#and people like you bought it up because that's all there ever was to it. no good writing. no nuance. just jason looking cool being the best

[purerae]

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YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER

Valentine’s day Special! <3

warnings ;; yandere!playboy being a delusional freak (as usual), yandere behavior, MAJOR second hand embarrassment, slightest bit of angst (if you squint), crack.

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Valentine’s Day for Kieran was basically his second birthday. The rich boy never bought candy, why would he, when he could stock up for free just from today alone? His locker was overflowing with chocolates, candies, and love notes—notes that he didn’t even bother reading before tossing them straight into the trash. But the sweets? Oh, he made sure to keep those. Stuffing his bag full, he scoffed at the cheap, store-bought heart chocolates while setting aside the good stuff; the expensive ones, the homemade treats that probably took hours to make. Greedy. That’s all it was. Kieran was just greedy. But even with all the gifts, all the attention, all the adoration, it never really mattered—not until today. Not until he spotted one letter on his desk that actually made his heart skip a beat. Because this one? This one had to be from you. For the first time on February 14th, Kieran felt a genuine rush of excitement, something different from the usual smug satisfaction of being adored that just boosted his already huge ego. The envelope sat on his desk, neat and delicate, like it had been placed there with care—like it actually meant something. His fingers brushed over your initials written in beautiful cursive handwriting, slow and deliberate, his mind already running wild. Finally. You were finally giving in. He could already picture you, shy and flustered as you wrote it, your heart laid bare just for him. A love letter? From you? His sweet little obsession finally coming to her senses? He was grinning, twirling the letter between his fingers, taking his time, savouring the moment. Oh, you were so cute for this.

 He carefully opened the letter, fingertips tingling with anticipation. His heart was racing, his mind already running a mile a minute. What kind of sweet words did you leave for him? Were you confessing your love? Finally admitting that you couldn’t resist him any longer? God, you knew him so well! Every detail, down to the paper, the handwriting, the delicate way the envelope was sealed—it all screamed you. This was the first time that the suave playboy turned into a giggling high school girl, biting his lip to keep from grinning too wide. If he was just some regular guy, people would be throwing weird glances at him for nearly stomping his feet in excitement, but he’s Kieran, so no one does.

To be honest, all the girls around him loved it. They giggled amongst themselves, watching him act like a lovesick fool, finding it more endearing than embarrassing. Some of them seething in jealousy at the mysterious girl who got the school's renowned playboy all lovestruck like this. Man, pretty privilege was real. Any other man would’ve been clowned for this, but Kieran? No, Kieran could get away with anything—especially when he looked good doing it.

The white haired male just had to find you, had to catch a glimpse of his princess all shy and flustered from pouring out her emotions in this cute little letter. He was already going to force you into his valentines day plans-- but you, making the move first? Gosh, you never fail to surprise him. Kieran rushed around the school, finally found you hanging around the library. He waltzes over to your table, practically floating with confidence, that stupidly charming smirk plastered across his face. With an easy flick of his wrist, he spun the chair around, plopping down and draping his arms over the back like he owned the fucking place; the letter was in his hand, obnoxiously tapping it against his palm as he leaned in, way too close, eyes glinting with something dangerous beneath all that excitement.

“Sooo...” he drawled, looking at you up and down, voice smooth as ever, “...couldn’t resist me anymore, huh princess~?” the blue eyed male winked as he laughed boyishly, Though his words were condescendingly annoying, a glint of affection is laced in his orbs. 

You, the girl who just wanted some peace on this already lame ass day where you enviously stare at the lovey dovey highschoolers with, gaze up from your notebook as you stare blankly at him, forcing yourself not to immediately roll your eyes at the sight of the blue eyed playboy.  “Huh?” You blink once, and then twice at him.

Kieran scoffs out a laugh. Still so shy, bless your cute little soul. “The letter, sweetheart.” He waved it a little, like it was obvious. “Real cute of you, by the way. You always did have good taste.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the pastel pink letter, squinting at it before looking back at him. “What letter? Dude what the fuck are you talking about?” tilting your head as you grimace at his stupid little smirk. Kieran let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head like you just said the funniest thing in the world. “Ahh, playing shy now? That’s adorable, really,” he mused, tapping the letter against his chin. “Didn’t think you’d get cold feet after pouring your heart out like this, but it’s okay, princess. I get itttt. Big emotions can be scary!” he says with a mocking pout, leaning in closer. He reached out, trailing a finger down your arm like he was so sure this was some flirty little game. Youre playing hard to get as always, its okay! He likes the chase. However, you cant back out this easily when he literally has the physical proof of your love-- no, infatuation towards him. “You don’t have to pretend, y’know. I already know it’s from you.” his other hand tracing the first letters of your first and last name that was engraved onto the envelope. 

But the way you just kept staring at him, utterly lost, was starting to poke holes in his fantasy. No. No, you were just messing with him. Testing him. Right? Rolling your eyes, you snatch the letter out of his hand, too tired to deal with whatever weird fantasy he had cooked up this time. With an exhausted sigh, you scanned the handwriting, flipping the letter over to really stare at the initials , and then—oh. Oh, this was actually hilarious. Your hand slaps your mouth as you stifle a giggle.

“Kieran,” you deadpanned, looking him dead in the eyes, “this isn’t from me. It’s from the other girl in our chemistry class. Y’know, the one with the same initials as me?” Silence.

Kieran just stood there, blinking, like his brain was trying to reboot. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and for the first time all day, he didn’t have a slick response ready. You watched, unimpressed, as his expression went through about ten different emotions at once—confusion, disbelief, denial, a little more denial—before finally landing on something unreadable. “...what?” He freezes for a solid minute before letting out a light chuckle, rolling his shoulders back like this was no big deal. “Ohh, right. Of course. The other girl.” He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, throwing on that easy, practiced smirk. “I knew that! I was just.. I was just joking, silly~!”

But inside? He was tweaking.

'What the actual hell. What do you mean it’s not from you? Then why the hell did it feel like you? Look like it was from you? Sound like you?' His heart was racing, but not in the good way anymore. His palms felt weirdly clammy. His eye twitched. 'No. No, no, no. This doesn’t make sense. This was supposed to be from you. This was supposed to be our moment. So why— who, who even is the other girl??? Has he ever even interacted with her??' Suddenly the heartfelt words that adorned the letter just seemed incredibly corny and cheesy to him. The bright pastel colours decorated along the paper blazed in his eyes, practically laughing at the delusional boy that stood before it. 

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Sure you did.” Kieran swallowed. Act natural. Act. Natural. The playboy opened his mouth, ready to spit out some smooth, damage-control comeback—but nothing came out. For the first time in his entire life, he had nothing. Just sitting there, frozen, swallowing the most brutal, humiliating reality check of his existence. And the worst part? You were just staring at him. Not even amused. Not even mad. Just tired and annoyed.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose like you were physically in pain just being near him. “I literally don’t have time for this. Happy Valentine's Day man.”  You say with a tight lipped smile, grabbing your stuff as you pat his shoulder. And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kieran just stood there, gripping the letter so hard it crumpled in his palm. His ears were burning, his jaw tight, but his smirk? Still there. Bruised ego? Maybe. But shattered? Please. A mix-up like this wasn’t enough to shake him. You didn't straight up reject him, it was just a misunderstanding! It was all that stupid girl's fault for having the same initials as his dear soulmate! As if you could ever actually reject him.

No, no, this just meant you were still fighting it. Still playing your little games, still too stubborn to admit what you really wanted. Him. That was fine. He had all the time in the world to let you come to your senses. You’d see it eventually—how you were meant for him, how there was never any other option. And when you finally stop running? Oh, princess he’d be right there, waiting. Besides, there was always next year, and that time; he is certain that the only chocolates he’d be getting is from you.

a/n :: for some reason you guys looveee seeing kieran suffer so heres my early valentines gift for you all :p (maybe not you all but the three anons in my inbox LOL) purerae<3

[caseuoiseau]

Please allow me to jump in with a 4th point, because I learned a lot of different fiber arts and craft stuff as a kid, and when you're a kid you tend not to care as much about your lumpy first project because every first thing you've ever done to date has been lumpy, and you tend to lack a general idea of what failure is and focus on the "Yey-I-did-it!"

But the first craft I tried as an adult was spinning, which had the triple threat horrors of being:

a) ...thoroughly unlike any other fiber craft I had ever done, despite being integral to each one (sewing, knitting, crochet--all require fiber to be spun before anything else can be done).

b) ...the first skill I had to pay my own hard-earned, fresh-out-of-college pennies to learn, and

c) ...another one of those things like playing guitar where everyone else before me had decided that the difficult part to be managed by your dominant hand was actually the complete opposite of what I thought.

So my one or two private lessons didn't amount to anything remotely usable, until a few years later when some big-name blogger started posting her spinning. And I got pissed off because I took one look at it and I thought to myself "That's barely better than mine was, and she's getting all these accolades from her followers??? I bet I could spin yarn like that with my shitty wooden-toy-wheel spindle." And man oh man didni sit down and spin.

Now, I didn't start writing this story to tell you that Spite Will Fuel You To Perfection, so don't get ahead of me. Because my fiber had been compacted over the years and I was over-twisting it and I didn't technically understand that "single ply" doesn't actually work with handspun, and I wound up making some pretty wretched curly rope. Totally unusable. But it was the age of LJ, and I nevertheless showed my craft friends my awful attempt so they could have a good laugh at it, and that's where I got the actual best advice I've received as an adult learning a craft.

My friends who spin simply told me to save it. Hold on to that yarn-that's-barely-yarn, put it in a drawer somewhere and just...check in on it from time to time. Because every time you spin, you get a little bit better at it, and it really, really helps soothe your mind to take a look at that first project when you think you haven't improved.

And my next yarn--arguably a bulky two-ply from some high-micron Shetland, still iloverspun and the texture of rope, but definitely more yarnlike. The next was a very uneven two-ply made by plying merino pencil roving back on itself. Overspun in places, but much more reasonable as handspun--if I'd told someone it was supposed to look like that with a sufficiently confident tone, they would have bought it. That was the first handspum that actually became something:

A little tea cozy that I had to alter pretty spectacularly, since I had only spun about 90 yards out of the 50g I had.

And so it goes, each project getting a little bit better than the last, and noticeably better than the first. I either threw out that yarn or I have it packed away in the attic somewhere, but I used to bring that out at the end of my first night of the drop spindle basics class I used to teach. This is what I made first. These are the next three skeins I made. And here's my most recent.

It's a hell of a way to get people to think more fondly about the kitchen twine they think they've been fighting with for the last two hours.

So, to end with the advice I used to give my first-time knitting class: this isn't like being at work. You aren't expected to be an expert in something you learned 5 minutes ago. You have my permission to suck at this.

I hope all new fiber artists know that the "slightly misshapen" object they made that they're stressed about not looking good:

1. Happens to every fiber artist always, you're too zoomed in to its every detail because you're the one who made it and most people would think it looks normal, or at least much less misshapen than you do, stand 20ft away from it and look at it and then see how you feel (true about all art tbh)

2. Gets better and more uniform each time you do anything

and the *very most important*:

3. Can be made Significantly Less Misshapen by just grabbing the fabric and stretching it in a few directions

I keep helping new fiber artists who are like "but my thing looks so bad :(((" by like, taking their object and stretching it sideways and horizontal, and handing it back, and they're like "????? Magic?????" bc it looks perfect.

Trust the process. Trust the stretchy process

[meinii]

“spoiled princess”

summary: you’re on a night out with Sylus, but your heels are hurting you. he might have to carry his spoiled princess home ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

content: fluff, use of nicknames (princess)

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the night had been dazzling—glimmering chandeliers, the murmur of refined voices, and the weight of luxury pressing into every moment. you had dressed for the occasion, slipping into the red dress Sylus had bought you, its fabric hugging you perfectly, its deep color a striking contrast against your skin. the heels—elegant, high, and admittedly a little unforgiving—had added to the look, elongating your legs and giving you an air of effortless grace

Sylus had looked at you like you were the only thing worth seeing in that grand hall. his red eyes, intense and unwavering, had softened only for you. others feared him—respected him, but with you, he was different.

the evening had gone smoothly. Sylus had dominated the bidding, securing whatever he set his sights on with a calm authority that left no room for opposition. you had stood beside him, poised and lovely, feeling the weight of eyes on you—some curious, some envious. but none of it had mattered. the only gaze that had ever held your attention was his.

now, as the two of you stepped out of the grand venue and onto the quiet streets, reality set in.

the moment you took your first step away from the marble flooring and onto the uneven pavement, a sharp, aching pain radiated through your feet

you winced

immediately, Sylus turned, his sharp gaze scanning you in an instant. “what’s wrong?” his voice was soft—soft in the way only you ever got to hear it

you gave him a sheepish smile “my feet hurt”

his brows furrowed “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

you sighed, rolling your shoulders “because I wanted to look good for you”

something in his expression shifted, a quiet fondness settling there. he stepped closer, and before you could even react, he was bending down, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms

a surprised laugh left your lips as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck “Sylus!”

“I’m not letting you walk another step” he murmured, adjusting his grip so you were securely pressed against his chest. his scent—something rich and clean, with a hint of warmth only he carried—enveloped you.

“this is embarrassing” you muttered, though you made no move to get down

he arched a brow, a small smirk playing at his lips “you didn’t find it embarrassing when I was bidding millions in front of a room full of people, but this is what gets to you?”

you huffed, burying your face against his shoulder “that’s different”

his chuckle was deep, a vibration you felt against your body “mmh. I think you just like being spoiled, princess”

you lifted your head to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the soft smile tugging at your lips “and whose fault is that?”

his smirk widened “mine. and I have no regrets.”

with effortless strides, he carried you down the quiet streets, the city lights casting a warm glow over the two of you. there was something oddly intimate about it—the world around you so vast, yet in that moment, it felt like it belonged to just you two.

you traced lazy circles on his shoulder, your voice quieter now “you know, you really don’t have to do all this”

Sylus glanced down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening “of course I do”

you tilted your head “why?”

he stopped walking for a second, just enough to shift you in his arms and hold you closer. his red eyes, so often cold and intimidating to others, were warm now—filled with something deeper, something unspoken

“because I love you” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

your breath hitched. even after all this time, the way he said it—so sure, so unwavering—still made your heart stumble

a slow smile spread across your lips. “I love you too, you know”

he resumed walking, his grip on you firm yet gentle “I know.”

by the time you reached his home—your home—the ache in your feet was long forgotten, replaced instead by the warmth of his presence, by the steady heartbeat beneath your palm

Sylus carried you all the way inside, straight to the bedroom, where he carefully set you down onto the bed. before you could protest, he knelt down, his fingers reaching for the straps of your heels. his hands were always so sure, so capable, and yet, as he removed your shoes, his touch was nothing but tender

you watched him in silence, something tight settling in your chest

once your feet were bare, he stood, his gaze flickering back up to yours “better?”

you nodded, but before he could pull away, you reached for him, tugging him down onto the bed beside you. he didn’t resist, allowing himself to be pulled close until your foreheads nearly touched.

he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin and with that, the night faded into something softer, something quieter

the world outside didn’t matter—because in the safety of his arms, you had already found home.

[kashverse]

pizza is one of those rare, beautiful things in the world that transcends culture, language, and personal differences. it is the unifying force. a humble creation of the italians that has somehow become a staple in every corner of the world. and yet, how one enjoys pizza reveals everything about them.

nanami, for instance, takes pizza-making with the same level of precision as he does everything else in life. only authentic italian recipes will do. and only if an actual italian man is narrating them. no exceptions. if the video starts and he detects even a hint of an american accent, it is closed immediately. he has a whole folder of videos titled "approved italian pizza sources." he swears one day, after malaysia, he will visit italy, and only then will he consider himself worthy of making pizza from scratch. until then, he follows the instructions exactly as given. measured ingredients, proper dough resting time, optimal oven temperature. he makes a pizza so perfect, so textbook, that you think the ghost of an italian nonna might appear just to pat him on the shoulder in approval.

geto, on the other hand, has already been to italy. he has eaten pizza the proper way. you ask him when he went? don't. how he went? irrelevant. who he went with? silence. the point is, he just did. and because of this, he knows the best way to make it. you don’t argue with him when he takes charge in the kitchen, casually kneading the dough like he’s done it a hundred times before. he does that thing where he stretches it mid-air with a flick of his wrist, and somehow, it actually works. the pizza comes out of the oven looking gorgeous. perfect ratio of sauce to cheese, slightly charred in all the right places. he watches you take a bite, smug. "good, right?" yeah, okay. fine. it’s perfect.

then there’s gojo. the moment you mention wanting pizza, he does not go to the kitchen. he does not google recipes. he does not even consider ordering takeout. instead, he immediately picks up his phone and dials an italian chef he met last year. "ciao, my man! emergency pizza situation at my penthouse. come through!" and because gojo is gojo, within the hour, a professional chef is in his kitchen, flour dusting every surface, ingredients being tossed expertly, and you are watching a pizza be made with such precision and love that when you finally take a bite, you nearly ascend. it’s so good you think you could never eat anything else ever again. gojo leans back, grinning. "only the best for my baby." you don’t even have the energy to roll your eyes.

toji, on the other hand, has only ever known one type of pizza: the microwaved, supermarket kind. the ones that come in sad little plastic trays, always a bit soggy no matter how long you heat them. so when you, in the most basic way possible, decide to make a pizza—store-bought base, bottled tomato sauce, pre-shredded cheese—you don’t think much of it. but when toji takes his first bite, you’d think you just handed him the world. he chews slowly, staring at the slice like it holds the meaning of life. "you made this?" he asks, almost reverent. and now? now, every time he feels sad, this is what he asks for. congratulations. you have accidentally become his emotional support pizzeria.

choso loves pizza. he sees it as the ultimate family food. something to be shared, something that brings people together. so, naturally, he is dedicated to it. he doesn’t just want to eat pizza. he wants to understand it. where is the best place to get it? how do you make it properly? what’s the difference between neapolitan and sicilian? at some point, he starts throwing around terms like "00 flour" and "fermentation time". he has fully embraced his inner italian. you walk into the kitchen one day, and he’s watching a youtube video entirely in italian. does he speak italian? no. does that stop him? also no.

then there’s sukuna. sukuna does not cut pizza into slices. he does not eat it like a normal person. no, he picks up the entire thing and just starts biting into it like a disc like it’s a giant cracker. no hesitation. just straight-up animal behavior. you stare at him in horror, but he doesn’t care. at least he’s enjoying it.

[jjscrybaby]

could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x sweetheart!reader | fluff | (kook!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

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One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

[spiderfunkz]

MEET ME IN GWANGMYEONG

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. inspired heavily by the movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind", memory-erasing procedure, established relationship, the use of 'y/n', angst, bittersweet ending.

author's note: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind is my favorite movie ever. reblogs and likes help a lot! the hyun-ju fandom is dying as we speak.. i have a few requests i need to get done, so it might take some time.

it's been a week and three days since hyun-ju's disappearance.

you're worried sick, you've filed a missing persons report, but shortly after, the case was shut cold. she disappeared without a trace, no letter, no text on where she might've went, no call, no nothing. it was like she was never with you to begin with, she was like a blurry dream that was too good to be true.

you couldn't endure anymore of this sadness, the memories were driving you crazy— she cared about you, you knew that. she's spent so much time with you, the dates with her don't feel real anymore, you wondered if she was still even out there. the chances are slim, and day by day, you lose hope.

lacuna inc. was just around the corner, as deep as you are in debts, you had some change. this procedure was worth it.

it's simple, and yes, it does technically count as brain damage, but it couldn't be worse than the sleepless nights you've spent, with bottles of soju, and hyun-ju's picture nearby.

you would come in wednesday, come again thursday, and the procedure should be done by thursday night. you've booked the first briefing appointment, they told you to gather all the items you have that resemble hyun-ju— even in the slightest, it needs to be gotten rid of.

does it hurt? absolutely. you stared blankly at the two huge boxes in front of you, it was filled with everything hyun-ju has ever given to you, every single letter she has written from the depths of her heart, all the clothes you've shared together— even the first skirt she bought with you. it seems impossible, but you keep reminding yourself that it would be for the better, is this what people call gaslighting?

it took you a moment to erase her texts. there was one text before she left. it was from you, telling her to come home early because you cooked her favorite meal. aw, how sad, you hit the delete button.

thursday felt suffocating. you felt like you were stuck in the corner of your tiny bathroom, huddled up, knees bent and hugged by your chest. it didn't matter how big the room for the appointment was, you felt like you couldn't breathe.

you came home and slept like a baby. you thought to yourself, you'll wake up a new person. for the better, definitely. at this point, no, you didn't consider any other negatives of this. it was too late anyways, it's been paid, and it's far too late to go back.

the birds chirp, signaling the sun rising.

you wake up according to your alarm, it reads, "7 am, go to work."

you do. you get ready, put on your best clothes, simple makeup, hair done like you've always done it— at least from what you remember, for some reason, you forgot how to braid your hair. even though you swore, it was braided every morning.

whatever, you probably had a weird dream. that's all.

left corner, turn, straight, go right. why couldn't you recall your steps to work correctly? you felt cold, you had your coat on. there was a sort of absence lingering in your chest. you can't pinpoint what it was exactly. maybe you just forgot something at home.

at least the day went by fast. you were excited to go back home and take a nice bath. it felt oddly empty, did you sell your furniture? you shrugged it off, but then you heard a knock. sounded familiar, like a wave of déjà vu just hit you.

you peeped through the peep-hole before opening.

"hello? may i help you?" what a poor sight you were seeing. a woman was standing, rather helplessly, at your front door. she was holding a card, you don't know what it is exactly. there were two of them. one had shapes on them, and one had a tiny 'lacuna inc.' writing.

did you go to work with her? maybe she was another passerby you see often, or someone you went to school with. either way, she looked at you with pure fright and confusion. what a strange combination for a.. stranger.

"what?" her voice rasps, "y/n?"

"how do you know my name? sorry, do i know you?"

[holy-ghost-fire]

"They’re both problems and it’s funny you think the government funding media is less of a problem."

Please explain to me how a media outlet that is owned by a major corporation is somehow better than a media outlet funded by the government. I'm not saying that we should have privately owned media outlets but pretending like the conflict of interest is more egregious for NPR over NBC, CNN, or Fox is just ridiculous. Its even more laughable when you find out 90% of media outlets are owned by six corporations. Corporations are beholden to no one except their shareholders, don't ever forget that.

"You only say this because Fox is the only mainstream media that isn’t hard left so you’ve been programmed by left wing propaganda to call it fascist even though you don’t know what fascism is."

Look dude, I used to think just like you so the irony of you assuming I'm just a liberal is funny on a lot of levels. I don't throw out the term "fascist" to anyone I disagree with but Fox News has openly promoted extremist talking points for years. Tucker Carlson's show, which many viewers loved and wish it was still on the air, was full of dogwhistles for white supremacists. You don't know what to look for so you don't pick up on the kinds of references and phrases that give it away. I don't watch Fox on a daily basis (obviously) but from what I do see, its still a blatantly partisan outlet that only serves to spread extremist rhetoric to the general public.

"I mean the whole reason you guys freaked out when he bought Twitter was because he wasn’t going to be silencing people anymore so first, don’t pretend you suddenly care about censorship and two, censorship isn’t even what is happening here."

You guys really do just accept what Elon says without questioning it. I know he claimed to be a free speech advocate but Musk has been more than willing to censor people he doesn't agree with on X. As for the Reuters/Musk situation, its much deeper than just the tweet. Reuters has actually won a Pulitzer Price for its in-depth coverage of Tesla and SpaceX. I know you'll just say they're plotting against Elon but the fact that neither you nor Musk can come up with a reasonable response to their series of articles says a lot. When your only response is to slander their credibility, you don't look like the credible one here.

"DOGE is cutting wasteful spending and the cuts are happening in places we’re we’ve known for a long time there has been wasteful spending."

If corruption and graft are that common that DOGE actually found it, prove it. Again, you people take Musk at his word every single time he says his team uncovered wasteful spending and there's nothing he's provided that actually corroborates it. There's no transparency with Musk or DOGE, they just play on your assumption that all government spending is bad and that government orgs created by Democrats are automatically corrupt.

"You are making that up because you don’t understand what’s really happening and you trust the government way too much."

I'm going to say this again but I want to make you understand where I'm coming from. I actually used to be a Republican for a long time. I voted for Trump and supported him for most of his first term in office. To this day, I haven't voted for the Democratic presidential nominee. Hell, I used to argue just like you back in the day on this very blog. I've gotten into way too many of these debates and I know exactly how they go so instead of being snarky, I'm going to offer some advice.

I know you think you have me and my political views figured out after one post but I want you to understand that it doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to assume my beliefs or stereotype anyone who criticizes Trump. The most important thing I can tell you is to keep an open mind. You don't have to follow the party line or believe everything that Trump says. You don't even need to believe everything I say, just read and think critically about everything you hear and believe.

[spiderb00]

As a very clumsy person out of the kats girlfriends who is the most and least clumsy? (How do their gf deal with their clumsiness?)

- 6’3 anon

Also GOOD LUCK THIS SEMESTER YOU GOT THIS

Thanks anon, I'll do my best, but I just want this semester to be over 🙁

But come on, because I'm really missing the kats' girlfriends!!!

Megan's girlfriend IS FOR SURE the clumsiest of them all, seriously, have you ever seen that girl?

On normal days she just can't hold herself up, there's not a bone in her body that can't be clumsy. No wonder she's the definition of a female Peter Parker. The girl is simply a clumsy nerd.

Megan can't say much about her girlfriend's behavior, she's almost the same. If the two of them are walking down the sidewalk, Megan will be walking awkwardly, bumping into her girlfriend's shoulder and causing the poor girl to bump into someone or almost get thrown into the middle of the street. Or if they're at dinner with the Kats, and Megan wants to say something to her girlfriend, she'll try to give Yn a little kick in the leg, causing the taller girl to freak out and bang her knees on the table, rattling all the glasses and plates that were on top of her.

They're a disaster, but they're a cute disaster together.

Lara's girlfriend is certainly in second place, but she's not completely clumsy, she just tries to maneuver some situations she always seems to get herself into.

Yn doesn't understand, but after she started dating Lara, she seems to be a girl magnet, and she definitely wasn't like that when she was single. So she's certainly gotten herself into a lot of trouble trying to avoid trouble or just running away from eminent threats to her relationship.

She's certainly bumped into a few people trying to get away from a girl who was trying to get close to her at a party, or she's dropped ice cream - which Lara had bought so that Yn would be quiet while she shopped - on herself on purpose just so that Lara wouldn't see that a random girl was flirting with her on the other side of the mall store.

Meanwhile, Lara was completely clueless, but she thought it was cute how Yn always managed to be so clumsy, she even made fun of it sometimes.

Fortunately, Yn knew that she had avoided some good wars with her clumsy attitude.

Manon's girlfriend isn't that clumsy, I mean, she falls a lot and gets hurt a lot, but it's more because she's “really cool”, as she puts it.

Yn falls off her skateboard a lot, but hey, it's pretty cool that she skateboards. She has a lot of cuts on her hands, but hey! That's because she's a ROCKSTAR, and she's always giving it her all on the drums at gigs. She's just clumsy in the coolest way possible!

Manon didn't care anymore. At the beginning of the relationship, she was really worried, afraid that the cuts and bruises would be too much. But after a while, she would just bandage them and kiss Yn until she became less clingy. Manon still cared about her girlfriend's well-being, of course. But Yn was a free soul, in fact she was a fundamental boy trapped in a hot girl's body.

Daniela's girlfriend isn't even that clumsy, at least not like the others. She just likes to stay in her place, she's quiet, she only speaks when she's sure she's in a safe place. When she first met the Kats, everyone thought she was strange, she didn't say much in the midst of the girls' noise, but over time this improved.

Daniela never pushed her too hard, she knows Yn well enough to know that this was just her in her comfort zone, so the more she got comfortable, the more she would interact. But that didn't stop Daniela from finding another way to make Yn clumsily cute. Daniela knew that Yn would stutter and get nervous when the Latina teased her, so she did it sometimes, just to see her girlfriend's clumsy and cute behavior.

She's mean, Yn can tell…

Famout! yn would never be the clumsiest, she's too centered for that. Sure, she's got that silly mom energy, but she's never been a clumsy person by any means.

What's more, she certainly prepares herself a lot for when she becomes a mother, she thinks she has to take responsibility and behave more like an adult woman. It's not her fault, she's really excited about what the future has in store for her.

Sophia likes that, but she definitely always reminds Yn to have fun and live a normal life.

[daydreamabout]

Valentine's Day [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Tim and you spend the day catching a flower thief.

The fresh air bites at your skin as you sit in the driver’s seat of the cruiser, flipping through radio channels like you’re trying to escape your current reality.

"Do you know how insulting it is that we’re working on Valentine’s Day?" you mutter, mostly to yourself. "There’s a reason I signed up for the LAPD, but this? This is just cruel and unusual punishment."

Tim doesn’t even look at you, eyes fixed ahead as usual. He’s dressed in his standard attire— and obviously entirely uninterested in your commentary. "We’re here to do our job, not play romance novel."

You scoff. "Yeah, because nothing screams 'romantic' like sitting in a car on Valentine’s Day, tracking down flower thieves."

He barely reacts, his voice dry. "If I had to pick a case for tonight, I wouldn’t have picked this either. Let's just get it done."

You glance at him, but the corner of your lips betrays you. You’re not really mad. The whole thing is ridiculous, but somehow... fun in a strange way. "I’m just saying, a robbery case would have been better than hunting down some guy who’s stealing flowers from local vendors."

A pause, as he shoots you a sideways glance, almost amused. "What did you expect, Y/N? A bank heist?"

Before you can respond, the radio crackles.

"Unit 42, be advised. Suspect reported in the area of 5th and Main. Flower theft suspected. Handle with caution."

"Are we really doing this? I thought it was just a prank."

Tim's already putting the car in gear. "Let’s go, Y/N."

The drive to the florist district is short. You pull up behind a row of stores—mostly small, family-owned shops selling overpriced bouquets to all the people who forgot it was Valentine’s Day until the last minute. Sure enough, there's a man standing near one of the displays with a large bouquet, looking suspiciously out of place.

Tim glances at you. "Keep it cool."

You nod, stepping out of the car. As always, he's the first to approach the suspect, his serious demeanor making everyone around him think twice.

"Flower thief," you say lightly, but with enough authority to make it clear you’re not here for a friendly chat. The suspect immediately flinches.

"I—I didn’t steal anything," the guy stammers, clutching the flowers like they’re his lifeline.

Tim keeps his distance but studies the guy carefully. "Where’d you get those flowers?"

The suspect starts to crack under pressure, his eyes darting to the street and then back to you. "I—uh—bought them. I swear. From the shop back there." He points to a little boutique across the street.

"Yeah, well, I don’t see a receipt," Tim says flatly, not buying it for a second. "You’ve got about thirty seconds before we call it in."

You add, "And a very romantic night in a holding cell. You don’t want that." Your smile is so sweet it could be considered a threat.

The suspect gulps. “I—uh—look, I was going to buy them, but then the shopkeeper caught me eyeing them for too long, and I just thought... what the hell? It's Valentine’s Day, I needed something for my girl, and they were just sitting there all perfect, waiting to be taken. It’s not like I was robbing the place."

You raise an eyebrow. "You can’t just walk in and take them. That’s not cool, buddy."

Calm but firm, Tim steps in. "You’re lucky we’re not putting you in cuffs for an actual robbery. But I’m going to need you to hand those over and head home. Don’t let me catch you trying anything else tonight."

The guy nods quickly, practically dropping the flowers in Tim’s hands. "Thanks! I’ll pay next time!" he blurts, before running off into the night, leaving the two of you standing in the fresh February air.

You stand there for a second, trying to process the situation. "Well, that was..."

Tim turns toward you, and the tiniest hint of a smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. "No one ever said Valentine’s Day crimes would be exciting."

You snort. "Could’ve at least been a flower heist gone wrong. You know, something dramatic."

"That would’ve made your night, huh?" Tim says, his voice dry. "How about you focus on the fact that we just stopped someone from stealing more flowers. You’ll sleep better knowing you protected the integrity of the floral industry."

You laugh. "I’m just glad we’re done with this. Now we can go grab a burger or something. No more heart-shaped nonsense for me tonight."

Tim nods, stepping back toward the car. “Let’s go. And no more talking about flowers. This night never happened.”

You follow him, still smiling despite the oddness of it all. "Hey, at least we got the job done. Team of the year."

He glances over, an almost imperceptible look of acknowledgment in his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. But if you’re expecting me to buy flowers after tonight, you must be out of your mind."

You grin. "Disappointed, but not suprised. I’ll take you up on that burger."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Tim actually seems... relaxed. Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t such a bust after all.

[syrupbitee]

their dinamic is messy but caring but idfa about you all at same time it makes me want to explode i want to see more of them siu pls

[edge-oftheworld]

when I was in high school there was a tendency whenever there was an attractive boy to simply fan over him. in a way that talked over everything he might say for himself and created a narrative that completely ignored, the fact in some cases, that he was really struggling—or if he was struggling, to pin all the blame on the girl he’s dating and completely ignore the thousands of other factors (no it can’t be mental illness or unaccommodated disability or systemic abuse or exploitation and if he is in an abusive relationship we won’t ever consider the factors that put him at risk for that)

and I’m not saying this fandom is like that. I get the need for privacy around some things and how in public conversations sometimes it’s a lot more respectful to stick to the positives (everyone who does that, I admire you) or even the struggles that are talked about publicly, show respect by not reading too far into them. there’s a time and place for that. but sometimes I feel like our only options are shitty and ableist gossip or totally ignoring the systemic and structural issues we know exist in something like the music industry until someone dies and then we’re looking for someone to blame. friends, there is a point where the respectful thing is to listen to what someone says and come together to make things better. and you can learn how to have that conversation respectfully. please do

[skyburger]

WHAT THE HELL NOBODY EVER TOLD ME TWO OF MY FAVE VILLAGERS GOT A LINE STICKER TOGETHER. ive loved tabby for YEARS like since 2019 at LEAST. and these stickers are from 2018 how did i not know !!! i love tabby and boots so much 😭😭😭 TABBY AND BOOTS ANIMAL CROSSING I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH OOMFS FOREVER AND EVER

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m always so fascinated by people’s bad roommate stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever live with someone I haven’t vetted extensively beforehand ever again

[sonknuxadow]

NOOOOOO i caved and decided i would just buy the lps from the target website anyway and they decided to go out of stock as i was about to check out. throws up

[keeps-ache]

standing here in my star-patterned bathrobe holding a stylus while inscribing something onto my computer. it's wizard time baby

[baishouqijia]

i am desperately trying to be more active but i'm experiencing mental burnout. just want to say thank you for the interactions even when i'm only checking in here now and again - i'll respond when i'm feeling better! <3