#Decor & Floral Setups

[toyastales]

I like the balance of masculine and feminine in this home office.

[valedecor]

[quietbydesign]

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[liliths-den]

Spring Went a Little Wild… and You’ll Love It!

[shaadiwish]

Save These Sofa & Blooms Wedding Decor Ideas For 2024 Wedding Season

[sprightlyspirit]

June 2023 🌹👟🍫

[amirasainz]

Can you write a Yn Alonso story where George and her have a proper British tea party. Geroge tells Yn that she is now a true princess. .ame it fluff and cute 🙏😭❤️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Unky Georgie

Three-year-old Yn Alonso, the tiniest bundle of joy in the paddock, bounced on her toes as she held onto her uncle George’s hand. Her rose-colored dress swayed with every step, layers of tulle billowing around her like the gown of a true princess. She gazed up at George, her eyes wide and filled with excitement. Uncle George, or “Unky Georgie,” as she liked to call him, had promised her something very special that day while her dad, was away at a meeting. Today, Yn was going to have her very first Princess Tea Party.

George knelt down to her level, smoothing out her dress a bit. "Alright, Princess Yn," he said in a very serious tone, his British accent making her giggle, "are you ready for your royal tea party?"

Yn gasped, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Yes, Unky Georgie! I'm ready!" She clutched a tiny pink purse to her side, her other hand wrapped around his fingers.

"Right this way, Your Royal Highness," George said, guiding her to a little setup he’d created just for her near the back of the paddock. He had found a small table with two chairs and had decorated it with a pink cloth, a little flower in a vase, and a selection of pastries piled high on a plate. In the middle, he’d set a small teapot with a delicate floral design and two matching cups.

Yn’s eyes sparkled as she took in the scene. "It’s so pretty!" she gasped, looking up at George with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "Is this… is this really for me, Unky Georgie?"

George nodded, his face lit with a proud smile. "All for you, Princess. Only the best for royalty, of course."

He held out her chair, and she carefully climbed onto it, smoothing out her dress like she’d seen princesses do in her favorite storybooks. Once she was settled, George took the seat opposite her. He poured “berry tea”—actually a bit of berry-flavored water he’d prepared—into each cup, trying his best to look as dignified as possible.

Yn picked up her cup carefully with both hands, peeking over the rim to look at George. "Do I look like a real princess, Unky Georgie?"

George smiled warmly, nodding. "You look like the most real princess I’ve ever seen." He raised his cup as if to toast. "To Princess Yn, ruler of the paddock kingdom!"

She giggled, clinking her tiny cup against his. "To the paddock kingdom!" she repeated, trying to sound very grand. Then she took a sip, her face lighting up at the taste of the berry water.

George took a pretend sip as well, lifting his pinky finger dramatically. "Now, tell me, Princess Yn, what does a real princess do at a tea party?"

Yn thought for a moment, scrunching up her nose. "Princesses talk about their… about their kingdom!" she decided. "And about the animals and… and the fairies and… and the horses!"

"Ah, yes," George said, nodding along. "Do you have many fairies in your kingdom, Princess?"

Yn nodded, her face very serious. "Lots! And they’re all pink and blue and sparkly, and they love tea parties. And they sing songs to the horses so they can go super fast!"

George chuckled, absolutely charmed by her imagination. "Just like your papa and his car! Maybe the fairies help him go super fast too?"

Yn’s eyes lit up. "Yes! Papa has fairies too. And… and maybe you have fairies, Unky Georgie!"

George gasped in mock surprise. "You think so? Maybe that's why I’m so fast!"

Yn giggled and reached for a tiny pastry from the plate. It was almost too big for her little hands, but she managed, taking a small bite and grinning at the taste. "Mmm, this is my favorite," she declared with her mouth full, looking at George as if they were in on a big secret.

"I'm glad, Princess. We have to keep the royal princess well-fed, after all." George pretended to munch on one of the pastries, savoring it dramatically. "These are delicious! Fit for a queen."

Yn looked delighted, holding her little pastry like it was made of gold. She glanced around as if worried someone might interrupt their special party. "Do you think Papa will come soon?"

George took her little hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Don’t worry, Princess Yn. He'll be here soon. And when he sees you looking so beautiful in your princess dress, I bet he’ll be so happy he might even want to join the tea party."

Yn’s eyes widened at the thought. "You think so? Papa will be a prince with us?"

"Absolutely," George replied confidently. "And you know what? He might even want to be your knight, protecting the kingdom."

Yn looked at him with all the wonder of a little girl who thought her papa was already the greatest knight in the world. "Papa would be the best knight!"

Just then, a familiar voice called from nearby. "What's going on here?" Fernando had returned from his meeting, and the sight before him nearly stopped him in his tracks. There was his daughter, perched like a little princess in her rose-colored dress, holding court over a tea party with her “Unky Georgie.”

Fernando’s heart melted instantly. He walked over, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took in the joy radiating from Yn’s face.

"Papá!" Yn squealed, jumping up and running to him, her arms open wide. Fernando scooped her up into a big hug, her tiny fingers clutching his neck. "Look, Papá! I’m a real princess now!" she declared, pulling back to show him her dress.

Fernando looked at George with a soft chuckle, his eyes full of gratitude. "A real princess, huh?" he asked, looking back at Yn with admiration. "Did Uncle Georgie make you a princess today?"

Yn nodded with pride. "Yes! And we had tea and pastries, and he said I have a kingdom with fairies!"

"That sounds wonderful, mi amor," Fernando murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’m so happy you had fun."

George stood up, giving Fernando a mock bow. "Well, I was merely following orders from Her Royal Highness."

Fernando laughed, shaking his head. "Thank you, George. This was… perfect." He looked back at Yn, his face full of love. "You know, Princess, if you need a knight, your papa is always ready for the job."

Yn’s face lit up, and she reached for Fernando’s hand. "Can we all have tea together? All of us, Papá?"

"Of course," Fernando said with a smile, taking a seat beside her and picking up one of the tiny tea cups. "For my princess, I’ll do anything."

George grinned, raising his cup again. "To Princess Yn, ruler of all the fairies and horses in the paddock kingdom."

Yn raised her cup with a giggle. "And to Papá, my best knight ever!"

As they sipped their “tea” together, Yn looked up at her father and uncle, feeling like the happiest princess in the world. And for Fernando, seeing his little girl so full of joy made him feel like the luckiest dad in the world.

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 2)

You’ve made a friend out of your new crow roommate(?).

nav: one, two (current), three, four, five, six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, this part is lowkey crack, mephisto being a champ

An ivory satin throw pillow, embroidered with intricate rose gold floral patterns. A vintage set of wind chimes adorned with hanging crystal pendants. A fluffy cat plush toy from the old arcade down the block.

You stand proudly in front of your feathery companion, who’s perched atop the embroidered pillow. You gesture animatedly at the decorations you put together for its temporary lodging.

“Well, what do you think?” you ask, a barely concealed grin tugging at your lips as you pour a generous heap of peanuts into the lid of one of your old tumblers. Setting the makeshift bowl of treats beside your new crow acquaintance, you make sure it’s within easy reach.

The injured crow looks at the mini mountain of peanuts and lets out a squawk but doesn’t make any move to eat them. You frown at its lackluster reaction, glancing at the effort you poured into its setup on your bedroom’s windowsill. With an unconscious pout, you pluck a peanut from the pile, break it into smaller pieces, and offer it directly to the bird. It regards your hand for a moment before deliberately shifting its body away. Then, its beady eyes lift to meet yours.

“Your injury must’ve scared away your appetite, huh?” you murmur, gently patting the crow’s head. It coos softly, leaning into your touch.

“Tell you what,” you say. “Since it’s the weekend tomorrow, I’ll try looking for some soft food for you. Maybe it’ll be easier on your tummy.”

The crow merely responds with a squawk.

Hours later, you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep. A peaceful stillness settles over the room as moonlight streams through the window, scattering rainbow hues across the walls as it catches on the crystal pendants of the wind chimes.

You remain unaware as the injured crow on your windowsill tilts its head, carefully assessing your sleeping form. Satisfied that you’re out cold, it hops to the edge of the window and starts pecking at the lock.

Suddenly, two shadows appear outside the window, their presence drawing a startled squawk from the crow.

“Mephisto, what are you doing?” one of the figures whisper-yells. “Boss has been waiting for your report for hours!”

“If you slack off any longer, you’ll end up in this year’s holiday spread,” the other shadow adds.

The crow—Mephisto—clicks its beak against the glass, squawking indignantly at the pair.

One of the twins snickers before pulling out a Swiss army knife and begins to pick the lock. His grin, hidden behind a leather crow mask, quickly fades when the lock refuses to budge.

“Hurry up, Luke!”

“I am hurrying!” Luke snaps, working the lock again. Still nothing. “Ugh, you try, Kieran.”

Kieran sighs, rolling his eyes—an expression Luke can somehow feel even through the identical crow mask—and snatches the tool from his twin. He fiddles with the lock for a few minutes before groaning in frustration.

“The hell,” he mutters. “This is, like, N109 zone-level stuff. What kind of window lock is this?”

Mephisto squawks, clearly impatient.

“Look, buddy,” Luke says, throwing his hands up. “You’ll just have to hold out until we figure this out. This is practically prison-grade!”

“We’ll report back to boss,” Kieran adds, his tone placating. “Hang tight, alright?”

Mephisto’s stressed cawing grows louder, and it’s enough to stir you from sleep. You groggily sit up, rubbing your eyes with a yawn, and reach for your glasses on the nightstand. Blinking against the dim light, your bleary gaze focuses on the windowsill.

Your crow companion sits where you left it, still nestled atop its embroidered pillow. You stare at it for a beat. It stares back. You yawn again and flop back down onto the bed.

“G’night,” you mumble, oblivious to the flash of two shadows outside your window amidst the falling snow.

—

The weekend passes without much fuss. You stay inside the house as always, doing your usual chores. Normally, you’d head out for your weekly grocery run, but your recent financial choices have forced you to make do with whatever’s left in your fridge—much to the dismay of the two shadows lurking outside, waiting for you to leave so they can retrieve their co-worker.

You do, however, spend a lot of time fussing over your new roommate. While you’re undeniably fond of animals, you’ve never actually had one as a pet. Your family never got around to adopting one, for no particular reason. So, as an outlet for your long-repressed cuteness aggression, you pour all your love into whatever animal crosses your path.

True to its crow nature, your new feathered friend has a soft spot for shiny things. You could barely contain your grin as it inspected your small hoard of treasures gifted by your other crow visitors. On a quaint, repurposed coffee table, you’ve carefully arranged an assortment of polished stones, colorful glass shards, scavenged bits of jewelry, and loose coins. Off to the side are the eccentric bits of random rusty nails, bottle caps, and paperclips that you find just as charming. Your curious crow seems particularly intrigued by the red-colored items in your collection, tilting its head and studying them with keen interest.

It seems comfortable around humans, too. It’s taken a liking to perching on your shoulder as you go about your chores. Not wanting to strain its injured wing, you crafted a makeshift shoulder sling, snug enough to keep its wing steady. (You couldn’t resist decorating it with a few plastic gem stickers from your scrapbooking supplies. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to mind.)

But there’s one thing that has you deeply worried—it won’t eat. Its stubborn refusal to touch food has left you stressed out all weekend. Which is why, on this Sunday night, you’re sitting cross-legged on your bedroom’s carpeted floor with the shattered remains of your ceramic piggy bank in front of you, counting the pitiful savings you’ve scraped together for emergencies. You’ve decided to take the poor creature to the vet tomorrow. Its lack of appetite and still-limp wing have been gnawing at your conscience.

“Maybe this is enough for the consultation fee and some meds?” you murmur, flipping through the thin wad of bills in your hands.

So focused on your counting, you barely notice the pacing crow in front of you. It seems just as distressed at the idea of you draining your savings for its upcoming vet visit, if its insistent cawing is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure it, gently patting its soft head. “I can take the morning off tomorrow so I can have your wing looked at as soon as possible. It’ll be some hours of income lost, but it’s okay!”

It caws louder, practically begging you to reconsider.

Morning arrives, and you’re up and ready to head to the vet. Just as you move toward the bird—currently pacing frantically along your windowsill—to place it in your makeshift carrier, the sharp ringtone of your phone cuts through the room.

Frowning at the unregistered number flashing on the screen, you hesitate before accepting the call and bringing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Good morning! Am I speaking with the assistant to the Akso IT department’s manager?”

The voice sounds oddly youthful despite the professional introduction. “…Yes?”

“The manager has requested your urgent assistance in 30 minutes. Thank you for your prompt action.” Without waiting for a response, the call ends abruptly.

You lower your phone, staring at the screen in disbelief.

For a moment, you consider ignoring the call and sticking to your plans for the day. But then you remember how your manager has a way of making your life miserable when things don’t go his way—and the fact that you’re flat-out broke.

With a resigned sigh, you shove the phone back into the pocket of your jeans and turn to your crow companion, now still and watching you intently.

“Something from work came up,” you mumble, gaze downcast. “I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to get back this afternoon. If I don’t make it, I promise I’ll take you to the vet tomorrow, okay?” You glance at its injured wing, anxiety twisting in your chest at the thought of leaving it untreated any longer.

After quickly changing into something more office-appropriate, you lean down to place a gentle kiss on the bird’s head and scratch its chin. You miss the way its tail fluffs up and the soft coo it lets out as you straighten up. You then rush out of your bedroom and through the front door, hurrying to catch the bus at the end of the street.

A heavy silence settles over the now-empty house. Moments later, the faint creak of the front door opening again pierces the quiet. Then, the bedroom door swings open, revealing Luke and Kieran, clad in their signature crow masks and hoodies adorned with devil horns.

“Let’s go!” Luke shouts, lunging toward the bird.

Mephisto caws indignantly, pecking at his hand in protest—still annoyed, it seems, at their earlier failed attempt to snatch him.

The twins’ laughter echoes through the house as they make their exit, Mephisto’s shrill caws following.

—

You’ve been home for less than five minutes, and already you’re tearing the house apart, frantically searching for your midnight-feathered companion.

“Little crow, are you here?” Your voice trembles as you call out, your eyes darting from room to room with growing urgency.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this way. Not the exact same feeling, but somewhat eerily similar.

Grief.

You’d been so sure the bird would be waiting for you when you got home, just like it had every day for the past few days. But the moment you found its pillow—and your entire room—empty of its presence, panic had clawed its way into your chest.

Deep down, you know it must’ve escaped. Your window was slightly ajar when you began your frantic search, even though you swear you wedged your trusty old toothpick into the lock last night. But there the toothpick was, resting neatly on the embroidered pillow.

At the end of the day, it’s just a wild animal. It doesn’t owe you anything.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, chest heaving from the effort of running around the house. Your eyes fall on the empty pillow sitting on the windowsill, and a hollow ache settles in your chest.

Somehow, you had hoped it wouldn’t leave you, too.

A sharp glint catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning toward it, you’re startled to see the mess beneath your makeshift treasure display. The gifts your other crow friends had brought you are scattered haphazardly across the floor. The display is tucked into the small alcove in the corner of your room, so it’s no wonder you hadn’t noticed the mess until now.

But then your eyes land on the new centerpiece of the table.

A mound of red gems, gold coins, and jewelry now occupies the space, gleaming in the light.

Atop the pile rests a single, glossy black feather.

note: 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛✨✨✨

nav: one, two (current), three, four, five, six or: read on ao3

check out my other works!

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani. 

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help. 

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

[leslie057]

rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler

because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.

starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.

i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.

next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.

a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.

mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.

descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.

literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.

sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.

on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.

of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.

and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.

there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.

the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.

pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.

bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.

and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.

her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.

trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.

tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)

KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.

white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.

black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.

piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.

pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.

STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.

[ncoincidences]

Reasons why Blumbridge slaps -

Blumbridge refers to the ship Regulus Black/Dolores Umbridge.

There's an idea floating around that Dolores Umbridge would have attended Hogwarts the same time as Regulus Black, and I've seen a couple of posts on it, many by @plecotusauritus and today as I was soaking some sunshine, I thought to myself: why not, actually. And here you go, a mini essay on why Umbridge and Black were secretly lovers, or could-have-beens, or perhaps Umbridge is actually harboring an assumed-dead Black scion during OoTP.

All in good fun :-) Feel free to add your own reasons!

A. They're passionate about their interests and hobbies. Pair this up with good decor taste, and you've got Regulus’s room with clippings of Voldemort, his path to a better Wizarding World, and a beautifully painted Black Family crest, and green interiors. Why won't you pair that up with Dolores' setup of her offices - both at Hogwarts and at the Ministry - where she has the prominent theme of pink, and florals and of course, her special interest: cats and teapots?

Which brings me to my next point:

B. They have clear ideas of what they want to look like. I'm talking the colour schemes they've figured out for themselves.

Pink for Dolores, and not just any pink, it's the in-your-face pink, to portray the image of a saccharine, feminine witch, a purposefully deceptive image once you hear her vocalise her decidedly unsweet agenda.

Now, Regulus has a lot less screen time so we cannot be clearly sure if his passion for green and silver runs as strong so as to appear prominently in his daily attire, but from the glimpse of his room, and the fact that he's, well, a Slytherin, you bet he flashed his House colours as much as he could. Perhaps to rub it in the face that he was a true Black, honoring their traditions and respecting his forefathers.... unlike a certain brother of his.

C. Vocal about their agenda. Remus cannot get a job because of her draft of the Werewolf Legislation. Her reign at Hogwarts seeks to let people know that following Umbridge's rules are the only way to live. Regulus definitely lets his superiority over muggleborns in school known, and considering what Kreacher says of him in Deathly Hallows, his becoming a Death Eater is to seek out glory and power over those inferior.

D. Okay, the most interesting part, CANON will support me on this ship. Hear me out. Umbridge wears the Slytherin locket Regulus died for! It's practically fate the way it wound into HER hands, all the way from Grimmauld Place. The tragedy??? Plus in a world where Regulus didn't die and the locket wasn't a horcrux, you bet that he would give it as a courting gift.

E. Of course Umbridge denies that Voldemort is back!! (In An AU where Regulus is alive) She doesn't want her boy to be in trouble!!!!

F. Dolores' bloodthirsty approach (literally) and abuse of her authority contrasts against Regulus’s search for autonomy after Voldemort violates the rules of magic by creating a horcrux, and his failure to find authority over Muggles. So, Dolores being successful in pushing out the Muggleborn Registration act makes her all the more attractive to Regulus.

And, in a world where Voldemort didn't exist, if Regulus took a career in the Ministry, a workplace romance with an ambitious and cunning woman sounds like an easy setup for a good story.

There can also be a parallel drawn between the two on how they are less attractive than other characters, Umbridge described as a "toad" and Regulus as "rather less handsome than Sirius"...

In conclusion, to me, it seems like the strong dominance of Umbridge's character will balance the quiet resilience of Black's. And that maybe, amongst the felines covering Umbridge's decorative plates, one of them is the feline Animagus form of Regulus Black.

[quietbydesign]

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[ador3sturniolo]

Stargirl

An - omg I feel like I haven’t posted in a year what. Okay so earlier this week I went to a hockey game, and something happened while I was there and I wanted to write a fic about it. And I wanted to do Nate because I love Nate, and we need more Nate fics out there asap. And the song has nothing to do with the fic, it was the song I kept playing while writing this 😭

Paring - Nathan Doe X FemReader

Summary - You go to one of Nate’s hockey games

Warnings - Kissing, NOT PROOFREAD

Requested - Nope

ALSO YALL, I FIRST WROTE THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF OCTOBER SO THERE WILL BE HALLOWEEN THEMED THINGS HERE, SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPLOAD

I hadn’t realize how late I had slept in until I heard my alarm go off more than 30 times, most of which I had just sleep through. I check the time and see it’s a little past 3. Shit. I had so much to do and had it all planned out. I was to clean my house, get a gift for Nate, go grocery shopping, and decorate for fall. I’ll just eat some food while I’m out but right now, I need to clean up my place. I have u til 6:30 to get everything done on my list. Considering Nate’s game starts at 7.

I clean my house, lighting candles and turning on fairy lights I have setup around my house. I take a quick shower and put on my freshly clean clothes. I do a slick back bun, not trying to do anything fancy. I get into my car and make a quick stop at Starbucks to get a drink. I also did an online order for my favorite lunch place in town so it’s ready for pickup when I get there. I pickup my lunch and eat in my car as I drive to target. I put my Starbucks in the cup holder of my cart and push it too the food section.

I grab my list of food and start putting it in my cart. I decided to grab some cookie dough for me and Nate to back after his game. I go over to the floral section and grab a bag of white, blue, and purple pair and place it in my cart. I’m on my way towards check out when I spot the cutest pair of matching pj sets. There was a vampire, pumpkin, and ghost option. They were all so cute but I decided to get the ghost ones. I check out and go home to eat dinner and decorate.

I decided to make something, quick, easy, and delicious. I play my fall playlist as I grab my last year bin full of pumpkins, signs, pillows and blankets. It only takes me around 30 minutes considering I cleaned earlier. I looked at the time, with not much time left I had to get ready. I put the totes back and head to my room. I put on a pair of leggings and his hockey jersey that he gave me. I take out my hair and do two French braids. I take some face paint type makeup I have and write his number on my cheek.

I put on my shoes and grab his flowers and teddy I bought him earlier that week. I grab a blanket so I don’t get cold at the rink. I drive to the rink in only 10 minutes. I head inside and get a ticket. I’m greeted inside by the triplets. They all look over at me and walk my way.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for like 5 hours” Nick says rolling his eyes

“Nick, we got here 5 minutes ago-“ Matt chimed in

“Oh hush.” Nick says, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed.

“I’m so excited to watch my boyfriend play!” Chris says clapping his hands. Nick, Matt and I slowly turn towards Chris, giving him a confused look.

“Fine, I can’t wait to watch her boyfriend play” Chris says sarcastically but rolling his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” I say pushing Chris a little bit jokingly. We all walk to the rink, getting a rush of cold air as the door opens. I could feel goosebumps approaching my skin. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and sit down with the triplets. We sat and waited for the game to start. It only took a couple scrolls on insta before the players came walking out of the locker room and onto the ice to warmups. It wasn’t hard for me to find him, considering I had his number imprinted into my brain. Before I the warmups ended, I went to the snack bar and got myself a water and chips for me and the triplets. I head back just in time for the game to start. We all stand up and start to cheer, like the rest of the crowd. I only had my eye on one player the whole time. Every time he scored a point and I would jump up and down and scream for him. The three looked at me like I was insane but I didn’t care.

The game was over and Nate’s team won! We all wait for Nate outside of the locker room to finish up, but before he comes out I need to use the restroom. I come back not too long and see the brothers talking to a man I wanted to hug the first I saw him on the ice. He noticed me and started walking towards me. I ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“You did great tonight, I’m so proud of you.” I say giving him a peck on the lips.

“And these are for you.” I handed him the flowers and teddy bear, he then looked up at me with a smile that would make my heart melt.

“Thank you so much baby.” He said as he went to the side of me and wrapped his arm around my waist. He turned back and waved to the brothers as he started to walk with me out of the building. I help him load his things into my car, and we get inside the car after.

“So I had a really fun night planned out for us, but if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay and we can do something else.”

“It’s whatever makes you happy my love” I couldn’t help but blush at his words.

“So, my house is all decorated and I had candles going so it smells really good in there, and the house is clean so a bonus! And I was thinking we could make cookies and watch a movie together? And there’s also a surprise with that.” I say almost out of my seat from how happy I was.

“If that’s what you wanna do.” He says smiling back at me.

“Of course it’s what I want to do, but I wanted to know if u wanted to do it.” I say turning on my car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m okay with anything you want to do.” He says looking out the window. I smile as I continue to drive back to my place. I pull into my driveway and get out of my car.

“Let’s take showers first tho.” I say unlocking my front door. He nods as I unlock the door and walk in. We take off our shoes at the front and walk to my room where my shower is.

“I’ll go first, I’ll be quick.” I say as I start to take out my hair. I hop in the shower and wash my face, get out, and wrap myself in a towel. I walk out into my room and too my closet, telling him it’s his turn on my way. He gets off the small couch I have in my room and head into the bathroom. I quickly get dressed into the pajamas I just bought for us. I sit down at my vanity and start doing my night skincare. I hear the shower turn off and with Nate walking out with the towel around his waist. He points at the pair of clothes on my bed.

“What’s this?”

“It’s yours, to wear! Tonight! To match with me!” I say turning around, show I’m in the matching set. He gives me a sigh but walks with it into the bathroom to get changed. I do a little clap of achievement, as I turn back around to finish my skincare. I hear the bathroom door open and see him walk out, giving me a sigh and looking down in disappointment.

“Hey! You look amazing! Don’t give me that I hate this energy, it’s supposed to be fun!” I say putting all my things away and getting up.

“I feel so weird in this.” He says throwing his hands like a baby

“Why? You look so cute!” I say walking towards him.

“Can I just take the shirt off? It feels tight.” He says scratching his neck

“Not yet! I wanna take a picture” I say grabbing my phone out. His arm wraps around my waist as I put the mode to 0.5x and turn on the flash. We smoosh our heads together doing a kissy face as I take the picture. I look at the picture to make sure it was okay then I put my phone down.

“Okay, let go make some cookies” I say kissing his cheek and walking out of my room. He follows close behind me. I grab a pack a Pillsbury cookies from the fridge and preheat the oven.

“How about you put on 6, and I put on 6” I say grabbing a tray from my cabinet.

“Good with me” He says giving me a smile

“Can I take my shirt off now?” He says whining

“Fine, Stop acting like a baby” I say as I start to put on my cookies.

We both finish putting on our cookies and put them in the oven. I walk over to my couch and turn on the tv.

“What would you like to watch?” I say looking up at him.

“I don’t know, you pick.” He says sitting down next to me

“Mhm, Corpse Bride? The Nightmare Before Christmas?” I say leaning back and laying my head on his chest

“Corpse Bride, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Christmas movie.”

“No it’s not!” I say as I scoff

“It is tho!”

I shake my head and get up to go take the cookies out. I put them on a plate and organize them in a cute way. I bring the plate to the couch along with a blanket.

“Hold the plate while I put the blanket on us.” I say handing him the plate. I sit down, covering our legs and a little bit of my waist. He sets the plate down on the blanket.

“Do you like tonight?” I say putting my head on him again.

“Of course” He says kissing my head. I smile in happiness that I was able to make tonight special.

“I love you” I say lifting my head up.

“I love you more” He says giving me a peck on my lips

—————————————————————

An - OML I AM SO SORRY ML FOR NOT POSTING FOR A MONTH. I KNOW THIS ONE IS BAD BUT I FELT LIKE I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING OR I CANT FUNCTION RIGHT SO HERE IS THIS 🫶🏼

[obstinaterixatrix]

Okay I’m gonna do a full write up now that it’s been a few days and I have time away from people I’d want to talk to instead (how can I write when I’m among friends, I wanna talk to them) (however this means it will be really hard to remember) (for reference I started typing this up around 7PM)

First of all, we made sure to come 30 minutes before so we could experience the prologue. The experience of walking into the theater was really cool—it was styled to look like we were going through towards a back entrance, so there was a bunch of stuff piled to the side for the vibes. I already posted the pictures before but I might as well stick it in here as well

I’m really curious what the process of making this whole setup was like. I’m guessing they just directed us into a service entrance instead of the main entrance for the theater and decorated it accordingly. The hallway leads to a short set of stairs that took us to the actual back of the theater (which is now the entrance) where an usher stuck a sticker onto our phone cameras to discourage Any Photos At All. I’m guessing it’s because there is a whole pre-show performance they’re trying to make sure people don’t record, but it’s such a shame because I looooove taking pictures of how a theater is decorated for a show, and this theater was really transformed.

There were a lot of metallic beaded curtains, which meant there was kind of a metallic smell every time you passed through one. That was the case for going in the club, and there were some beaded curtains to divide areas the performers were dancing and playing instruments. There were two dancers, and I think someone playing a clarinet, an electric double bass, and… definitely one person played piano on the main floor, but I think there were two other folks on instrument. Definitely a violin.

We watched a bit of the pre-show on the main floor. It was right next to one of the bars, the bartender was framed within the shape of an eye—they really committed to the eye motif—and went upstairs just to see. A friend who had seen the show before told us to explore the space since it was immersive, and that the bar on the mezzanine level had pineapples. Even walking on the stairway up was cool because some of the lights had a spidery shape over the lightbulb which casted some pretty ominous shadows. There were also some lights that had eyes on the walls splaying out around them, I almost didn’t see them at first because of how they were following the shadows.

The mezzanine bar was very green. Most of it might’ve been the green-tinted lights, but I think they might’ve painted the walls green as well… maybe. It was hard to tell. The chandeliers were beautiful, a nice floral design… I think they were styled with fake leaves for a solidly earthy vibe. The sconces (?) as well. My friend bought a postcard set and a magnet, which includes the emcee’s costume for ‘money makes the world go around’ and… one other number. the costume for sally was for mein herr I think.

on the bottom level, there was a disco ball atop a pillar that was framed by the shape of an eye—both of them rotated. It was at the end of a stage where you could continue to watch the pre-show. Whenever the performers would leave, staff would stop you from following them immediately so they could have some room to set up (presumably staff at their target location would prevent people on the other side from getting in the way as well). The performances were dancing and music, playful and a little raunchy but nothing too crazy (they have to save it for the show).

Anyway, after the last part of the pre-show ended, we were directed to go to our seats for the start of the show. I had expected the usual ~10 minutes of leeway so I’d be able to flip through the playbill, but the lights went out basically at 2 on the dot, which meant I saw the slip of paper indicating an understudy but I couldn’t read who it was. (Both me and my friend had the same experience of going like ‘ooohhh no is it orville or eva’, and when the emcee started it took me an extra second to parse whether I could recognize orville peck’s voice, then we were like. ok at least we got orville) (the understudy was for the gorilla) (lol)

I’ve written all of this and haven’t even gotten to the first number. And I Still Won’t Be.

The theater’s arranged so that the first two rows are actually tables with lamps that have a phone attached, like you’re at the kit kat club yourself. The stage is circular and very small; at its base form it has maybe three tiers and there were four thin pillars stretching up to the ceiling(ish). On the stage itself is an eye design, the ‘pupil’ being a speaker I think. We weren’t sitting at a table but we were the row RIGHT behind them and we got ‘em for half off two hours before the show, tkts really pulled through for us~

While we were following the performers around, I thought they might’ve been the pit orchestra and I thought ‘damn they really pared down the orchestration for this’, but no, the orchestra was just on the second floor and at the side. I think the conductor was to our right.

I’ve hit the image limit for mobile, and while I’m not sure I’ll take that many pics of my incomprehensible notes, I’ll end it here and start my thoughts on the show on a separate rb

[shaadiwish]

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