#because how likely is it that it’s the real one?

[caseybobava]

So as cute the current update is with all the wedding themes and what not, Black Forest Cookies story is actually kind of dark?

It’s pretty obvious that she’s grown up in St Pastry, meaning she’s spent her whole life praying to and worshiping the witches. And based on her behaviour in the current event, we can see that this devotion grew into complete romantic obsession.

And that’s really messed up.

If you’re in or have been in a religion, you can probably imagine how concerning it would be if someone in that religion became that obsessed with what you prayed to, especially to the point of wanting to marry them. Hopefully, this would be considered unhealthy and this person would be dealt with appropriately.

Unfortunately, Black Forest isn't being let down at all.

The leaders of St Pastry are ENABLING THIS. Even claiming that this behaviour is desirable and others should copy. Also Reverend Mother tells who she’s talking to that they’re “doubting” and “lacking in faith” for questioning Black Forest’s safety…the manipulation is crazy.

Also Black Forest’s devotion physically alters her form, becoming more monstrous. Scary.

The only other person we’ve properly seen from the St Pastry order is Pastry Cookie, who also isn’t doing great after what we’ve seen in the cake tower thing story. I vaguely also remember something with St Pastry order in cookie odyssey but I’d have to rewatch it.

I honestly really hope this is all building up to something dramatic, likely in the 5th anniversary, because I think that could be really cool.

(Little disclaimer down here, I’m not trying to attack anyone’s real world religion, just this fictional one 👍)

[morganbritton132]

Steve is just so enamored with Wayne and Eddie’s relationship but doesn’t have the language to express it. He tries anyways with varying results.

One time Steve is over at their house and is just marveling at how cozy and warm it is. He loves how safe and how it feels like a real family lives there.

Steve who has to spend at least an hour a day cleaning to avoid feeling like he’s going to get yelled at, tries to tell Eddie this he saying, “I like that you don’t care if your house is clean.”

“What?”

Steve, who lives in a house that feels like a catalogue stock image, “I think it’s great you guys don’t care what your house looks like.”

The next time Steve comes over, the house is scrubbed spotless. He literally doesn’t notice because he wasn’t saying it was dirty, just lived in and loved.

Another time, Steve is over at Eddie’s and they’re smoking weed in the living room when Wayne unexpectedly shows up.

Steve’s entire soul leaves his body but Eddie just says hi and offer him the joint. Wayne waves him off because he has to get back to work, but wow.

It catches Steve off-guard every time he realizes that Wayne loves Eddie. Unconditionally. As is. Steve’s parents would’ve killed him but Wayne just, accepts.

Later, after Wayne is gone, Steve turns to Eddie and tells him, “It’s so cool that your uncle doesn’t care about you.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him so Steve explains, “I mean, like. It’s cool that he doesn’t care that you never accomplish anything in life.”

“Ouch.”

“In a good way.”

[cutiefulism]

cw — pussy eating, pet names, caleb is a german shepard, uhhh idk what this is. soft sex soon guys pls 😓😓 fluff here n another smut here!

puppydog!caleb who begssss for a taste :(

“c-c’mon, pips, honey, baby, please? jus’ one time, and then i’ll leave you alone, i swear.”

and he looks so pathetic there, too — big, violet eyes peering up at you from between your legs, tail thumping on the rug behind him, furry ears pinned flat against his dark brown hair.

you’ve always been a sucker for cute things. how could you say no to a face like that?

a sigh blows past your pretty lips, and you roll your eyes. “okay, okay, fine.”

and caleb beams, ears perking up and tail swishing. “thank you, sweetness. i’ll be so good, i promise.”

oh, but you should’ve known caleb was lying.

because, i mean, get real. did you seriously expect him to stop after one orgasm?

he hasn’t been between those plush thighs in weeks, hasn’t felt them practically crushing his skull and jumbling his thoughts. it’s criminal to deprive him like this — call it animal neglect.

two big hands keep your legs spread apart and that delicious pussy on display for him. it’s so beautiful — he’s never seen one better.

well, he’s never seen one at all, save for the occasional porn video, but that doesn’t really count, does it? and he spent more of that time imagining it was yours rather than the girl on screen.

he’s snatched from his thoughts when you tug on his hair, pulling his face closer to that sopping mess, even as you whine for him to stop.

“c-caleb, you said just — fuck! — o-one.”

. . did he?

whoops.

a throaty chuckle reverberates against your poor labia, sending vibrations right up to your puffy clit, and you choke on a moan. “i meant one session, pipsqueak.” slurp. “‘s not my fault if ya took it wrong.”

your nails dig into his scalp, like you’re punishing him, and caleb barely stifles a whimper, his cock giving a nice twitch and a spurt of pre cum to add to the already massive stain in his briefs.

“no, you didn’t! you— ngh . . liar.”

his grin only grows wider.

you can call him whatever you want. he’ll let you call him a liar for the rest of his damn life if it means you’ll keep letting him touch you like this.

after all, what’s a few harsh, empty protests from you when caleb really knows how you feel?

how your cunt clenches down around his tongue, which you swear has gotten longer since the start of his little predicament, how your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head, greedily holding him in place, the way your moans grow more wanton and feverish in pitch . .

he’s going to get you to cum again.

when does he not?

“give it t’me, honey, thaaat’s it,” he coos, and that praise goes right to your head (and your pussy!).

you really don’t know how caleb got so good at this. he says he hasn’t been with anyone else, and you believe him, but . .

oh, there is no way he can be this good at pussy eating and you two have only done so occasionally.

but who are you to complain? he’s always been skilled, practically a natural at everything. this shouldn’t (and isn’t) an exception.

“ohh, i’m gonna cum—” you keen, back curving into the most delicious arch, and caleb only picks up his pace, licking and sucking, devouring every centimeter of your pussy he can.

he’s a man-dog starved, and you are the only thing that can satisfy him.

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking and thick tongue swirling while his fingers release your thigh and gather up a lewd mixture of his spit and your essence so that he can plunge two inside far enough to curl right at that spongey spot.

and you fall.

swollen lips parted in a silent ‘O’, one hand fisting the sheets while the other yanks at his hair. your legs quiver at each side of his head, and your hips should be too tired to even move, but they’re bucking into his face, grinding up like you’re trying to suffocate him.

though, in caleb’s opinion, this isn’t a bad way to go out. one of the best ways, actually.

he only pulls his face back when he’s positively sure you’re done, and he licks his lips. tasty.

he shifts up, so that he can see that fucked-out expression, eyes glassy and face flushed. “you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, and a hand comes up to push your hair back so he can lavish your face in kisses and licks.

“my pretty, pretty girl.”

you let out a tiny whine that breaks off into a yawn, and caleb’s smile softens. “yer pretty, too,” you mumble.

he snorts. “you’re prettier.”

your brows draw together. “nuh-uh.”

“yuh-huh.”

“nuh-uh!”

a thick finger flicks your forehead. “go to bed, pipsqueak.”

pregnant sex w puppy!caleb soon perchance.. also i might start back doing gradients but idk 🪫 ts kinda hard

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you hiding an injury from them !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k (lowkey estimated bc word counter isn’t working)

cw: injuries (sprained wrist/ankle, concussions, etc.), blood mentioned but not descriptive (woozi) way too much backstory bc i'm a d1 yapper

a/n: for the record i've never sustained a major injury (thankfully!) besides when i dislocated my shoulder when i was 4 years old so this may not be accurate. SO sorry that this took so long i had a brain fart or smth 😔

scoups - you really didn't think he'd notice immediately, but he does. you accidentally rolled your ankle trying to catch the subway. it wasn't too bad; the doctor said you'd minorly sprained your ankle, but all it needed was a couple weeks in a splint. in some attempt to hide it, you put on some sweatpants and slippers and call it a day.

so deciding it wasn't that big of a deal (and lowkey a win since you got to skip work), you didn't think of telling seungcheol because one, you didn't feel like listening to him scold you for staying up too late the night before, and two, he'd just gotten off tour. he didn't need to spend the next couple of weeks babying you over an injury that didn't even require surgery.

but when he returns home from a day out and catches you instantly put down your leg from where you'd been elevating it on a footstool, he immediately grows suspicious of something. "why were you doing that just now?"

"eh? i think you're being paranoid- oh, um..." you try to play it off, but then he comes closer and inspects your body for a bit before pulling up your pant leg to reveal the splint surrounding your ankle despite your protests.

his eyes widen and he looks up at you from where he's kneeling. "you got hurt? when? why didn't you call me?" he asks rapidly. you sigh, listening to him scold you even more than what he would have if you'd told him earlier, finally promising him to never hide anything from him again.

jeonghan - basically, you slipped in the shower and gave yourself a concussion while jeonghan was at practice. out of pure embarrassment, you didn't tell jeonghan because let's be real, it sounded a little stupid and someone like him would never let you live it down.

and honestly, you thought you'd exceeded. jeonghan had come home and didn't mention anything to you, just complaining about how he hates all his choreography (he says this everytime he has to learn new choreo...). that was until you went to bed.

all is well, but then those massive headaches roll in one by one and now you're stuck with an unbearable migraine. trying not to disturb your boyfriend, you uncurl yourself from him and barely make your way to the kitchen.

the headache only gets worse as you fumble with the advil bottle while cursing your concussion aloud when suddenly a hand takes it and opens it. "here," you turn around, only to find jeonghan offering the bottle with a confused, sleepy look.

"and what were you muttering around? a concussion or something?" you gulp, taking the advil as you try to come up with an excuse. he takes your (literally three second) hesitation as an answer, "wait- you actually got a concussion?" avoiding the question, you attempt to usher him back to bed, but now he's somehow gained consciousness and doesn't back down. "y/n, what happened? and why didn't you tell me?" and when you finally tell him, he's... disappointed?

"baby, you really didn't tell me you got a concussion because you thought i'd make fun of you?" he sighs, shaking his head before putting his hands on your shoulder, "i'm your lover before a jokester or best friend, okay? i care about you more than anything. don't hide things like this from me."

joshua - in this situation, you would say "snitches get stitches" but the only one who actually got stitches was you.

you got a pretty bad arm wound while bike riding with your friend. it hurt and the only thing you really remembered was crying from the pain. anyways, joshua had just gotten off tour, and you'd feel bad for making him worry, so you made your friend promise to not mention it to him.

but the only warning you get when you return home from the hospital is a text from that same friend saying, "sorry y/n...." before you open the door and are greeted by a very worried joshua.

"y/n! i heard about your arm, are you okay?" you try to brush him off, but he doesn't let you. "hey, your friend also said you were going to try to hide it from me. why's that?"

"it's really not a big deal shua-"

"don't lie to me, she said you were crying, babe. why are you trying so hard to keep this from me?"

you don't know what to say and joshua just embraces you, "here, i'll take care of you okay?" and you let him, because it's joshua.

jun - ugh, he's so oblivious yet somehow annoyingly observant that he finds out without trying.

someone ran over your toe with a shopping cart during your grocery trip. it truly didn't hurt that much in the moment, but the hours after that? oh boy were they torturing.

it still didn't seem like enough to tell jun about, so you simply went about your day suffering in silence.

during dinner, however, he asks you through scoops of chinese steamed egg, "did you hurt your foot while shopping?"

taken aback by the accuracy of his question, you literally drop your spoon and he's just like, "what?? you just seem to be lighter on your feet today, that's all."

he takes the whole situation pretty lightly (oblivious i tell you) that he doesn't even believe you when you try to tell him the truth 😭 "okay, okay, you're just trying to make me seem smart now." so then you take off your sock at the dinner table and lift your bruised foot to show him and he looks at you like this: (°ロ°)

hoshi - unlike jun, he does NOT take it lightly. he's almost offended.

yes, you shouldn't be trying to walk around too much with a bad ankle, but you can't help it okay? sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, like walk hoshi's dog, latte, while he works on his album.

he's been really busy, okay? you never told him about how you tripped around a week ago, so you'd just been living as if it never happened. honestly it's no surprise that you kind of automatically accepted his sister's request without thinking of your ankle (that was praying you'd stop putting pressure on it).

but then you make the grave mistake of posting your walk on instagram with just a sliver of the bandage wrapping up your ankle. he literally hearts the story, removes it, and replies with an angry face.

he calls you, "y/n! what are you doing walking around with an obviously injured leg? and why am i finding out through your instagram story?"

you're not sure what to say, but he talks for you, "i'm leaving practice right now so i can take care of both my babies, don't move. you'll make your ankle worse, babe."

"right, because you'd know-" and he hangs up on you,

wonwoo - silently observant...

you were surprised that you'd been able to go this long with a cast around your wrist, only using hoodies to conceal it, but turns out wonwoo's like those shop employees who wait for people to steal $1000 worth of stuff before dropping that lawsuit on them.

one day, you're both just sitting on the couch when he grabs ahold of your wrist. he literally waits for you to be distracted, doomscrolling on social media, to do it.

but then you feel him roll up your sleeve, and now you're doomed.

"what's this, y/n?" he asks firmly, holding your arm tight enough to where you can't move, but somehow gently as to prevent any discomfort (how cute of him).

"you really didn't think i would notice it? you wearing hoodies when it's 70 degrees, eating with your nondominant hand, taking forever to shower because you have to wash your hair with one arm, why didn't you just let me take care of you?"

you sort of shrink back in shame; wonwoo read you and you were stunned. he simply takes you into his arms, murmuring, "i'm not mad, i just want you to know that you don't have to struggle like that when i'm here. i'll notice either way."

woozi - ouch. you accidentally cut yourself while cleaning up the remnants of a glass cup you dropped. the cut was deep, but somehow still in a sleepy daze, you cleaned it to the best of your ability, slapped some gauze on it, and went back to bed.

whenever jihoon comes home, he follows his normal 2 am schedule, but then notices the blood-stained towel in the hamper. he rushes to your room, only to find you sound asleep.

still, he shakes you awake, "y/n, why's there a towel with blood all over it in the laundry room?" you kind of look at him, confused, before simply lifting your arm to reveal the amateur work you did you bandage it.

at first, he sighs in relief, but then you see his brows furrow. "when did this happen? seems kinda serious..." he inspects it closely as you mumble, "i dunno, couple hours ago? i dropped something."

"what? why didn't you call me? i could've come home earlier to take care of it." he says, feeling guilty about not being there.

"it's really nothing, you've been really busy anyway. this isn't something you should worry about-" but he shushs you. "i'm never too busy to help you, y/n. i don't want you thinking like that."

dk - like hoshi, he doesn't take it lightly. you took a heavy fall while rushing to work a couple days ago. it wasn't a big deal until your arm started to bruise pretty badly.

you knew seokmin would freak out at it, so you planned on wearing long sleeve shirts to cover it up, and it'd been working pretty well.

but unfortunately for you, this had to be the time where you forgot to bring a shirt with you to shower, accidentally bringing two pairs of pants instead.

you tried to dash in and out of your room as fast as possible, but seokmin was plopped on your bed, getting a clear view of your arm (you had a towel wrapped around you okay?).

his jaw drops, you grab a shirt, water is dripping everywhere, and you yell “i’ll explain later!” as you run back to the bathroom.

when you come back, his jaw is still in the same position. “seok, it’s really not that bad.” you assure him, but he barely pays attention, just reaching for your arm. “it looks bad though…” he mumbles, poking at the bruise like a little kid, “that didn’t hurt, right?”

ugh, he’s so cute.

mingyu - you somehow manage to slice your hand open while cooking dinner for whenever mingyu comes home.

do you tell him? absolutely not. you definitely do not need him locking you out of the kitchen after you try to cook one time.

you really don’t have time to go to the hospital (which you definitely should’ve done??) so you opt to put some pressure on it with a towel until it stops bleeding, and because you have terrible timing, mingyu enters the apartment.

at first he says “smells pretty good! what are you-“ he strides into the kitchen to see the food you were unable to plate at the dining table (that actually looks pretty good), your distressed face, and then your hand.

���at least i got here on time,” he says, taking your hand and looking at it closely. “don’t worry, i was like trained for this stuff.” he smiles, heading toward what you used to think was an overstuffed medical cabinet.

“you didn’t even call me. were you planning to take care of this yourself?” he asks, wrapping your hand with precision. “i’m here for a reason, you know? you just gotta let me help you, baby.”

the8 - you had a feeling minghao would notice immediately, but there was a very slim chance he’d miss it this time. he’d just got done filming for his survival show, and you knew he’d be tired when he got home.

you’re a pretty clumsy person, and you always felt bad for making a usually calm minghao worried. so, when you tripped and got a concussion the day before, you didn’t tell him.

it was going fine, painkillers acting as your savior, but then you ran out of them. groaning, you decide to wait for minghao to leave the house to go buy more, but he doesn’t?

it’s like his subconscious knew your plan, and eventually you just can’t take it anymore, calling your friend and asking her to drop some off.

then you go to take a nap on the couch as an attempt to sleep off the headache you have, unaware that your friend’s at the door.

minghao gently shakes you awake, bottle of advil in his hand and a concerned look on his face. “i knew something was up with you. you should’ve just told me, y/n.” he says, explaining how your friend gave him a weird face when he asked about the medication and then dropping how you got a concussion like it was obvious.

“we shouldn’t hide things like this, okay? it’s not good for you.”

seungkwan - let’s just say, you may not be cut out for volleyball.

you were just goofing off with your friends, playing volleyball, when you dislocated your shoulder. seungkwan was hosting a variety show, and you didn’t feel like bothering him, so you didn’t mention it, not even when he video called you during his lunch break.

it wasn’t that bad of an injury, the doctor popped it back into its socket and you were sent home with some medication.

a week passes with no problem, but then seungkwan offers to play some badminton (like the LAST sport you should be trying to play during recovery), and thinking it wouldn’t be too bad, you accept.

it’s only till you’re actually swinging the racket that you realize that your shoulder has definitely not healed, let alone healed enough to really be playing a sport. you suddenly pause, “wait- just give me a minute.” he runs over from his side of the court. “hey, what’s going on? you look like you’re in pain.”

trying to get out the fact it’s because you got a dislocated shoulder, you ramble “it’s fine, just a dislocatedshoulderigotaweekagowithouttellingyou 😄”

and he’s like “WHAT? are you crazy?? why are you trying to play on it?” and proceeds to grab that same arm and drag you out of the court. he definitely scolds you for the rest of the day…

vernon - normally he’s chill, but right now he’s lowkey tweaking out.

while he was visiting his sister for her birthday, you broke your leg. you didn’t tell vernon because you wanted him to have a good time with his sister (how nice of you 😊), but when he comes home, he doesn’t think of it as such.

you’re laying on the couch, watching a show, whenever he enters the apartment. there’s a blanket over you, so he doesn’t notice the leg immediately.

“finally, this jet lag has got me *yawn* out of it.” he says, lifting the blanket just enough so he can slide in next to you.

he still doesn’t notice until his leg touches your boot, yelping in surprise. “why are you wearing shoes on the couch?” and then making another surprised noise when you reveal its a medical boot.

“did this happen when i was gone? you should’ve told me…” he gently scolds you, mainly because you made him so surprised, and then just lays back with you on the couch like nothing happened.

dino - you really wanted to tell him, but he just looked so happy in singapore and you really didn’t feel like ruining his time there.

on the way to class, you fractured your wrist while trying to catch yourself. since then, you’ve been struggling trying to do basically anything: changing clothes, showering, cooking, the list goes on.

but you didn’t tell him, just choosing to get through it until he comes home.

“y/n~ i’m home!” he calls out, walking in with his luggage. you’re in the shower, arm sticking out as far as it can away from the water, trash bag wrapped around that arm, and ultimately, just in a bad position.

“um, in here! can you help me?” you holler. you feel bad for making him help you as soon as he got home, but you’re going through hell and back trying to shampoo your hair.

he walks into the bathroom, “you sure you want me in here?” and all he sees is a fogged up shower with a trash bagged arm sticking out of it. surprisingly, he immediately understands what happened.

“babe, you should’ve told me earlier.” he says, helping you wash your hair properly. “i don’t like to think that you’ve been struggling like this without me there.” he frowns, kissing you on the forehead.

[ariichive]

WHITE DAY ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

celebrating white day with the man who’ll do anything for you <3

cw: gen. neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, moze is a bit weird, sliiiight possessiveness, astral express sunday, kissing, lmk if i missed anything :)

boothill, aventurine, jing yuan, mydei, anaxa, sunday, moze, and phainon ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

boothill ᯓᡣ𐭩

you giggled as boothill led you through the empty, infamous clock studios theme park. "this can't be allowed," you whisper-shouted at him, who had a ginormous grin.

boothill, however, only flashed you that devil-may-care grin of his, tipping his hat back as he casually strolled forward, seemingly not bothered by the rules—or the late hour. “aw, darlin',” he drawled, looking over his shoulder at you, “ain’t no harm in a lil’ late-night stroll. the park’s still runnin’. they got their folks takin' care of the rides, but they ain't watchin' every corner.”

you shot him a disbelieving look, glancing around at the still-bustling park—there were still families and groups laughing, enjoying the remaining hours. but with how boothill had his hand around yours, there was no turning back.

“boothill, there’s security everywhere. we’re gonna get caught.”

“nah,” he said, a wink thrown your way as he led you further into the park. “what makes you think they can catch us? you just gotta know where to go and when to disappear.”

“and you know where to go?” you said, trying to sound incredulous, but you couldn’t hide the excitement rising in your chest.

“oh, darlin’, i’ve been around these parts enough to know where the real fun happens after hours. all the good stuff happens behind the scenes,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. “we’re just gonna skip the line and see the real show.”

it was a known fact boothill was a wanted man; ipc and other factions wanted his head.

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re absolutely insane. this is—”

“fun?” he finished for you, smirking as he pulled you toward one of the smaller, quieter corners of the park, away from the main attractions. “that’s exactly what it is. don’t let the suits and tie-wearin’ folks fool you, sugar. there’s always something hidden behind the curtain.”

you followed as he led you down a narrow, slightly hidden path between the many gift shops and food stands. there were fewer people here, and the sounds of the park seemed a little more distant. a quiet buzz lingered in the air, one that made your heart race with anticipation.

“what are you planning?” you asked, your voice low now, the playful tone taking on a hint of curiosity.

“i’ve got some connections ‘round here. places they don’t show the public. places you might not expect.” boothill's grin was unrelenting, his eyes scanning the area, like he was constantly on the lookout, always one step ahead.

you furrowed your brow. “so we’re sneaking into some secret area where nobody goes?”

“exactly,” he said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more dangerous tone. “and you’re gonna love it. it’s the part of clock studios they never show—the real behind-the-scenes stuff. think of it as a treasure hunt, sugar.”

you swallowed hard, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline you got whenever boothill pulled you into one of his schemes. “and what’s the treasure?”

boothill sent you a smile, one that was more gentle than the previous ones. "you just gotta see for yourself. just a lil' somethin' to show you how much i enjoy spendin' time with ya.”

you raised an eyebrow. "oh really? and what makes you think i want a date in the middle of clock studios at this hour?"

boothill grinned wider, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "because i know ya, darlin'. you got a wild streak in ya. and i can tell you like a bit of adventure—so i figured we'd skip all the usual fancy stuff and give ya a night you'll never forget."

you snorted softly at his confidence. “well, i’m curious, i’ll give you that.”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he led you down the winding path, eventually reaching a large, circular room lit by soft lanterns hanging from the ceiling. as the door closed behind you with a soft click, you took in the scene before you.

there, in the middle of the room, was a cozy little table set for two. delicate white candles flickered on the table, their soft glow casting dancing shadows across the walls. the table was covered with a cloth, and on it, there were plates of food, wine glasses, and a single rose in the center.

your breath caught in your throat. “boothill... is this...?”

“yep,” he interrupted, chuckling. “a lil' somethin’ special just for you. dinner in the heart of clock studios.” he motioned for you to sit down. “now, don’t be shy. i reckon you’ll like it here. no crowds, no distractions, just you, me, and some damn fine food.”

you shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around the situation. “this is... unbelievable. you really planned all this, didn’t you?”

“sure did,” he said, pulling out the chair for you like a gentleman. his usual rough demeanor was softened by the genuine care in his eyes. 

you squeezed his hand, your heart beating a little faster as you looked into his eyes. "this... this is perfect, boothill. thank you."

“anything for you, sugar,” he replied, his smile softening as he poured the wine. “anything for you.”

aventurine ᯓᡣ𐭩

"w-what the—"

when you woke up, you were met with an eerie sight. two beady eyes stared back at you from the foot of your bed, gleaming in the dim light. your breath caught in your throat as you turned to the side, only to be greeted by another pair of eyes—this time from the nightstand.

you froze, unsure whether you were still caught in a strange dream or not.

then, hurried footsteps approached, the blinds were thrown open, and bright daylight poured into the room, revealing the full scope of the situation.

the room was filled with them—hundreds of teddy bears. stuffed animals of all sizes, arranged in perfect rows, surrounding your bed. their stitched eyes all seemed to glisten with an unsettling lifelike quality, staring at you from every angle.

“a-am i still dreaming?” you whispered, unsure whether you could still trust your senses.

you shut your eyes tightly, squeezing them shut in a vain attempt to block out the madness. but when you opened them again, the bears were still there, their beady eyes gleaming.

before you could say anything else, a voice that was too calm for the situation echoed through the room.

"not exactly the reaction i was going for. how unfortunate."

you snapped your head toward the window, finding the source of the voice: your lover, aventurine. he stood there, leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he observed your shock.

you exhaled a breath of relief—at least he wasn’t part of the teddy bear invasion. his gaze, filled with gentle amusement, was the only familiar thing in the room that grounded you in reality.

“aventurine...” you trailed off, still trying to process what was happening.

“yes, yes, i know.” he straightened up, stepping into the room, his voice smooth as always. “you were probably expecting something a bit more romantic, were you not? perhaps a flower delivery or a candlelit dinner?” he gave a dramatic sigh. “but no, instead, you get this."

his arms gestured around the room, and you couldn’t help but blink at the absurdity of it all.

“what... what is all this?” you asked, your voice wavering with confusion.

"well, my dear, some would see it as a heartwarming gift from their lover. but, i bet you see it as more of a... heart attack."

"i wanted to do something memorable." he looked down at the stuffed animals thoughtfully before letting out a soft laugh. “i suppose, after all the chaos, the gesture doesn’t quite come across as I intended.”

you took in the various different bears, realizing how cute most of them were. you smiled softly, knowing he had good intentions. "it's cute, that one has the same glasses as you." you pointed to one perched on a high shelf.

"ah, not the same glasses, i'm sure those didn't even cost half as much as mine," he flaunted confidently, "but yes, quite similar."

you rolled your eyes affectionately but couldn't hide the smile on your face as you looked at him. “you’re unbelievable.”

“ah, but you love me for it, don’t you?” he teased, his voice warm as he leaned in closer.

you couldn't help but laugh softly, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. "i do, more than you'll ever know."

his expression softened, and for a moment, the ridiculousness of the situation melted away, leaving just the two of you—surrounded by stuffed animals, but wrapped in a moment of shared warmth.

"well, then," aventurine said, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. "i’d say this surprise was a success after all."

"for you, maybe." you smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "but next time, let’s go for something less... beady."

he laughed, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead. "i’ll take that into consideration, love."

jing yuan ᯓᡣ𐭩

it was normal for you to wake up before jing yuan. often, the man would cling to you and mutter 'five more minutes' before falling back asleep for another hour, giving you enough time to get ready and out the door before he wakes. his warmth was always a comfort, his breath soft and steady against your skin. you could feel his arms tighten around you in his sleepy, possessive way, a silent plea for you to stay in bed with him.

this morning, however, something felt a bit different. his usual murmurs didn’t come, and when you turned your head to look at him, you noticed that jing yuan was already awake, his amber eyes watching you intently.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

he gave you that half-smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter. "couldn't sleep," he said, his tone low and a little too smooth.

"really? that's kinda hard to believe," you said jokingly as his hand found comfort at the top of your head, stroking you gently.

“you know i always get up first,” you said softly, glancing at the clock.

“yes,” he replied with a lazy grin, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that made your chest tighten. “but i was enjoying the rare moment when you’re still here with me."

you smiled, though a part of you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was holding onto the bed sheet, how his hands lingered on you just a little longer than usual.

"how about we get up together?" you suggested, teasing him with a gentle nudge.

he sighed dramatically, but then his hands pulled you back toward him, his body pressing against yours with a sense of finality. "i don't want to," he murmured, his voice almost childlike. "you're all i need right here."

his words sent a flutter through your heart, and you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

"do you wish to help me tend to my garden today?" he said gently, continuing to caress you. he was on the brink of falling back asleep.

you hummed softly, feeling the warmth of his touch, the tender way his fingers ran over your skin. the thought of spending the day with him, surrounded by the scent of fresh flowers and the quiet peace of the garden, sounded perfect.

"i would love to," you replied quietly, your eyes closing as you leaned further into him, letting yourself feel his presence. "but only if you promise not to drag me out there too late."

jing yuan chuckled, the sound low and soothing. "i’ll make sure we take it slow, just like now. no rushing." his hand slid to your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "we’ll spend the whole day there if you want. just the two of us."

you smiled, a sense of calm settling over you at his words. it was always the simple moments with him that made you feel the most at ease, and the thought of being by his side while surrounded by the beauty of nature felt almost too perfect to be real.

"you make it sound so perfect," you murmured, resting your cheek against his chest. "i think i could get used to this."

"good," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "because i’m not letting you go anywhere today." he tightened his hold on you, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was comforting, a reassurance that you were his, and he was yours.

"i’m not going anywhere," you whispered back, feeling your heart beat in sync with his. "not when you make staying so easy."

he gave a content sigh, his lips pressing gently to your head. "i promise [name], you'll forever live easy with me by your side."

moze ᯓᡣ𐭩

moze dragged you into another dark alleyway, hand over your mouth. he brought his lips close to your ear, "i walked by them thirty-eight days ago around this time." he whispered gently as he glared at the couple the two of you were watching.

"this is my third time following them since, and not once has the man noticed," he tsked in disapproval.

you bit his hand gently, causing him to let go of the hold he had on your mouth. "so... why drag me into this?"

"do you not find joy in following around such ignorant people?"

you thought about his question for a second, truly thinking it over. well, it would probably be entertaining.

you decided to let him have his fun for the day. besides, this was practically a date.

"a filthy man like him does not have what it takes to be in a relationship." he continued to mutter more to himself, a dark shadow casting over his face.

you glanced at him, feeling a shiver of both unease and excitement crawl up your spine. there was something magnetic about moze, his dark intensity and sharp observations always keeping you on edge, but also pulling you in. you couldn't deny the thrill of being part of whatever strange little world he inhabited.

"you really hate him, don't you?" you asked, your voice low, trying to keep your amusement from showing too much.

moze didn't respond right away, his eyes never leaving the couple as they walked past the alley. he seemed to be weighing his words carefully. finally, he let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. "it’s not hate," he said slowly. "it’s... disappointment."

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "disappointment?"

"yes," he muttered. "people like him don't understand the weight of commitment. they wear their affection like a mask, pretending to care, when they don't even know what it means to truly invest in another person." his voice dropped to a near growl. "they’re fools. dirty fools.”

you tilted your head, studying his profile. there was a certain calm, almost cold certainty in his words, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way that made your heart race.

"and what about you, moze?" you asked, your voice teasing. "do you know what it means to truly invest in someone?"

he turned his gaze to you, his eyes sharp and calculating. for a moment, he didn’t speak, just studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"i followed you for over a month before our first interaction. during that time, i learned all your favorite foods, hobbies, and even your favorite book."

he ended your question at that.

"you... actually, i'm not that surprised."

moze didn’t smile. his expression remained unreadable, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his eyes as he watched your reaction.

"i told you," he continued, his voice low and steady, "i invest in the details. when something interests me, i pay attention." he stepped a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "and you, [name], have intrigued me from the moment i laid eyes on you."

"oddly enough, you're such a romantic in your own, moze way."

he hummed in approval, gently taking your hand in his. "if you prefer, we could find a different activity. i simply wanted to spend time with you on an excursion that wasn't dangerous."

"we could go for a walk," he continued, his tone thoughtful. "a peaceful one. no hiding, no stalking, just... time spent together." his words held an edge of something deeper, as if the suggestion itself was a rare offering from him.

you were taken aback. moze, the man who had watched you from the shadows, who seemed to find thrill in the darker aspects of life, was now offering something simple, almost mundane. it was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you wonder what else lay hidden beneath his carefully crafted exterior.

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "alright," you said, voice soft but steady. "let’s see how that goes."

moze gave a small, approving smile, the flicker of warmth in his eyes making you feel like you were the only person in the world. "good," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "then let’s enjoy the day."

mydei ᯓᡣ𐭩

"this one's really good," you said as mydei fed another home made pastry to you. he hummed, deep in thought as he took mental note of all the flavors you seemed to like thus far.

"figured you would like the freshness of the strawberry and sweetness of the chocolate." he held another chocolate covered strawberry up to your mouth, which you ate without hesitation.

you smiled at him, feeling the sweetness linger on your tongue. "you know me too well," you said with a playful grin, leaning back slightly as you rested against the plush cushions. "but seriously, these are amazing. when did you even have time to make all of this?"

mydei chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "i make time for things that matter," he replied, his voice low and warm. he was always like this—calm, thoughtful, and careful with you. "besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every second."

you raised an eyebrow, your heart fluttering a bit. "you're so sweet," you said, though you weren't sure if you meant the pastry or him.

"i try," he said with a teasing smirk before reaching for another treat, "but if i'm honest, i think you’re the one who's sweet. i just… enhance it."

his words made a gentle warmth spread through you, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, almost instinctively. "enhance it?" you repeated with a small laugh. "that’s one way to put it."

"well, i’m not one to leave things half done." he smiled, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes. "and you, my [name], deserve more than half of anything."

"you're spoiling me," you said with a soft laugh, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. "but i don’t mind."

mydei’s eyes softened, a gentle smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "i’m happy to spoil you, [name]," he said quietly, his voice low, almost like a secret shared between the two of you. "you deserve it."

"who would've thought the prince of kremnos was such a sweetheart?" this time, it was your turn to take a sweet delicacy and being it up to his mouth.

mydei raised an amused brow at your gesture but didn’t hesitate to accept the treat, lips brushing ever so slightly against your fingertips as he took a bite. his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, something almost dangerous, as he chewed slowly, savoring both the taste of the pastry and the moment between you.

"only for you," he murmured after swallowing, voice dipped in something almost intoxicating. "i don’t make a habit of spoiling just anyone."

you felt a warmth crawl up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him fluster you so easily. "oh? so i should consider myself lucky then?" you teased, though there was a genuine curiosity beneath your playful words.

mydei chuckled, low and rich, resting his chin in his palm as he studied you. "very lucky," he answered, his gaze never wavering. "because once i decide someone is mine, i don’t let go."

phainon ᯓᡣ𐭩

phainon had been gone for a few days, his whereabouts unknown to you. it was extremely worrying, especially since he stopped answering his teleslate.

as the days passed, you found yourself staring out the window, lost in thought. the only thing that kept you going was the belief that he would return, that he had a reason for being gone, no matter how hard it was to wait.

then, one evening, as the sky burned in hues of blue, a soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. you froze. for a moment, you thought you had imagined it. but then, there it was again—a gentle, familiar rhythm.

your heart pounded as you hurried to the door, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the handle. when you pulled it open, your breath hitched.

phainon stood there, his clothes dusted with travel, silver strands of his hair catching the evening light. despite the exhaustion lining his features, there was a soft smile playing at his lips, his eyes warm as they met yours

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, though there was a gentleness in his voice.

“you—” your voice caught, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling up. “where have you been?! do you have any idea how worried i—”

before you could finish, he lifted his hand, revealing a small, elegantly wrapped box. “i know, i know. and i’m sorry,” he murmured. “but i had to find this.”

your frustration faltered as your eyes fell on the box. carefully, you took it from him, untying the ribbon with hesitant fingers. as the lid lifted, a soft gasp escaped your lips.

nestled inside was a necklace unlike anything you had ever seen. its chain was delicate, shimmering like bright stardust, and the pendant—a gemstone that seemed to shift colors under the fading sunlight, like the twilight sky itself trapped in crystal. it was breathtaking. if you had to guess, he had found the luxurious gem and then had it made into a necklace.

“phainon…” your voice was barely above a whisper.

"it's a necklace from aedes elysiae, well... what's left of it." he mumbled the last part more to himself.

a once glorious civilization, a place that most believed never existed, spoken of only in half-whispered legends, it was a remnant of beauty and tragedy.

you looked back at him, eyes wide. "you went... back there?"

phainon gave a small shrug, but there was something distant in his gaze. “i had to.” his fingers brushed over the lid of the box before retreating. “the place was beyond repairable, not a single structure in sight. but even in its ruins, i knew there had to be something... anything left worth saving.”

your fingers curled around the necklace, feeling the cool weight of it against your palm. "but why go so far? why risk it?"

he let out a quiet breath, gaze flickering away for a moment before settling back on you. “because i wanted something as rare as you. something that carried the weight of history, of stories untold. something that—” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower, “—would remind you of me, even when i’m not around.”

your chest tightened, a rush of warmth blooming in your heart.

carefully, he reached forward, taking the necklace from your hands and stepping closer. his fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"it suits you," he murmured.

your fingers ghosted over the pendant, the weight of it somehow comforting. "you really..." you started, unsure of what to say. there was so much—gratitude, relief, something deeper you couldn’t quite name.

he smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips. “no need for words.”

but even so, as the evening light cast long shadows around you both, you knew that this moment—this gift, this feeling—would stay with you forever.

anaxa ᯓᡣ𐭩

anaxa was never one to partake in festivities that landed on the calendar. that, however, changed when he started dating you. it was almost irritating how mushy you made him feel.

which he made it known, never one to shy away from his feelings of devotion to you.

"these flowers were grown by me by hand. it seems it was useless to try to create something that matches your beauty."

your fingers curled around the stems of the flowers, holding them close to your chest as you let the warmth of his words settle in. anaxa was never one for grand displays of affection, but the way he showed his devotion—subtle, unwavering, and entirely sincere—always left you feeling breathless.

"you act like you’re forced to say these things," you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "but i think you secretly enjoy being this romantic."

he scoffed, his expression remaining unreadable, but the way his fingers twitched at his sides betrayed him. "enjoy is a strong word," he muttered. "i simply refuse to be inadequate when it comes to you."

you chuckled, shaking your head as you reached out, looping your arms around his neck. "you’re terrible at hiding how much you love me, you know that?"

anaxa let out a small sigh, his hands settling at your waist, pulling you in until there was barely any space left between you. "if you already know, then i see no reason to deny it," he admitted, his voice quieter this time, almost as if the words were meant for you and you alone.

he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours. "besides, if it makes you happy, then i don’t mind indulging in a little sentimentality."

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. "just a little?"

he exhaled, shaking his head. "fine. a lot," he conceded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

you held onto him a little tighter, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. "then i guess i’ll just have to make sure you keep indulging me," you whispered against his skin.

anaxa hummed, tilting your chin up with a single finger before capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. "you never had to ask."

you pulled away with a smile, remembering the flowers in your hand. "say, i never took you much as the gardening type."

"you humor me, gardening is an essential part of science and understanding the reality of this world. it would be foolish of me to be clueless."

you chuckled, twirling one of the blossoms between your fingers. "of course, trust you to turn something as simple as flowers into a lecture."

anaxa scoffed, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "if you listened more closely, you'd see there's value in my words." he reached out, plucking the flower from your grasp and tucking it carefully behind your ear. "besides, these were grown with a purpose. for you."

your teasing smile softened at his words, fingers brushing over the delicate petals. "so, you really did all this just for me?"

"obviously," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"you’re so—" you started, but he cut you off, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his.

"so what?" he asked, voice low, gaze intense.

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth of his fingers against your skin. "so… good to me."

a rare, almost smug smile graced his lips. "i would hope so," he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your lips. "it would be unacceptable otherwise."

sunday ᯓᡣ𐭩

it wasn't known to most how much of a sweet tooth sunday truly had. when he was still known as the head of the oak family, he never had time to induldge in sweet treats.

on the astral express, however, was a different story.

the party car had something special, something amazing.

"shush" was its name.

sunday had quickly discovered that the little automaton, despite its strange way of speaking, was an invaluable source of sweets. and the best part? you would often come by to enjoy a treat with him.

"another?" "shush" asked in its usual monotone, holding up a plate of intricately decorated pastries. "you have already consumed three. should i prepare an intervention?"

sunday smirked, reaching for a sugar-dusted tart. "should i prepare an intervention for your terrible sense of humor?"

"shush" whirred, as if contemplating its response. "humor analysis... failed. please consume more snacks to compensate."

he chuckled, sinking into one of the plush seats as he took a bite. the caramel filling was rich, the crust perfectly flaky. he exhaled through his nose, savoring the taste.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding.”

before sunday could speak, "shush" did for him. "sunday is a frequent patron. valued customer. concerning sugar intake."

sunday sighed, setting his pastry down with a faint shake of his head. "i do believe i liked you better when you weren’t so talkative." sunday turned his attention back to you. "come, sit with me [name]."

you wasted no time to take a seat next to him.

"i trust you’re not here simply to watch me indulge," he mused, reaching once more for his half-finished pastry. "if so, i must insist you partake as well. it would be unfair otherwise."

“how could i deny such an offer?”

you picked up a small, delicately frosted cake from the tray between you, twirling it between your fingers before taking a tentative bite. it was light, airy, dissolving sweetly on your tongue. sunday watched your reaction carefully, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"good, isn’t it?"

you nodded, swallowing before answering. "i suppose i can see why you keep coming back here."

sunday hummed in quiet amusement, taking another slow sip of his tea. "there is something rather charming about the simplicity of it all, isn’t there?" he mused, almost to himself. "a moment of quiet, a pleasant treat... a rarity, once upon a time."

his voice carried something wistful, something almost unspoken. you wondered if he realized how much his words revealed.

"then you should enjoy it as much as you can now," you said softly. "you deserve that much, don’t you?"

sunday looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, he smiled—just a small, quiet curve of his lips, but warm all the same.

"perhaps," he murmured, fingers grazing the edge of the teacup. "and if that is the case… would you care to indulge with me a little longer?"

there was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly graceful, yet sincere. an invitation not just to share another dessert, but to share this moment, fleeting as it was.

and as you reached for another pastry, you decided—perhaps you would stay a little longer after all.

[edenspoem]

blehh thinking about making lunches for jackson!ellie before she goes on patrol :P fluff warning. faggot shit. ramble blurb.

being loser!jackson!ellie's obsessed-over crush (i mean, take a gander at her personal journal—duh!) means making the first move. and, without coincidence, you did: she's a terrible omitter, and her friends (being jesse, dina, and if you want to—count joel in; he was the one with the gall in his guts to approach you and regale wide tales of his taken-in daughter and about her little "problem", being her inability to find it within herself to "talk to the girl she likes" that happened to be “a, er, relative neighbur'.” but with all the gossip to account from dina, you figured it be yourself—the relative neighbor in question) are no help on her behalf.

shit, now she cracks her blinds open every morning to the ritual phenomenon (how she would describe it: with disengaged self-perception and a faux-disgruntled attitude, because she pretends she doesn't have it hot for you, therefore assumes a callous notion about whether she should be so eager.) that is you walking through joel's yard, up to her garage—plastic container in hand.

she was simmering when the door opened. “hey, ellie! brought you your favorite.” you were a breath of fresh wind; something out-bound this wood-penned cradle in the mountains. brought something in she couldn't stop smiling about. a real, genuine attitude, perhaps? her head cocks limp to a side, reaching for the container. “thanks, dude.” her head shakes once, and she glances for a moment; scorning herself for calling you "dude" instead of, well, something more endearing?

you cared not one bit.

she did; a retrace visible in her features. a glitch. “so, um—what trail were you assigned?” though, if ellie had slept proper the night before, she should've noticed that you weren't outfitted for patrol at all. “i'm off, thank fuck.” you countered, knocking on the nearest flight of wood. she carefully laughed herself to countless bits. “yeah, maria's got a soft spot for me, so she gives me all the assignments she fuckin' can,” and ended in a louder tune. clears her throat to thwart the arising tension pulling, pounding her heart. “what's my favorite?” she holds the almost-opaque container up and eyes it; even for her picky appetite, she has a multitude of safe dishes she can whip up and take to-go. also—she doesn't expect someone to mind that much attention to a person to remember their preferences so soon, and for someone you're not even—ah, you get it! “buttered noodles.” the plain color made sense, then. “cause i know you have the palette of a five year old.”

ellie's brows prick downwards at the inner-edge. “ouch,” she expresses in synthetic offense, reaching to close the door. “rude.” (but if we're being honest she'd pretend your words struck her like a stake in the heart just to drive you insane and thief a pampering out of you—if you were dating; she imagines all this bullshit instead of sleeping.)

[neechees]

I've talked about how White artists get a lot more attention for their nonwhite OC's, and White artists get a lot more praise for drawing ""accurate"" depictions of racialized cultures versus people from those cultures accurately depicting themselves, but there's also this phenomenon that I think it stems from where certain artists (a lot of them White, but it's not exclusive to them at all) will go through some effort of research to depict a specific demographic in an art piece, but not out of a real desire to be accurate.

One example frequently is when People just slap tuuniit on the ATLA Water Tribe characters to give off the impression of being "more accurate" but they clearly don't know anything and didn't do enough research outside of copying photos of Inuit from google, because we frequently end up with artists depicting the 14 year old Katara with tattoos that, in Inuit culture, signify she is already married and has multiple children

(Sticking with a Native perspective bc I'm ndn), A lot of the time I truly think there's Artists that care more about looking more "progressive" to other moniyaws by depicting Native aesthetics they don't actually understand or know anything about, because to other people (their audience who is not Native) it looks more "accurate", even when it's not. It's an ignorant artist presenting vague Native aesthetics to an ignorant audience for brownie points, because this brave, white knight artist was so wonderful as to not draw them as an overtly racist caricature (lucky us /s)

Because there's 1 of 2 ways artists will react:

Stop immediately and correct their inaccuracies and listen to the depicted demographic when we say what theyve drawn is inaccurate (which these artists claim to want to be, they claim to want to be accurate) and/or insensitive. This is the correct reaction if one claims to be anti-racist & wishes to be accurate in their artistic depictions.

Outright say or imply that the people from the demographic they're depicting is wrong actually and is being "too sensitive", that "its just art", or "its just fantasy", which proves my point that they've drawn this out of a desire to be SEEN as "progressive" for using vague aesthetics that, to a White/ignorant audience from outside of the culture being depicted, simply APPEAR more "accurate" and "authentic"

Like these artists aren't doing this out of a desire to be accurate or culturally sensitive, it's out of a desire for praise & brownie points from other moniyaws for having done it.

[holyblonded]

putellas vs. putellas | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: usa and spain play each in a friendly, making it the battles of the putellas

warnings: none

notes: enjoy! i also think this was requested but i can’t find it

You sit in the locker room, legs crossed and eyes closed, breathing steadily as the music pulses through your Beats headphones. You’ve been in this position for nearly half an hour, unmoving and silent, a sharp contrast to your usual chaotic energy. The tension is electric. You’ve been counting down the days to this game, but now that it’s here, you’re trying to keep yourself grounded. You can’t afford to lose focus. Because today, you’re facing Spain. And not just Spain. You’re facing Alexia.

Your jaw tightens. You’ve gone against her before, in practice, in pickup games at the park, even in one-on-one battles in your backyard. But this is different. This is for real. On the world stage, with fans watching and commentators ready to analyze every move. It’s Putellas versus Putellas.

Your stomach twists. You know how she plays. You’ve studied her since you were a kid. You’ve learned from her. Hell, you probably mirror her more than you care to admit. Which means she knows exactly what to expect from you too.

“Wow,” Alex Morgan says, leaning against her locker and staring at you. “I’ve never seen her this quiet.”

Megan Rapinoe slips on her jersey, raising an eyebrow. “I know. It’s unsettling.”

“She’s in the zone,” Crystal Dunn observes. “Leave her alone.”

Tobin Heath chuckles from across the room, watching you with curious eyes. “Apparently she’s been playing with some of them since she was a kid.” She jerks her chin towards Emily Sonnett, who’s standing awkwardly in front of you, waving a hand to get your attention. You don’t budge.

“Hey, Estrella!” Emily calls out, voice cheerful. “You good?”

You don’t even blink.

“Wow,” Emily mutters, shaking her head. “She really is ignoring me.”

“It’s weird,” Megan comments, eyes wide. “She usually never shuts up.”

You take a deep breath, the music in your ears pounding rhythmically, blocking out the noise of the locker room. You’re in your own world, visualizing the game, running through scenarios in your head. You’re going to mark Alexia. You’re going to defend against her, attack her, beat her. Because for ninety minutes, she isn’t your family, she’s not your mother. She’s your opponent.

The tunnel buzzes with energy as you step onto the pitch, shoulders squared, face set. The Spanish national anthem plays, and you sneak a glance down the line. Alexia stands tall, hand over her heart, eyes fixed straight ahead. A chill runs down your spine.

She looks different. Not the warm, caring Alexia from home. Not the one who nags you to clean your room or sneaks extra food onto your plate when she thinks you haven’t eaten enough. This Alexia is cold, focused, every bit the captain and legend the world sees her as.

Your chest tightens, but you refuse to let it shake you. The whistle blows. The game begins.

The first time you encounter her, it’s in midfield. You step up to intercept a pass, only for her to sidestep with effortless grace, flicking the ball past you like it’s nothing. You spin around, chasing after her, teeth clenched. She’s fast, faster than you anticipated.

She glances over her shoulder, smirking. “Too slow, Estrelleta.”

Your blood boils as you double your efforts, pressing hard every time she gets the ball. She spins away, shielding it like she’s done a thousand times in your backyard battles. But this isn’t home, and you aren’t backing down.

You shoulder into her, disrupting her balance just enough. She stumbles, and you steal the ball, sprinting down the field.

She’s fast, but you’re faster. You hear her footsteps behind you, feel her breath on your neck as she tries to close the gap. You drop your shoulder, feint right before cutting left, leaving her a step behind. The crowd erupts as you whip a cross into the box, inches from Cata’s head.

Alexia glares at you, eyes blazing. “Really?”

You grin, cocky. “What? Can’t keep up, vieja?”

Her jaw drops and you take the opportunity to bolt down the field before she can retaliate.

The game is brutal. Every time you touch the ball, she’s there: marking you, blocking your path, using every trick in the book to throw you off balance. You shove back just as hard, elbows digging in, shoulders colliding. Neither of you hold back, each challenge fiercer than the last.

You swipe the ball from her again, twisting sharply, but she’s on you like glue. No passing lanes. Nowhere to go. You struggle for control, twisting and turning, and then she leans in, voice low and smug. “You’re predictable.”

Your vision goes red. “Shut up.”

She laughs, and you can hear the satisfaction in it.

You dig in, using your body to shield the ball. And then, with a quick backheel nutmeg, you slip the ball through her legs. She freezes and the US bench erupts.

Sonnet’s cackling reaches you over the chaos. “OH MY GOD, SHE JUST DID THAT TO HER OWN MOM!”

Alexia recovers fast, chasing after you, her voice sharp. “That was dirty.”

“You’re just mad I got you.”

She shoves you as she runs by, not enough to foul, but enough to make her point. You laugh, knowing you’ve gotten under her skin.

The game is a war of attrition. You get fouled, hard, and before you can even react, Alexia is towering over you, hands on her hips. “Get up.”

You smirk. “Worried about me?”

“Not even a little.”

When she falls, you stand over her, offering a hand. She slaps it away, getting up on her own.

“Nice try.”

You laugh. “Still stubborn, huh?”

“You’d know.”

The match drags on, intensity never dropping. With ten minutes left, Spain equalizes, and you curse under your breath. 2-2.

You and Alexia battle until the very last second, neither willing to concede an inch. The final whistle blows. A draw.

You’re drenched in sweat, bruised, exhausted. You turn to Alexia, expecting a glare, but instead, she walks over and slings an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Good game, Estrelleta.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her off. “I hate you.”

She laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sure you do.”

Tobin jogs over, shaking her head. “That was insane. You two are menaces.”

Alexia grins, eyes softening. “She’s worse.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, she pulls you into a hug, tight and warm.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispers, voice quiet against the noise of the stadium.

Your chest tightens, the fire in your belly fading.

“I’m proud of you too,” you mumble into her shoulder.

Alexia guides you towards the stands, neither of you say anything, just exchanging a glance before scanning the crowd for the three people you know will be waiting.

Eli stands near the barrier, wearing a jersey, stitched perfectly down the middle. One side is the deep red of Spain, ”PUTE” written on it and part of the number eleven proudly displayed. The other is white, “LLAS” on the top and the rest of eleven emblazoned across it. It’s ridiculous, it’s dramatic, and it’s so Eli.

You grin. “Dios mío, you actually wore it.”

“I had to,” she sniffs, eyes suspiciously shiny as she tugs it tighter around herself. “My girls, both of you, playing on this stage, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”

Alexia sighs, shaking her head. “You’re getting sentimental.”

“Of course I’m getting sentimental!” Eli huffs, grabbing Alexia’s face with both hands, ignoring her protests as she presses a loud kiss to her forehead. “My little alegría captaining Spain! And you—” She turns to you next, gripping your face just as tightly. “My estrella, playing like you were born for this.”

You groan but lean into it anyway. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Alba and Olga stand just behind her, both of them grinning. Olga crosses her arms, nodding toward Alexia. “You got cooked by a teenager, mi amor.”

Alexia scowls. “I did not—”

“Nutmegged,” Alba chimes in, biting back a smirk.

“That was one time!”

You preen, puffing your chest. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

Alexia turns to Eli, desperate for backup, but Eli just sighs dramatically, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t even care about the score,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “Seeing you two out there, fighting, giving everything, I am just so, so proud.”

You glance at Alexia, expecting another eye roll, but she just nods, quietly accepting the words.

Eli pulls both of you into a crushing hug, and for once, neither of you resist.

You’re barely settled in your chair when Alexia, sitting beside you, nudges you with her knee.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” she murmurs, just low enough for you to hear.

You scoff. “That’s your job.”

The interviewer, clearly amused by the dynamic already, starts with the obvious question. “Estrella, this was your first time facing Alexia on the international stage. What was that experience like?”

You lean forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Terrifying. She’s so serious when she plays, I thought she was gonna disown me on the spot.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “That almost happened after you nutmegged me.”

“Nutmegged?” The interviewer’s eyebrows shoot up, and you grin as Alexia groans.

“Oh yeah,” you say smugly. “Clean through the legs. The bench was losing it.”

Alexia shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe I have to deal with this publicly now.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alexia, what was it like playing against someone you’ve practically raised?”

Alexia exhales, glancing at you before answering. “It was… strange. I’ve seen her grow up, seen her train, so I knew she was good. But today, I realized just how good she is.” She pauses, then smirks. “Still reckless, though.”

“Reckless?” you echo, affronted. “You fouled me like five times!”

“You were running straight at me like a bull! What was I supposed to do?”

The interviewer can barely contain their laughter. “It was a very physical game between you two.”

You cross your arms, mock-offended. “She’s mean.”

Alexia scoffs. “And you called me vieja on live television.”

“Can I plead the fifth?”

“This isn’t America.”

The interviewer shakes their head, thoroughly entertained. “Final question, what was said between you two after the game?”

Alexia glances at you, something softer in her gaze now. “I told her I was proud.”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling warm under the attention. “And I said the same.”

For a moment, the playful banter is gone, replaced by something genuine, something real.

The interviewer smiles. “That’s beautiful.”

Then Alexia turns to you. “But I’m getting you back for that nutmeg.”

“Oh you wish.”

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: What About You Drives Your Future Spouse Wild (18+) ✮⋆˙

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading HERE!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE 🫶🏻

MY MASTERLIST🫶🏻

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♬⋆.˚ PILE I

ִCards pulled: 3 of Wands reversed, The Hermit, High Priestess, King of Cups

Omg, Pile 1, buckle up because when I tell you your future spouse is down bad, I mean they are spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically OBSESSED—and in ways they won’t even admit out loud because it’s that deep.

First of all, when I lay these cards down, the first vibe I get is that you are giving "unreachable fantasy" energy. You drive them wild because you have this mystery, this depth, this "I’ll let you see only what I want you to see" vibe, and THAT, babe, makes them spiral in the best way. Like, you could just walk into a room and look at your phone and suddenly they're imagining a whole life with you, and a whole night with you👀🔥 it’s not just your body or your face, it’s your entire vibe. You are quietly powerful, and you carry this AURA that’s magnetic as HELL. Like you could be sitting in a corner sipping on a drink, eyes scanning the room (or pretending to be on your phone), and they are LOSING IT because why do you look that good while doing nothing? You’re not out here trying to be the center of attention—and that's what makes you the center of THEIR attention.

And 3 of Wands reversed adds this extra flavor of “You’re not trying to be seen, but can’t help but be seen”, which makes them go feral😭. Like, they’re watching you from across the room thinking, "How is this person just existing and looking like THAT?!" It's restraint that makes them imagine all the ways they want to make you lose control (👀 yeah, we went there). Your eyes and the way you look at them—like you see straight through their soul. You might give them a little smirk or look away too soon, and that’s it—they’re GONE.

Okay but let’s be real—the King of Cups comes in like “yes I’m obsessed but their body makes me think unholy.” You give off sensual energy without even trying. It’s not like you’re trying to be hot—you just are. You may have something about your eyes—like, those “I see right through you” eyes—or your lips, like they can’t stop staring at them when you talk. You could be wearing a paper bag and still make them want to risk it all. And they love your natural vibe, like you could have messy hair, wearing sweatpants, and they’d still be like, “I want them. Now.”

King of Cups also tells me they are very emotionally deep, but when it comes to YOU, you make them lose that composure. Like this is someone who might normally be cool, calm, collected—but when you look at them a certain way? They’re cooked. You have this way of stirring up deep, secret cravings they didn't even know they had. You make them want to worship you—your body, your mind, your energy. And not just in some one-night thing; nah, they want to keep coming back. You give "can’t get enough" vibes.

Let me tell you something—High Priestess + King of Cups together? They fantasize about you. Period. In ways that would make them blush if you ever knew. You make them weak in ways they don't share with anyone else. I’m talking late-night, can’t sleep, thinking about you energy. They imagine you taking control one moment, then being completely vulnerable the next, and that contrast drives them insane.

They are obsessed with the way you hold back, too. Like, if you’re a little shy or reserved in public, they want to be the one to see the side of you no one else gets—the side that’s wild, passionate, and raw. The more you hold back or play it cool, the more they wanna see what’s behind that poker face, like even in bed, if you make him wait and play a little hard to get, he's gonna GO FERAL OVER IT. Also, i see that you make them feel impatient, like they want to skip all the slow stuff and get to the part where they have you all to themselves. They may pretend to be chill, but in their head? “Get over here and let me show you what you do to me.” Yeah, it's that intense.

You are literally their fantasy made real, but the catch is you’re not trying to be. You give off this "cool on the outside, fire on the inside" vibe, and they want to be the one to set that fire loose. You leave them daydreaming, weak, and low-key losing their mind because you’re the whole package: mysterious, sexy, emotionally deep, naturally attractive, and a little bit unattainable.

And oh baby—once they do get a taste of what’s beneath that calm, mysterious surface? Game over. They’ll be addicted, craving you in ways that even they won’t want to admit. You’re the fantasy they didn’t think could be real, and now that you are, they’re never letting go.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

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♬⋆.˚ PILE II

Cards Pulled: Hermit reversed, Page of Wands, 2 of Wands reversed, Chariot

So, let's talk about your future spouse BECAUSE what I see is that they go absolutely feral for you and I mean obsessed, weak in the knees, can't think-straight, craving you in their sleep type of energy. And honey, it’s not just one thing, it's a whole LIST. Like, they try SO hard to play it cool, but deep down? They're starving for you.

So, first of all ,OMG. Listen. You give off this vibe like, "I'm in my own world, but also down to stir up some chaos when I feel like it." You don't follow rules. You don’t do what’s expected. And THAT is what makes them spiral. They can’t pin you down, babe. One moment, you’re all mysterious, pulling away and making them crave your attention, and the next minute, you’re giving them a flirty little smirk like "Oh, were you waiting for me? Poor thing." 😭 And THAT — the way you withhold and give, give and withhold — is driving them UP THE WALL. Like they can’t figure out if they wanna worship you or beg for mercy. 😏

You give them this energy that has them like, "HOW do they make rebellion look this sexy?" You give that "I’m gonna do what I want, when I want, and no one can stop me" energy — and they eat it up. You know what’s hotter? The fact that sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Like you’re just vibing, and meanwhile, they’re losing their mind because "Why does everything they do look like a scene from a fantasy I didn’t know I had?" 😳🔥

You give them a little taste and then poof, you’re ghosting like "Maybe I’ll text back, maybe I won’t." You keep them guessing, and it makes them insatiable. You don’t hand yourself over easily, and that hard-to-get attitude is like crack to them (I said what I said 💀). The Chariot tells me they are OBSESSED with "winning" you, conquering you, owning the space next to you. But baby, you make them work for it — and the way you don’t need them makes them need you even more.

With the Page of Wands + Chariot, listen they are weak for the way you move. You probably have this effortless swag, like even the way you walk, talk, turn your head — it’s got sexual tension written ALL OVER IT. Like you could be reaching for a glass of water, and they’re sitting there like "God, help me."

Your body language is playful but confident — like you know exactly what effect you have, but you play it off. You’re dangerous because you don’t flaunt it directly, but everything you do says "I’m untouchable, but if I let you touch me, consider yourself lucky."

Also... there’s something youthful and fiery about you, so even if you’re quiet sometimes, when you DO turn on the heat — it’s like, uncontainable. They love how you tease without trying, the way your hips sway, the way you lean in just a little too close, the way you bite your lip when you're focused — they NOTICE.

They fantasize about being the only person you let in. Because you seem so independent and "I don’t need anyone," the idea that you’d be vulnerable only for them? OH, babe, that’s their ultimate fantasy. The idea of you taking control sometimes? Yes, please. Like "Boss me around" type of energy, because you give off "I run this show" vibes. They might never admit this, but it turns them ON. They live for when you get a little flirty and mischievous — like when you make them jealous just a little, act like you don’t care, and then flash that smirk? Yup. They are down bad. They can’t handle it. They’re down so bad, and honestly? We love to see it. ✨

If you wanna sum it up? You are their personal chaos and comfort wrapped in one, and baby, they will never get enough of you. 💋

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♬⋆.˚ PILE III

Cards Pulled: Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, Ace of Cups, and 6 of Cups

Okayyy, Pile 3—come sit down, because babe, this reading is JUICY and I'm about to spill allll the tea. THIS. IS. MY. FAVOURITE. PILE.

First of all, the whole vibe of these cards together is giving "slow burn", wholesome baddie energy, and "you're mine and no one else can even look at you" vibe as well. Like, you are their softest obsession and their hardest temptation all rolled into one.

for them it's a LOT—and honestly, I feel like they didn't even see you coming. The way these cards dance together tells me that what gets them hooked isn't just one thing—it's the paradox of you. You’re giving "angel in the streets, devil in the sheets" (I am so proud of myself for soming up with this dope line😭)—because on one hand, you have this stable, grounded, Knight of Pentacles energy, like you’re responsible, maybe a bit mysterious, slow to open up—but when you do? BOOM, Ace of Cups—you're this emotional, overflowing, intense presence and they don’t even know what hit them. It’s that combo of being put together and collected—and then randomly saying or doing something so soft and vulnerable or even accidentally sensual that has them literally clutching their chest like “oh, I'm DONE.” (I was listening to daspecito here btw.😭)

Your body AND attitude combo. You give off the type of person who looks put together, moves gracefully but confidently, like you know what you bring to the table and you’re not pressed to prove it—and THAT drives them insane. The way you casually exist, walk into a room, look over your shoulder—BOOM, they need water. UHM🫠

Babyyyy, this is where it gets FUN. You leave them weak in the knees because you embody both "stable partner" energy and "secretly a freak" energy—and they are OBSESSED with trying to figure out where that line is. 😏 your domestic, partner material vibe turns them on more than they'll ever admit. Like, you doing the simplest stuff—tying your hair up, laughing with friends, being polite to someone—they're like "I need them in my bed AND in my life." I'm they sound like some fbody but trust me this is the best way I can put this energy into words😭.

They literally fantasize about building a life with you AND sneaking you into the pantry for a quick make-out sesh at your own housewarming party, babe, they're building full-on scenarios in their head. BUT the contradiction here is, the fact that you might have soft moments, open up about your past, maybe show them some sentimental side? Instant weakness. They want to be the one who sees that side of you no one else sees—and babe, I’m telling you right now, the idea that YOU would get vulnerable for THEM specifically? That's what has them up at 2 AM with thoughts they cannot share in public. YOU KNOW IT.

Alsoooo, don't let the Knight of Pentacles fool you. This person is into the way you take your time—like, the fact you don’t just give it all away? The slow burn is what KILLS them, it;s similar to pile 2 but in this pile it's intense. The way you might lean in a little, whisper something innocent but in a low voice—BABE. They will remember that for the next week, smiling like a fool and probably texting you something way too casual to cover the fact that you haunt their dreams. 😂💀

Your subtle dominance—the way you can just look at them a certain way and suddenly they’re on their knees in their mind. Like, you could say, "Can you grab me that?" in a normal voice, and they're like "yes, anything, everything, do you need my soul too? (GIVE ME THIS PESON CAUSE OML 😭)"

Your softness and genuine kindness—this is what makes them protective, like "no one else deserves to see this side of them." It makes them wanna hold you close and also… do things to you that are very much not PG. Okay listen, you’re the one they can't get out of their head. You’re that person who makes them wanna settle down and get a mortgage, but also ruin the kitchen counter first. You drive them wild because you give off "together but teasing," soft but sexy, stable but wild in private energy. And babe, they are WEAK for it.

✨ You leave them craving more with your aura, your body, the way you care deeply, the way you take your time, and that secret fire they know is under the surface. You are the kind of person that turns simple moments into fantasies—you fixing your hair? Fantasy. You helping someone? Fantasy. You smiling at them a little longer than necessary? Fantasy. You breathing near them? BABY, fantasy.

And honestly? They are lowkey scared of how obsessed they are—but in the BEST way. You own their mind, body, and soul and they’re just trying to keep it together while planning a future and craving you like air. 💅

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[alinathinkstoomuch]

1-800-CALL ME, FAKE FIANCÉ

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: (part of my mini fake-fiancé series) the fbi agent you met at the bar helped you out of a jam so you decide to pay him a visit at work. warnings | a/n: unhinged reader, rossi being a lil instigator, reader has no shame in her game at ALL & makes the first move, the usual banter & chem, channelling all the rom-com feels word count: 3.3k

✧ masterlist | first part can be found here

It had been a week since your little fake fiancé fiasco, and while it had been enough to satisfy your mob group of fake friends and stop them from asking questions, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your questions.

Because now, you were curious – dangerously so.

You couldn’t concentrate on much else. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Completely unnecessary. And yet…

You had googled him.

You had googled Aaron Hotchner.

And oh boy did you find things.

FBI Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Head of some ultra-serious-sounding department in behavioural analysis. There were articles. Court cases. Mentions of serial killers – plural. You even found a grainy news clip of him giving a statement outside a police station, looking all important and broody.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there were forums. Entire internet threads dedicated to the man. Debates on how often he smiled. Speculation on his past. A truly unhinged corner of the internet where a small but passionate group of people seemed convinced he had once been a male model.

You may or may not have spent a questionable amount of time scrolling through that last one.

But none of this answered the real question: why did an FBI Unit Chief go along with your ridiculous fake fiancé charade without hesitation? That was not normal federal agent behaviour. You were pretty sure actual government employees had policies against indulging unhinged strangers.

Which led you here. More specifically in the FBI headquarters parking lot.

Okay, you were actually insane. But you had good intentions. Intentions of thanking him properly for the night of madness he had endured.

So, you had baked him cookies. Because, according to your mother, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – which was a wildly inappropriate saying to be applying to an FBI agent, but here you were.

You took a deep breath, staring up at the intimidating glass doors, clutching your box of cookies like it was a ticking time bomb. This was fine. Completely normal. People brought cookies to law enforcement all the time… right?

Swallowing your nerves, you marched inside, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approached the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up as she typed away at her computer.

“Hi! Uh, could you do me a favour and give these to an Aaron Hotchner?” you asked, setting the box down with a nervous smile. “He’s, um, Unit Chief of something very official and serious, which I’m sure you already know, but I just wanted to thank him because he helped me out of a situation – not like a legal situation, nothing weird, I’m not a criminal or anything – oh my God, that sounded suspicious –”

The receptionist finally looked up, blinking slowly. “Ma’am?”

You let out an awkward laugh, waving a hand. “I mean, technically, everyone is a criminal in some way, right? Like, who hasn’t jaywalked or taken a pen from a bank? Oh my God, I’m not confessing to anything, I just –”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist interrupted, her voice flat. “Are you delivering something, or…?”

“Wow, you guys are really strict on the whole professionalism thing, huh?” You huffed, then quickly corrected yourself. “Not that I’m not professional. I can be professional. I wore a blazer once.” You paused, glancing at her name badge. “Clarissa! I am delivering cookies. They are divine, you can have one if you’d like?”

Clarissa squinted at you, clearly debating whether or not to press a panic button – one that, realistically, would probably result in you being swarmed by tactical agents in full riot gear.

Was that even the FBI? Or was that, like… SWAT? Was SWAT part of the FBI? Were you about to go down for cookie-related crimes?

“Are you cleared to be here?” she asked.

“Depends on your definition of cleared –”

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s take a breath before you actually incriminate yourself.”

You spun around to find none other than David – if you recalled correctly – standing behind you, looking just as entertained as he did back at the jazz bar, his eyes bouncing between the cookies and you. “Well, well. If it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée.”

“Not his fiancée anymore!”

“Sure. And I’m not Italian.”

You shook your head, exhaling dramatically. “I just made him some cookies as a thank you. Do you mind passing them on to him, please? And then I can get out of yours and Clarissa’s hair. You have fabulous hair, both of you, by the way.”

Clarissa stared at you like you were personally responsible for every inconvenience that had ever befallen her. Rossi, on the other hand, grinned like you had just made his entire day.

“You know what? No,” he said, shaking his head. “You should give them to him yourself.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary –”

“I insist.”

Clarissa folded her arms. “She’s not authorised to be here.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Clarissa, I’ve worked in this building longer than some agents have been alive. If I say she’s authorised, she’s authorised.”

Clarissa let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t argue further.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go surprise Hotch.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Oh. Yay.”

Rossi led you through security and about four different hallways before you found yourself in an elevator. You barely had time to process what was happening before you were stepping into a bullpen that made your brain go fuzzy. There were far too many people in suits, all looking intimidatingly competent.

A woman with blonde hair and a bright cardigan – finally someone who understood the power of colour – shot you an intrigued glance over the top of her glasses.

“I really don’t think this is necessary, David,” you whispered. “You guys look like busy, busy people, and I just wanted to bring some cookies. I don’t think Hotch will appreciate being called out of his very legitimate FBI career just for me.”

“Oh, I know he won’t.”

“Okay, now you’re making me panic, and I have a habit of jumping to conclusions when I’m under a lot of stress. Please, really, it’s no big deal –”

“Yeah, Hotch mentioned something along those lines,” Rossi hummed as the two of you came to a halt in front of a door, to which he knocked before stepping inside.

You followed hesitantly, barely making it over the threshold before you locked eyes with Hotch, who was standing behind his desk, looking very confused.

Rossi gestured at you grandly. “Look who I found wandering the FBI headquarters.”

“Okay, that makes me sound like a stalker and – wow, okay, I guess maybe I am a stalker, but the good kind, I promise! I come in peace. And with cookies… as a thank you.”

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Rossi grinned, giving you a nudge as he sauntered out, shutting the door behind him with far too much enthusiasm.

Hotch, still staring at you like you had just crash-landed into his office from another dimension, slowly folded his arms. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not until you try one of these,” you said, flipping open the lid of the cookie box, only for your smile to falter the second you actually registered what was inside.

Heart-shaped cookies. Pink frosting. Extra sprinkles.

Oh no.

You stared at them. Then at Hotch. Then back at them.

He was still staring too, looking at the cookies like they were an active FBI case file he wasn’t quite sure how to classify.

You let out half a laugh. “Oh. Oh, boy.”

Hotch raised a brow, arms still crossed, looking every bit the intimidating federal agent he was.

“Okay, I know what this looks like,” you groaned, snapping the box shut like that would somehow undo the visual catastrophe. “I got slightly carried away – as I tend to – and my mind just kind of… took its own course when I was making them. I wasn’t thinking about you – well, I was thinking about you, but not like that, I swear. I just – ugh – I put a little bit myself into them.”

Hotch tilted his head. “Yourself?”

You nodded, slowly reopening the box as if the cookies might suddenly jump out and throw up edible glitter all over his office. “You know… they’re kind of chaotic but well-intentioned, possibly too much but ultimately harmless –”

“How did you find me here?”

“Oh. That.”

He just stared at you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the cookie box. “Well, it’s not that hard, you know? I have a great memory, and I did get a pretty solid look at your badge – after I thought you were going to murder me, of course – so I just… searched you up.”

His brows lifted.

You panicked. “But only to figure out where you work so I could bring you cookies! That’s it! I had every intention of leaving them with Clarissa but your friend David saw me and said I should bring them up myself. And well… now I’m here.”

Hotch’s hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.”

You rocked on your heels, watching him carefully. “Sooo… does this mean I’m officially on an FBI watchlist, or is that, like, a separate process?”

Hotch exhaled, lowering his hand. “You’re not on a watchlist.”

“Oh.”

His brows furrowed. “Would you like to be?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that without a lawyer present,” you mumbled, setting the cookies down on his desk.

“So, let me get this straight. You looked me up, managed to talk your way into a federal building without authorisation all just to bring me heart-shaped cookies?”

You lifted a finger. “Okay, first of all, let’s not make this sound like an obsession – I googled you. That’s a normal thing people do! It’s called being informed. And second, the hearts were an accident. I only had one cookie cutter. You think I wanted to show up here looking like some lovesick lunatic?”

Hotch glanced at the cookies, then back at you. “…Yes.”

“Okay, well, this has been fun,” you said, dusting your hands before adjusting your jacket. “Enjoy the cookies, and thanks again for the other night,” you continued, already backing toward the door. “I have not had my name mentioned once in the Veronica Posse group chat since, and for the first time in years, I have actually known peace.”

“Wait,” he called just as you reached for the door handle. You spun around to face him. “Why did you really come here?”

You paused before speaking.

“I need a fiancé again,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Yup. Need one again, preferably the same one, but this time it’s my parents hounding me, and they’ve already arranged a dinner and everything.”

Hotch opened his mouth, then closed it. A second passed. Then another. Finally – “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you beamed, completely unbothered by the scowl on his face. Hotch looked like he was about to reply, but his phone began ringing. He glanced down at it on the desk.

“Alright, really leaving now. I’ll let you get back to all this serious business,” you said, but then a realization dawned, making you pause.

Hotch looked back up, brows raising slightly. “What is it?”

You shifted, glancing toward the door, then back at him. “So, funny thing… I don’t actually know how to get out of here.”

Hotch sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a button to silence his phone before slipping it into his suit jacket. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, no need,” you replied quickly, waving him off. “I’ll just ask David – he loves helping me.”

Hotch gave you a flat look. “Absolutely not.”

You blinked innocently. “Why? He was so excited to see me earlier. You should have heard him, all like Oh, if it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée! He really sells it.”

“That’s exactly why,” Hotch muttered, already moving toward the door.

You followed Hotch out of his office, barely managing to keep up with his long strides. “Wow, you walk fast,” you huffed, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. “Is this an FBI thing? Do you all just power walk everywhere?”

He slowed his pace ever so slightly so you could catch up. As you glanced around, you noticed several pairs of eyes discreetly watching the two of you – one of them being David who had zero shame in making his interest known. You offered him a small wave to which he responded with a not-so-subtle wink. When your eyes landed on Hotch he was watching the exchange.

“Keep walking.”

“I am,” you whispered back, trying not to laugh. “I just happen to also be social.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

You gasped, doing a light two step jog to catch up. “Gosh, what happened to ‘Marry me, sweetheart?’”

“You called it nonsense, remember?”

“I did,” you admitted. “But that was after you said something that was incredibly true about me.”

Hotch threw you a curious glance. “And what was that?”

“That I’m too good to consider that group of women my friends, especially ones I feel the need to impress.”

Hotch didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the door, pushing it open and holding it for you. As you stepped past him, you caught the smallest trace of something in his expression, something very close to approval.

Stepping into the hallway, you glanced around, already feeling disoriented. “This place is like a maze,” you muttered, spinning in a small circle before looking back at him. “How do you manage to not get lost here?”

“Spatial awareness.”

Before you could question him further, you felt his heads on your arms, gently guiding you to the left just as you were about to head right.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

His lips twitched. “You were about to walk into a closet.”

You glanced back at the door you had almost pushed open. “That’s not a closet. That’s –” You squinted at the sign. “Okay, that’s definitely a closet.” You sighed dramatically, walking ahead this time – making sure to pretend like you totally knew where you were going. “See? This is why I need a fake fiancé. Navigation assistance.”

His voice followed you, dry as ever. “That’s what Google Maps is for.”

You turned, walking backwards now, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, Google Maps doesn’t have your spatial awareness, does it?”

“You’d rather rely on me for directions?”

You stopped walking, tilting your head. “Huh. Good point. Maybe I should just take my chances with the closet.”

Hotch sighed, stepping past you. “Come on. I’ll make sure you get out of here without accidentally locking yourself in a supply room.”

You grinned, following him. “See? Fake fiancé duties are still active.”

This time, you definitely didn’t miss the half-smile he tried to hide.

After what felt like literal hours of navigating the endless, identical floors and hallways of the FBI, the two of you finally stepped outside. Freedom at last, you thought, basking in the sight of the actual sun – something you’d only glimpsed through windows you were convinced had some kind of tint designed to make the inside of the building feel even duller.

“Do you know where you parked?”

You scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Uh, duh. What do you take me for?”

Hotch just looked at you.

You blinked.

Then, very slowly, you turned your head, scanning the parking lot.

Oh, no.

Where did you park?

You wracked your brain, desperately trying to retrace your steps, but the problem was… you hadn’t exactly been focused when you arrived. You had just parked somewhere and hoped for the best. But now, with Hotch watching you like a disapproving parent, the pressure was on.

You pointed vaguely toward a random row of cars. “It’s… that way.”

Hotch didn’t even bother looking. “No, it’s not.”

You spun back to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re guessing.”

“I am not.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I am not!”

Hotch arched a single, knowing brow.

You huffed. “Fine. I may be stalling. But in my defence, I had a lot on my mind when I got here!”

Hotch inhaled, glancing at his watch. “Just describe what your car looks like and what you remember seeing when you got here.”

You frowned, thinking. “Okay, so, my car is… car-shaped.”

His stare was unmoving.

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh… blue. Or, like, bluish. Depends on the lighting.”

“Anything else?”

You squinted at the parking lot, hoping for divine intervention. “I think I was near… a pole?”

“There are multiple poles.”

“A very specific pole.”

“Right.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Ugh, this is so unfair. I have many talents, okay? Parking lot navigation is just not one of them.”

“Shocking,” he muttered before moving toward one section of the parking lot. “Let’s start from here.”

You followed, chewing the inside of your cheek.

A few minutes later – after much grumbling, a completely unnecessary debate about why all parking lots look the same, and one slightly humiliating moment where you tried to unlock someone else’s car – Hotch finally spotted your actual vehicle.

“Would you look at that! There she is, in all her glory!” you sang and this time, when you hit the unlock button, the lights actually flashed. Progress.

You pulled open the driver’s side door and tossed your purse inside before turning back to Hotch. “Thank you… again.” You let out a laugh. “It feels like that’s all I ever say to you.”

Hotch gave a small shrug, hands finding his pockets. “You do seem to require a lot of rescuing.”

“Alright, alright.” You pointed a manicured finger at him. “Despite what you might think, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I just happen to have a mild navigational deficiency and… questionable taste in men. And friends, apparently – according to my ex fake fiancé.”

“Sounds like you’re finally learning.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding into your seat. “I hate that you’re good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Reading people.” You gestured vaguely in his direction. “It’s very annoying.”

He smiled at you, one hand slipping from his pocket to rest against the edge of your car door. “I’ll try to be worse at my job next time.”

You leaned forward, placing your arms on the steering wheel with a playful spark in your eye. “Listen, Hotch, Hotchner, Aaron – I have a slight confession to make before I go.”

“That sentence doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“This one’s harmless. Promise.”

Hotch stood there, shaking his head like he could not believe he was still standing there entertaining this conversation.

You tapped a finger against the wheel. “So, if mid-cookie bite you accidentally choke on a piece of paper, do not be alarmed – well, actually do be alarmed. I don’t want you to die before you’ve asked me out on a date.” You flashed him a pointed look. “But it’s my number – since apparently, having my address isn’t enough.”

“You hid your number in food?”

“Listen, it was either that or carve it into your desk with a knife, and I figured that would raise some concerns with your co-workers.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like why me?

“But, you do have my number now, so really, the ball is in your court, Hotchner.”

“Is it?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Mhm. And just so we’re clear – I expect a dramatic, over-the-top use of it. Maybe a cryptic, we need to talk text. Or a mysterious meet me at midnight type of situation.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “You’d rather I text you about urgent matters than, say… just a normal conversation?”

“Aaron Hotchner, are you saying you want to have a normal conversation with me?”

He sighed, stepping back from your car. “Drive home, before I change my mind about letting you leave.”

You smirked, finally turning on the ignition. “Oh, so you let me leave now? That is so controlling of you.”

Hotch shook his head as he shut your door—just in time for you to lift a hand, making a finger phone gesture and mouthing Call me.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti

divider by cafekitsune

[goldfades]

in the meantime could u maybe write something about Paige and reader celebrating the big East championship win 🙏🏼 it could be teammate or just gf reader either way I’ll love it ofc

omg yes!!!! i literally cannot believe this is paige's (+all the seniors) last one LIKE DO NOT MAKE ME CRY

The confetti clung to your skin, glimmering gold and blue under the bright arena lights. It was stuck in your hair, tangled in your jersey, even dusted across your arms like some kind of proof that this moment was real. That you won.

Big East champions.

It still didn’t feel entirely real. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the pure exhaustion settling into your bones after forty minutes of war on the court. But then you turned, and there was Paige—grinning so wide it had to hurt, her eyes bright with something that was more than just excitement. More than just another win.

Because this wasn’t just any championship.

It was her last one.

Her last Big East tournament. Her last time standing in this arena as a UConn player, with her teammates, with you.

The thought hit you like a punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of you in a way the game never could.

But before you could dwell on it, Paige was moving—crossing the few feet between you in two quick strides, grabbing you before you could even think.

And then suddenly, you were off the ground.

“Paige!” you shrieked, arms instinctively wrapping around her as she spun you in a dizzying circle, her laughter ringing out over the noise of the crowd.

“You did it!” she yelled, breathless, holding you like she had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

You laughed against her shoulder, gripping the back of her jersey. “We did it, P.”

She finally set you down, but her hands didn’t leave your waist. The confetti rained down around you, the cameras flashed, your teammates were still celebrating in a chaotic blur—but in this moment, it was just her. Just the way her hands tightened slightly like she was memorizing this, like she needed to, because it was the last time she’d ever get to do this.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“This is your last one,” you murmured, not really meaning to say it out loud.

Paige’s smile faltered, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see the flicker of emotion she was trying to push down.

“I know,” she admitted, voice softer now, only meant for you.

It wasn’t like this was the end. She had more games left, a tournament to prepare for, an entire career ahead of her. But still—it was an ending. And even though you were trying to ignore it, trying to just live in the moment, you could feel it settling between you.

You opened your mouth to say something—maybe to tease her, maybe to tell her you weren’t ready for her to leave—but before you could, someone slammed into you from behind, nearly knocking you forward.

“WE’RE CHAMPIONS, BABY!”

It was KK, obviously, screaming at the top of her lungs as she threw herself into both of you, her arms squeezing you so tight it knocked the air from your lungs.

The moment broke.

But the weight of it remained, lingering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right time to sink in.

Paige knew you. Knew you too well, if she was being honest. Which was why the second she saw the glassiness in your eyes—just a hint of it, the kind of emotion you hadn’t fully let settle yet—she went into full distraction mode.

Because this was not the time to get in your feelings. Not yet.

Not when there was still confetti falling from the rafters, still so much yelling and jumping and celebrating left to do.

So, before you could get even a second to dwell on the reality of this being her last Big East tournament, she grabbed your arm, her grip firm but easy, guiding you back into the blur of teammates.

“C’mon, superstar,” she said, nudging you just enough to keep you moving. “We’ve got pictures to take, trophies to hold, and quotes to give about how dominant we are.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be pulled along. Because of course Paige wasn’t going to let you be emotional. Not right now.

(And honestly, you weren’t sure if you were grateful for it or annoyed by it.)

The team was gathered near center court, surrounding the trophy like it was some kind of sacred relic. Everyone was still giddy, still on an adrenaline high, the kind of energy that buzzed through your veins and made you feel untouchable.

KK was the first to grab you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shaking you a little too aggressively in excitement.

“We won,” she practically shouted in your ear, as if you didn’t already know.

“I know,” you laughed, steadying yourself.

“We won,” she repeated, shaking you again, like she wasn’t physically capable of handling the joy running through her body.

“Dude, she knows,” Ice cut in, smirking as she popped up beside you. “She was there.”

“And dominating,” Paige added, bumping her shoulder into yours. “Not that we expected anything less.”

The compliment made your face warm, but before you could react, the photographer was waving you all into position.

“Alright, everyone squeeze in!”

You were pulled into the middle of the chaos, bodies pressed against yours, arms wrapping around shoulders, hands reaching for the trophy. Paige was right there, naturally, always finding a way to be close, standing just slightly behind you with a hand gripping your jersey like she was making sure you didn’t go anywhere.

The photographer started counting down.

“Alright, on three! One… two…—”

You felt Paige move before you even saw it.

The second the shutter clicked, she launched confetti into your face.

You spluttered, swatting at it as the team lost it around you, everyone cracking up as you tried to shake the golden pieces out of your hair.

“Paige!”

“What?” she said, all innocent, dimples deep as she grinned at you. “Just making sure we remember this one.”

The pictures were instant classics.

One perfectly normal one—smiling faces, the trophy gleaming, arms wrapped around each other like you’d never let go.

And one ridiculous one, where half the team was mid-laugh, you were scowling at Paige (affectionately), and she was just standing there with the smuggest expression on her face, clearly pleased with herself.

You didn’t know it yet, but that was the one you’d all look back on years from now. The one that would make you laugh, that would bring it all back in an instant—the confetti, the noise, the pure, unfiltered joy of it.

Because that was what Paige did.

She made things memorable.

Even when it was her last time getting to do them.

After the pictures, the celebrations continued. More hugs, more yelling, more moments that would be stitched into your memory forever.

You and Paige found yourselves side by side again (because of course you did), watching as KK and Azzi ran around the court, dumping what was left of the confetti over Ice’s head.

Paige nudged you. “You good?”

You exhaled slowly, glancing at her. “Yeah.”

She didn’t believe you. You could tell by the way she looked at you—like she was waiting for you to crack.

So you caved.

“This is your last Big East championship,” you admitted, voice quieter than you meant for it to be.

Paige held your gaze for a second. Then she just shrugged.

“Yeah.”

The simplicity of it almost made you mad.

“How are you not being emotional about this?” you asked, baffled.

She smirked. “Oh, I am. I’m just not trying to make you cry about it yet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yet?”

She threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her like it was second nature. “Later,” she said. “Right now, you’re gonna celebrate with me.”

And, really, how could you argue with that?

The adrenaline had long since faded. The laughter, the yelling, the chaos of the locker room celebrations had all dissolved into something quieter, something slower. Now, it was just exhaustion clinging to your bones, the kind that came from everything—from the game, from the emotions, from the weight of knowing this night had to end eventually.

The hotel room was dark except for the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The kind of light that made everything feel softer, like it was cushioning the inevitable.

Paige flopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, her arm immediately flinging over her face. “I’m dead.”

You barely managed a laugh as you kicked off your sneakers. “No, you’re dramatic.”

She peeked at you from under her arm, eyes half-lidded, lazy with sleep but still sharp enough to catch the way your voice wasn’t as light as you wanted it to be.

She knew. Of course she knew.

You sat down beside her, the bed dipping under your weight. The silence settled between you, comfortable but full. There was no running from it now. No confetti to throw in your face, no teammates to jump on top of you, no camera flashes to freeze the moment in time.

It was just the two of you. Just the reality of the night settling in.

Paige was the one to break it.

“You okay?” she asked, voice quiet but steady.

You swallowed. You weren’t sure.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your hands clasped loosely in your lap. “It just… hit me all of a sudden. This was the last one. Your last Big East championship.”

She was silent for a second. Not in avoidance, not in dismissal—just thinking, like she wanted to find the right words.

Then she pushed herself up, leaning back against the pillows with a sigh. “Yeah,” she said, simply. “It was.”

Your chest felt tight. “Doesn’t that make you sad?”

Paige gave you a look. “Of course it does,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But… I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve really let myself feel it yet.”

You turned to face her fully, tucking one leg underneath you. “How?”

She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Because if I start thinking about it too much, I’m gonna cry, and I’m not giving you the satisfaction of seeing it first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Paige.”

She met your gaze then, softer this time. “I don’t want this to be sad,” she admitted. “I don’t want you to look back on tonight and think about how it was my last one. I want you to think about how much fun we had. How we won. How we did it together.”

Her voice was steady, but you could hear it—the emotion threading through the words, the kind that was buried deep but there all the same.

You felt your throat tighten.

“But things are gonna be different,” you whispered. “After this. After the season.”

Paige held your gaze. “Yeah,” she said. “They will be.”

And that hurt. Even though you already knew it, even though it was inevitable.

But then she reached for your hand, fingers curling around yours, grounding you.

“But that doesn’t mean we will be,” she said, firm in a way that left no room for doubt. “It’s not gonna change this.”

Your heart clenched. “You don’t know that.”

She squeezed your hand. “Yeah, I do.”

You blinked, trying to keep the sting of tears at bay. “How?”

Paige exhaled, running a hand through her hair before looking back at you with that look. The one that made you feel like she was seeing right through you, like she had already made up her mind about something and there was no point in arguing.

“Because it’s us,” she said simply. “No matter where we are, no matter what happens, we’re still gonna be us.”

You stared at her, heart hammering against your ribs.

She wasn’t saying it to make you feel better. She wasn’t just saying what you wanted to hear.

She meant it.

And somehow, that made the lump in your throat even harder to swallow.

Paige nudged you, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Besides, you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

You let out a watery laugh. “Unfortunately.”

She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Wow. I pour my heart out, and this is what I get?”

You sniffled, swiping at your eyes. “You were barely vulnerable.”

Paige smirked. “Okay, but I was vulnerable, which is already groundbreaking.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving her lightly. She let out a laugh before tugging you toward her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a way that felt familiar. Like something you could hold onto.

You exhaled slowly, letting yourself sink into her warmth, letting yourself believe her.

Because maybe things would be different.

But maybe, just maybe—she was right.

[quarterlifekitty]

apparently there's an item called mating frame for cats so they can mate comfortably or something idk i just saw it in a glance.

thinking about reader being put in a mating frame built for her, on her hands and knees just with more support and comfort and easier from price to pin her down, keep her from squirming too much, trying to wiggle away from overstimulation.

or have the whole team going at 'er why not, maybe omega reader being bred by all 4 alphas. maybe maybe... thoughts thoughts...

You know, stop me if this is too freaky, but uhhhhh.... I'm on my hybrid shit right now. really playing with my fucking dolls rn. I'm once again getting real weird with it.

Laswell who's in the business of training cat hybrids for show. Nikolai and Price are her golden boys-- they're in their retirement now, but they're still treated like absolute princes. Their ribbons and trophies are all over the walls.

Simon is her current champion. Prized for his even temperament and unique coloring.

Soap and Gaz are in the wings, a bit immature still, but fully grown and waiting for their time in the spotlight.

Like a lot of people, Laswell marries within her field. She met her wife when she was attending shows-- more of an amateur, just one little kitty she enters in some more local events and showings.

You.

You have a few ribbons of your own-- mainly for your sweet disposition.

So, when Laswell and her wife move in together (I'm gonna give her a name for clarity-- let's call her Amara), Laswell sees it as a great opportunity to break into breeding-- something she's always had the intention to do, but never really found the right fit for any of her boys. But she has a feeling they'll like you.

And they do. My god they do. Soap and Gaz are all over you first, still very much energetic and playful, eager to prove themselves. Simon is a bit more aloof, but it doesn't escape the others how he allows you to curl into him when he naps in the sunny spot he's quite territorial over.

Nikolai has you as a little shadow. He takes a lot of pleasure in showing you around the property, and hearing the little bell jingling on your collar behind him as you curiously follow after him.

Price is the most openly affectionate. It makes Soap and Gaz a bit jealous, to be honest-- Price's approval had been harder to earn for them. He's constantly grooming you, pulling you against him to settle in his bed (tells you to humor an old man, hm?)

At first Kate and Amara wanted things to happen naturally, but it became clear after a short amount of time that it wasn't going to happen. Not because you didn't get along with them, but because you're just too skittish and nervous. You take the courtship just fine, but squirm and panic when it finally comes time to get mounted-- so the frame becomes necessary.

But then, of course, they have the difficult job of deciding who gets to break it in with you.

[quibbs126]

I had another thought with that one megop sparkling idea I keep bringing up but never fully committing to because I can’t decide on any one idea and at this rate I think I’m just annoying people

But yeah, I had another thought, one that I just thought was funny. I want to draw it out, but I’m lazy and also I have a test tomorrow that I have to study for, so I’m not doing it now. But I’m also impatient, so I’m giving you the bullet points/written version. If I’m sensible, I’ll take this post down after I finish the actual thing so I’m not too repetitive

Anyways, so there’s the kid, who is the child of the two leaders of the Autobot and Decepticon factions, and thus, potentially, holds a lot of value as a hostage and bargaining chip. Granted, I don’t know how known they actually are, there might just be a rumor going around that the two leaders have a secret kid somewhere

But anyways, someone (I don’t know who) gets the idea to capitalize on this, and afterwards calls up Optimus and Megatron, who are up to their usual things, claiming they have taken their sparkling captive and want some demands or other if the two ever want to see them again

Now both of them are very confused by this turn of events. Optimus has no goddamn clue what this guy’s talking about, because he’s pretty sure he knows the two of them definitely don’t have a sparkling. Megatron meanwhile does know they definitely had a sparkling, but he’s cycling through his head the possibilities of if this guy’s telling the truth. Because he was pretty sure no one knew about them, how did this person find out? How many people know? Do they really have their sparkling or is it just a trap to kill them? Or is it some idiot claiming this status, while probably not being aware there is a genuine one out there? Or did they just pick up an innocent bot who just happens to kind of look like them? How close is his secret to getting out, especially to Optimus?

But yeah basically meanwhile, while Megatron is somewhat internally panicking and trying to assess the most likely severity of this situation, Optimus is just like, “…I have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about, Megatron and I don’t have a sparkling, isn’t that right Megatron?”, thinking Megatron is on the same page of this being absolutely absurd as him

But because Megatron is thinking and stopped paying much attention, he doesn’t answer at all. And the silence goes on long enough that it’s getting questionable, especially since Megatron isn’t jumping in to defend his own honor that he did not have a baby with his sworn enemy. His silence is starting to become an admission, and the possibility of this actually being legit is starting to freak Optimus out, because again, he doesn’t know about any of this

Okay explaining it out loud does not bring out the comedy the situation is supposed to have. Probably because there’s no visuals and my description of the narrative rather than just dialogue. So like, the comedy doesn’t happen like it’s supposed to, this isn’t the format for the joke. But the image is funny in my head, okay?

I’ll make the picture either tomorrow or Friday or something, since I have things to do tomorrow. I was just trying to explain it so that you could understand my vision before I can make it

[fatfemmefreaquency]

every time i see this post i realize that anon likely doesn’t know much about statistics

average life expectancy can vary widely

but there’s a big difference between life expectancy for an individual vs. the average life expectancy for a general population

there has been no time or place in human history when the life expectancy of a typical individual was 30 years (but there likely have been times where the average was 30 years)

the issue is that the average (mean) life expectancy, like all stats based on averages, is very sensitive to statistical outliers—in this case that’s people who die at abnormally young ages due to events like famine, disease, or war

the individual life expectancy of many if not most individuals in populations that are at risk due to these sorts of circumstances is still likely to be somewhere from 50-80 years old

people dying unnatural deaths at extremely young ages (due to high infant mortality, or children being more susceptible to disease, etc) brings the average down. BUT it does NOT reduce individual people’s life expectancies at all

some people also have a lower personal life expectancy due to genetic diseases or chronic illness and disability (these factors affect average life expectancy in a population group. but they don’t indicate anything about the life expectancy of other individuals in that group)

and yeah—there is privilege in not having the sort of disability or illness that reduces your personal life expectancy

but that doesn’t change that throughout all time and space the life expectancy of the typical human being is 50+ years—it always has been and unless pandemics, mass trauma, food insecurity, and/ or climate crises get significantly worse, it always will be

(so yay—good news. for the first time in human history most people’s personal life expectancy might be reduced along with the average life expectancy. shoutout to capitalism for (probably) reducing both the average and individual life expectancies for human beings. what a truly great and not at all dangerous economic regime)

also on the topic of whether 30 is old:

even in regions where average life expectancy is ~30 because lots of people are dying in infancy or childhood, dying at 30 years is usually still considered a tragic loss of a young life that had potential to be longer

people don’t die at 30, typically, from infirmity or aging. generally if someone dies before 30 they die due to preventable accidents or because they’re a victim of violence

so yeah. average life expectancy doesn’t in any way change that dying at 30 years old is generally regarded as “too young” or “dying before their time” in most cultures

hell: even if your individual life expectancy is 30 (many people with, say, cystic fibrosis have a life expectancy this low) most people would still agree that dying at 30 is dying young

one of my friends growing up had CFS and people talked even then about how he was going to die young (weird af conversation to have semi-publicly about a 10 year old btw. pretty morbid and stigmatizing to be like ‘see Marty? that boy’s not long for this world’)

great news though—my childhood friend beat the odds regarding his own death. today, his life expectancy is 50+ (bet all the adults who talked about a preteen’s mortality when he was in earshot feel like real dips now)

your personal life expectancy is always changing based on a wide variety of complex factors. in my friend’s case the biggest factor is that treatments for CF have gotten much better in the past 15 years (and he has a more mild case than some)

30 is young. there’s no context in which it isn’t

"30 years old isn't old man" what privilege do you live in where your life expectancy is far past 30 years

This post blindsided me so bad I spent a full minute staring at it in shock

[starscream-is-my-wife]

LL Megatron gets transported to the G1 cartoon (pre movie) guns don't kill anyone, everyone is more focused on their one liners then battle, wizards are real, days dont mean anything, what a silly universe

Edit: Comic based on this idea here