsettling quiet. But for once, you couldn’t find a reason not to follow the advice given to you. You were exhausted, and suddenly desperate to dream of the firefighter who’d all but swept you off your feet.

thank you so much for reading 🤍

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker r @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever @stylesbrock @harry-nialllover @triski73 @meetmeintheemeraldpool @harryshousewitnessprotection @danaehldy @fairytale07 @storyschanging @wannaliveinparadise e @mrs-anna-styles211994 @mema10 @fangirl509east @devilsqueen722 @harrrrystylesslut @panini @fruity-harry @lorat-o @savannahwendel @carolinaastyles @mads3502

[callmecoke]

cw: NSFW, oral sex, fluffy smut, gentle sex, gender-neutral reader and anatomy

Lokey getting tired of rough sex poly 141 headcanons.

Give me something with some passion! With feeling! 

I want you to go through the worst day of your life. You’re overworked, over-stimulated, in your head about everything, insecure, the whole shebang. You come home, drop your bag on the floor, and your boys turn around to look at you. And you’re just…Not there, you know? You've entirely blanked out, and tears are swelling in your eyes without even noticing it happening.

And like you’ve whistled for the hound dogs, they’ve come running to you. Gaz is always the first to reach you, wipe those tears away from your eyes, and ask if you’re okay. John is an action man and moves you to sit on the couch, somewhere you're safe and you can rest your legs. Like the dynamic duo, they are, Soap and Ghost sit on either side of you. Soap has his entire body around you, caressing your arm softly and pulling you into his chest because he knows how much his hugs comfort you. Ghost doesn’t move much, but he’s looking you over with a deep feeling of concern and worry while gently brushing your hair out of your face to look into your eyes.

They just wait for you to talk, knowing that they don’t want to push too hard, or else you’ll crack under the pressure. Their silent, calming presence is enough to make you feel safe. And you tell me you just want to feel loved right now. Feel needed. Feel them entirely, body and soul, so you can forget everything except being with them.

And they’re a little hesitant. It feels pushy to have sex while you’re this vulnerable. But when you curl up closer to Johnny’s side and tell them that that’s all you want, they could never say no. 

So they take their time with you, slowly pealing off your clothes bit by bit, their lips and tongues tracing every inch of skin as a silent form of worship. You’ll rest on John's large chest as he engulfs you with his arms fully; he kisses along your neck and whispers praise in your ear. Ghost will take your lips to his, kissing with a gentleness he reserves only for you. Gaz finds his hand going to any exposed skin he can find. Your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, everything. And as they wonder your body, he groans about how amazing you feel under his fingers, how good you look so exposed and vulnerable like this. Johnny, of course, has found his way to his knees, licking long strips up over your sex while moaning like it's the best meal he’s eaten all day (It is). 

And even in the debauchery of how they make you moan between them, there’s this loving, careful overtone with every action they take. Like when John kisses your head, or when Ghost uses his hand to stroke over your cheek, when Gaz moves his hands from your chest to stroke over the goosebumps on your arm to calm them down, even when Johnny whispers into your slick arousal about how gorgeous you look with his mouth full of you. 

And when you’re right and properly drained just how you like it, with your brain turned to liquid sludge as you forget what made you so upset in the first place, they’ll take you to bed, curl you up against their warm bodies, and fall asleep with you in their arms protectively holding you.

[moosesarecute]

Song of the Wind part 3

Since so many people (aka two 😅) asked, here is a third and final part

Part 2

Masterlist

Azriel was pacing back and forth in the entrance of the Town House. His house.

He still wasn’t used to being the owner of a house. And he still sometimes flew to the House of Wind instead of here.

It had been four months since his first dinner with your family. Four months since your mother and brother accepted his request to court you.

And it had been the best four months of his life, even though he felt like he was playing a part.

He used all his experience as a spy to pretend that he knew what he was doing as he gave flowers to your mother, talked politics with your brother and carefully talked about everything and nothing with you.

Only in his letters to you could he be his embarrassing self.

You would send back and forth letters all the time. You wrote about your daily life and ambitions, he wrote about his personal life and every thing else that he wanted to tell you.

He wished to tell you everything, he realized.

He had been pacing for the better part of an hour. Thinking about all he had planned to do these two days you were going to come to Velaris.

You had been there before, of course you had. You and your family had visited twice before.

That’s when he realized your family excepted him to own a house and Rhys gifted him the Town House. Azriel tried to refuse, but soon Feyre and Elain had started to decorate, and he had no other choice. He had really started to love the house.

This time, you were arriving alone. No chaperone. And Azriel felt like the pressure of all courts had been put on his shoulders.

If he messed up now, all his chances were gone. This was it.

A knock on his door, made his shadows stop clinging to him and he moved to the door. He straightened his back and took a deep, but quiet breath, before he opened the door.

Outside stood both you and your brother, Mateo. His eyes immediately met yours and all worry he had disappeared.

“Hello,” you said with your bright voice.

“Hi,” he answered dreamily, before he realized you were waiting for an invitation to come in. “It’s good to see you, please come in.”

You gave your brother a small hug and Mateo gave Azriel a look that almost screamed “don’t you dare mess this up”. Azriel gave a grave nod in return.

You walked into the house and Azriel showed you to your room. You would have to sleep in separate rooms, of course.

“This will be the best weekend ever,” you said as the two of you started making lunch.

The weekend was packed. Azriel had only planned a few things to do, so that you would choose the rest.

You ended up dragging him along to one of Feyre’s painting classes, you went on walks through the Raindow and went to every single cute cafe you could find.

In the evening, the two of you went on a dinner date and the day after you had joined his family for family dinner.

Smiles were big on both faces throughout the entire days.

Azriel held the door open for you as you walked out of the River House.

“I have one more thing I wished we could do,” you said.

“Anything,” he responded as he closed the door behind him.

“I was wondering if we could go flying again,” you asked him with a quiet voice.

He almost froze. Of course he wanted to fly with you. Flying was his favorite thing ever. Nothing had ever given him as much peace.

But that would mean holding you. Carrying you in his arms as he flew above Velaris seemed like a dream, but was he allowed to?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” you said before he could answer.

“No, no, it’s okay! I really want to fly with you, but I would have to carry you. Is that okay?”

He felt a stupid blush reaching his face. He had flown multiple women before, but the thought of having you so close made him flustered.

“I would be okay with that.”

When he picked you up and felt the warmth of your body against his he thought he was going to lose all control.

It felt so right holding you against him. He absolutely loved it.

Throughout the four months of courting he had been longing for the day he could fly with you again. Not in a life-death situation, but for fun.

“Ready?”

You nodded and he took off.

The scream that left your mouth was a lot quieter than last time and was soon changed with laughter.

He flew them far above the ground and while you were amazed by the lights from the city, he was amazed by your bright eyes and the feeling of holding you.

It was the most amazing thing he could ever have dreamed of.

“This is amazing,” you said and turned to look at him. “Thank you, love.”

The pet name made his knees weak and he was so happy he wasn’t currently standing on them. He would definitely fall.

“No problem at all,” he answered as he got lost in your eyes.

After a while, he flew you down to the Town House.

Being from Summer meant being used to a warmer temperature than what it was in Velaris, so he made sure you felt warm under a blanket.

The night disappeared into day, but neither of you noticed. The entire house was filled by laughter and love.

The mating bond was humming in both chests. Humming stronger than ever before.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too.”

Relief was the feeling that spread through his body. Both from you and from him. The second feeling was pure happiness.

His shadows were swirling around you, like they had done the entire weekend. Now, they became a little braver and clung closer to you in a protective, but also comforting manner.

Azriel half expected you to get scared from them, but you only leaned further towards them, and therefore also towards Azriel.

His shadows on the other side of his body started to push him towards you and soon you were touching. He lifted his hand and you did the same, interlocking fingers.

Both of you relaxed completely against each other.

You stayed in the same position until a knock was heard and Azriel knew that your brother had arrived.

Disappointment filled his heart, but then it was gone again.

It was your disappointment he realized. He was about to ask if you were okay, when you sat up, kissed his cheek and made your way to the door.

The kiss made his shadows go crazy, but he hoped you didn’t notice.

It was a simple goodbye and then, you went back to the Summer Court.

Azriel had been sosial the entire weekend, but he didn’t feel as tired he usually would. It only felt empty. The house was too big without you in it.

So he decided to make his way to the River House.

You had expected him to do it when you made food the first day.

Or when you ate dinner at the restaurant.

Or when you walked through the rainbow.

Or when he flew you around and gazed at you like you were a goddess to his god.

You at least expected him to do it when you stayed up talking the entire night. Leaning into each other and feeling the warmth and smell from his body.

But then he didn’t.

Your brother arrived and winnowed you home and it only took one hug for you to break down.

He didn’t want you.

He said he loved you, but he still didn’t want to marry you.

Breathing became harder and harder. You weren’t good enough for your own mate.

Your brother carefully moved you from his arms into your mother’s.

You could almost smell his anger, but you were too deep into crying to realize what he was going to do.

That was until he winnowed away.

“How did it go?” Nesta asked as soon as he walked into the River House.

Most of his family was still there after the dinner last night. Being either too tired or too drunk to go home.

“It went fine, I think,” he answered.

All his family was looking hopeful at him. They wanted details.

“We talked the entire night and her brother picked her up not long ago.”

“We really like her,” Rhys said and it made Azriel smile. “She seems right for you. I’ve never seen you smile like this before.”

He nodded at his brother. He really did love you. It was an incredible feeling knowing that you loved him back.

“What’s going on?” Amren asked.

She and Varian had been gone for the last two weeks. They had therefore no idea that you had been visiting.

“Y/N was here this entire weekend,” Feyre said and she continued with a blink in her eye. “Without a chaperone.”

Amren only snorted, but Varian’s eyes grew double the size. Azriel felt his smile fall.

“What?” He asked.

“Did you-,” Varian started speaking, but was cut of by a door closing.

In walked Cassian and to Azriel’s horror, Mateo.

“Look who I found,” Cassian said.

Azriel immediately got worried. Did something happen to you? Were you hurt? Didn’t they get home properly?

Azriel stood up and was about to voice his concerns, when Mateo’s fist met his nose.

Mateo wasn’t the tallest or strongest fae, but he knew how to punch. Azriel both felt and heard his nose break.

He realized he must have messed something up for Mateo, who had become his friend, so want to hurt him so badly.

So he let Mateo do what he needed.

In the end he had a broken nose, a black eye and he was drenched in water…twice.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I let you get close to my sister even though you messed up about everything in your first dinner with us and then you play her like that? Don’t you own any shame? She’s been the most patient. She’s been urging me to let her see you and then you prove all the bad accusations about Illyrians right?”

In the end, Rhys pulled Mateo off him.

“I’m sure it’s a good explanation for all this. Azriel gave us the impression that the weekend went quite well,” he said and tried to calm Mateo.

“Well? Well? How can it go well when he doesn’t have any plans on attaching himself.”

Azriel’s eyes grew wide. What? Of course he was planning on attaching himself to you. He wanted nothing more in the entire world to call you his.

A small attempt on clearing a throat was heard in the corner of the room. Azriel met Varian’s eyes before the male no longer dared to look at him.

“I might have forgotten to mention the part about how a unchaperoned visit is the same as telling someone to propose.”

Azriel’s mouth flew open.

You had excepted him to propose. You had waited patiently the entire weekend for him to say he wanted to marry you and then he hadn’t.

He had to hold back his shadows to prevent them from killing Varian, but he let them punch him to the ground.

“I didn’t know,” he almost pleaded to your brother. “I swear, I didn’t know. Of course I want to marry her, she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

A ring!

He needs a ring.

But it was Sunday and most of the shops were closed.

He was about to ask Rhys for one when his shadows lifted his hand and dropped a ring-box into it.

He opened it and was met with the most beautiful ring he had ever seen. It screamed you. It would look amazing on your cute hand.

“You have a ring ready?” Mateo asked. He seemed to suddenly realize that Azriel was serious.

Azriel almost told the truth about his shadows buying a ring behind his back, but then his shadows forced his head into a nod.

“May I please propose to your sister?” He asked hopefully.

Mateo gave him just a stern nod and Azriel was on his way.

He winnowed and flew and winnowed until he stood outside your home.

He didn’t knock, but just opened the door and left it open. Your mother was almost burning with anger as she saw him.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t have time to explain, I need to propose to your daughter.”

His shadows told him where in the house you were and he immediately ran to your room.

He almost ripped open the door and stormed inn.

You were about to go into bed, but stopped as you saw him.

His heart broke at the sight of your bright eyes that were now red from crying. You were crying the first time you met, but now that the tears was because of him it was ten thousand times worse. He wanted to throw up.

He didn’t let you speak as he walked up to you, went down on one knee and opened the ring-box.

“Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of Dana, sister of Mateo and owner of my heart. I’m the stupidest male alive for not realizing what your visit this weekend meant. I promise you, I didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I messed up. And I promise to try to mess up less in the future, but please, please, please, will you marry me?”

“Ready?” Your brother asked you.

You leaned into a hug and he kissed your forehead.

“It’s not too late to back away,” he continued and you only laughed.

“I’m sure I made the right decision, even though you’re still mad,” you answered with a bright smile.

He took your hand, tilted your flower-crown a little to the left and started walking with you.

The weather was perfect. Not too warm, but a blue shy and a bit of a wind.

The garden you had chosen to get married in was the most beautiful and it felt so right. With a mix of pink, blue and green plants as decor.

Azriel cried as he saw you. He stood out in his black suit, but you at least got him a white flower to have in his hair. He wore it proudly.

The ceremony was beautiful. Your vows were a mix of Night Court and Summer Court traditions. Your first kiss was the most amazing kiss ever and you soon became addicted to kissing.

Your entire family and his entire family were together for the party afterwards.

It was the most beautiful day ever.

“I can’t believe we finally got married,” he said and kissed you on the mouth.

“You proposed last month, love. You made it seem like you’ve waited forever.”

“I have,” he said. “540 years to be exact.”

You laughed at your cheesy mate.

Rhysand winnowed you both to the Night Court. The Town House was now also your home.

What Azriel didn’t know was that you had, with the help of Feyre and Nesta, placed a small cake that you had made on the kitchen table of the Town House.

Azriel ended up eating that cake quite quickly when he realized what it meant.

And you know the rest.

Extra:

“Can you at least give me a two meter radius?” Cassian asked the guards that were currently surrounding him.

“No, we have orders from the High Lord,” one of them answered.

It had taken Rhys two weeks of almost begging Tarquin to let Cassian come to Azriel and Y/N’s wedding. And he was allowed to come, but he was constantly watched by at least three guards.

“Enjoying yourself, Cass?” Rhys asked him. He stood and talked with both Azriel and you, but Cassian wasn’t allowed. It was a too crowded area for the guards to have complete control.

Azriel and Rhys broke out in laughter at Cassian’s annoyed face. You, however, walked up to your new brother in law with a small glass of champagne.

Cassian was about to take the glass when one of the guards slapped his hand away.

“No alcohol!” He said.

Cassian had to hold back from stumping his foot like a toddler.

“You break one building,” he muttered and his words were answered with laughter.

@historygeekqueen @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Divider by @cafekitsune

[malk1ns]

november 23 vs utah hockey club, 6-1 loss

good grief, guys. at least we've got sidney's 600th goal?

previous soulbond installments: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Zhenya rarely looks forward to long breaks in the schedule. He gets out of his routine when he’s not playing consistently, and the first couple shifts back after more than two days without a game always leave him sucking wind on the bench even when he makes sure to keep up with gym work in between. He likes falling into the rhythm of video-practice-gym-nap-game, likes waking up and knowing exactly where his day will take him. Too much off-time and he gets nervous, rattling around in his house alone and pestering all his friends back in Russia with texts and emails as he tries to distract himself.

Now, though, he’s looking forward to putting this game behind them and having three solid evenings free.

He and Sid need to talk. Neither of them will risk a serious conversation that might impact their sleep and mental state the day before a game, but Zhenya can’t tuck what happened last night to the back of his mind and forget it ever happened.

Zhenya flushes at the memory. The way Sid looks when he comes is etched into his brain now, how red he’d gotten, the way he bit his lips and clung to Zhenya’s shoulders as he shook through his release. 

Zhenya wants to see it again, wants to have enough presence of mind next time to be a little more hands-on in making it happen. He’s never really thought about being with a man before, but he’s not blind, he knows what Sid looks like, and the bond made even that barely-competent fumble so good he wants to know what it would feel like when they’re actually trying.

So, they need to talk.

Zhenya barely even notices the double-heartbeat as he gets ready for the game. His wrist aches, and it almost sends him to the trainers until he remembers Sid slipping away to get his worked on a few days ago. He’s got sore knuckles too, from Sid’s fight the night before.

Most prominent, though, is the front-row seat Zhenya’s getting into how Sidney Crosby mentally prepares for games.

It’s not all that different from Zhenya’s own mindset, really. There’s a comforting background murmur of Sid thinking about the Utah defense running parallel to Zhenya’s own mental review of their goalie’s weak spots, and every now and then he can feel Sid dip into what he’s thinking about to highlight something. Zhenya tries doing the same, tentatively prodding at a move from practice the other day that worked particularly well as Sid’s thinking about it, and Sid’s delight gets Zhenya smiling stupidly at nothing as he makes his lunch.

He’d been hesitant to reach out after he somehow managed to rip that goal from Sid last week and hurt him, worried he wouldn’t be able to adjust and his presence in Sid’s mind would cause him nothing but pain. As they’ve gotten closer, though, the bond seems to be adjusting itself, smoothing out and becoming easier to live with. Zhenya’s glad.

The game starts poorly and only goes downhill from there. It’s like he blinks and they’re down 2-0, staring down the barrel of yet another loss in front of their home fans, who deserve so much better than the Penguins have been giving them for the last couple of seasons. Zhenya’s embarrassed, clutching his stick too tight and overthinking every move on the ice. He doesn’t know how to work himself out of this slump, especially when he’s having to get used to yet another line combination, and even Sid pressed to his side on the bench and conciliatory touches don’t help.

Sid’s feeling the pressure too, Zhenya can tell. They’re doing their best to not work each other up, but neither of them are playing to their potential right now. Amplified emotions on a feedback loop can have a negative impact too.

But then Sid scores his 600th goal.

The crowd erupts. The bench empties. Sid practically whites out with joy and relief as they all slam into him, and Zhenya tucks Sid under his arm, beaming down at him as they’re pressed against the boards by their teammates, everyone reaching in to pat at whatever part of Sid they can reach.

For a few minutes, he and Sid float, suspended in a moment of happiness and pride rebounding back and forth.

As they skate to the bench, though, Sid sinks into an oily, astringent guilt, and when Zhenya tries to catch his eye after the multiple standing ovations the crowd gives him, he stares at his skates.

They lose. Badly. Again. Zhenya doesn’t break his stick on his way down the tunnel, but it’s a near thing, and the locker room is silent and stunned as they clear out.

Sid catches Zhenya’s arm before they exit the change room. “Come over?” he says quietly, and Zhenya nods.

He beats Sid home, idling in the driveway until Sid putters into his garage, and lets Sid fuss at him in the kitchen, grabbing snacks and water and Gatorade until they finally settle at Sid’s tiny kitchen table, knees knocking together.

Sid opens his mouth, but Zhenya beats him to it. “You’re upset after goal,” he says, shivering as the acrid feel of shame blows over them both again. “Why? Like, 600, it’s good, for team and for fans, you know?”

Sid presses his lips together. “I shouldn’t feel good for a personal accomplishment when it doesn’t actually help the team win,” he says quietly, picking at the label on his water bottle. “I’ve never…that’s not why we do this, right, it’s not for our own personal numbers. It’s for the team, it’s for winning, and I’m doing fuck-all to help with that, so…” He shrugs. “It feels wrong to be happy when we lose like that.”

Zhenya shakes his head. “You’re just one guy, Sid,” he says, reaching over to cover Sid’s hand with his own. The touch settles them both so abruptly that Zhenya has to blink away spots in his vision, and Sid’s mouth drops in surprise. “Can’t make team win, can’t make fans happy all yourself. But we’re know this is maybe how it’s go, like, it’s a—transition year—” he struggles over the words Dubas had used when he met with them before the season, “and fans still come to see you play, yes? Like, you’re score big goals, do big things, they’re happy to see.”

“They booed us again,” Sid says, so softly that Zhenya can barely hear him. “They…I mean, it’s not enough. I can’t act like it is.”

Zhenya shrugs. “No,” he admits. “Not enough. I’m not play good enough either, like, not just you. And rest of team…” Zhenya purses his lips and forcibly moves off that topic. They’re not here to talk about the shortcomings of the roster they’re doing their best to bring together tonight. “It’s bad season, maybe worst ever for us. But that’s not mean there’s no good things. It’s okay to say, this was big thing that happens, it’s good, we’re happy for it.” He squeezes Sid’s hand.

Sid curls his fingers into Zhenya’s. “You’re right,” he sighs, picking up the granola bar he’d grabbed and frowning at it. “You’re so good at seeing the bigger picture. I should listen to you more instead of getting stuck in my head so much.”

Zhenya can’t resist. “If you’re stuck in head now I just come get you,” he offers, holding his breath, letting it out in a relieved whoosh when Sid laughs. 

“Oh, we’re joking about it now?” Sid demands, but there’s a cool rush of relief from him too, and Zhenya relaxes.

“Sid,” he says, but he doesn’t know how to continue, because the significance of this, of what’s happened to them and brought them to this point, is suddenly overwhelming, and he has to swallow around the lump in his throat.

They’re bonded. Jesus.

Sid blinks rapidly, eyes suspiciously watery. “I know, G,” he says, clearing his throat. “Look, we need to talk about…I mean, last night, obviously, and…” He’s turning red, Zhenya notes with fascination. “I mean, it was…I’ve never…but there’s other stuff too, and…” Sid sighs, laughing a little and shaking his head. “I’m not even making sense. I’m exhausted and you are too, I can feel it. How about…stay the night. We can talk in the morning. We have a day off, we can sleep in and actually talk about all of this.”

“Stay the night with you?” Zhenya dares, heart thumping.

Sid’s heartbeat speeds up to join his. “If you want,” he replies, catching Zhenya’s gaze and holding it. “Yeah, if you want, stay with me. My bed is big enough for two.”

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!!! i was wondering if you have any fem-presenting aziraphale recs? :) i adore her very much and would love to read more fics about her!

Hi! We have a #female aziraphale tag, so do check that out. Here are more fics to add...

On Your Doorstep by miss_minnelli (E)

“Don’t you think it would be easier to already have a kid before you fall in love?” Crowley asked. “What?” “If you already had a kid, and then you started dating your ideal person, you wouldn’t have to worry about all the drama and hardship of having a kid together and that relationship wouldn’t be tainted.” Zira raised her eyebrows. “So you’re saying you’d rather have kids with someone that you’re not that romantically interested in and then what, break up with them for your dream person?” ... Zira and Crowley, friends since university, are the last two single people in their group of friends. Neither wants to be part of one of those couples whose kids destroy their relationships, so instead of waiting for their perfect matches, Zira and Crowley decide to platonically have a baby together. 

Honeysuckle & Heat Waves by pilatesandpinot (E)

Ezera Fell has returned to the town where she’d spent her summers growing up – seaside Tadfield, where the slogan is “Everyday is a Holiday” and the perfect escape for a recent divorcee like herself. But she isn’t just here for holiday or to “get her groove back”; she’s inherited her late aunt Agnes Nutter's bed and breakfast and is determined to restore it to its former glory. She’s consulted the help of the best gardener in town, except there’s one issue: he’s Anthony Crowley, the same man she serendipitously had a one-night stand with while on holiday in Paris. Will the sparks fly now that they’ve been reunited, or fizzle out?

Against Expectations by Blue_Sparkle, summerofspock (E)

After being pressured by their families into a marriage neither of them want, Aziraphale and Crowley resign themselves to an unfulfilling life together. For Aziraphale that means trying to be the dutiful wife she was always taught to be and for Crowley it means hiding an important part of who he is.

Star of the Wooded Mountain by jamgrl (T)

Going back to camp shouldn’t have been hard. Yeah, okay, there was the gender-queer thing and the whole, uh, gendered cabin situation. And, yeah, being a counselor wasn’t going to be the same as being a camper. But Tony loved everything else about camp. Tony loved the woods and the creek and the s’mores. Mostly, though, Tony loved Azira. And they were afraid. That they would be a bad counselor, that Azira would stop liking them. Twelve weeks was a long time, and Tony didn’t know if their life was going to fall together or fall apart.

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

Within These Castle Walls by christi_writes (E)

Victorian AU. A celebration at an aristocrat’s castle turns deadly with a murder most foul. Paranormal encounters at every dark turn, humans going carnal left and right, and if that stupid Duke puts his hands on Aziraphale one more bloody time, Crowley was going to lose it. -Or- Circa 1880's Victorian Era. Crowley's just woken up from his century nap and the world has changed, including Aziraphale.

- Mod D

[stayevildarling]

Hello! I saw your little post about a prompt and was hoping you could write a fic with Mina, Delia, Billie, and reader? Maybe Billie has a bad day and forgets to pick reader up from work so reader has to walk home in the rain. While she is walking home someone starts following her and she gets scared and calls Mina crying. Cordelia and Mina are worried sick when they get to reader. When Billie eventually gets home later she feels awful that she forgot to pick up reader. Mina gets into a fight with Billie about it and Billie breakdowns about the awful day she had and that she is sorry. Just some good old love, fluff, hurt/comfort? Here are some prompts too, if that sparks any inspo! Thank you SO much!

Prompts:

“Honey, I can’t understand you. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.” “Stay right where you are, okay? Don’t hang up the phone. Keep talking to me. We are coming to get you.”

“My god you’re freezing.” ~ “I’m- f-fine. I’m n-not c-cold. P-promise.” ~ “You are certainly not fine and you know I do not tolerate lying. Sit. Down.”

“Oh for gods sake. You have to be kidding me.”

“Can you please stop yelling? You’re scaring her!”

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re very pretty when you cry” ~ “(sobbing) It…it does…thank you”

Sorry that is quite long and no pressure to write of course! Thank you and sending all the most love and hugs!🧡🧡🧡

Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Wilhemina Venable x Reader- Home

A/N: thank you so much for this request!🫶🏼 I‘m struggling a bit with my other wip‘s so this was perfect to spark my inspiration again!

tw/tags: established poly relationship, female reader, mention of smoking, mention of cursing, angst, hurt/comfort

word count: 2k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples, @stepintomyworld

By the time you finally make it out of work, you are greeted with darkness and pouring rain. The wind causes you to shiver and you instinctively pull your coat a little closer as you try and look out for Billie‘s car. Usually the medium would always be on time, waiting for you with that same smirk, some music blasting through her speakers and mostly a cigarette in her mouth. However, as you wait for a little longer you realize she isn‘t anywhere to be seen and so you pull out your phone, checking for any messages but only finding some from your other two girlfriends about dinner plans. You opt to call Billie and clutch the phone to your ear as the rain makes it impossible to hear.

„Sorry babydoll, I‘ll call you back later, I‘m stuck in a meeting“ she mumbles into the phone before hanging up. You sigh a little, realizing she must have forgotten and so you opt to walk, pulling up the hood from your jacket and beginning to walk towards home. It wasn‘t too far and so you begin walking, excited to see Mina and Delia, trying not to get upset about Billie forgetting about you. You knew she was busy, medium to the stars with her own show and getting picked up for multiple new seasons but you couldn’t deny that it stings a little, remembering how she would usually never forget about you, spoil you rotten and put you first, just like you would with her.

At the halfway mark, you are drenched from the rain that keeps pouring on you, your clothes dripping and shivering from the cold. The only lightsource are the cars occasionally driving past you as well as the occasional streetlight and you can‘t help the uncomfortable feeling in your gut. As you turn around you notice a hooded figure behind you and you begin to pick up your pace, walking a different route to usual to shake them off. But the faster and further you walk, the hooded figure seems to come closer and you can‘t help but feel the trembling of your hands and anxiety in your chest. Panting, you reach your phone and begin to call Wilhemina.

„Hi little one- where are you both? we“ she begins but stops herself as soon as she hears the shaking of your breathing.

„Mi-‚Mina, Billie forgot.. pick me up.. walking home.. someone following“ you mumble, too scared to find your voice propery. The redheads‘s features drop upon hearing your disttress, dropping the utensils she was holding to make dinner, Cordelia beside her picking up her girlfriends distress.

“Honey, I can’t understand you. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on“ she instructs and you stop walking for a moment as you adjust your breathing.

„Sorry Mina, I‘m walking home and I think someone is following me“ you manage to say and she instantly drops what she is doing, grabbing Delia and their coats.

“Stay right where you are, okay? Don’t hang up the phone. Keep talking to me. We are coming to get you“ she urges and you nod before realizing she can‘t hear you. The redhead stays on the phone, asking for your exact whereabouts. It takes them less than a minute to get to you as you had been much closer to home than you originally thought in your panicking state.

Warm hands reach for you as you almost stumble into Wilhemina. They instantly notice the hooded figure and as soon as Cordelia steps forward, they disappear into the darkness of the night. „You‘re okay little one“ Wilhemina encourages as they take your hands and walk you back home. Somehow the rain disappeared as soon as you saw them both and you wonder whether the supreme may have had something to do with that. They instantly take you inside, ushering you to the kitchen and Delia getting you out of your soaked coat.

„My god you’re freezing“ Wihemina whispers, noticing the disapproval in her eyes. „I’m- f-fine. I’m n-not c-cold. P-promise“ but your shivering state exposes the lie. „You are certainly not fine and you know I do not tolerate lying. Sit. Down“ the redhead instructs and you do as you are told before Cordelia softly runs her hands over your cheeks. „Can you tell me what happened exactly sweetheart?“ she whispers and you look at her through teary eyes before explaining.

„I finished work and I guess Billie was busy so I started walking home“ you explain and they both furrow their eyebrows, never knowing the medium to forget something so important as this. „Why didn‘t you call us darling?“ the supreme tuts and you mumble a quiet „I didn‘t want to bother you two“ before Wilhemina raises an eyebrow. „Sorry“ you whisper and give them a dopey smile, causing for the concern to leave them for a moment as they chuckle to themselves.

„I‘m gonna go and change“ you announce as you notice Billie‘s car parking outside and they nod quietly, Wilhemina‘s anger already flaring up as they watch you go. The medium walks inside, abandoning her bag and stepping out of her heels before a long sigh escapes her, shaking her curls a little to get rid of the remainders of rain, knowing she would have to do an extensive hair care routine tonight in order to have it looking not frizzy tomorrow morning. When she steps into the kitchen with her usual smile moments later, Cordelia stands there with a concerned expression while Wilhemina waits for her with her arms crossed.

„Ugh I had an awful day“ she sighs as she sits on one of the chairs and lights a cigarette. „Oh really?“ Wilhemina sarcastically questions and Cordelia rolls her eyes, already knowing exactly where this is heading. „What?“ Billie hisses but before the medium has a chance to ask any further, the redhead lets out her anger, her protectiveness over you showing. „Have you not forgotten anything maybe?“ she sighs but Billie simply shrugs, too caught up in her own world. „Oh for gods sake you gotta be kidding me Howard“ the redhead hisses before her eyes meet Cordelia‘s who simply stands and observes. „Honey you forgot Y/N“ she says softly, noticing Billie‘s distress and the clear signs she must have had an awful day in order to forget something this important.

The medium‘s eyes snap towards her, the clear signs of shock in her expression as it finally hits her. Guilt immediately consumes her, realizing that was the reason you had called her before. „Oh god“ she murmurs, putting out her cigarette quickly as Wilhemina‘s anger errupts again. „Yes and not only did she have to walk back through the pouring rain, she was also followed by some creep“ Wilhemina curses, causing the medium‘s eyes to widen. „What?!“ Billie asks before Cordelia kneels in front of her. „It‘s okay, we found her and she‘s safe and getting changed upstairs“ the supreme encourages, noticing the guilty tears threatening to spill down the blonde‘s cheek.

Neither of them realized you had been standing by the doorframe for a little while, having changed into some warm clothes and dried yourself up. You froze as soon as you heard the shouting, your anxiety errupting in an instance, caught in between wanting to comfort Billie and telling her it‘s really not a big deal and Mina‘s overprotectiveness. Not even Cordelia realized you are there, her supreme senses currently busy as she tries to navigate between her girlfriend‘s guilt and her other girlfriends anger, all while worried about your state upstairs. By the time she finally realizes you are there, she immediately walks over to you, noticing your shivering state but the other two don‘t realize, more shouting errupting in the silent kitchen.

„I can‘t believe you forgot“ the redhead continues, causing Billie to roll her eyes. „Honestly, why do you always breathe down my neck? I have had a really shitty day and I“ Billie tries to defend herself but before the arguing can continue, Cordelia‘s steady voice and presence echoes through the room. „Can you please stop yelling? you are scaring her“ she demands and they instantly stop, both of their features guilty as they see your frame hiding behind Cordelia. „Oh babydoll“ Billie whispers, as she instantly abandonds her seat and walks over to you. „I‘m so sorry“ she apologizes as her manicured hands cup both of your cheeks before pulling you into her arms. „Are you okay? god you‘re cold.. I‘m so sorry“ she apologizes and you simply hold onto her a little closer, feeling her warmth and your hands almost automatically travelling to her curls and playing with them.

„It‘s really okay Billie, I‘m not mad or sad“ you promise and she looks into your eyes and sees the honesty in them. „It‘s my fault for not calling anyone“ you admit, meeting Wilhemina‘s eyes and hoping she was gonna let this go, Cordelia equally pleading with the redhead. You stay in Billie‘s embrace for a while longer before the supreme offers some dinner to calm down and warm up and you all agree. Before you sit down, you walk to Wilhemina, taking her hand before giving her a gentle smile. „Thank you Mina“ you whisper and she knows exactly what you are thanking her for, always fighting your corner, always having your back no matter what. And for the first time tonight, a gentle smile meets your eyes and she squeezes your hand before guiding you to sit between her and Billie.

Dinner is spent in the comfortable atmosphere of each other, the four of you trying to look past what has happened. But no matter how much you all try, Billie remains silent, on the verge of tears before the dam finally breaks and her tears fall freely down her beautiful cheeks. „Billie, whats wrong?“ you ask as you are the first one to notice, your hand instantly finding hers and squeezing it a little. „I‘m just sorry, I had an awfully busy day and lots of last minute meetings about the new season and I just“ she cries and the three of you stop eating, Cordelia gently wiping the mediums tears and even Wilhemina feeling guilty, knowing she didn‘t exactly help the situation. Her eyes find the medium‘s with an apologetic smile and the medium can‘t help but look at you and apologize again. „It‘s really fine Billie“ you reassure.

„If it makes you feel any better, you are very pretty when you cry“ Wilhemina suddenly says, causing yours and Cordelia‘s eyes to meet at the redheads soft gesture and statement. „It does, thank you“ Billie sobs, a half small smile and frown on her face despite it all. And through Wilhemina‘s gentle words, knowing just how to cheer the medium up at times, the evening comes to a peaceful end, Cordelia helping Billie with her hair routine as she softly combes through her hair and dries it and Wilhemina and you already nestled in bed and waiting for your other two girlfriends to return.

„Thank you Mina“ you mumble as you snuggle closer into her chest. „But you know I‘m a big girl and can take care of myself“ you whisper barely audible and all you can hear is a low chuckle escaping her before she whispers. „No matter what or when, you will always be my little one“ she whispers as she instinctively pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Moments later your girlfriends return and you snuggle up in each other‘s embraces, the events from earlier long forgotten as you are home.

[sodavizz]

—Casual?

an ever so lovely birthday gift for @jollibee-nyong-malandi

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

W/C: 1k+

Pairings: Anya x F! Reader

Warning: Angst

--

°Beginnings ★

High school was a golden age for you. The attention, the admiration, the spotlight—it all came naturally. You thrived in the chaotic ecosystem of cliques and crowds, moving through life like a shining comet. Anya, on the other hand, lived on the fringes of that universe. A bookish girl with her nose always buried in medical textbooks, she preferred the quiet corner of the library to the noisy cafeteria.

You noticed her one day during a study hall. Something about her calm demeanor intrigued you, a stark contrast to the loud, ever-demanding life you led. You started with small conversations, asking for notes or complimenting her taste in novels. Anya was shy at first, offering clipped responses, but as the weeks went by, her soft laughter became a constant in your day.

By the time senior year rolled around, you were inseparable. Weekend study sessions turned into spontaneous hangouts, and Anya’s kindness became a balm against the pressures of your own high expectations. You dragged her into your world, introducing her to your friends, showing her what it felt like to laugh without reservation.

--

°Changes

Graduation came and went, and somehow, you both ended up at the same university. You shared a dorm room, a decision that felt like the most natural thing in the world. Anya pursued nursing with a fervent determination, her days filled with long hours of studying and clinical rotations.

At first, you kept pace. You worked hard, determined to keep your grades up. But college brought temptations—wild parties, new friends, freedom. Slowly, you started slipping. Late nights out became a habit. While Anya stayed hunched over her textbooks, you stumbled in after midnight, your laughter echoing down the halls.

She never complained, not really. She’d wait up sometimes, her face a mixture of worry and exhaustion. “You’re home late,” she’d whisper, helping you take off your shoes, her hands lingering just a second too long. You noticed the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she always made sure your comfort came before hers.

--

°Quiet Confession

One night, you came back particularly intoxicated, your steps uneven and your words slurred. Anya was there, waiting as always. Her hands were gentle as she guided you to bed, brushing stray hair from your face.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she murmured, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

You hummed, barely conscious, lost in the haze of alcohol. As she pulled the blanket over you, her lips brushed your forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I just wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

You didn’t respond, too far gone to register her words. But even in your drunken state, you felt the weight of her sadness as she sat beside you, her fingers brushing against yours.

--

°Breaking Point ★

The days after that night were unremarkable on the surface, but something shifted. Anya seemed quieter, more withdrawn. One evening, she finally gathered the courage to confess properly.

“I love you,” she said, her voice steady but her hands trembling. “And I care about you, more than you’ll ever know. But you’re tearing yourself apart. You’re so much more than this, but you don’t even see it.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You cared about her—deeply—but commitment felt suffocating. “I care about you too,” you admitted, avoiding her gaze. “But I can’t… I don’t want to be in a serious relationship thingy right now.”

Her face fell, the light dimming in her eyes. She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay,” she said softly. “I understand.”

And so began the arrangement—close, intimate, but never quite whole. You shared stolen kisses and whispered moments in the dark, but it was clear Anya wanted more than you were willing to give.

--

°Hollow Affection

The flings became regular, a strange mix of comfort and torment. For you, it was casual fun. For Anya, it was agony masked by silence. She gave herself to you fully, hoping you’d one day realize she deserved more.

But you didn’t. And she couldn’t bring herself to tell you how much it hurt.

--

°Party

When you invited her to a party, Anya hesitated. Crowds weren’t her thing, but she wanted to be near you. She dressed simply, blending into the background as you shone like always.

Your friends noticed her immediately. “Who’s this?” they asked, eyeing her curiously.

“Just a friend,” you said with a laugh, a teasing edge to your tone. “She’s kind of obsessed with me, though. Can’t keep her hands off.”

The group erupted in laughter, but Anya’s face turned pale. She laughed along weakly, but the hurt was evident in her eyes.

The night dragged on, and Anya stayed by your side, her silence growing heavier with every passing hour.

--

°Breaking Point ★

Back at the dorm, she finally broke. Tears streamed down her face as she packed her things, her movements frantic.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice shaking. “I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

You froze, panic rising. “Anya, wait—”

But she didn’t.

She stayed in her room all week, you tried everything, you tried persuading her by doing any of her favors, her favorite foods, nothing. Nothing worked.

"Anya... I do love you," You say with a hitch as you leaned against her door after knocking non-stop.

"I just... Don't love you the same way you do.. With me." You said knowing that Anya wouldn't respond either way.

--

°Note

The next morning, you woke to an empty dorm. On the counter, there was a letter.

“I regret meeting you,” it read. “Not because of who you were, but because of what I became. I loved you more than I should have, and I let that love destroy me. You’ve changed, and I don’t recognize you anymore.

I’m leaving. Don’t come looking for me. I need to heal, and I can’t do that here. I'm sorry.”

The words blurred as tears filled your eyes. Guilt crashed over you in waves, each sentence cutting deeper than the last. You realized, too late, how blind you’d been to her pain, how much you’d taken her love for granted.

For the first time in years, you felt truly alone.

--

You wished, desperately, for a second chance. But Anya was gone, and all you were left with was the haunting echo of what could have been.

[mivalyn]

~How the guys from Task Force 141 would react if they found you in the middle of a depressive episode~

• The moment Soap sees something’s wrong—your quietness, the mess, the dim room—he’s instantly worried but stays calm. He’ll approach gently, kneeling beside you. “Hey, love… what’s goin’ on? Talk to me.”

• If your place is messy or you’re not taking care of yourself, he won’t care. “None of that, bonnie. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.” His focus is you, not the state of things.

• He’ll bring you something easy—a glass of water, a piece of toast—and coax you softly. “Just one sip, yeah? For me?” When you manage even the smallest effort, he’ll praise you endlessly. “There we go. That’s my strong one.”

• Soap’s all about physical affection—he’ll hold you close, stroke your hair, rub your back. If you cry, he’ll press soft kisses to your hairline. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

• He’ll make sure you know this doesn’t make you weak or a burden. “You’re havin’ a tough time, and that’s alright. You’re still the most amazin’ person I know.”

• Once you’re settled, he’ll lighten the mood with silly stories or show you memes on his phone. “Look at this—Ghost sent it. Didn’t know he had a sense of humor, eh?”

• Soap will stay as long as you need, quietly looking after you—cleaning, cooking, or just sitting close. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. You’re not alone in this.”

• He’ll check in every day, celebrate even the smallest steps forward, and remind you constantly how much you mean to him. “One day at a time, bonnie. We’ve got this together.”

• Ghost picks up on the subtle changes immediately—the quietness, the way your space feels heavier than usual, how withdrawn you’ve become. He doesn’t call attention to it, but his concern is instant.

• He doesn’t barge in or overwhelm you. Instead, he sits down nearby, giving you space while making his presence known. His voice is calm and steady when he speaks. “You don’t have to say anything, love. I’m here. That’s all that matters right now.”

• Ghost makes sure you’re looked after without making you feel pressured. He’ll grab water, a piece of toast, or something easy to eat and set it beside you. “Just a little. You don’t have to finish it, but try, yeah? For me.”

• If you let him, Ghost will gently pull you into his arms, wrapping you in his solid warmth. His gloved hand strokes your back or hair in slow, soothing motions as he whispers, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” If you cry, he holds you tighter, letting you let it all out without judgment.

• His words are soft but firm, cutting through the haze of doubt. “You’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone. I’ll remind you as many times as you need until you believe it.”

• Ghost is a man of action. He’ll quietly tidy up, fold blankets, or handle anything that feels overwhelming in your space. “This’ll help clear your head. Don’t worry about it—I’ve got it.”

• He knows this isn’t something that can be fixed overnight. He never rushes you or makes you feel like you’re failing. “One small step at a time, love. That’s all we need. No pressure.”

• Ghost stays with you as long as you need, sitting quietly if you want space or staying close if you need him near. He’s calm, grounding, and unwavering. “Whatever you’re fighting in your head, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

• Even after the initial moment, Ghost checks in regularly, making sure you’re cared for. Whether it’s a quiet walk, a meal, or just sitting in silence together, he’s there. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

• Price would immediately notice something’s off—the lack of energy, the silence, the heaviness in the air. But he wouldn’t rush to confront it. Instead, he’d quietly approach, his tone steady and calm, “You alright, love? Talk to me when you’re ready.”

• He’d let you have space but stay close enough to let you know he’s there. He’s not one for forced affection, but he’d sit beside you, his presence solid and comforting. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Just here when you’re ready.”

• Price would take charge of the basics. If you haven’t eaten or drunk anything, he’d bring you something simple—a warm drink, a snack—and place it within reach, but never force you. “When you’re ready, just a sip. You need to stay strong, even if it’s hard.”

• If you allow it, Price would pull you into his arms, wrapping you securely. His hand would gently rub your back or your arm, providing steady comfort. “I’ve got you. No need to hold it in. Let me take some of the weight off your shoulders.”

• Price doesn’t sugarcoat things, but he has a way of speaking that’s firm yet kind. “This isn’t easy, I know. But you’re strong. You’ve been through worse, and you’ll get through this. I’m with you every step of the way.”

• Price knows not to push too hard, so if you’re ready for a change of pace, he’d try to distract you with light conversation or simple activities, like reading together or watching a movie. “I’m here to listen or just be quiet. Whatever you need.”

• He wouldn’t expect you to snap out of it. Instead, he’d offer his constant support, checking in with you regularly, offering patience when you need it, and never making you feel like you’re a burden. “It’s okay to not be okay. We’ll take this slow, no pressure.”

• Above all, Price’s loyalty would shine through. No matter how tough things get, he’s there, showing you that you don’t have to go through it alone. “You don’t have to fight this on your own, love. We’ll face it together, like we always do.”

• Gaz immediately picks up on your change in mood. He’s quick to approach, but never rushes you. “Hey, you okay? Talk to me, yeah?” His voice is gentle but filled with worry.

• He’ll give you space but stay close, offering his presence without overwhelming you. “I’m right here whenever you need me, no pressure.”

• If you’re not eating or drinking, Gaz will bring you something light, like tea or a snack, and place it in front of you. “You don’t have to eat it all, just a bit. I’ll be here.”

• Gaz will offer comforting touches, a hand on your back, or a light hug if you allow it. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’ve got you.”

• He’s not one for overly serious words, but he’ll keep reminding you that you’re not alone. “You’re amazing, you know that? We’ll get through this. You’ve got this.”

• Gaz knows how to lighten the mood without pushing too hard. He’ll tell you funny stories, try to make you smile, or distract you with a game or something light-hearted. “How about a movie? No pressure, just some chill time.”

• Gaz doesn’t leave your side. He’s always checking in, quietly making sure you feel cared for. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

[crimsononiarataki]

The pressure would indeed increase, though it wouldn't be all at once, rather gradually as Ayato did more. He was rather curious about how far the other would want to try going but the Oni wasn't the sort to force things. Even if he knew Ayato liked things a bit rougher he wouldn't try to push him beyond his limits just yet. Maybe soon but not right in the very moment they found themselves in at this time.

"Never knew somethin' like this would feel this good, Ayato,"

His words came out deeper than normal but not too overly noticeable just yet. His voice would likely deepen more as they did more things together. He couldn't help but wonder just how far Ayato wanted things to go between them. He'd wanted to do things with the other for some time but the Yokai had never acted on his impulses out of respect for the other man. Especially since he kept overhearing things about the other having suitors lining up to see him. Why would he think of acting on something that could have resulted in them no longer speaking to one another?

At the very least he'd felt that he'd have been banished from ever seeing or speaking to Ayato again, because he knew the Elders didn't like that he was friends with the Commissioner.

"How about ya suck a bit harder? Don't worry about hurtin' me, Ayato."

He'd push his hips forward a bit while watching the other male closely, if it was too much Ayato could tap his thigh or something to show that.

Ayato moaned as he felt the pressure on his head. He liked the feeling, wondering if Itto might push harder. Not that he’d mind that, of course. He had found out he liked things a little rougher than the normal man. Hearing Itto moan his name made him groan and only suck his cock more eagerly, the hand pleasuring himself slowing to focus on Itto’s pleasure.

He nodded as best as he could, opening his eyes to looked up at Itto with a hazy, lustful expression as he bobbed his head back and forth. He was definitely going to practice when he got home. He could excuse the purchase as a ‘stress reliever’ and the retainers wouldn’t question it. They wouldn’t dare.

As he heard Itto’s moans and groans of pleasure, Ayato took this as a sign to only double down on his efforts. He liked to please others, and he liked knowing they were feeling good from his actions. However, he seemed to like being told what to do more than doing it on his own volition.

[themboification]

jori in 2023, what a concept

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[m1dnight-blu3]

someone please free me from the shackles of my ableist job so I can read my books, draw and write my silly little fics in PEACE

[britneyshakespeare]

i am at the looking-at-dolls-as-self-soothing part of the night. i definitely wanna beef up my bratz collection since unboxing my alwayz bratz yasmin was just like... oh... oh man... and... and i didn't think it'd be like that for me man i didn't think i had as much nostalgia for bratz as i actually do not just buy owning some but by touching them and playing w their clothes and their hair.

and one of my issues of course is that i'm a redhead and as a redhead my Default Lookalike Doll is meygan (not that having a doll that looks like you is the most important part of bratz, but it is so much of the fun right? the fact that there's a character out there for just about everyone?). and i like meygan as a character well enough, that's not the issue. but of the meygan dolls that have been reproduced, there's none of them that are like, hardcore needs for me except for sweetheart meygan. and i did not buy sweetheart meygan in time. i was not really collecting at that point. that was like 2022. i had a few... na na na surprise dolls at that time. which is funny bc i have four of those that i got all either on clearance or w giftcards and i do really like them even though a lot of doll collectors thought they were kinda dumb, and they were. i just liked the gimmick of the fabric bodies and there were just enough dolls i thought were really cute that i kinda caved at one point. i also knew it was a brand i wouldn't go overboard with. anyway. we were talking about meygan...

sorry meygan back to you girl. i know original 2000s bratz that have not yet been reproduced at crazy expensive on the secondhand market and it's genuinely out of control. but sweet heart meygan, both the repro and the original, are selling for triple digits on mercari, ebay, what have you. that's just ridiculous. frankly. i'm not buying her at that. i don't even like her enough to hunt for her regularly, if that's how it's gonna be. there are plenty of more readily-available bratz dolls that are either regular retail price or clearancing online andin stores. did you guys know alwayz bratz jade is going for 15 bucks on amazon right now? that's crazy. the other always bratz dolls aren't going for that low if they're even marked down yet. that release wasn't even that long ago. anyway i'm thinking of getting jade from that line bc i know some ppl thought that alwayz jade was a let-down, but i thought she was cute. yasmin was my favorite from that line and that's why i got her but jade was my second fave there easily.

i also wanna get the kumi they reproduced sometime and maybe girls nite out cloe since i see she's still available. it's funny there aren't that many core girls i've wanted from the repros but if i go for any of the cloes, new or old, it's gotta be girls nite out. cloe isn't even usually my favorite character no offense blondes she's just kinda. she's just kinda cloe to me. idk i love her but i'm not gagged over her most of the time. these are still bratz standardz we're talking about here so obviously i love her.

there's nothing going on in the world right now other than my bratz dolls. and if someone we won't mention wins the election, i'm definitely going doll crazy. i'm gonna be buying dolls after this anyway, but i'm gonna justify spending an unusual, nearly-irresponsible amount of money. you know. bc i'm an adult and i can.

hey also and of all the lines they could've reproduced why is their most recent slumber party? why? why? when the poll posted by mga had tokyo a go go WINNING? bc tokyo a go go is the correct option? i mean the slumber party line is cute and i like the base dolls and the accessories especially the stuffed animals are cute. but. everyone knows the bratz audience these days is adult collectors. which adult collectors are losing their minds over dolls in pajamas and bathrobes? again they're CUTE. but why. also why did they reproduce bratz babyz when those things were nightmare fuel

[bmpmp3]

when people complain about getting like, a 98% grade on something because it was "so close to perfect" its like. i understand what you're saying on a technical level. but that is a line of thought so far away from my experiences and ways of thinking that i do feel like im from another planet. 100% isnt even a real number to me

[sistertinysips]

Headcanon that Bea's body knew she had a thing for Ava before Bea's brain was even any close to having any clue.

After having to hug Ava in mother superion's office and walking Ava to her quarters, Bea leaves and runs into Camila in the hall.

Camila: Beatrice where are you coming from? are you ok?

Bea: yes, why do you ask? I'm coming back from leaving Ava in her room, I had to comfort her, she actually clinged to me and she would not let me go for about 5 minutes... poor thing she's quite upset

Camila: your face is kinda red and your eyes look a bit dilated... *putting two and two together faster she can hack into the neighbor's WiFi net*

Bea frowning and thinking: now that you mention it, I do feel a slight shortness of breath and... *pressing her fingers to her carotid artery* my heartbeat frequency is sort of high as well *taking her hand off her neck and rubbing her hands* and there is perspiration in the palms of my hands. But I do not feel ill, perhaps a glucose drop? But that can't be I had a hearty breakfast. What an oddity. I should report to the infirmary for a blood pressure check *walking briskly away*

Camila sighing and looking in the direction of the infirmary: sometimes constantly being two steps ahead of everyone does not feel like a gift for me. I'll just let her figure it out herself