#if you have questions please send me asks!!!

[spidybaby]

love begin again and barça boyz ❤️ plz i need a barça boyz asparents or coparenting plz plz plz 😭

Coparenting | Barca Boys

Summary: What is it like to coparent with them

A/N: I can't lie, I love this request 🥺❤️ also, thank you, Anon. I'm happy to know that you loved Begin Again.

Pedri

"Do you have your coloring book?" You ask, grabbing your son's backpack. He nods at your question. "What about your neon color pencils?"

"I have the draw I made for papi." He answers, showing you the drawing one more time.

You gran him, walking to the Gonzalez Lopez household. You text Rosy that you are outside, thar way you don't have to knock.

"Okay, mi amor." You put him down. "Listen to your dad, don't eat too much sugar and have fun."

He nods, giving you that smile that makes you think of Pedri. He was so much like Pedri. Even the way of talking, not only did he got the accent, but the expressions.

Rosy opens the door, greeting both of you. You share a quick hug with her. "Hola, guapo." She says, greeting the smiling boy.

"Mira abu," He says, showing her the drawing. "Para papi."

"It's so amazing! Your daddy is going to love it."

You kissed him one last time. "Have fun in Sevilla, amor." You say, sending him inside the house. "You guys are going to have fun this weekend." You smile at her.

Rosy hugs you. "We will." She says, taking the backpack from you. "Are you doing anything this weekend?"

You nod your head. "I'll go to the movies." You smile. "Oh, can you please give this to pedri? These are the tickets to the game our son has next month."

You considered yourself lucky, Pedri was coming out of the house with your kid on his arms.

"Mami!" You hear your baby yell. "Papi is getting me an ice cream."

"That so yummy, baby." You smile at him. "Hi, Pedri."

"Hola." He says, a very dry tone.

Rosy knows that if looks could kill, hers would kill her son. "Pedri, this is for you." She says, taking the envelope from your hands.

When Pedri found out about the baby, he was over the moon. You were his puppy love since school, first kiss, first time, first everything.

You also were his biggest fan, there was not one game day where you weren't ready to go support him.

To him, it was a big hit when you told him that it wasn't working anymore. You had a very hard postpartum time, as much as you tried to work on yourself, you couldn't.

You move out of his house, not wanting for him to be the one to leave, plus you don't need a five room house.

He offered to get you a house and to pay for everything you needed. He didn't wanted you to move back to Tenerife.

Once you got on your own feet, you told him to only take care of the baby. You didn't want to be a bother to him.

"What is this?" He asks, grabbing the envelope.

"The tickets for the game." You explain. "I texted you that I was going to bring them."

"Mhm" He humms, kissing his boy on the cheek. "Thanks. I'll be back, mom."

You move to the side, waving at your boy. You can't lie that it hurts you to see Pedri being so dry to you.

"I got tickets for both Fernandos and you, hope you can make it." You whisper, knowing your voice was going betray you. "Please, take care of him."

Rosy hugs you, she knows that you never wanted to hurt Pedri.

When Pedri came back home, his son was asleep on his arms. He was carrying two big bags that contained toys, as always he was the one spoiling him.

Rosy was waiting for him. Her husband and oldest son knew better than to be near when the bomb exploted on Pedri.

"We are back. Gosh, he's heavier by the day." Pedri laughs.

"Take him to his room and come back, we need to talk." His mother says, a very stern tone on her voice.

Pedri does as he's told, he doesn't want to mess with his mom. At least not when she's using that tone of voice.

He lays his boy down, turning the white noise machine that helps him sleep and closing the door with care.

"What are we having for dinner?" He asks.

Rosy knows she shouldn't, but she can't help to be involved in the middle.

"Pedro, you really need to start being a little more considerate with the way you talk to Y/n."

"Mom, not again." He scuffs. "Leave me and her to deal with this."

"I try, but I can't help it. You act as if you are bothered by her. Your son is young, and he doesn't notice this, but he will grow and see that you barely even acknowledge his mom. That's not okay."

"I try my best, okay?" He says, rolling his eyes. "Again, don't mind it, this is between us."

Rosy tries to answer back, but Pedri is already going upstairs to lay in bed with his kid.

You decide to play potato at home all weekend, turning on the match when the time hits. You might not be together, but you are still turning every single match he has.

The match was like a heart attack, a lot of emotions.

But the biggest emotion you had was when your phone began vibrating. It was Pedri requesting a FaceTime.

You don't think twice and press the green button. Your screening shows him and your son cheek to cheek, both with a big smile.

"Mami, we won."

You smile so hard your cheeks feel numb. "That so amazing!" You jump a little. "Tu papi es un campeón." You say. (Your daddy is a champion)

You don't notice it, but Pedri smile grows when you say that. "We are going to sleep as a celebration." Pedri says, laughing a little. "This one's curfew already passed like three hours ago."

"Today's allowed," you laugh, making him laugh.

You talk a little bit with your son and with Pedri as he bathes and changes your son to sleep. He tells you that the nanny of Lewas girls was the one who was going to be helping with your baby.

"Okay, time to sleep. I love you, amor. Please sleep." You say, pointing at your camera so your son could notice how serious you are.

"Adios, mami." He waves at you, sending you a kiss like you taught him.

"Thank you for calling me. I love you both."

"Love you too, mami." Pedri says, knowing it wasn't just because he had to answer back. "Very much."

Gavi

"Hey, drop it." You say to your daughter, who was taking her toys out of her already packed backpack. "You need to be ready to go to your dad's house."

"Papi let me play with my Barbie when he prepares my bag."

You roll your eyes, knowing that, of course, Gavi was letting her do whatever she wanted.

"Okay, I get it." You say, getting closer to her. "But mami really needs to go to class, so please don't do that right now." You begged.

She shrugs, taking the Barbie out and leaving the backpack alone. You roll your eyes, sometimes you do hate to be the strick one.

"Let's go." You say, grabbing her hand and backpack.

You were thankful that Pablo has training in the afternoon for the whole week. You sister was on finals week at school, so she needed to focus on her exams and couldn't help you with your daughter.

You didn't have much option but to ask Gavi to watch her while you go to class in the mornings. He was supposed to have her the late evenings and nights because of you taking that time to do homework and study.

"I love you very much." You say to her, giving her a kiss. "Please behave, doll."

"Te amo, mami." She smiles, hugging you.

You press Gavi's doorbell. Waiting for him to let you in.

"Mami, I'm hungry."

"I know, perdón I didn't give you breakfast." You pout. "Daddy told me he was making you something."

You hear the click of the door. Pablo opens it with a big smile on his face.

"Vente, muñeca." He says, making grabby hands to her. "I have your favorite cereal ready."

You want to ask, knowing that it was that same cereal you asked him not to buy. But you were a little too late for that.

"Thanks again, Pablo." You smile. "Doll, don't eat that much sugar." You warn her.

You ran to your class, leaving Gavi to be the responsable one.

"We have all day to ourselves." He says, giving his daughter a kiss on each cheek. "Want to watch a movie while we eat?"

She nodded, that was already their dinner tradition. Usually Pablo gets take out for her while he eats something plain like a salad or some nutritional stuff.

He enjoys spending time with his daughter, even when he doesn't even know what she's doing most of the time.

Part of him being the < Do whatever you want > type of dad, was that he finds himself busy with something else while his daughter entertains herself.

The other part is him just being a young dad. After all, he's 20.

Being a teen dad wasn't something he had in mind. His parents almost killed him, especially when they find out.

Even tho he is a very calm dad, who allows her to do a lot of things. You know that if you and him were together, you probably would be the same.

He grabs her hand, moving her to the play room he has for her. He sits down on the couch while she plays with her Barbie dolls.

He plays with her for a while, then watches a movie together. Feeling like the time went by perfectly.

"Papi, my friend likes barca too."

"Oh really?" He asks, smiling. "That girl has a very smart dad at home." He chuckles.

"Papi, my friend is a boy." She giggles.

Pablo raises an eyebrow. Sometimes he wonders if what she says is accurate, but lucky him, his daughter happens to be as well spoken as he was when he was a child.

That meant that when she said that she has a boy as a friend, she can't be mistaking the world.

"A boy? Tu no puedes tener amigos. Recuerda, los niños dan asco!" He frowns, not approving his baby girl having a boy around her. "Who is this boy?" (You can't have boy friends. Remember, boys are yucky)

"Mami has boy friends." She frowns too.

"Mami doesn't," He argues. "Plus, mommy is a grown-up. You are my baby, you can't have a boy as your friend."

"Auntie Aurora has." She argues back. She's definitely his daughter. "She kisses him. I want to kiss my boy friend too."

"No!" Pablo shouts. "That will make your teeth fall. You can't do that." He says, very strong tone.

It looks like all the stars aligned against him. His frown softens when he sees the tears on his daughter's eyes.

"Muñeca, no." He says, lifting her up. "I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to yell." He coos her in his arms.

Another sign for him to know that the luck wasn't on his side that morning was the doorbell.

He looks at his phone, time showing that it was, in fact, you the one ringing the doorbell. He can't help but feel like the one who's about to get yelled is him.

"Amor, mirame." He says, grabbing his daughter's face. "Papi didn't meant to yell, I'm sorry, doll." He kisses her face.

"No." She says, moving her face away from him. "I want mami."

His heart goes faster when he hears his phone, a text from you. Asking if he was home because you were outside.

"Amor, fine!" He says, desperately. "You can kiss all the boys you want, just stop crying."

But she won't reason, thanks to him she's scared to be even be near a boy. Fearing her teeth are going to be missing.

"The tooth fairy won't come if I kiss a boy." She cries even harder.

"Por la puta." Gavi whispers. "Muñeca, stop crying."

He can't keep hiding inside his home. You rang the doorbell again, making him frown. He leaves his girl on the coach, telling her to wait for him.

He rans downstairs, opening the door to you. "Hi, I thought you weren't here." You smile. "Where's our daughter?"

"That's the thing." He says out of breath. "I made her cry, and now she won't stop." He pouts. "Don't yell."

"Gavi!" You shout.

"Joder, don't yell." He shouts back. "I didn't mean to do it."

You shake your head, pushing him out of the way and walking inside the house. You already know she's in the play room.

"Amor, ven aqui." You say as soon as you see her. "What did you Daddy did to you?" You ask her, picking her up and hugging her.

"He says my tooth are falling." She cry into your neck.

You turn to the door, knowing Gavi is there.

"Teeth," He corrected, "And if it helps, she says that you have a lot of boy friends." He says, frowning. "Why?"

You open your mouth. "I don't." You fight back. "Did you make her cry about that?"

"No, she wanted to kiss a boy." He explains. "She can't do that until she's 40!"

"So you decide to yell and scare her?" You ask.

He looks at the floor, hearing his baby sob. "I didn't mean to." He whispers.

You soften your frown, you know that Gavi is young. He obviously is going to have this childish moments with her.

You have those moments with her. It's normal that you both do.

"Doll, you won't lose your teeth if you kiss a boy. What papi meant is that you are too young to do it, and you have to wait."

"Yes, wait till you are 40." Gavi whisper. "Amor, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean to make you cry." He pouts. "Perdoname?"

Your now more calmed daughter looks at you, waiting for you to nod and to turn back to Gavi. "Go with papi." You smile, giving her a kiss.

"Te amo." He says, kissing her cheek. "But you can't kiss boys."

"Pablo!" You warn him.

Ferran

"Hi, Fer." You smile, opening the door.

"Why was our daughter outside?" He asks, mad expression on his face.

He has her on his arms, one hand grabbing the barca mini ball he gave her the day before.

"Oh, she was playing with Nelly." You explain. "Want some water?" You ask.

"Papi, down." Your daughter says.

He puts her down, giving her the ball. He closes the door and follows you to the kitchen. You hand him the glass of water.

"Gracias," He says. "You look beautiful." He smiles at you.

You smile back, knowing that he always says something like that. "I'm wearing a food stained shirt and joggers." You point at yourself. "I don't feel very beautiful."

"Well, you are." He smiles. "Now, care to answer my question?" He blinks a few times.

"I did. She was playing with Nelly, the neighbor's daughter."

"And I assume that Nelly's dad is the one who was playing with them." He says, a very deceptive tone. "Playing with her barca ball, that I got her, playing football with our daughter."

"Okay?" You say. "I feel like you are conflicted with that, care to explain?"

"Y/n, he's wearing a Madrid jersey." He says, the disgust in his tone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "And why is another dude playing football with my daughter? She's only allowed to play that with me!"

"Ferran, she was excited to show Mario her ball, and Nelly and her play every Wednesday."

"Who's Mario?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is he Nelly's dad?"

"Ferran, stop." You scuff. "Hey, Arantxa wants to get her into ballet, by the way." You say, walking over to your room.

"I need to shower. Please turn the oven off in fifteen minutes, and don't give her juice if she asks, I know you!"

Ferran took the opportunity to go to where his daughter is.

"Amor, come here." He says, opening his arms. "Is Mario your friend Nelly's dad?"

He knows it is crazy to ask his barely three year old daughter that question, but kids know a lot so he does.

She nods, smiling. "Nelly likes my ball."

"I'll get her one." He smiles. "What do you think about living closer to Auntie Arantxa?" He asks the little girl, getting closer to her and kissing her chubby cheek.

He lifts her, hugging her closer to him.

If he can say something about being a dad, is that he loves it. Having a girl is the best thing, he loves dressing up as a princess, with his tutu and his tiara.

He knows that he fucked up between you and him. Putting more effort into his work, spending less time at home, and the time he spent there was either on the gym or the sauna.

You got tired of begging him to just give you a day. Begging him for an hour of the day, to maybe help with his daughter, to be with you.

He got home tired, eating dinner and moving to the gym to tired himself even more. You try to ask him to be there for you, but he failed.

When you told him you were moving out, that you needed to put your child first. He felt betrayed.

He even fought you, calling you selfish for using your child as an excuse. Till this day, he regrets that.

You rented a two bedroom house. Perfect and small for you and your child. You work at the daycare your daughter goes to, so it's perfect. Your house is perfect for the two of you, and the location is even better for work.

Ferran tried to buy you a house, a big four bedroom home that was in the same neighborhood. You said no, angry at him and wanting to give him the space you thought he needed.

Now you notice that he spends more time at your house than anything. Barely even going back, just to check on his dogs and to play with them a little.

"Kiss." He says, making a duck lip to smooch his daughter. "Te amo." He smiles

"Te amo, papi."

You walk back into the kitchen after your very needed shower. Ferran was dancing to baby shark.

You smile at that, "I'm back." You announce. "Want to stay for dinner?"

"Obvio," He laughs. It was obvious you weren't getting him out of there until she was asleep. "Want some help?"

You shake your head, being able to prepare the plates while he dances with her.

"I'm getting her that cupra mini car that I saw on Instagram." He says to you, grabbing his plate and moving to the table. "We are going to match, amore."

"Can that stay at your house?" You ask. "Thanks to you, I don't have that much space anymore." You point at your very busy living room."

"About that," He whispers. "I got to tell you something." He says, scratching the back of his head.

"What did you do?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Pedri told me it was a good idea." He excuses himself. "And the location is perfect. There's a big patio. Almost next to my sister."

"Ferran!" You sigh, not wanting to fight in front of your kid. "Why?"

"Because I miss you, and this place is so small. Sorry to say it." He lift his hands. "I fucked up, okay? I did! And now I get to see my daughter only after work, I'm dying."

He gets up, walking outside for a moment. You give him a few minutes, smiling at your daughter who's looking at you with curiosity.

"Don't kiss and tell, but Papi is not the smartest of them all." You whisper, making her laugh. "I'll be back, eat your dinner, mi amor."

He's taking his time, not wanting to go back while being this disappointed at himself.

"Ferran," You call him. "Can we talk?"

"What do I need to do to fix this?" He asks, desperate for an answer. "I want you guys back."

"Let's start by not buying anything before informing the other." You joke, making him chuckle. "I know this is an ugly situation for us, but we can't play bingo with our daughter. I need to make sure you changed because I don't feel like leaving again at midnight."

"You won't ever need that."

"Let's try to finish today. After she's in bed, we can talk." You say, grabbing his hand and walking inside. "Deal?" You ask, standing at the door.

"Deal." He smiles, taking a deep breath. "Can I sleep over?" He asks, trying his luck.

"No." You say, pulling him inside.

Fermin

"Do you want the blue shirt or the white one?" Fermin asks his son. "I like this one more, because that way we can match!"

"Bu," His son says, trying to say the word blue. "Bu, papi."

Fermin smiles, pulling the shirt over his head. "Look at you," He says, lifting him and walking over to the mirror. "We match!"

He was spending the evening with his son. You needed to study for this very important test that was taking place during the evening. He took the time to spend the whole day with him.

"I'm sending a picture to your Gammy." He smile. "Say hi, grandma." He smiles, snapping a picture of the two of them.

"Mamá." Your son says after the picture is taken.

Something Fermin knows is that he's not used to being away from you that much. He might go with an hour more than usual, maybe two even, but the whole day without you? No way.

"Mami is studying, buddy." Fermin explains. "That's why you and I are going to go get ice cream!"

Fermin loves to spend time with his son, it was the highlight of his day. Of his life better say. He enjoys it too much.

He feels bad that he doesn't get to spend as much time as he would want, mostly because he didn't share a house with you and because his job has kept him bussy.

"Mami." Your son pouts.

He wants you too, but sadly for him, he fucked up. So now he doesn't have you as he wanted.

"We can call her." He says, taking his phone and dialing your number.

You answer to FaceTime. Smiling when you see your baby's face. "Hola, mi vida."

"Mami, bu!" He claps.

"Blue!" You repeat. "Love that you are matching."

"We are going for ice cream." Fermin says, informing you of the plans. "Sorry to interrupt you, but he's a mama's boy and he can't live without you."

You pout. "I love you, amorcito." You smile. "As soon as I'm done with this, I'll go pick you up and we will cuddle while watching coco."

Fermin feels jealous, he wants to cuddle and watch coco too. He wants to be able to be there and spend time with the two of you.

You can describe Fermin as a perfect dad. Even when people say that there's not such a thing. Well, there is. Fermin López is that thing.

He helps whenever you need him to help, he stepped up when you need him to, he cleans, he cooks, he knows how to change diapers, he knows how to deal with a cold or the flue, he knows how to deal with tantrums.

He's the perfect dad.

But he wasn't the perfect boyfriend. That's where he failed, and you don't blame him, you weren't the perfect girlfriend either.

Your relationship ended before the baby came. You try your best to hide from Fermin that you were pregnant.

You were afraid that his career was going to suffer. You try your best to hide it from your friend in common.

The thing you forgot was that he knew where you lived, so when he came back to Sevilla for vacations, he went straight to your house.

You opened the door without checking who it was, big mistake you thought at the moment.

He asked the obvious question. "Is it mine?"

After that, he tried to do everything he could to be there for you. Even encourage you to move to Barcelona.

He got you a place to live, mostly because you didn't want to go back together, feeling that he wanted to do all this because of the baby.

He helps you money wise with the baby, even when you mention that your parents can help you and that you will be fine.

"Thank you, Papi." You smile at Fermin as soon as he is on frame. "I really can't do this without you." You pout, feeling emotional.

"I love you, mami." He smiles. "Go get that test done, we love you."

You send them a kiss, hanging up the call.

"Okay, amorcito." He says to his baby. "Want to go get ice cream?"

He smiles when the boy in his arms starts to clap his hands. "Yeah, let's go!"

The evening was all fun and laughs. He loves spending time with his little one. He makes sure to cook something for you.

Just in time, the doorbell rang. He takes his son from the safe mini sofa he bought for him. He walks to the door with him, making him laugh by asking him if he is ready yo eat.

"Hola!" You say, smiling at them. "Amor, ven acá." You grab the baby from his arms. "Hola, Fer." You smile, hugging him. "Sorry, I forgot the keys."

Yes, he gave you a copy of his house keys.

"I made dinner." He smiles, kissing your forehead. "Come here." He grabs your hand, walking with you inside.

"Did you have fun?" You ask your son. "Did papi and you have fun today? Did you eat a lot of ice cream?"

"Papi." He smiles, looking over at Fermin.

"Send a kiss to papi!" You say, excited to show Fermin what your baby learned. "Kiss, muak muak."

He does this thing, where he places his hand on his mouth and makes a kiss sound as he puts his hand away.

"Amor!" Fermin smiles happy. "Do that again." He does. You love to see the happy face and the big smile on Fermin's face. "One more time." He says.

"Muak." Your baby says, throwing a kiss at Fermin.

Fer loves having you over, he would love to have you living with him. Maybe in the future, you said once.

He can't wait for that to happen.

✨️✨️✨️

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl

[bilboyagathechickenfootedhobbit]

This reminds me of the time I got disciplinary action at work because of my emails. I simply sent out emails saying “hi, I need this done by this time, please let me know if you have any questions or need any assistance.” I was told people found me rude and uncaring, that I seemed cold and mean. I pulled up my sent emails and was like “show me where I was rude. Show me where I was mean.” And they were like “well you’re just so short and brusque in your communication, it comes off as rude.” I was like “we are a busy college. When I have a student who needs their financial aid issues addressed before they can receive their materials, I am not going to spend three email exchanges chatting about pleasantries to get to the point. My student NEEDS their FA more than the recipient of my email needs to have their feelings coddled with a bunch of unnecessary fluff. It wastes time and makes it easier for them to overlook what I’m asking.” And I got “well, yes, of course, but could you TRY to be a bit more friendly?”

Meanwhile dudes at that job would send me “I need that form ASAP” and that was just fine and dandy.

When they asked me to be more friendly, I was like “I will continue to be professional and efficient. If anyone ever receives a correspondence from me that shows me being ACTUALLY rude or mean, by all means, please discuss it with me. If all that’s happening is that people expect me to write vacuous and flowery emails simply because I’m a woman and it makes them uncomfortable to deal with a woman who emails like a man, that’s their own internal issue to work through.”

i have gained the boss level skill of being incredibly difficult to shame or embarrass. more women should try it. it drives everyone crazy when you’re a woman who doesn’t self-flagellate over any mistake or quirk or prostrate yourself when you aren’t perfect in (insert social role) or hedge your words with a thousand sorries to accommodate the feelings of adults who just expect you to affirm them bc you’re a woman which means validation machine. when you’re nonchalant about your mistakes instead of monologuing about them. when people realize you aren’t bully-able because you don’t give enough of a shit to give them reactions. it’s like watching infinity war in 5d to them. they can’t fucking believe it.

[rrysbabydoll]

Chemetrails Over The Country Club

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader

CW: Flirting, kissing, teasing.

Synopsis: In Berlin for work, Harry takes Y/N to play tennis with Jeff tagging along.

Harry wasn’t exactly bad at tennis. He just wasn’t good. Not by Y/N’s standards, anyway.

The Berlin sun was unusually warm for April, and the clay courts at the private tennis club were practically glowing under it. Harry adjusted his cap, squinting at Y/N through the net. She stood poised, racket in hand, her white pleated skirt swaying slightly with the breeze. It wasn’t fair, honestly, how easily she fit here, like a painting come to life.

Jeff sat off to the side on a bench, sunglasses on, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hand. “Don’t embarrass yourself too much, mate,” he called, grinning.

Harry laughed, twirling his racket. “No promises.”

He’d been in Berlin for a week, tied up with meetings, fitting sessions, endless rehearsals for a few secret things brewing. It had been busy, almost too busy. So when Y/N had flown out from their house in london to visit him, Harry had insisted they steal away an afternoon for just the two of them. Well, the two of them, plus Jeff, because Jeff was glued to Harry’s side like a second conscience.

Y/N served with the ease of someone who’d been doing it since she could walk — which, in fact, she had. Born into old money, she grew up at country clubs and boarding schools, in a world where weekend tennis matches were as essential as Sunday brunch.

Harry grunted as he tried to return her serve, sending the ball way off into the fence.

Jeff let out a loud, mocking oof.

Y/N stifled a giggle behind her hand. “It’s okay. You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Harry picked up another ball, tossing it in his hand. “I’ll have you know, I was this close to playing Wimbledon once.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Really?”

“No.” He grinned. “But I did once beat Niall at Wii Sports Tennis, so.”

“That’s not the same thing at all.”

“Agree to disagree.”

She winked at him across the net. Harry's heart stuttered. he could survive any amount of public humiliation if she was smiling like that.

He served, not terribly, not gracefully either. Y/N returned it easily, making him dart left, then right, then lunge forward for a shot he missed by a mile. He stumbled and almost ate clay.

“Alright, alright, time out.” Harry threw up his hands dramatically, panting a little.

Jeff clapped slowly from the sidelines. “That was... admirable.”

Harry shot him a glare before trotting to the net where Y/N was waiting, laughing openly now.

“You’re evil,” he accused lightly.

She pouted mockingly, brushing a bit of dust off his shirt, her touch light. “Come on. Let’s rally a bit. Less pressure.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “If I win a point, do I get a prize?”

She hummed, pretending to think about it. “Depends what you’re asking for.”

Harry smiled, wide and boyish. “A kiss, maybe?”

Y/N pretended to mull it over before nodding. “Alright. One point, one kiss.”

Jeff groaned loudly. “Please, I beg you, don’t make me watch.”

Y/N spun her racket expertly in her hand. “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

“Because you two are feral unsupervised.”

Harry just grinned. “We’ll keep it PG, Jeff. Promise.”

They rallied, slow at first, then faster as Harry found some footing. Every time he managed a good shot, Y/N would cheer exaggeratedly, making him beam like a kid. His form was questionable at best, but his effort? Unmatched.

Finally, after what felt like a thousand tries, Harry smashed a ball past her. It wasn’t clean, and it definitely wasn’t pretty, but it landed in.

“YES!” Harry whooped, throwing his racket up like he’d just won the U.S. Open. “Victory!”

Y/N raised her hands in mock defeat. “Alright, a deal’s a deal.”

Harry jogged over to her side of the court, still flushed from running around. She stood on tiptoe, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It was barely a brush, but Harry chased it, tilting his head to capture her properly. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, anchoring him. The world blurred for a second, the clay, the bright sky, Jeff’s exaggerated gagging noises in the background.

When they finally broke apart, Harry tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Best game I’ve ever played.”

Y/N smiled lazily. “You’re not terrible, you know. Give it a few months, and you could be halfway decent.”

“High praise,” Harry said, grinning.

Jeff tossed a ball at Harry’s back. “Alright, lovebirds. Some of us have meetings to get back to.”

Harry caught the ball easily and turned to Y/N. “Wanna ditch him and stay here all day?”

Y/N laughed, but her fingers squeezed his for a second, a silent yes.

“Yeah, I think we should teach you a proper backhand.”

Harry groaned theatrically, but followed her back onto the court anyway, racket dragging behind him.

He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. He didn’t care that Jeff would tease him for weeks. He didn’t even care that every muscle in his body would ache tomorrow.

Because Y/N — sun-drenched, smiling, her laughter catching on the warm Berlin breeze — was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

[shotosjupiter]

UNDRESS ME!

pairing - satoru gojo x gn!reader

⤷ in which satoru comes by your place, injured, and pleading for a little help.

𖤐 NOT SMUT i know the title seems like it but it's just fluff i swear </3 slight tw for blood (satoru is injured) but that's all!

you hear the knock on your door late at night. it's a hurried motion, as if the person beyond the door is in great need. you look at your door with suspicion. it was late at night, who was knocking at your door with such frenzy at this hour?

you creep towards your door in caution like at any point the door would burst open and horrors would come in. instead, you hear the low groan of your name in a familiar voice. it takes a few seconds to process that it's satoru.

you hurriedly make the rest of your way to the door, quickly unfastening your locks, and yanking the door open. there, leaned up against your doorframe is satoru. beautiful, shining, glistening with sweat that could pass off as sheen from the moonlight, and holding a bleeding injury on the side of his abdomen.

you gawk at him for a moment before heaving out, "satoru,"

he grins his boyish grin at you, acting as if he isn't actively bleeding onto your front doormat. "hi angel," he says.

"you-what-how, come here," you gape at him before twisting your hand around the fabric of his shirt and dragging him inside.

you drag him down into the bathroom, sitting him down on the closed toilet lid before taking in his pained stance. satoru reaches out to grab both of your hands in his, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles before he says in a needy voice, "undress me."

you nearly wrench your hands out of his grip. "what?"

he leans back against the toilet seat, somehow managing to make it come across as graceful and elegant despite the pain ripping through him. he grips your hands tighter in a plea, "to clean the wound, angel, please."

with your heart beating rapidly in your chest, you nod, before gently pulling your hands away from his grasp. you rummage through the bathroom cabinets before finding the first aid kit you need. you come back to stand between satoru's legs before you tentatively pull up the fabric that was clinging to his skin.

you let out a gasp at the sight. blood and sweat leave a light sheen across his ridged abdomen and to the right, near his side, is a open wound on his side. aching, pulsing, and hurting.

fingers tracing around the wound, you're about to ask what happened for him to receive this bad of a injury before he croons, "if i had known you'd give me this reaction, i'd have you undress me more often, angel."

"how do you have time to joke about this? you're literally bleeding, satoru."

he shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance but his shoulders, lined with tension, give him away.

hurriedly, you start to clean the wound and all the places around it, stopping at every hiss he makes when the alcohol swab touches the open skin. his hands end up finding home on your hips, gripping them tightly as if it'll make the pain lessen. eventually, the wound ends up cleaned and bandaged to the best of your abilities.

satoru, still slick with sweat (and yet still beautiful), slides his hands from your hips back to your hands, holding them both tightly. he bows his head down, a small action of thankfulness, before he tilts his head further down and leaves a kiss down on your knuckle.

a breath passes and satoru's head remains lowered, seeing if you want him to stop. you flex your hand in his, trying to calm your nerves. you feel his smile against your hand as he presses another kiss upon your knuckles. he peppers both hands with kisses like he's thanking them for the action of treating his wound.

each kiss sends you into a frenzy and you squeeze his hands tightly, willing your heartbeat to calm. satoru looks up at you, his blue eyes glinting in the bathroom light, before his gaze flickers down to your lips. he tilts his head in question, leaning just a tad bit forward.

your breath hitches but you don't say anything, only leaning closer to him. surely he's going to kiss me, you think. you feel the ghost of a pair of lips on the corner of your mouth before you feel the heat of him leave your proximity.

he leans back once again, a grin plastered on his face despite his lower half resembling a mummy given his bandages. "can't have your patient doing risky things in this state, now can you, angel?"

© shotosjupiter. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[lukolabrainrot]

What a long last couple of days...

Hey everyone!

What a CRAZY last few days! Still here, just exhausted and very frustrated with N.... but I'll still be posting. But I am anticipating we will be in this f*ckery for a little while yet. I'll make a Wiz post later today about the Cannes, but as we move forward, please send me Asks about what topics you want me to send to the robot. That is the easiest way to reach me and assure that I see your questions/topics.

If you have decided to take a step back from the ship, that is totally fair. Don't blame you at all. But again, if you genuinely think N is with JD, and L is with A, this is 100% not the blog for you.

[vamptarotscam]

I got more evidence that @vamptarot is scamming people in the community. VICTIM BLAMING, LYING AND THE USUAL. COMMUNITY PSA. SCROLL FOR EVIDENCE.

This person has no shame at all.

SHORT INTRODUCTION BEFORE SHARING THE SCREENSHOTS.

Someone in the community dm'd me with SCREENSHOTS. Keep reading.

This person paid 70 pounds for a reading on February 14th, with a "quick delivery" promise too. By February 27th, no reading was delivered. But somehow, the seller had time to actively post online and scam other people.

When questioned politely, the client was met with ever changing excuses:

-"I lost electricity" -"I have arm problems" -Then suddenly a car accident involving a suicidal driver. What were the chances?

Each excuse became more and more dramatic, less coherent and very conveniently timed whenever accountability was requested. SHE KEPT LYING AND POSTPONING THE DELIVERY.

Instead of taking responsibility and delivering the reading the client paid for, the seller mocked the client, suggesting that 70 pounds was "too much" for them. Truly vile behaviour for someone that should be guiding their clients, clients who paid hard earned money for a service that was never delivered. The seller failed to deliver the service promised and when the client rightfully pushed back, she threatened them with a blacklist for DARING to expect the service they paid for.

1. If you can spend all day online defending yourself, you can spend five minutes delivering what you were paid to do. 2. If your arms are too hurt to type, they should be too hurt to post on Tumblr. 3. If you're too sick to work, you refund, you don't gaslight.

This is textbook scammer behavior: delay, distract, dramatize, threaten. And the sad part? People trusted her with not just their money, but their vulnerabilities.

While I do not condone the client's behaviour at the end of the screenshots, I also understand. Spending close to 100 dollars for a reading and getting treated like that is vile. "Please do not interrupt me while I am talking" to someone that you scammed is simply insane @vamptarot. You knew they had been waiting for weeks to get their reading from you for which they already had paid for.

Also. "In this case you made your situation worse", what happened to treating people with respect, @vamptarot? Specifically, people who paid you for a service?

SCREENSHOT EVIDENCE:

February the 14th the client requests a reading and pays for it.

2. "Text me whenever you wish" but not to get their reading, right? Also, by this time it is now FEBRUARY 21. @vamptarot promises to deliver it in 2-3 days.

3. February 27th, it has been more than 10 days already since the client paid. Still no reading. The client asks for an update and this twat lies again. Mind you, the reading should have been delivered by FEBRUARY 24TH.

4. MARCH 1ST AND 2ND. The client asks where their reading is. The scammer ghosts them.

"That is if you still want them" after a service they paid for. A classic scam. She was trying to not send the reading the client paid for.

Also, I am aware that screenshots show "today" and "yesterday" but that's because the client was screen recording back in February or March. Here is the screenshot with the DATE:

"I do not wish to work with someone who couldn't respect the rules". HOW ABOUT YOU RESPECT THE RULES AND SEND YOUR CLIENT THE READING? Or are rules arbitrary? Also threatening to blacklist them is the cherry on top.

The client waited patiently while the seller went ghost again. THEN SHE MOCKED HER CLIENT.

5. THE "ACCIDENT": Now the scammer mentions a convenient car accident (this is March 5th). More than two weeks have passed since the reading got paid for and she still hasn't delivered it. Again, she always comes up with fake shit. Notice how she always gets in accidents when it's time to actually do the things she needs to? Also, if she was actually in a car accident how come she's replying on Tumblr? After something so traumatic, nonetheless.

What a twat. "I am more concerned about being alive" and yet she still has time to cuss out the reader for asking for their 3 WEEKS AWAITED READING. THERE ARE NO EXCUSES FOR THIS BEHAVIOUR. Her wrists are messed up only when it comes to delivering the readings people paid for, fyi.

This is the part where I disagree with the client. I don't condone this but I understand why they got mad.

This is absolutely disgusting.

PLEASE keep her accountable. I cannot do this work on my own without the help of the community.

[melwnst]

dean x reader where he’s abt to propose. Well he tries. Maybe reader found the ring and is batshit nervous questioning herself if he’s choosing the right person. fluff ending please ml

────── ⋆⋅☆ RIGHT OR WRONG, D.W

summary. You find the ring Dean plans on asking you to marry him with, but you’re the best at self sabotaging.

⭑.ᐟthis was fun to write! I used my own experience of pushing people away and self sabotaging so hopefully I nailed this 🤭 please interact and send requests if you have any! <3

word count. 1,1k

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

The world around you just stopped moving. You didn’t mean to look for it-not really. Maybe a part of you knew you were going to find it, the other part hoped you wouldn’t.

You don’t really get it. Dean’s never been the relationship type until you came along- he’s never even mentioned marriage or kids. You just thought, it’d be you and him until eventually he’d leave- because everyone did. Everyone left the second they got tired or bored, or became uninterested- so naturally you figured it was only a matter of time before Dean did.

You stand over the bed, because of course Dean had the great idea to hide it in the bedside table, which you clean often. Your hands are shaky, your breath is worse. Your heart beats so fast you’re sure it’s about to pop out of your chest, and your brain- well your brain plays tricks on you, like it always does. You’re not cut out for this- marriage. You love Dean- you’re just not sure why he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. He’d waste his time- both of you could get hurt- so it’s stupid.

That’s what you think anyway. You think that perhaps you calculated all of it wrong. You thought maybe you’d have a couple more months with him. But now? Now he wants a lifetime- and you’re not sure you can give him that- because that’s not you. You swore to yourself you’d leave men out of your life- you swore you wouldn’t get hurt anymore. And then Dean came along- and you didn’t even realize you were falling in love with him until he eventually told you he loved you, and you couldn’t bare the thought of letting him go- so you didn’t.

Now it feels like a big joke, like there’s cameras hidden around, like someone is messing with you because surely Dean got this accidentally, right? Maybe he found it- or he’s saving it for someone else. Maybe it’s his mom’s ring that he never told you about because it’s not meant for you.

Or maybe he wants to marry you- and just you, and that scares the hell out of you.

‘You weren’t supposed to find that.’ You jump and turn around to see Dean in the doorway.

‘What is this?’ It’s a stupid question, and you know it is the moment it leaves your mouth. You still can’t understand it.

‘Did you open it?’ Dean runs a hand through his hair nervously.

You just nod. That’s all you can do, because you see the look in his eyes. He’s hurt- he’s hurt because he can tell you’re not happy about this.

‘Dean..’ you step forward, but he backs away and that breaks your heart.

‘No, don’t worry. I got it.’ He laughs humorously, and puts his arms up as a defense.

When he goes to leave, you scream his name. You scream his name in hopes that he turns around, but he doesn’t.

So you run. He’s already far away, but you manage to catch him. And in that moment - you’re glad Sam’s gone, out of the bunker, so that it’s just you and Dean, and maybe you can scream at each other without bothering anyone.

‘Will you stop? Dammit!’ Dean turns around abruptly the moment your hand touches his elbow.

He looks almost desperate- because this isn’t the way he thought this was going to go.

You wait for him to say something, because you don’t know what to say when Dean finally breaks the silence.

‘Why not?’

‘What?’

‘I saw the look on your face. You don’t want this. Why?’ His hands are in his front pockets, he can barely look at you.

‘It’s not you-‘

‘No, don’t hit me with the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit. Why?’ He cuts you off, and he’s harsh. He’s mean, and his tone makes you hate yourself because you know he’s hurting.

Dean knows exactly what’s happening, he’s not stupid. He knows you love him, but he sees the way you act after saying I love you, almost like you’re uncomfortable. Not with him- or the words per se- but like you’re sure it’ll be over soon. He hears the way your brain ticks, the way you think, he knows about all of it.

He just wants to hear you say it, so that he knows it’s not him.

You sigh, deep, loud, you play with your hands, you don’t know what to do.

‘I don’t know. I think something’s wrong with me.’ you feel the tears coming, your throat burns.

‘Nothing’s wrong with you, don’t say that.’ He steps closer, but it’s your turn to step back.

‘No there is. I want this, Dean. I just don’t think you do. I don’t think you should.’ You look away, because you don’t want to see his face, because you know his face just fell, again.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m a mess, Dean! I’m not good at this! And you? You deserve so much better. You don’t want to do this with me, trust me, I’ll just end up hurting you.’ You don’t know when the tears started falling, but they are.

Dean comes closer again, and this time you let him. You let him because you’re tired, you’re exhausted of this entire battle against yourself.

‘Hey, look at me.’ His hands stay on both of your cheeks, so that you’re forced to look at him.

‘First of all, It’d be an honor to get my heart broken by you. Second, you have to stop doing this to yourself. You need to stop thinking everybody’s out to get you because it’s not true. I’m right here and I don’t plan on going anywhere. I want to marry you because I love you, and because you make me happy, and hell I didn’t think I deserved that either but you made me realize I did. So let me do the same for you. We don’t have to do this now if you’re not ready. There’s no rush, okay?’

Dean doesn’t let you answer before you’re pressed against his chest.

Before you let everything out. The emotions, the sadness, the anger. Before you try to let go of all those negative thoughts about yourself, because maybe you are ready. Maybe marriage isn’t so difficult or different. It’s just a title, it could be-just that.

‘I’m sorry I freaked you out.’

‘Don’t be. I’m always freaked out., I don’t need you for that.’ You laugh, and Dean joins in. His fingers wipe your tears. You close your eyes, and you know it’s going to be okay because you have each other. Married or not- that’s never going to change.

‘I wanna marry you. I wanna do this.’ You open your eyes to Dean smiling.

‘Yeah?’

Before you answer, Dean kisses you. You hum as an answer, and he kisses you deeper, hungrier. Your fingertips burn while touching him like it’s meant to be.

It’s you and Dean. Hopefully a lifetime of it.

And you wouldn’t change a thing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist @tinas111 @bluemerakis @blossomingorchids

[bluebanistrs]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪vicious .

franco was the kind of situationship that never had made her sad, just angry and more obsessed.

franco × journalist ! reader

im thinking abt a part 2 for this one (cause its kinda short)

Moving from a small town to study journalism was my biggest dream. In 2023, it finally happened. I moved to an apartment in Monaco with my best friend and started the college I always dreamed of doing.

2024 started with me having a really good time with my friends and family, and after the journalist who did the pre and post race interviews randomly decided that he would retire in the middle of the season, my internship manager decided that I would be the best option to replace him, even though I was only in the second year of college.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one to get promoted. Franco Colapinto was the newest Williams Racing F1 driver.

Franco was someone I've kissed in a lot of parties. I thought that he wasn't like the other guys, but that was before I really knew him. He is the type of guy that texts you the whole day, pretends to care about you, asks how you're feeling, sends you roses, tells you he spoke about you to his mother in a space of time, and completely ignores you for the next whole month.

If someone asks me about him, I would just say that he's a dickhead and I absolutely hate him. But if he sent me a message saying he feels so sorry for ghosting me, I would forgive and not fight. Why does he gotta be so vicious? I could never be mad at him, even if he was destroying my heart. All my friends just told me that I'm being stupid and should stop talking with him, but they didn't understand me.

✸

Franco was ghosting me for a few days, but he couldn't escape from the pre free-practice interview, specifically in his first time driving an F1 car. He couldn't escape from talking with me, even if it was for professional reasons.

He finished FP1 in 17th place. I've already interviewed his teammate, Alex Albon, and Kimi Antonelli, who sadly crashed George's car.

The Argentinian was in his flirting mood, responding to all my questions with phrases that could be interpreted in another way. I was already angry at him, and the way he was acting was really annoying me.

I was leaving the paddock when I felt someone touching my left shoulder. Of course, it was him.

“You can't just ignore me for weeks and then pretend that you didn't do anything. I can't play your little game anymore.” I almost screamed at him.

“Hermosa, you can't just pretend that you don't like me. Stop being selfish and let me talk to you. Let me explain myself.” He said with that accent that I couldn't hear without getting crazy.

“So you are calling me selfish? Oh, please, Franco. Act like an adult for a second. I don't wanna talk to you."

He just laughed.

“And stop fucking laughing.” said while I started walking faster.

✸

When I got to my hotel room, the first thing I did was block him everywhere. No more Franco, no more stress.

But only an hour later the room phone started to ring.

“Miss y/n, someone left a thing in your name at the reception.”

“I'm going there.” I put my shoes on and left my room.

“It can't be Franco.” I said to myself while waiting for the elevator.

The ‘thing’ someone left to me was an example of my favorite book, My Year of Rest and Relaxation. I told Franco it was my favorite book when we had our only date that wasn't in a club. On this day, we went to a coffee shop and talked there for hours. I think it is my favorite memory with him.

I unblocked and called him.

“You can't just buy me with presents. I said it before, and I'm saying it again. I can't play your little game anymore.”

“This was the only way I found to grab your attention. I tried to talk to you in the paddock, but you just ran away from me. I would call you, but you blocked me. I really feel that I have to explain myself, but I want to do it face to face. Can I go to your room? No second intentions, I just want to talk.”

I stopped for a moment and considered whether I should let him come and talk.

“My room is number 1043. But you better have a good excuse.”

15 minutes later, I heard someone knocking on my door.

“Come in.” I said to him.

We sat on a sofa. He had his elbows on his thighs, his hands under his face.

“I've had a lot of failed relationships, and it was all my fault. I think I just get scared. I'm scared about things just getting wrong again, and I lose you. I don't know why I kept doing it. Treating you like the whole world and then after, completely ignoring you. Y/n, I really like you, and I can't keep treating you like you're nothing. I'm really sorry for everything I've done to you, and it would mean the world to me if I could only get a second chance.”

I knew he wasn't lying. I saw the truth in his eyes.

“I can't give you a second chance because I've already done that. I really like you, Franco, and I wish things weren't that complicated.” I looked him directly in the eyes.

“I know I kept making you more and more upset with me, and I'm really sorry for everything. I would do anything for you to forgive me. Te lo ruego hermosa.”

“Actually, you've never made me really sad. You just made me really angry, but that always went away when we started talking again.”

“I'm so sorry about everything.”

I grabbed his hands.

“You'll have to prove that you really have changed.”

“Anything for you, mi amor." He gave me a soft kiss after saying that

I told him to go back to his room and just went to bed.

That night, I couldn't sleep well. Was he really being honest? How could I be so sure he wasn't lying? What will happen with us? all these thoughts kept me awake for a few hours. But something inside of me said that everything would be fine.

✸

It was the race day. Lando Norris was on pole and Franco placed 18th.

He had never been so sweet to me and I was really happy cheering for him.

After a long race, he finished 12th place, which was a pretty good result considering that it was his first time racing in an F1 car.

He was the third driver I would interview. After I congratulated Leclerc on his win, the Argentinian driver came in.

“Franco, it was your first time racing in F1, and you had such a great result. How are you feeling right now?”

“I'm feeling like a brand new man.” He said with a big smile.

“The car is really good as far as possible, and I'm really excited for the next race. It's all so different from F2, but me and the team are doing a great job.”

“Congrats, Franco.”

“Thank you, Y/n.” He looked at me with shiny eyes and a sweet smile.

[mysteriousbogbody]

If anyone is interested! I ofc posted it all on here digitally but I handmade these physical versions, too! Yayyyy 160 hours of drawing and binding and cutting and risographing!

I’m doing a little LAUNCH SALE!!! So comics will be $15 until June 1st, 2025. After this, they will be $20!

I also ask that you pay for shipping. I shipped one already PRETTY FAR across the US from me so far, and it was around $6! I am willing to send to other countries if you are willing to pay that shipping, but I’m honestly not sure how much they will cost! I am willing to go to the post office and ask if you would like to know!

Shipping outside of US has so far costed $8.41 USD with no tracking! With tracking has been up to $50 🥲

If I know you in person (school or other) I can also just give it to you IRL if we are going to be in the same place!

Im also only really able to receive payment on Venmo or PayPal, or cash if we are doing an IRL exchange!

But yes! This is a 40 page risographed book in an edition of 50, and I did literally everything. All the books are hand editioned and initialed, and I drew a special fishy in the back of each!

If you’re interested, please DM me! OR IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS!

[mizaryrottmnt]

Hi ! I have a question for you:

Are you open to interactions between Ocs?

OMG Yes! Please do! You can either send me your interaction on my ask. Or even post it on tumblr and I will respond when I can!

But please, don't restrain yourself!

[frequentlykit]

Helping Hand Pt2 - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x Reader

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, some minor angst (let me know if I wasn't specific enough, I'm new at this)

WC: 1.4k

Summary: You get into some trouble and call the first person you think of.

A/N: hope you are happy with this sequel, i may or may not keep this going for a while. enjoy!

- kit <3

Part 1

It had been two days since Chris gave you his number.

You wanted to use it… sort of. It felt weird to just text him. You hadn’t even splurged on his bubble and now you had his actual phone number. Why he trusted you enough to give it out was another question you had no answer to.

The work event had gone well the day before which you were thankful for, now you only have one more day before you fly back to Seoul. You were out late, grabbing a snack from the convenience store. You weren’t alone in the store, three men who seemed to be there together were also wandering the aisles. You didn’t think too much of it until after you checked out and they followed after you down the sidewalk. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, until they called out to you.

“Hey sugar! Why don’t you come party with us?” One called as they caught up to you.

“I’m good, thank you.” You say, starting to walk faster.

Another one ran in front of you, “Come on, darling. Don’t be a spoiled sport. Where are you rushing off to?”

You could tell they were drunk, or at least tipsy, and again tried to move past them.

“Hey! Don’t be rude. We just walk to talk.”

The third one comes up behind you, placing a hand on your lip, “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

You whip around, stepping out of their range with your hands out in front of you, “I’m actually meeting my boyfriend here-”

“Oh please, no one has to know, baby. Come have fun with us.”

“No, really, I’m good-” You fumble with your phone, pressing the first number you saw. Chris.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe, you’re still coming to pick me up right?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, you said you were on your way.”

“Do you need help?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. Send me your location.”

“Thank you, baby.”

You hang up, quickly sharing your location before putting your phone back in your pocket.

“How stupid do you think we are?”

“Come on, honey, just five minutes.”

You took another step back when you heard an engine revving and getting closer, you turn to see someone on a motorcycle. He stops in front of you, parking the bike and taking off his helmet.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He smiles broadly, as he walks over to you, “You ready?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Chris wraps a comforting arm over your shoulder.

“Anything I can do for you, gentlemen?” He asks, looking at the three men who were now much less interested.

They grumble something under their breaths before wandering off. Once they are out of earshot Chris lets go, taking a step back to assess you.

“You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m sorry for calling but- your number was the first one I saw and I figured you would be awake still. I’m sorry to bother-”

“Y/N, stop.” He laughs softly, “It’s okay, I’m glad you called.”

You sigh with relief.

“You want a ride back to your hotel?”

You nod, telling him the address. He walks back over to his bike, handing you the helmet he had been wearing.

“A bike?”

“More fun than renting a car, yeah?” He grins.

You shrug, you couldn’t argue, then put on the helmet. He helps you onto the bike and secures your arms around his waist.

“Hold on tight, okay?”

You squeeze tightly as a ‘yes,’ then he takes off. The cool air whips past you and you lean your head against his back. It’s a short ride but you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of leaning against him, your thundering heart beginning to calm.

You get to the hotel and Chris pulls into a motorcycle spot close to the entrance. He gets off before helping you and slowly taking the helmet off your head.

“You okay?” He asks with a kind smile.

You nod, giving him a short one in return.

“You sure?”

You start to nod, and then shake your head, “I think… I’m a little shaky. Will you… will you come up with me? Just for a bit.”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

He takes your hand and squeezes it, letting you lead him inside and into the elevator. He doesn’t let go until you get to your room and let him inside. You both slip off your shoes before walking over to the bed, you sit and Chris stands, somewhat awkwardly, to the side.

“So…” You bite your lip, “I don’t know why I brought you up here.”

“I assumed you didn’t want to be alone.” He says, slowly sitting down next to you.

“I guess… it’s a little weird…”

“What is?”

“That it’s… you.” You look down at your hands resting in your lap. 

“That’s weird?”

“I mean, no, not really but… you know what I mean. You’re… Bang Chan of Stray Kids.”

“Well… right now…” he slowly reaches over to take your hands in his, “I’m just Chris.”

You look up at him, “Thank you…”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m happy to… be here.”

With the ice between you more thoroughly broken, Chris gets you to relax by putting on some old black and white movie and relaxing on the hotel bed. You talked more than watched, about your own dreams and ambitions as well as his, some of which surprised you.

“That’s your dream? To make out in the rain?” You giggle.

“Don’t judge me, I can be romantic when I want to.”

“I’ve seen your live’s Chris, I’m well aware.”

This time it was him who blushed, looking away, “Shut up…”

“What? Don’t get shy now, it’s fun to see you flirt with your phone.”

“Stop!” He turns away.

“Come on, Chris,” You lean over, poking him, “You can dish it out but you can’t take it!”

“Don’t!” He laughs, trying to move away.

You grab his shirt, pulling him back over, well aware he could escape easily if he wanted. 

You lean down, poking him in the chest, “Don’t be so shy.”

“I thought you said you’d seen my live’s, you are well aware-” He giggles before grabbing the hand poking him and flips you over. You squeal quietly as he pins your hands to the bed as he hovers over you, the pair of you panting. You look up at him, glancing between his chocolate eyes and his plump lips. You wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Just then he ran his tongue across the lower one, looking between your eyes before they slid down to your lips.

“Chris…” You say, hardly a whisper.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, eyes never leaving your lips.”

“Kiss me.”

He looks back up at your eyes, a mix of panic and desire in his own before he leans down and connects your lips with his. It was better than you’d let yourself imagine. It wasn’t rushed, it was sweet and slow, comforting. He lets go of your hands and you move them around his neck, playing with the hairs there. He groans, deepening the kiss as he grips your hip with one hand.

Chris pulls back suddenly, “I’m sorry-” He moves away, sitting back on the bed.

You sit up, “Don’t be sorry, Chris. I asked you to.”

“I know but… this isn’t how… I just… I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Chris, you aren’t, I promise.” You move closer to him on the bed, placing a hand on his arm.

“Just… I feel like… I don’t know, like a power imbalance. I just want to… make sure you’re not doing this because of who I am…” He mutters.

“Chris,” You move your hand from his arm to his cheek, turning his head to look at you, “I might be a fan but after the time we’ve spent together I am getting to know the real you, not the one I’ve seen online. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You’re sure?” He asks, genuine concern in his eyes.

“Who’s thinking too much now?” You tease with a smile, letting your hand fall away from his cheek.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, your worry is very endearing. It means you care, Chris.”

You don’t kiss again but you do lay slightly closer together as you finish watching the movie, absentmindedly playing with each other's fingers.

You and Chris walk to your hotel door and he steps out into the hall.

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” He smiles.

“I hope so, let me know when you’ve got some freetime back in Korea.”

“I will.”

You move forwork, kissing his cheek before stepping back. He squeezes your hand before waving and walking down to the elevator. You watch him till the doors close before slipping back into your hotel.

You slide down the inside of the door.

That just happened.

thank you for reading! please reblog and like <3

i may or may not fall off the face of the internet for the next two weeks (taking a trip to Japan lol) but we will see, feel free to give me some requests for when i get back ;)

[sarnai4]

greek pantheon in the family group chat?

(LOVE that! Okay, let's get into this)

Hestia: Hello! Just checking in on everybody :D! How are you doing?

Athena: Auntie, this is a group chat.

Hestia: I know, Sweetie. We never get a chance to talk in-person anymore, so I thought this could help.

Apollo: I foresee this going badly.

Ares: You don't need to be a prophet to do that

Hermes: Being a prophet might not help him. He didn't foresee me stealing his cows. HAhaha

Apollo: Dad! He admitted it!

Zeus: TBH I always knew. I just thought it was funny.

Hestia (typing)

Apollo: You've got to smite him or something.

Artemis: Come on, Pol. Don't expect Dad to fix all your problems.

Hephaestus: Didn't you literally run crying into his arms when Hera hit you?

Artemis (has left the chat)

Hermes: I bet she's on her way over to you again Dad

Ares: If she is, can I come too? You keep not responding to any of my texts and I had something I wanted to ask you

Ares: Dad? Are you ignoring me AGAIN?

Athena: I'd wager, yes.

Ares: It's a group chat! How are you going to pretend like I'm not here??

Zeus (typing)

Ares: Okay good.

Zeus: Hera, are you coming home early tonight?

Ares: >:(

Athena: You still have me.

Ares: Mean it?

Athena: At this moment anyway

Hestia (typing)

Hera: You two, cut it out. I'm trying to respond to your father.

Ares: Sorry

Athena: Sorry

Hera: Why do you want to know if I'll be in early?

Zeus (typing)

Hera: Are you trying to bring someone to MY home?

Poseidon: LOL

Zeus (stops typing)

Hestia: Maybe this is a topic that you two should discuss in a private chat.

Hera: ARE THEY ALREADY THERE ZEUS??

Poseidon: Also also are they cute? If so send pics. Sharing is caring :)

Hera: You stay out of this! Zeus, are you going to answer me or not? I see that you're still in this cat.

Zeus: Something came up. I've got to go. (has left the chat)

Demeter: Very classy of you.

Dionysus: Hera, I can make you a drink if it would make you feel better

Hera: It might

Demeter: Make two please. It's about to be winter. HADES

Hades: I'd really rather not be involved in this

Demeter: I'd rather not spend the winter away from my daughter. Guess we're BOTH unhappy now.

Hades (has left the chat)

Demeter: I know where you live!

Hephaestus: He can't see this text until he gets back

Demeter: He'll see me a lot sooner

Hestia: No one ever actually answered my question about how they were doing.

Hestia: Are you still there?

Athena: I tried to warn you that this wouldn't work.

Hestia: Maybe it can work another time. Should we try this again tomorrow?

Everyone: NO

[2kyo7]

♱ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘 ♱ | ÉCLIPSE

pairing ; adrian tepes , trevor belmont , sypha belnades x female reader

ཐི ➥ summary ; As the world begins to pay the toll of Dracula's rage, four unlikely heroes must band together and defeat him--no matter the price.

warnings ; swearing, troubled family dynamics (?)

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; prob my favorite chapter so far, if anyone has questions about the series i’d be happy to answer (no spoilers included lol)!! taglist is still open btw 😛!

"M-MOTHER, TELL ME YOU JEST...!", you become unsettled within your seat, Jacquelin was known for her trickery; but this was of the cruelest kind. When the half-blooded "hybrid" (you once called him endearingly) walked through the doors of your home after what felt like a millennium's time had passed; there was a piece of your being who wished to smother him like no other within an unforgiving embrace. To tell him all he had missed, and all he would not know. Ask him with a tone softer than cottoned cashmere; "why did you wait so long to find me, lovely Adrian?" Then all should be as it was, reunited like time had ceased to advance.

He'd come to visit you every-other week, you'd host marvelous slumber parties bound for the pages of history books. He'd whisper things; things secret to your ears alone. Sweet slices of heaven which you'd sworn to the grave, with tangled limbs and star-strung eyes. There was a time that if he'd told you he alone crafted the blazing balls of fire—you'd undoubtedly believe him—without a hint of hesitation. Oh how the times have changed.

Now, now was a different tale entirely. Once, you peered upon him with overflowing adoration, clouded affections (some would claim it devotion). Replacing it emerged a festering anger, open wounds which refused to scab over the blistering past of disloyalty. He'd made his choice, chosen his side; even then he had every opportunity to return and beg for forgiveness, to let your fury slowly subside and your wrath turn quaint. But he did not. And for that, Adrian—Alucard Tepes, son of Vlad Dracula, meant no more to you than a dirt blooded dog. He'd feel it too. Every passing moment of anguish you'd endured; he would suffer it—breathe the poison into his very lungs. And perish. That, you can promise.

"What you impose Mother it's, well it's simply—" you trample over the words you urgently mean to say, an arrangement of fear and madness overtaking your speech. Instead, Langrené does you the humble deed of speaking above your uncertainty. A rampant hobby of hers. "Absurd? Laughable? Preposterous? Yes dearest sister, this is something we can both wholly agree on after more than a decade's worth of dispute." Langrené's steady regard was not that of which it should; her expression coated with bafflement, displeasure, and upmost contempt. Never had she been the compassionate type, moreover her affections for anyone at all has forever been rather sparse. You, her youngest sister, were no exception.

Perhaps she held the very slightest of sympathy for you, despite appearing so evidently pitiful; you stood upon your burning pile with foolish deviance. Head held high, fist clenched tight, puncturing the softness that was your delicate palm with sharpened claw-like nails. She'll never respect me, you think, but her respect was not needed. Only the sight of your sorrow. "Nothing shall be gained from sending her away to such absolute death," she scanned the room, eyes downcast. "Especially not with these fools."

Your heels drum in rushed rhythm against the marble floor, you fall to your knees, grasping Louviers' arm as to be the final lifeline. "Father please tell me—tell me now that this...this can only be of mother's fanatical adjure." Unease stuck to your body like a second skin, you felt queasy, uneven; you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so earnestly horrid. "Say you would never let your youngest child succumb to such unkindliness, and that your wife's lunacy has been left to loiter far too long." You needn't "the eyes" against your doting father, daddy dearest, for he forever lay encased in the trance that was fatherhood. And a special place laid dormant only to you.

Instead, his head shakes and you've been all but knifed. "It's for your own good fluer, I promise." He outstretches his hand to place atop your own, but you are quick to pull away, stumbling back onto your feet with the grace of a newborn lamb. Heaving, disoriented. "Just look at her, the thought alone has sent her into a frenzy." Langrené paces behind her father's seat, standing tall and intimidating in front of you, hands neatly crossed behind her back. "We may as well send them off with a corpse and casket for their travels..." she takes a short pause to ponder, "...maybe four." Her face shifts, mouth twisting slightly upwards.

Jacquelin snaps her fingers; not once but twice. Two servants arrive to heed her aide with immediate results, she whispers lowly and shields her lips so none could read them. Then, quickly as they came, they'd scampered away. Not a word shared between them. "If you'll be generous enough as to hear our rationale I think you'd been quite pleased with us Langrené. Your poor lowly parents." Her tone was teasing because in the end, Jacquelin would have the final say—until Langrené was truly brought to power, decisions like this would have no true discourse. "Please my daughter, a moment is all we request." That does not signify she held her eldest in modest regard, to create an enemy of an offspring never birthed happy endings. She looked to her daughter pleadingly.

Begrudgingly she conceded an abrasive glower present to all who dared to look upon her, "speak your truths for as long as I will hear them."

The ambience grew quiet before a storm erupted in waves, you released a most regnant, gut-wrenching cry your narrow airway could manage, heard for the ages. It shook the core of your stomach, you would've complained of it, if not for the apparent issue that wore raging in the room. "NO. Do not tell me you actually mean to entertain such stupidity?" Your teeth clash together with each unsteady syllable that left your lips. The question was directed in particular to Langrené, but loosely to your entire family who allowed such a thought to merely cross their minds. Your head twisted, seeking out each of them. "They plot to kill me and you're willing to stand there and let them convince you?!"

Both humans stalked on the edge of consciousness, but your noise proved to arose them, for the time being at least. Lyevre had sat silent nearly the entire ordeal, head bowed and eyes closed; either in shame, sadness, or ruth. Louviers looked to you, lips shut tight in similar fashion, words weighted too laborious for him to speak. Jacquelin fiend surprise, a hum following her placid expression, Langrené simply stood unblinking, hardly moving, patiently awaiting the reasoning that would crumble her current stance.

And Alucard, you retch at the sight of him, threatening what little morsels of dinner had been scarfed down minutes before. His face no longer agitated you; it disguised your very soul. You couldn't just hate him—you detest him, loathed his being and what he represents. You thought to call him as such. What ever he's possibly scrambled to title himself within these passing years, you could not bring yourself to care.

"I refuse to stand here as my execution is contemplated! You able me to join the likes of a halfwit human, a poorly bred pooch—and a witch? I'd rather burn at the stake and my accursed ashes be fed to measly rats." Alucard's eyes sink at the implication. "Curse you all, damn you to hell...I won't stand for this!" Gathering the edge of your dress, you race away, not once looking back to see the consequence of your actions.

"(Name)! You've lost your senses completely," Langrené's sentence shook the corners of the castle, reaching you through the hall, she was loud but un-screaming. Yet you still ran and showed no signs of slowing. "Return and apologi—"

"Enough Langrené—leave her be; she's being put through so much, what more will you do...what else can she possibly deserve?" Lyevre's voice felt like a clearing pathway through foggy forests. "This is a sincere kindness compared to what she'll face if our mother insooth decides to send her battling a losing war." All the same, her heavy words were no more than fading memory, echoing footsteps fading as you traveled further and further from the dining hall. "Now, perhaps we can finally address the sizable elephant present within the room?"

Jacquelin shrugged her shoulders faintly before clasping her hands together, sighing in relief. "For quite some time now both I and Louviers had plans of sending (Name) away, not forever, just long enough to return...matured. We were under the impressionable thought by some miracle she'd begin to display intrigue about learning her abilities, the question ultimately proved where." She glanced between both Langrené and Alucard. "Whether you came to us or not Adrian—she was set for departure, so be free of any guilt you may harbor. The act is needless, for I am thankful you've returned. To save her."

Louviers absolved his throat of a growing absence, "our options were rather....numbered." His tone present with doubt, almost mournful. "We'd discussed the countryside: a considerable secluded location that would be rather lonesome, but only in the best of intentions. Then there's to be the presented choice of allowing her to frolic amongst the beloved townsfolk residing in Lavatris, close as home could provide." Louviers lifted his hand, tilting his wrist at a sharp angle; emptying the remanence of liquid onto the glistening floor's surface, dreading his next thought. "And finally, there was to be a young women's boarding house of sorts—neighboring just west of here...desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose." With every ephemeral word brought noticeable displeasure upon Louviers' sturdy features, as if each instance was more painstaking to speak than the last.

The woman beckoned her husband closer, he complied without fault. Joining his wife at her side, garnishing him with gentle affections. "...You may ask why we are so ambitious to send her forth, true bloods cannot afford dwindling numbers. Not in this day and age, anyhow. Frankly it pains us more than anything to do this but, we've almost solely ruined that child." Louviers nods in agreement, "I will admit, she's been coddled quite a bit."

"You've done more than coddled the girl, she's been smothered and it was all your own fruition." Langrené spills acid from her tongue, "I'll never blame her for what she's become, that was beyond her control; a victim of circumstance. However, I do hold her in fault for choosing to remain helpless. And now you feel to set a baby bird free with unborn wings." She scoffs. "I only hope she returns scarred, if at all."

"Know this, older sister, many birds must first fall before they can begin to take flight. I think this scenario will be objectively similar." Langrené acknowledges her sister in faint astonishment, presuming she'd been silenced for the remainder of dinner. "Lyevre...and I take it you agree with this...repugnancy?"

"The approach is something to be studied but, I foresee a brighter future ahead." She soothes her belly, observing within a state of pure longing. "So, you have my conclusive blessings Adrian."

"Listen intimately Langrené, and Lyevre too. I won't feel sorry for having risen (Name) with more nurture than I thought to have by either of you. Only we did not know at what times to stop." Jacquelin turns to face Louviers with a look of knowing, he tightens his hold amongst her hand, "as we give you ours Adrian, we trust you'll uplift her to greater heights never before seen by the masses."

Langrené stomps back around to her seating, obnoxiously so, making no effort to quiet her steps. A dark purple hue surrounds the chair as it moves on its own accord, screeching against the floor like torn violin strings. "Then there is nothing left to be said...Adrian, I shan't give you my blessings for I believe such things to be a falsehood created by the intelligence of humanly greed. Instead I send to you my condolences—as many troubles forever face a hero's path."

If not felt before, Alucard was now crushed by an intense pressure aboard his robust shoulders more than ever. Heavy could not begin to measure its tremendous weight. He questioned only for a moment's time what could've been causing the constant kinks in his neck, or the aching along his boney spine. The answer couldn't have been more clear if it'd kneed him between the legs. The world, of course, its delicate balance waltzed upon his back in wavering fashion, digging its heels further and further into the blankets of his humanly flesh with dramatic rhythm. But never mind it, never mind such things when others were of the upmost importance. His quest was far from complete, in fact, it'd barely begun at all.

So, the awaited savior Alucard swallowed; consuming his fears, his woes, his worries and his crafted words, being careful not to choke. Devout to the prophecy—to saving human kind. "Thank you, all of you, not only for your generosity but also your trust. Hear me when I say with certitude that my father's rein shall be renounced and (Name) returned, more than which she left." He stood, his hand courtly placed directly on his faintly drumming heart.

"How pleasant to hear such assurance, even if your ternary isn't particularly up-to-par." Jacquelin's gaze ghost over Sypha and Trevor's fatigued forms, her words lacking enthusiasm. "Yes...you'll leave the dawn after next, we'll send you off with any provisions your hearts desire!" Alucard nodded along, a polite smile playing along his features. "Mother I shall escort these heroes back to their sleeping quarters, it's clear they'll tire to death with each passing breath." Without awaiting her response Langrené lifted the two humans from their seats with only a glance. "Come along Adrian, do not falter behind me."

"Good day to you Dauvillers; may your rest be eternally easy." As they exited the dining hall, the fading sounds of continued conversation could be heard. A louder, less refined voice joined. What's with all the noise in here? Something I miss lovely?—Nothing Beau, just sit down and eat.—AYE ye' should've seen the blokes at the gate tonight, looked like something even a damned flee-bitten feline couldnt've brought through here...

Morning's playful dawn soon infiltrated the night's tame sky; Langrené tenderly secured both Trevor and Sypha into their designated rooms, leaving Alucard to wonder nostalgic halls alongside her. The atmosphere was less than consortable, but Alucard quite appreciated such silence, he'd spoken enough for one day (possibly entire weeks). She then paused to oversee an enclosed flower garden through lengthy window panels. "Look out to there, Adrian. Tell me what you see." Her voice was minutely absent of the strict, disregarding tone she used so often. Standing in its place seated something gentle.

"I see a stream of running water, purple anemones, coneflowers, some gladiolus—among many other types I cannot hope to recognize, and..." His words trailed off in disorderly directions, he scrambled to find them easily, caught unguarded by what he'd witnessed. "You—You're sister, (Name), she tends to the garden with great amounts of...care." Alucard stood stunned at his own description towards your act. Never had he known you to be someone blessed with a green thumb, much less a caring hand, he reputed it was an eventual thing to become, considering your fascinations. "Yes Adrian, you are absolutely right."

Alucard reacted seconds too soon, clashing upon her candid, menacing, unforgiving stare. There was no battle for dominance between the fixated look they both shared, simply unmistakable glowering. "Might that be all you allow yourself to see, know it is of plenty. (Name) may be the most incompetent, spoiled—obsolete true blood one shall ever have the displeasure of meeting within this lifetime and the next, but know that she remains my sister all the same. And I love her more than any amount of human blood ever to be spilled, do you heed my words well Alucard?"

"Undoubtedly—"

"Allow me to speak in more definitive terms, as to spare no room for needless confusion." Slowly her attention hallows away from the half-blood, she treks further down the elongated hall; swallowed by unearthly shadows. Alucard dared not to follow. "When my sister returns, if more than a single scratch is bared upon her delicate cheek...you will pay dearly." Langrené's eyes glow dangerously bright, while her head tilts to view him one final time. "I'll have your head mounted to my walls like last season's catch, but worry not, you won't fair such fate alone; your comrades will join you. A merry band of moronic wolves you'll be until your dying breaths." With that Langrené smiled, hands crossed neatly behind her back (posture unrivaled to none) she stalked away, no amount of remorse depicted.

He dared not to move. Not until he was certain, the threat, all while being his saving grace; had hence dissipated.

The sight of flowers brought him little ease.

You were beyond outraged. This was a betrayal of the highest order. They've sentenced you to death, one marked by prolonged pain and spiteful demise. Mother, Father, Lyevre, Langrené, Adri— you refused the mention of his name within the confinements of your troubled mind. Emotions shortly overtake action, yearning immediate validation midst your fury.

A rampage runs rapid throughout the pristine halls, costly items (most valued enough to purchase a peasant’s home), are toppled with little consideration, shattering against once stainless floors. You maim painted portraits of every type using the edge of your pointed nails; faces become torn while faux fruits are ripped. The few servants you cross make no attempt to contain the damage left in your wake, turning a blind eye from the mess they'll be made to clean come afternoon. Your spree is quiet as the sun is cold. You would not be silenced, nor obstructed. You'd pray for all to hear the mayhem you ensue; halting their agreeable conversations and instead adhere to nothing except your needs. They'll plead for slender complacency, sparing the castle of your madness.

Though, they never come. Not a single human, vampire, or hybrid bounds to your location, you are brought to lean lonesomely against a wall, tucked into its chilling corner, rays of purple light reflected on the smooth surface from a near window. Once all is said and done you are left exasperated, exhausted too. No better than which you began. Perchance, this was not the whole truth. Slight solace was founded in your destruction (but not nearly enough), serving as a form of protest. Perhaps the only form of protest you could procure with such scarce choice.

Haggard and overcome with sorrow, you force laxity out of your limp form, venturing to a wooden door. Along its hardened material spiraling florals had been drawn, the design was carefree, inspiring, childlike. Twisting its blackened handle, you felt a rush of nostalgia whelm your previously sunken senses. This newfound feeling coaxes you to persist down familiar cobble steps, you never once slip amongst their sleek edges; hues of various color illuminate supple skin in passing, your mind knows this place well.

Awaits you are double doors left ajar for an anticipated return. Without pause you pull them apart and marvel at the sight. The flower garden, your safe haven; created using blood, sweat, tears, and time. Not a single flower nor inch of soil hadn't been graced by your heedful touch. Years it took to carefully curate every seed, to assure their survival within the trying climate, to procreate in masses; and against all odds, you'd succeeded. It wouldn't be far fetched to title this your life's work, despite the infinity which stirs ahead.

You viewed every patch as if your first, observing them with loving eyes and proud cheeks. They are your everything. Some would call you crazed, but what is a life worth living without obsession? For a passage of time, the cycling world around had been forgotten. What future expected you outside these very doors, until your eyes settled upon them.

Idly confined within your garden of heaven were Convallaria majalis, otherwise known to be: Lily of the Valley. Poisonous as they are mesmerizing, white petal heads forever downturned towards the ground which rooted them in vested affections; appearing shame of its baneful flaw. They required particular care, dying in following weeks after growth, you forgive and start again, rightfully devising them to be favored among its brethren. No soul ever questioned as to why it remained the only flower of its color inside your sacred meadow. The answer considered though never spoken aloud.

Lost in thought, something unsettling sought to stir. Miraculously, inside the lieu of which you called a refuge, your skin starts to crawl and nerves begin to fray. Abrupt agitation replaces profound felicity, dormant perceptions become dynamic—your heart simply couldn't resent.

These flowers; your masterpiece occupied such a vast portion of your life. You've poured countless hours into their wholth, countless particles of dirt caked beneath your nails, countless nights spent scouring the spine's of anthology text. All so that they may flourish. Yet, what has been given in return? A floral scent? A pretty sight? The same things bestowed upon all others?

Now, the Convallaria majalis'  beauty seems to fade like old ink. Their lovely shade of white appears awfully too bright. Addictively sweet scent soon soured; nausea overfills more senses than one, your stomach turns. Descending to your knees, wrist crowding gainst your nostrils to block the obnoxious smell. A hand reaches out to hold its delicate blooms, to feel the essence of your work, countering opposing odds.

For a moment it works. That is, until the skin of your fingers burst into harsh rashes—at first there was nothing, then came a burning sensation along your pores; irritating and near sweltering. Such a feeling ached to be scratched beneath the skin, only when it began to climb along your hand did you pull away, stunned but finally knowing. Knowing of your worth—of your extent. A giver, which so little had been given to in return.

You watch as the rash heals mere seconds later, but you do not feel so comforted nor sooth. Returning to the same flower, you take its petal between your fingers and you crush, shifting them side to side as the flower is withered and dying. The look on your face is unintelligible, there is no smile present. Simply a stare.

The rest are not handled so meticulously; the remaining are pulled from the roots up, torn in half, sometimes threes. All are beheaded, deprived of their defining trait. Dirt is strewn everywhere, your clothes long soiled, hair astray. Then, there is nothing left to dismember, all is left in its place a patch of untidy dirt. The others have seen you, what you have done to their brethren. You wonder if they had the minds to fear you, what you are capable of. "Ha." You laugh at the ridiculous notion. For if they held mind at all, your sweet lillies, would've know what was best for them.

And yet there they lie: gone, discarded, disgraced.

Your nose leaks, you wipe. Next is your eye, right then left; you wipe again. Before you manage to dry them quickly enough a salty waterfall erupts. You sob, hiccup, croak, regret, hate, too much all at once. The door behind you creaks, a sickeningly sweet scent. "Have you come to love and wilt my flowers away as well? If so there is no need—I'd rather it be done alone." You have no heart, no stomach, no mind to face him.

"(Name) know that this was never my intent, to ever think you'd be the one they send away." Alucard's gentle voice coaxes heartfelt emotion, it's hardly a whisper, the guilt must be crushing. You grit your teeth, "do not pity me Alucard, the very moment you sent strife to this household, you knew I was no better than doomed."

Alucard stifles, unknowing of what to say, unknowing of you. Someone he'd once knew better than any other. He desired to touch you—to reach you and your quelling thoughts, perhaps if he held you within his arms, you'd feel his thoughts become your own; to know that his efforts were just. "If you'd only seen the dire circumstance of our situation; if you saw what was at stake."

"Oh I know ascertain what is at stake, and I quite frankly couldn't care enough. You've made a grave mistake Alucard, and it will cost the lives of millions because of your imbecility." Finally you gain the fading courage to look upon him from the corner of your eye, "the instant you thought to come here and bring those blood bags here alongside yourself—a knife should've driven through your weak mortal heart."

"You are beside yourself...I won't believe your words come from a place of truth. I cannot."

"Then you truly have fooled yourself then, haven't you Adrian? You were always the greatest of pretenders...I suppose that has not changed." You left no room for continued conversion, Alucard waited for an apology, any small sign of remorse; there was none. He'd tortured you with his presence long enough. "Then I shall take my leave, good day (Name)." He earned no response, nor was one expected, yet he stalled. His efforts wasted. He hoped without reason.

And when you craned your neck to see if he stayed, the boy you knew; the man you adored. He was gone.

———

taglist: open

@foulbreadpeanut , @uhnanix , @mirapril

@beekeepingageissome , @lost-seraphiim ,

@satttanx

[princessaffirms]

hiiii lovee any tips on how to make manifesting feel more joyful instead of stressful?? <3

hiii angel! ₊˚⊹♡ i LOVE this question so much omg, thank you for asking it! 🫶

first of all: manifesting is supposed to feel fun and empowering, not stressful or like a chore on your to do list.

but don’t worry — it’s so easy and POSSIBLE to bring the joy back!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🐚✨ TIPS to make manifesting feel MORE JOYFUL again:

♡ ROMANTICIZE it.

visualize or affirm to music that aligns with your ideal reality/what you’re intentionally manifesting!

make vision boards with photos and visuals that look like things which the “ideal” version of you has in their camera roll! (“ideal” just meaning the version of you living in the reality where you already HAVE your desires)

consume content that normalizes your desires to you. are you affirming for more money? consume content from wealthy people living the luxury life you WANT!! remind yourself that this isn’t unreasonable to desire — it’s attainable, POSSIBLE, and already yours. all because you decide it is so.

manifestation isn’t homework!! it’s CREATING YOUR DREAM LIFE! 🥹 truly the highest form of self care <3

♡ DETACH from the “when.”

when you KNOW it’s already yours, you stop stressing about the timeline.

method act like your manifestation is already here!! you don’t check the shipping every five minutes when you KNOW a package is coming, right? same energy. 😌

♡ AFFIRM like it’s already done.

instead of desperate affirmations like “please let this happen,” shift to fun, empowering ones like:

“of course it happened. why wouldn’t it? i ALWAYS get what i want without fail.”

“success is NORMAL and INEVITABLE for me. it’s my BASELINE!”

♡ HAVE FUN with it!

treat manifesting like your own personal SANDBOX! except everything you think up actually materializes in your inner world and is INEVITABLY projected in the 3D. isn’t that SO FUN and EASY? 🥹🫶 that’s how it’s always meant to be <3

♡ TRUST yourself.

manifesting gets stressful when you think you’re doing it “wrong”. but you’re not. you already know how to create. you’ve been manifesting unconsciously your whole life (i have a BLOG that touches on this if you’re interested: 🔗LINK) now you’re just doing it on purpose, with INTENTION.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🐚✨ final REMINDERS:

you’re not chasing your desires. you’re magnetizing them.

you’re not forcing change. you’re assuming and embodying it.

you’re not waiting for permission. you’re claiming it. you don’t need anyone else’s permission but your own.

so let it be easy. let it be fun. let it be yours. manifestation was never meant to be stressful. i know it can be much easier said than done, but put yourself back on the pedestal of YOUR life! YOUR reality! you deserve to create and enjoy a reality that deeply fulfills you 🫶🥹 and you CAN!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

sending so much love and light <3

[definitelynotshouting]

explain the hotguy au to me. It’s been way too long for me not to know and at this point I might as well ask and you seem like you know things about it so could you please tell me I’m so confused and scrolling the tag it only makes it worse please help

Also, what is a zine? The Internet is not helping me and I cannot find information so I might as well just beg for answers

thank you

Admittedly you have come to the right place since i happen to be the head organizer of the HOTGUY COMICS Zinethology, but in all honesty it might be easier to direct you to our carrd which has a LOT of answers to your questions in it, including what a zine is, which is tackled in our FAQ!!!

As for the story itself, it's a bit complex to explain that succinctly, but i'll give it my best shot!! HOTGUY COMICS Zinethology is an original hermitcraft superhero au told seamlessly across 60+ contributors, via comics, short stories, illustrations, and even merch located in our itch.io :] its 410 pages, so its not inaccurate to even call it a graphic novel!!! For the rest, well let me just pull from the intro i wrote in the zine itself:

WELCOME TO HERMITOPIA

In the aftermath of an unknown biohazard leaking into their water supply, the citizens of this sprawling metropolis found themselves beginning to change, rapidly mutating in bizarre, unprecedented ways. In the wake of this drastic social upheaval, a new type of crime began to rise from Hermitopia's crowded streets: villainy.

With local government unequipped to deal with super-powered crime, many citizens began to look to themselves for their own protection, forming a massive, underground network of mutual aid in order to fight the rising tide of villains as vigilantes. In response, a new division of the local government was formed: the T.C.G., better known as the Hermitopia "Threat Control Group." Their job? Hunt down and identify every "threat" to the city, regardless of status, and bring them back within the bounds of the law.

But split public opinion and the threat of arrest can't stop washed-up, B-list actor Scar Goodtimes from chasing his dreams of greater fame as a vigilante. With his trusty bow in hand, Scar is (kind of) prepared to do (some of) what it takes to make himself a prominent figure again under the whimsical mantle of HOTGUY.

I hope this works to answer your questions, and you're always welcome to send us asks on @hotguycomiczine if you have more!! Cheers, and consider downloading the zine on itch.io to see what all the fuss is about-- it's free!! :D

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Ginnungagap

Megatron x Reader - Transformers Prime

This was familiar. The burning in your eyes was familiar, as was the sterile glass surrounding you. That red medic with the smooth voice was familiar too, and though you’d grown to enjoy his company in the past, no matter how vain you found him, now you only wished for solitude. It’d been your companion for months, and it had held you in a cold but gentle embrace as the world became less important, and the light upon the horizon called your name and whispered promises of peace and warmth. Alas, you shall be given none, for metal and hard surfaces were your companions once more, and red seas which had at first been loving and possessive were now maddened and livid, demanding answers as to why your spirit had departed whilst your body and soul remained.

Knockout had no answer. Your scans came back fine. You were weakened and a little dehydrated, but nothing was visibly wrong with you. You were of sound health, and yet you seemed to wither away, like a flower succumbing to cold autumn winds. You did not fight, you did not scream, but once the doors were shut and the shifting of metal filled the grand habsuite, you stood on your feet and approached the warlord as he walked towards you, now stopping as you came nearer on your own accord.

“Do you not tire of this?” you ask, standing before Megatron. “This endless pursuit of what I cannot give.”

“What you will not give,” said he, speaking softly.

“Do you intend to force it from me?”

“If I must.”

“It will break me.”

“It will not, I can assure you.”

“Your reassurance means nothing, and you know this.” You come closer, standing toe to pede as your chest nearly touches his, and he barely suppresses a shudder at your closeness; starved as he is for your touch. Your eyes are dead, and your tongue spits venom, but you are a living artwork he simply cannot forgo nor forget. You glow with life, catching any and all surrounding light, and he must gaze and keep your visage trapped in his optics lest you vanish and turn to dust.

“You stare as if I am to suddenly drown.”

“For a year you’ve evaded me, kept out of my sight and lived as you’ve pleased,” said he, servo coming up to catch some of your hair, digits curling with the strands. “And look what it’s done to you; what my absence has done. You are a breath away from death, my sweet flower. How am I to look away when you are so near a sudden end?”

You huff, looking away.

“Why would it matter to you?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” he said, voice hard but kind. “You know of my affection for you. It is pointless for me to keep it a secret when you so clearly see right through me.”

“I thought I did, but your unwillingness to allow me my own choice says otherwise,” you say, eyelids flickering as the servo abandons your hair to seek out the softness of your cheek. You cannot look at him. “You are cruel to me.” His servo is so large, you can feel his digits curl at the back of your head. “You are selfish and greedy, and you would have forced my soul from my body already if you did not fear my death.”

Megatron’s free servo comes to trail up along your arm, sending goosebumps along your skin as it slowly travels upwards, revelling in the feeling of you, seeming fascinated by the thin, delicate hairs that raise to touch the invading metal. He must love the effect he has on you, your own body betraying what you’re feeling deep within, revealing what you’re unwilling to say.

“Leave me be,” you say.

“I cannot,” he replies.

“Please.”

“No,” he says, leaning closer to press his faceplate against the top of your head, taking a deep intake so your scent may fill him from within. “I am unable to, as much as you’re unable to fully resist me.”

Your hand comes up to touch his arm, feeling the warm metal, your fingers curling and your nails scraping before you relax and allow your palm to trail and explore, feeling the familiar pulse of life in his veins. It was an obsession that ran through him, you were certain of that. He was obsessed and possessive of you, and though you could not fully understand it, you knew it was what powered him.

“Do you love me?” you asked, whispering.

He did not answer right away, thinking and filtering through his thoughts and feelings as he kept you close. Unreal was the fact that you were here again, and yet not, for he had you and he had no intention of letting you go again.

Did he love you? Did he love… anything?

“Or are you too broken?” came your voice, and he jerked back, staring down at you.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

Your palm came to rest upon his chassis, right above the Decepticon insignia, hiding it. You looked up at him, organic optics glossy and lovely, but dulled by a hidden sickness neither he nor Knockout could find or identify.

“Or perhaps, you do not know?” you asked, smiling a little, but it was a sad sight, for there was no joy, only grief. “Are you too broken to understand what you’re feeling, or have you never felt as you do now, and thus don’t understand it?”

He let out a gruff sound, not quite a growl, but still unpleasant to the ears.

“Do not patronise me. I have lived for millennia, and I have felt—”

“Do you love me, Megatron?” you ask again, cutting him off, your voice demanding even as it wavers. “Tell me if it’s true or not. For too long I’ve lived on the edge of uncertainty, and I cannot take it any longer.” And taking a breath, your lungs quivering and your left arm shooting with stings of brief pain, you take a step back, glaring weakly. “Or am I to be your pet? Forced to stay by your side until you grow bored with me as my soul withers away, and all that is left is the metallic husk you wish to force me into.”

Your words had a strange effect on him, as if they unleashed something you hadn’t expected. An odd sound came from him, a mixture of a snort and a growl, but his expression flicked between unchecked fury, unbridled fear, utter confusion, and horrified realisation.

“You are the plague sent to me by Unicron himself, and I curse his name and being for creating you and your kin!” He shouted, stomping towards you as you stumbled backwards, afraid and hurt, but also confused by the many emotions flooding and receding from his faceplate, as if he didn’t know how to react or feel. As if he’d gone completely mad.

“How ironic that the organic species I loathe came to produce the very human I’d come to, infuriatingly, fall in love with,” he confessed, stealing your breath as his voice echoed through the habsuite, and you gasped as he grasped your arms, preventing you from walking backwards off the edge of the table. “And I see you standing here, trembling and weakened and dying from something I cannot see,” he said, voice growing hoarse as he appeared pained through his anger. “Must I plead on my knees for you to come with me? Must I shed all my accomplishments for but a smidgeon of your love in return?” he asked, servos trembling as his optics wildly flashed across your face, observing every minute little detail and analysing every twitch of muscle. “You ask me if I love you, and I confess it; yes!”

You cannot breathe.

“I detest to admit it, but I do,” he said, venting loudly as his chassis rises and falls. “I love you.”

And the waves come crashing, flooding the deck of your ship and threatening to throw you overboard, and though you stumble and fall onto your side, you do not yet sink. Not yet. But darkness overcomes you, and you must rest. And so, with your heart beating wildly in your chest, you gasp for breath, utter the name of the being you’ve loved for too long, and fall into his embrace.

“My God…” you openly weep, tears trickling onto his armour. Hands as weak as thin glass, you grasp at seams and press a cheek close to feel the thrum of his spark deep within. Megatron’s arms, so strong and thick, come to support you even as it seems he’ll fall too, overcome by what he’d spoken out loud. He is unsteady, kept composed only by your presence and touch alone, though neither of you knows it yet.

“I love you, too,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “I love you, too.”

And Megatron sighs, deflating, growing small as he crumbles to his knees, keeping you safe in his arms as his helm hangs low. And neither is happy, for his world weighs upon his shoulders, and yours looms overhead like a judgmental shadow. Neither is happy, but both are content.

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