#because that's not a pairing you see very often

[vickymura]

PAIRING ~ bf!nrk x gf!reader

SUMMARY ~ riding riki's abs cuz he's too damn hot doing crunches.

GENRE ~ smut, pwop(?).

WORD COUNT ~ 1.302k

ᯓ★ love the banner for this ngl. not my best work:( but it was requested so here

visiting your boyfriend's apartment to be met with the sight of him shirtless, doing crunches in his room was definitely a welcome you'd want to see more often.

you'd blame ovulation, but something about seeing the beads of sweat dripping down the pattern of his abs made you feel a certain tingle in a place sinfully up between your legs.

with a cool facade, you flashed a soft smile, settling your bag down in its usual place and unwrapping the winter layers you had on. “working hard, huh, riki?” you teased, but it was mostly just a mere attempt of hiding and distracting yourself from your fluster and desires.

"mm." he responded with the short, low hum that you couldn't decipher as a yes or a no. his breath came out in rhythmic puffs, hands clasping each other as he pushed himself up and down. he wasn't exactly talkative when he was 'in the zone', but the hint of a smirk curled on his lips as he looked up at you. "you're just on time. i was getting lonely." his little complaint earned a mostly playful scoff from you. “geez, i was gone for one hour because somebody refuses to be a grown up and get their own groceries.” 

having had familiarity with his bedroom, you made your way to sit on the edge of the bed beside where he was on the floor without having to look up.

he groaned as he sat up, rolling his head from side to side to ease the strain in his neck, flexing his abdominal muscles by accident as he did. "mm. i hate grocery shopping." he retorted back quickly, his eyes settling on you. his gaze was intense, filled with a bit of annoyance and something else, something that you knew from experience would lead to your clothes being tossed to the floor in a messy pile.

with his new position, came the delicious little sight of his sweaty strands of overgrown bangs sticking to his forehead, his glistening flexed muscles and the naturally prominent tent in his gray sweats.

you cleared your throat, ‘discreetly’ looking back up at his eyes.

“you’re just too childish.” you countered, ending your sentence by hypocritically sticking out your tongue in a childish manner.

he rolled his eyes at that, the smirk on his lips growing a bit wider as he rose to his feet, taking slow and deliberate strides towards you. he towered over you, forcing you to look up in his eyes as he stepped between your legs, pinning you against the edge of the bed with his arms on either side. "mm, really." he chuckled at that, his eyebrows raising. "keep sticking your tongue out like that and i'll find a better use for it."

oh, he knew what he was doing. you swallowed thickly at the implications of his words, but scoffed sassily. but god, his abs were right there, in front of your face, glistening in a way that made you wish it was something other than his sweat.

“whatever. you’re sweaty and stinky, go take a shower.” it was a lame excuse, but at that point you’d try every bit you could to escape the situation.

riki chuckled again, amused at your attempt to keep him from sensing how his very presence was already making you want to throw your clothes off. he leaned in close, so that his nose was practically grazing yours. "that doesn't sound like the nicest thing you could say to your boyfriend who's been working so hard in the hot summer heat, now does it?" he teased back, a smirk on his lips and an obvious mischief in his eyes.

“and what do you think is the nicest thing i should say to my oh-so hardworking boyfriend?” you immediately snapped back, an edge of annoyance forming in your tone, thanks to his teasing. 

he was absolutely infuriating, and all while looking so damn sexy that it drove you crazy in all the best ways.

he chuckled again, enjoying the smartassery you continued to try and push past his guard. riki pressed a light kiss to your forehead before giving you a response. "something... less rude." he stated simply, his hands gripping the edge of the bed now, caging you in. "like... i don't know, like…” he leaned in close to your ear, his body gently pressing itself against yours. "i think it should've been more along the lines of 'oh my handsome boyfriend, you're working so hard. let me help you relax~'"

you let out a scoff-like chuckle. he was really pushing it out of cockiness of having the upper hand and your admiring gaze here, wasn’t he? “self-indulgent much?” "damn right." he shamelessly said, his voice dropping an octave, eyes locking onto yours. "very." the smirk on his face curled into a half-smirk, his hot breath tickling your skin. his hips pushed against yours, his hands still on either side. "i want to be a little selfish right now."

you hummed, spreading your legs wider to incorporate his larger frame. with the decision to indulge in his little game, you questioned, “selfish how, hm?”

riki's smirk only widened as he settled between your legs, a hand gently taking your chin and forcing your gaze to remain locked on his. "in a lot of ways." he responded, his other hand gently gripping your thigh. "one of them being a nice reward for working so damn hard."

“i have a different proposition.” you suddenly interrupted, your tone one he couldn’t recognize. without giving him time to reply, you continued, “i have a very selfish desire, myself.”

his smirk widened again, his head inching closer like a lion nearing his prey. his eyes had a fire burning behind them, a sort of intense desire that you knew only led somewhere hot and messy. "oh yeah?" he responded, that hand that was gripping your thigh running up a bit. "and what's this 'very selfish' desire of yours?"

one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew- you were sitting on riki's muscular abdomen, hands on his chest as you coated his abs with your slick.

his hands moved to grip your hip instead, digging his nails in as guided your movements against his flexed muscles. he wore a lazy smirk on his lips, bringing one of his hands to make circular motions on your clit.

“fuck..” you cried out in pleasure, frantically riding on his abs like your life depended on it.

“you feel good baby? don’t even need my cock to get off anymore.. greedy baby.” he basically purred into your ear, continuing to rub your clit with his calloused thumb.

the pretty whimpers and gasps escaping your lips were like music to his ear, you were clearly too delirious to take offense to his teases, let alone come up with a reply. your pussy pulsated on his abs as a clear sign of approaching your orgasm, and it only encouraged him to further guide your hips and rub you.

“riki..” you mewled in utter glee, your hips jerking forth involuntarily ever so often.

“yes, baby? you close? gonna cum on my abs?” he teased, his voice ringing low and deep in your senses.

you gripped onto his chest just a little harder, the knot in your stomach breaking apart with a lewd moan. you stilled your hips as he rubbed your clit through your orgasm, your ejaculation now coating his proud muscles.

he groaned at the wet warmth of it, now gripping onto your hips in a way that made his own needs evident. “that was fucking hot..” he commented, making you return back to earth from your high and hide your face in the crook of his neck out of post-nut embarrassment. 

“shut up..” reblog and comment or i'll appear in ur room at 3 am with a knife :3 💗

[crimsonmochi]

Personal ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, cunnilingus, slight choking, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, a little bit pathetic, and a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, no beta

Word Count. 3.9k

A/N. baby's first jjk fic, be gentle </3 please give me feedback and lmk if i forgot some tags :3 reposts encouraged!

Rain dribbled and splattered on the window, the tiny water beads reflecting and refracting the dim light from Satoru's phone. He sat upright on his bed, muscular back against the headboard, upper arms aching from his last session two days prior. He had reluctantly agreed to participate in a "professional"―which, to Satoru, was just a word for more work, smaller pay―shoot with some girl he could barely remember the name of.

The result? The director had barked at him to put himself in impossible positions for the camera's sake, which left his limbs sore and not in a good way. Satoru forced the scene to end, left with his money and a vow to himself to never ever work for studios again. He hated being told what to do, especially from guys who don't actually have what it takes.

While painkillers and a nice massage from the spa below his apartment complex did not eradicate the pain, it did make it much more tolerable.

Satoru's thumb swiped across the screen, scrolling through comments from his latest post, a message to his subscribers asking for content ideas. Sure, he did not like being told what to do, but being kindly suggested by his fans to fulfill their desires was different. In the end, he was still in control.

And it probably won't land him in a pharmacy either.

The request that Satoru found came up the most was for him to do ASMR; some fans wanted to hear those pretty praises, those filthy words he gives to his co-stars, spoken to them instead. Although the idea was alluring, Satoru would rather be on camera than behind a fancy microphone in a recording booth—primarily because he was too proud to opt out of showing his god-crafted body (that cocky bastard). But then again, he could find a way to do both...

He shelved that idea for later.

Other requests were suggestions of people to shoot with. Some popular names came up, women and men he had already filmed with and didn't find too interesting. He could fake it, of course; he was an actor, it was half of his job―but he would be unsatisfied with the end result.

Satoru was about to quit reading requests, bored and uninspired until his cerulean eyes stuck themselves to a particular comment. The space between his eyebrows creased as his eyebrows furrowed. It was a subscriber recommending another star, explaining how they weren't very well known, but they believed them and Satoru would make a great pair.

The wording was not what caught his attention, he had gotten plenty of requests with the same exact sentence before. No, it was the name, your page's name―which, to Satoru, felt familiar yet distant. He hadn't shot with you before, no, that wasn't it. Yet he was certain he knew you, knew of you at least.

His thumb reached for the search bar to type in your alias, his eyelids flickering when his gaze fell on your profile, your soft face on display. Satoru felt his length chub up in his boxers, soft lips parting to accommodate for a sudden need of oxygen.

Just as his subscriber said, you were less popular than him, with less than half the number of subscribers he had and an inarguably cheaper paywall in front of your content. Memories of happily searching for his new credit card numbers to pay for your videos came back rushing to him, memories only a few months old.

Satoru recalled seeing a preview and being immediately smitten by your pretty figure, your plush thighs and your tummy, that tiny thrill in your eyes. Fuck, how he had spent half of his revenue giving you tips on an anonymous account―just to obtain a personalized picture of just those pretty thighs, fisting his aching cock to that image for days.

Just looking at that profile again, oh my god.

His eyes laid on the subscription button. He did not even bother getting on an alt account this time to press it, watching the confirmation request pop up on his screen to gather his fingerprint in order to complete the purchase. When the paywall finally went away, Satoru let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, his hand travelling to his boxers, palming himself through his briefs as he scrolled.

And oh, he was gone again.

Satoru had never sent a message to his agent that frantically in his life, asking her―no, begging her to contact you to secure a shoot with you. Asked her to do whatever she could to get you in the studio.

The next few days went by without a reply from your part, and Satoru was going mad. He could not remember being this nervous for anyone, this needy. In between sessions of overthinking (maybe he should have asked you himself or maybe offered something more), he found himself replaying videos of yours he had already seen, notably the ones with other men. He knew them by heart.

Those guys didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as much as you needed, as much as you deserved. It pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible, yet made him so hard; He knew he could fuck you so much better than those amateurs you were with, pleasure you in ways they wouldn't even dare.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you were just intimidated by his offer. Too much money from too big of a creator and an offer that seemed too good to be real to not hold a catch, which is why you did not answer right away, anxiously weighing the implications. It wasn't until he, in a moment of pure desperation and haze, shot you a private message confirming the offer that you replied, shyly agreeing.

From then on, Satoru could barely contain himself, daydreaming about everything he could do to you with his left hand eagerly moving up and down his cock, breathy exhales escaping his mouth and shaky fists gripping his bedsheets. Too often, he found himself checking the calendar on his phone, awaiting the shoot date, disappointed every time that it was still the 15th instead of the long-awaited 21st. Satoru Gojo did not exactly believe himself to be a patient man.

He sent you little messages throughout the week with ideas and reassuring messages. He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, what you thought of him, how your body worked, and how he could get you to whine and moan for him.

On the day of the shoot, Satoru was almost unrecognizable to others involved―his agent and the friends he'd stopped to visit on his way to his studio. The man people had described as cocky, overly confident, and self-absorbed was reduced to a nervous, lost-in-thought mess. All because of you, the pretty little thing he would get to have his hands on later that evening.

He'd showered three times, spent too long in his room figuring out what clothes to wear, as if that would matter, and freaked out over his hair. His hair.

And when you finally arrived at the studio with your assistant, he nearly forgot how to breathe. That, or he was purposely holding back for fear of scaring you off, this cute little thing before him. You introduced yourself, pretty eyes gazing up at him, taking a second to admire each and every one of his features. As soon as he saw your smile, here in person, he told himself he could die happy.

Well, he could die happy after having a taste of you.

You were shy while introducing yourself to him. The interaction could easily have been misread as awkwardness, and that was what Satoru would have gone with, too, if he didn't know any better (if he didn't think so highly of himself). Your softer voice, your pretty eyes, god, those eyes. He could tell you might've had a tiny crush on him as well, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his head reel.

Your assistant all but confirmed it when you excused yourself to the restroom, admitting that you hadn't stopped gushing about this opportunity since you got it.

And when you got back, he had the most annoying smirk and glint in his eyes, looking down at you.

After discussing what he wanted for the scene, making sure you were comfortable and willing to participate―a gentleman, truly, asked you so many times that you started chuckling your answers―he had his agent and your assistant leave the studio after you agreed to dismiss them. He did not mind an audience, but he wanted this to be personal.

"I film all my own shit anyways," he hummed, hopping behind the camera to adjust the angle.

In the film room of the studio was a bedroom set with a queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a wooden frame. A sliding-door closet with mirrors stood tall on the left side, and a bedside table on the right.

The scene you and Satoru agreed upon was vanilla, but he was pleased with the gist of it. Any way he could have you is a way he'd be pleased with, however. It didn't really matter how for the time being.

You sat in the middle of the bed, your back against the cold headboard and palms against the soft sheets, gazing at Satoru as he grumbled at the camera, shifting through the studio to find a new battery with his lips pursed in a pout. It amused you, seeing a different side of him.

It was only three minutes later that he climbed onto the bed, knees against the mattress as he moved towards you, those blue eyes staring at your frame through those pale lashes. He moved to straddle you, his back straight, his body looming over yours.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," mumbled Satoru, his hand firmly landing on the headboard to support himself, making a louder sound than he intended. "You tell me if I'm too much for you, alright, pretty?" he followed in a softer tone.

You nodded, the pad of your index landing on his shoulder and travelling down his torso, trailing close to the sweatpants he wore. Satoru reached his own unoccupied palm to your face, his fingers hooking themselves at the nape of your neck to pull you towards him. His nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips with his.

Satoru had never felt drunk on a kiss until you entered his studio.

As if a switch flipped in his head, he kept you closer to him, desperate and unwilling to pull away from your lips. He breathed shakily, his minty breath fanning over your mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this," he laughed, an arrogant laugh that made your pussy ache.

"Yeah?" you murmured.

"Yeah."

The hand on your cheek moved to your throat, squeezing at the sides―not enough to hurt, just to make oxygen sparse in your system. "I'll make you feel good, sweetheart, hm? I'll do better than those fucking losers on your page."

The sweetest words said oh so cruelly.

Although it was increasingly hard for you to think, you were able to click the pieces together pretty quick, your eyes widening and your pupils dilating.

'Fourth wall break wasn't part of the plan.

Oh.

He watched.'

Satoru's gaze had changed. Deep, yet precise in conveying the exact energy desired. A short, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and fuck, he fed on that, on your reactions to him, no matter how small or insignificant. It mattered to him.

Warm fingers slipped under your the black camisole hugging your body before you could even notice his hand had left your throat, caressing your skin until he his the jackpot, massaging the same breasts he had spent hours looking at only within the past week.

"Oh-ho— nothing, no bra for me?" Satoru chuckled. He captured your nipple between his index and his thumb, rolling and pinching at it until it pebbled, drawing out a whimper from your lungs.

Satoru was fascinated by what he had under his hand, taking a too-curious approach to exploring, as if he had never seen or felt another body before this point in his life. He took his time to gently remove the fabric off of your body, imagining all the ways he could bind and explore it, worship it, cum all over those pretty tits—

It wasn't until he felt your soft hands trying to discard his shirt that he snapped out of his haze, realizing he was fucking up the pacing.

Satoru latched his mouth to one of your breasts, biting and sucking gingerly while he focused on getting you out of those tight leggings you wore just for him, that truly left nothing to the imagination. He frantically worked to get those white laced panties out of the way with a tad more force than he should have, causing a tear to rip into the fabric.

"Satoru—" you gasped, only halfway acting.

"I'll get you another pair," he groaned against your chest, licking over one of the bite marks he had left before unlatching to look down.

Satoru's brain short-circuited.

Sure, he's seen your body time and time over, but that had only ever been through the careful separation of a screen, a paywall. It was different to have access to it, to be able to touch and feel.

He thanked his earlier self for asking if he could eat you out, for now, getting to have your supple thighs around his face and neck. Fuck, he could really die happy now.

Satoru caught sight of your dripping cunt, juices dripping and latching onto your skin. He felt hungry for what seemed to be the first time in his life, moving down your body to kiss right over your mound, your scent filling his senses.

"Oh, s-shit, look at that," said Satoru.

Had he just stuttered?

He nudged his nose in between your folds, brushing against your clit with a swiftness that made your figure jolt. He chuckled, moving his arms to trap your hips and pin them to the mattress, muscles flexing under his skin to intimidate.

"God, she wants me so bad."

Satoru languidly licked up and down your slit, careful to miss your sensitive bud in the meanest way. He whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, sweet in a natural way, catching both you and himself off guard. If his face wasn't buried in your cunt, you could have seen the faint blush creep to the surface of his cheeks.

"You ever had someone do this, sweet'art?" he mumbled against your heat, lips finally latching on to your clit.

"N-No, not really," you sighed.

"Mh," Satoru hummed disapprovingly, toying with the bundle of nerves between his teeth, one of his arms sneaking away from your hips. He teased his ring finger at your entrance. "You're, fuck- fuck― you're so― taste so good..."

He pushed his finger past the ring of muscle until he was knuckles deep, groaning before he returned his mouth to your clit, sucking in small intervals as he pumped in and out of your velvety walls. Satoru whined when your hand flew to his hair.

And when you moaned for him, he was a goner. He noticed the usually loud and audibly altered sounds had turned saccharine and almost timid.

You had been faking your moans?

He snickered at his realization, breaching through the noise of your moans and the quiet slurps. "I think she loves me," said Satoru in between breaths.

"Wha-, who―"

"Wasn't talking to you, love." Satoru's words drastically contrasted with his soft tone.

He punctuated his sentence by curling his digits to find and abuse that spongey spot, earning a string of nonsense words and whines from you, only encouraging his endeavour. The soft squelch of your pussy around his fingers and his mouth was enough to drive him to buck his hips toward the mattress.

When Satoru felt your soft thighs tighten around his head, he forced himself to pull away, grunting as you desperately moved to grip your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him there. If he hadn't had such strong convictions, he might have stayed down there for the rest of his life, dying happy with his face buried in your pretty cunt.

Satoru straightened his form, his fingers pulling out to find your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. You protested, whining pathetically.

"I know, I know, sweet girl, I'm sorry. Wanna... wanna have you cum on my cock. Can y'do that love? Want you all over me.."

He was mumbling, staring into your eyes with his pupils blown wide. The blue of his irises was overtaken by those black orbs, capturing you in his sight. His chin was wet and dripping, and his lips were slightly swollen.

A gorgeous mess for you to gaze upon.

Satoru's eyes dropped down to the sweatpants he threw on earlier (and called Suguru about just to make sure it looked "casual but not fuckboy"―Suguru called him a dumbass and hung up), carefully bunching up the fabric as well as his boxers before pushing down. Hissing as his length perked up, angry and weeping pre, he breathed a little heavier than before, his shoulders rising and falling. Satoru hadn't felt this worked up in months, maybe years, all from this.

For you.

And you would not be lying saying that had to be the prettiest dick you'd ever seen.

"Shit― look at that, hah," Satoru softly chuckled. "Lift your legs up f'me, pretty, come on.."

He grinned down at you as he helped you push your knees up to your limit, delicately placing your ankles on his shoulders and leaning his torso forward. Satoru placed one of his palms behind your cranium, a small yet protective measure.

"This okay?" asked Satoru, nudging his tip against your folds, collecting your slick to drench his cock, gliding over your clit.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine..."

It was rare for you to be nervous, given that you were used to having sex, filming it, and posting it for hundreds to see. Intercourse was not something you had any insecurities about. Usually.

What caught you off guard was the look in Satoru's eyes, the way he carried himself with a gentleness foreign to anything you've seen from him.

Satoru leaned down to press kisses against your jawline, open-mouthed and delicate, exhaling as he guided his length past your entrance, satisfied at the small gasp he heard from your lips.

"Oh my god, it's even fucking better than I imagined," said Satoru, his voice strained.

He could feel the stretch, your walls fluttering to accommodate him, still so tight and fuck―the tiny high-pitched, almost inaudible whimpers that escaped your throat.

"Don't know if I'll be able to pull out, sweet girl, hah―shit―she's sucking me in, look."

"Then don't," you mumbled, turning your head to meet his lips.

"You can't say shit like that," Satoru scoffed.

"Why not? I want it."

If you were simply pretending for the camera, that was some damn good acting. Good enough to turn Satoru into putty in your hold, to shut his brain off and make him act on instinct alone, script be damned.

Satoru pushed in until his pelvis hit your flesh, his hold on you faltering in strength momentarily, a helpless expression on his face. He listened to your quiet whines, his free hand returning to your clit in hopes of easing the strain.

"Just fuckin' perfect, holy fuuuck―" he strained out.

He withdrew his fingers from your clit to taste you once more, addicted. He drew his hips back slowly, just enough to leave about an inch inside, before thrusting back in at a slightly faster pace, setting a rather slow, intimate rhythm for you to follow.

Satoru watched as your breath picked up, how the slow rock of his hips made your eyes unfocus, and your mouth hang open. He watched as your forehead started to sweat, how your hair moved along his movements.

More importantly, Satoru listened. He heard those moans, shakier and uncalculated. He knew he wasn't crazy earlier when he had the reflection that you had been faking them.

Actually pathetic, those "men" you had been with.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" Satoru mumbled, out of his mind. Like he was a schoolboy talking to his second-period crush. "So pretty... s'not fair..."

"H-Huh―?"

"S'not fair how it's gonna be―mh, shit―over, how s'gonna be over."

Satoru angled his hips differently, aiming for that spongey spot he had found earlier. That said, he would have had to be able to think straight to get it on the first try; which he could not, not when he was buried deep inside your cunt.

"W-What―aah, fuck, Satoru~"

You couldn't recall any shoots you had done―or any sex you had had at all, actually―that felt as good as Satoru.

"Right there, right? S'that i-it?"

He drove his movements faster, his pelvis hitting the back of your thighs and your ass with a louder SMACK! than it did previously, his breaths becoming further shallow and desperate. His skin grew increasingly damp as his efforts increased, and what were previously grunts turned to shameless moans, whines and whimpers, wanton and needy.

The man was losing his mind, so unlike anything you had seen from him.

Satoru's thrusts soon became erratic and uncoordinated, his face buried in your neck, drinking all of the sounds you were making like he was getting drunk on them.

"Can't... won't last l-long, okay? M'sorry I can't..." Satoru wailed.

His hand found your breast, flicking at your nipple in hopes of making you cum faster, needing to feel you. You were teetering on the edge, and he could feel it, feel how your pussy drew him in.

"Y'know you've been― y'been teasing me for two fuckin' weeks―aah... shitshitshit, so so g-good―two weeks." He paused to groan, pinching your flesh between his index and thumb to elicit a reaction from you. "Can't get enough of you, you're so―and you know it, you fuckin' know it too, I-I know y'do."

"Satoru! So close, please d-don't stop," you yelped, walls constricting around his length.

"Y-Yeah, pretty, I know, fuck―I know, sweet thing. I got you," Satoru panted and tightened his grip on the back of your head as if to brace for impact. "Y'do know how to drive me fuckin' crazy, with―mh, you're so soft and pretty, m-makes me want to quit the business, make you my own, God, make you my pretty wife."

Satoru's mind was running on overdrive, trying to keep up with what the fuck he was saying and making sure you felt good, as good as him. No easy task.

"Shit, gonna make you mine, I promise, fuck―"

His his stuttered as he spilled himself inside you, crying out like a wounded animal. It felt too good, it was too much.

Satoru kept going, although fucked out of his mind, determined to make you cum. He lapped up the sweat from your neck, not caring if it was nasty, while he reached down to your clit once more, slapping the sensitive bud a few times, stopping when he felt your cunt constrict and clench around him, a nice little ring of creamy mixed arousal forming at the base of his cock, gliding down your ass and spilling on the bedsheets.

"Such a mess, oh my God," Satoru whined.

He gathered some on two of his fingers, wiping it right off of your skin. "Taste it f'me, pretty," Satoru groaned.

He could have ascended to heaven right then as you wrapped your lips around his digits, glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

"I gotta keep you."

pt. 2?

[amyispxnk]

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

-

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

-

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

-

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

-

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

-

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

-

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

[freezeris]

⋆⁺₊❅.🎄personal astro observations ii🎄⋆⁺₊❅.

❗️Just a heads up: I'm not a professional, just an amateur, and these are going to be largely based on my first-hand experiences and people I know. Unfortunately I've had a lot of unfavorable experiences in my earlier life, so there will be a good amount of negative points I make about some placements, but in no way does this mean I think everyone who has these will express them in this way. We all have all 12 signs in our charts, so to hate any one of the archetypes would be detrimental to one's own growth, I think. Also: I mostly use tropical astrology and the placidus house system, so most observations will be based on that.

🎄 I'm sorry Aquarius Moon/Venus, but you are not beating the allegations... 👩‍⚖️ Not to be another person getting on Aquarius Moon/Venus' ass, but them ghosting you as soon as you show too much interest in them is SO real. 😭 If you're interested in one it's probably best to let them do most of the courting/pursuing and let them set the pace.

Aquarius is also ruled by Saturn, after all, so similar to Capricorn they can be more attracted if there's an element of challenge or difficulty in making the relationship work. Although they may not be aware or willing to admit it. 😅 This is why you often see them with partners who are way older, bad boys, rebels or outcasts in some way. Taylor Swift, especially in her youth, was such a good example of this and she is an Aquarius Venus. I mean: the song "Ours" is so fitting for this placement. 😭

That being said, these people usually make for great friends. 💗 It's just hard for them to date/marry because they prefer to naturally transition from friends to lovers without making a big deal of it. Honestly you might be better off not trying to have the "what are we?" conversation if you don't want to risk having them run off to da milk store......even though they're lactose intolerant........😭

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🎄 One reason why I find the Placidus house system so interesting is because of Interceptions and duplicate houses. I have a Gemini – Sagittarius Interception in the 4H – 10H Axis, and I definitely feel as though I was "denied" the traits of these signs in my self-expression. I was actively discouraged from being too curious or questioning of the worldview the adults around me tried to instill in me. My curiousity and zest for exploration & expansion was not nurtured at all. These themes simply weren't present in my upbringing. We never even took a single trip together as family, which is such a direct way for this Interception to manifest. 😅

Interceptions happen when your Midheaven is in a sign that trines or sextiles your Ascendant, instead of doing the normal square. So if you are an Aries Rising, the "normal" layout would call for Capricorn to be your MC, but it's also possible for it to fall in Aquarius instead. (Although this particular combination is very rare and not every combination is possible.) In that case some of the house cusps will be out of order and one pair of sister signs ends up being skipped, while another gets duplicated.

🎄Staying on the topic of Midheaven: when you have it in a sign that's not "normal" for your Ascendant to be paired with, and you look at your chart in the Whole Sign System, you'll notice that it will fall either in your 9th or 11th house, instead of your 10th.

🎄I've noticed that people with their MC in the 9th are more likely to be remembered for things that happened very early in their career or life in general. They are often more associated with how they got to their current point in life, than how they are doing right now. In celebrities I often see this as the media being obsessed with the one performance or song the star delivered in their youth, but not so much caring about the projects they do later in life. 😅

This isn't me calling anyone with this placement "washed up" or saying they peak early, it's just that people are obsessed with the things these natives did earlier in their career, to the point where it can overshadow their later achievements. I have this too, so I'm in the same boat. 🥲 But the good thing about MC in the 9th House is that it's easier to lay low and maintain a good reputation. As long as you weren't involved in too many scandalous things in your youth, at least.

Some examples:

🎄Dylan & Cole Sprouse (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who are still most famous for starring in "The Suite Life of Zack & Cody".

🎄Uma Thurman (Virgo ASC + Taurus MC) who is most associated with her roles in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill.

🎄Dakota Fanning (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC), was the youngest child actor to receive a SAG nomination, and is largely associated with the roles she took very early on in her career.

🎄Lorde (Capricorn ASC + Virgo MC) released "Royals" when she was 16/17 years young and it's still her most popular single to date.

🎄Robert Pattinson, (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) he's most associated with his role in Twilight, even though he's been landing other big roles as well, like him taking up the mantle as the new Batman.

🎄Mariah Carey (Taurus ASC + Capricorn MC) and her most well-known singles were released decades ago.

🎄Ben Affleck (Cancer ASC + Pisces MC), the roles he's most associated with are from films in the 90s and early 2000s.

🎄Johnny Depp (Leo ASC + Aries MC), his most iconic roles are from movies made in the 90s & early 2000s.

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🎄Meanwhile people with their MC in the 11th House, I've noticed, are more likely to have a big breakthrough later in their career. Their reputation tends to shift more frequently as well. Often they are also heavily associated with philantrophy, social justice or how they revolutionized something in their field/the world in general. These natives tend to be more active and popular on social media as well, compared to MC in the 9H.

Some examples:

🎄Chris Evans (Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC) and he had his big breakthrough moment in the 2010s as Captain America, and has enjoyed a lot more popularity from that point onwards.

🎄Antony Starr (Leo ASC + Gemini MC), had been an actor for decades before he took his big role as Homelander.

🎄Ariana Grande (Capricorn ASC + Scorpio MC), of course she is still quite young and has already risen to prominence in her teens/twenties, but her fame and relevancy only seems to be increasing with every year.

🎄Margot Robbie (Cancer ASC + Taurus MC), had her big break in 2013, due to her role in Wolf of Wall Street, and has only continued to cement herself as a popular actor since. The recent Barbie Movie is what really pushed her into the Mainstream.

🎄J.K. Rowling (Aquarius ASC + Sagittarius MC), we all know by now it took her a while to have her breakthrough. Over the years she's been very vocal on social media and her reputation has changed quite a bit. She went from mostly being known as a beloved childrens book author to someone who fights transwomen with tooth and nail... Yet the Harry Potter franchise still continues to grow in popularity, because it has a broad appeal and a lot of people feel nostalgic for it, having grown up with the series.

🎄This one is not 100% confirmed, but I still wanted to bring it up: Taylor Swift (suspected to be a Scorpio ASC + Virgo MC). I personally think this makes sense for multiple reasons. Of course she's always been successful ever since her debut, but her fame only keeps increasing. Even she didn't think she was ever gonna get bigger than she was back at her first peak in 2014, but clearly that has been proven wrong when The Eras Tour rolled around. Her reputation & public reception has changed a lot over the years as well. In part this is definitely due to her strong Scorpio energy (which she would still have even if she wasn't a Scorpio Rising), but having MC in the 11th and in a mutable sign like Virgo can also add to this. She's always been very present on social media, as well. Particularly in the earlier days of her career she was fairly active on MySpace, Tumblr and Twitter.

🎄Not fully confirmed either: but Pedro Pascal said he is either a Gemini or Cancer Rising. His MC would most likely fall in Aries either way, but I'm leaning more towards him being a Gemini Rising. This would also put his MC in his 11th House in Whole Sign, and it's certainly true for him that he has only had his big break in acting less than a decade ago. His popularity only continues to skyrocket with time.

🎄Sidenote: It's VERY RARE, but sometimes it's even possible to have your MC falling in your 8th or 12th house. I know a few celebrities who have, for example, a Gemini Rising with a Capricorn Midheaven, which would fall in their 8H in Whole Signs. I wanted to give a quick acknowledgement that this is also a possibility.

🎄 Paul Mescal is the most obvious Saturn dominant man I've ever seen. All of his planets, except for Pluto & Moon, are either in Saturn-ruled signs or conjunct his Saturn. We don't know his birth time, but no matter what his chart ruler is, Saturn will always be really dominant in his chart. 🪐

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🎄Having Pluto in the 4th or Pluto square Moon could mean your Mother started out as being really controlling, and then somewhere down the line did the opposite thing and abandoned you. Or the opposite scenario happened, where she wasn't very present in the early childhood of her children, but suddenly feels the need to insert herself once they're older. A good fictional example of the latter situation would by Lyra from His Dark Materials and her Mother Marisa Coulter. Pluto rules over extremes and control (issues), so when it touches the Moon or 4th House the mother tends to act in very extreme & controlling ways.

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🎄I would recommend against dating/being close friends with someone who has their Saturn in the same modality as most of your personal planets, especially when it squares. Or rather, you might notice that when you try to, you just don't feel comfortable opening up to them in the first place.

Saturn is where we can have the highest standards and biggest insecurities, causing us to be extremely critical of people who have placements in the same modality as our Saturn.

Unfortunately most of my family members have mutable Saturns, while I'm a mutabe dominant, so I've never felt comfortable being myself with them and they never really appreciated me. For me the ideal partner would probably have a cardinal Saturn, as I only have one cardinal placement. They'd be better off not having too many fixed personal planets themselves, though, since I'm a fixed Saturn and obviously I don't want to constantly feel critical of my partner and closest friends either. 😅

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🎄I've noticed some Gemini/Mercury dominant natives really have a thing for Bees and pollinators. I knew a Gemini Sun, Virgo Rising who said they were her favorites and even got a tattoo of one. She would often try to rescue them too. 🐝

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🎄I've noticed Pisces dominants, especially Pisces Venus, tend to prefer media that is more lighthearted and family friendly. They're pretty sensitive to negative energies, so they don't usually like saturating their minds with too much dark & serious stuff. It can really weigh on them and cause nightmares. It's also probably due to being exalted in Venus, which is a planet that mostly relates to pleasant energies. So Taurus & Libra dominants could also be like this, but for Pisces it's usually more emotionally intense as a water sign.

🎄 Mars in the 9th often gets this rep of forcing their own views on others, and it for sure can manifest this way. But I will say as someone with this placement myself, that I've CONSTANTLY been on the receiving end of this treatment, but I've never actually tried to do this myself because I fucking loathe when someone does that. I notice with this placement that if you (as the 9th House Mars person) don't stand firm in your beliefs, you'll have so many mfers come at you and try to bully you into taking on their belief system. 😭 I guess this is because where your Mars sits you invite in conflict and shows of dominance the most from other people. If you're not adamant and dominant enough in your beliefs, someone else will try to dominate that area of your life for you. You really gotta say: "No I don't take criticism, fuck off! 👊💥👊💥👊💥"

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🎄 8H Suns can sometimes have a father that is considered wealthy because the Sun = Father and 8H = inheritances. However, I will say as a 8H Sun myself, my father/family has always lived pretty close to the poverty line (although it could've been worse and I'm grateful for what I did have growing up), BUT when I compare my father to his parents and siblings, he is indeed the most successful person in his family. I'd say it's the same with Moon in 8H = having a (relatively) wealthy mother. A lot of things in astrology are relative compared to the persons family and peers, so not everyone with this will be RICH rich.

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🎄 Another thing that an 8H Sun/Moon could indicate is having a parent who is often physically (sometimes emotionally) absent from the natives life. It doesn't have to be straight up abandonment, it can also show up as the parent just traveling a lot for work or spending a lot of time at work. It doesn't always have to be in the natives childhood either. Sometimes they will have their parent for most of their childhood, but then the native themself moves away to a different city or country for boarding school/college/work/other reasons and could really miss their parents because of it. Sun or Moon in the 12th can experience this too, from what I've seen. The traveling/long distance aspect would apply even more strongly to the 12th House placements.

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🎄I often see Cancer Rising & a dominant Moon in the Solar Return Chart be cited as a strong indicator for conceiving/birthing children. And that's true, but I've rarely seen people mention Venus dominance in the SR chart being an indicator of this as well.

Because when I checked when my mother gave birth to both me and my sister, she had a Taurus & Libra ASC respectively. In the Taurus Rising SR her Venus (Chart Ruler) fell in her 5th house, along with the Sun & North Node.

In the Libra Rising SR she didn't have the Chart Ruler in the 5th or 4th, but she did have Venus conjunct Jupiter, Juno & North Node (in the 9th) + Uranus in the 5th. The Moon was also conjunct IC but from the 3rd house. And indeed, my sister was not a planned addition to the family, as Uranus would suggest.

🎄Cancer & Leo are the only-children of the Zodiac. They are basically meant to be the most "selfish" signs since they are ruled by the Luminaries (Sun & Moon) which are the most egoic planets. They are also the only signs to not share a planetary ruler with any other sign, hence why I lovingly call them "only children" lol. 😂 I can't stress enough that when I say this I don't mean it as an insult. It's just what the signs and their ruling planets represent. Ego isn't all bad. Plus, that's why they have the Saturn ruled signs (Capricorn and Aquarius) as their sister signs. They're here to make sure Leo and Cancer don't become blind to their surroundings, since Saturn and Capricorn + Aquarius rule over institutions, communities and societal structure, while the Moon/Cancer and Sun/Leo are very "self" & survival based.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄 If you lack a certain element or modality in your chart, you'll probably feel more attracted to people dominant in this energy as well. I have very little fire and air energy, so most of the people that felt drawn to me or that I felt drawn to were dominant in it.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄Very specific, but if you have a T-square you can also find yourself attracting people who have placements in the "empty leg" sign. Basically the sign opposite to the planet that receives the squares. In my case that would be Gemini, and that's probably the sign I used to attract the most. 😂

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄I don't know that many Capricorn Moons, and I've never had a super close relationship with one, but those that I have known were usually really sweet to me. Maybe that's just my impression because I'm also an Earth Moon, so we trine and naturally have easy rapport. But based on all the descriptions I've read y'all made them sound so cold and scary? 😭 Well they don't seem to be with me. 😌💅 Might also be in part because they fall in my 5H. Other people's placements in your 5th house will have a hard time resisting being more open and silly around you. 🐐 🎊

I mean, apparently everyone's favorite man, Pedro Pascal, is a Capricorn Moon too. And it even squares his Sun, yet he is extremely charming and likeable (sorry but I can't not simp, I am not immune to this man 🙈).

WELL, that is it for now, folks! Thanks for reading, if you've come this far. MWAH. 🫶

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*

🎄dividers by dollywons🎄

[viforavi]

singer/songwriter!caitlyn and producer!vi… known for her quiet allure and silky voice, cait is a rising star whose songs have almost all been produced by vi. most of the lyrics cait writes may or may not be drawn from a crush she has on her producer. vi may or may not be producing cait’s songs because she’s not only undeniably talented, but also incredibly hot.

caitlyn loves to observe the focus vi has when creating her vision in the studio—sometimes she finds herself staring at her a little longer, taking note of how vi plays with her bottom lip and the way her big, beautiful blue-gray eyes dart across the computer screen—but the praise she gets when she records the perfect take is the cherry on top of it all.

“atta girl.”

“amazing work, you did so well today.”

“there we go, princess. knew you could do it.”

she feels her face flush slightly at every compliment and this time is no different. they near the end of a session as caitlyn records the last of her harmonies and the rest of the pre-chorus. as caitlyn’s verse comes to an end, vi smiles and clicks a button on her sound board to let cait hear her next words.

“you did so good in there, sweetheart. i could listen to you all day.”

a small giggle paired with an eye roll is her typical response to the producer’s kudos. cait’s ears and cheeks are tinged pink at the last part of vi’s comment.

“as if you aren’t paid to do exactly that,” caitlyn points out.

she removes her headphones and exits the soundproof room, walking towards the couch at the same time as vi to take a break before the producer works herself to the bone to get this song to sound like a masterpiece. caitlyn’s legs find themselves propped on vi’s lap crossed at her ankles with vi’s hand gently holding her in place, a comfortable position they find themselves in very often. vi expresses a thought she has about cait’s writing.

“y’know, i honestly still can’t believe you wrote these lyrics. i didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

cait lets out a soft laugh, slightly embarrassed at the idea. the lyrics are… more sexual than what she usually writes, depicting fantasies and desires that she would typically consider private information.

“i’m not! just… felt really inspired i guess.”

“c’mon, don’t give me that. you rarely ever write about sex, let alone ask me to produce a song about it. she must be really fucking good, so who’s the lucky girl?”

she was right. caitlyn rarely wrote songs about sex and even when she did, she was usually too embarrassed to show them to vi. caitlyn’s had her fair share of hookups, but in caitlyn’s eyes none of them could compare to the mere thought of vi: her stupid fucking haircut that she, by some miracle, manages to pull off, her muscular build that convinces cait that she could be picked up by her like a feather, and that voice.

god, that fucking voice and her fucking praise.

even though she was the one to ask, vi’s stomach drops at the thought of cait seeing anyone. she keeps her eyes on the screen, avoiding caitlyn’s gaze and hoping she doesn’t look like a kicked puppy.

“seriously, it’s no one.”

“bullshit, cait. we’re friends! you can tell me.”

“it’s not! i’m really not seeing anyone.”

“please, cupcake.”

the underlying sweetness in her disbelieving tone makes cait want to melt into a puddle on the floor. part of her wants to admit that the object of all her fantasies has been a certain pink-haired musical genius with a jaw-dropping body and a pretty face, but her pride outmatches her desire, even though the use of the dessert-inspired nickname makes her knees weak.

“it’s just a crush. that’s all.”

cait swears she can see vi’s ears perk up. she’s met with a shit-eating grin, and now vi can’t help but poke and prod further to figure out who this mystery crush is. they giggle and playfully fight with one another as vi begs to know about this “crush” and cait wonders why the fuck she decided to say anything at all.

the regret leaves her body when she finds her face centimeters away from vi’s and her arms locked in front of her chest, held by her wrist thanks to vi’s unbelievable strength. cait makes out the curls of her eyelashes, the dark ink of her face tattoo, and most especially the plush of vi’s lips and the scar that decorates the top of them.

shit. why does she have to be so fucking gorgeous?

caitlyn is certain the red all over her face perfectly matches the burn she feels. she feels like she’s opening for fucking beyoncé or something with how nervous she is to be this close to someone she’s known for years.

“you’re really gonna keep this from me, princess?”

something about vi’s lowered voice and her eyes searching her face (particularly at her lips, she noticed) gave caitlyn a sense of confidence that she knows she’ll probably regret acting on. she wants vi, and she’s tired of vi not knowing. she swallows and looks into vi’s pleading eyes for a moment then sighs, nearly surprising herself with what she does next.

her feet find their way to the floor to push her up out of her seat and then she swiftly swings a leg over vi’s lap, seating herself where her legs once were. vi’s grip on caitlyn weakens and confusion is written all over her face with her wide eyes, raised brows, and slightly parted lips. cait gazes at her through hooded eyes, playing with the neckline of vi’s muscle tee. she leans over and ghosts her lips over vi’s ear to tease.

“you really wanna know?”

vi rests her hands on caitlyn’s hips and slowly licks her lips, still unsure of what exactly is going on… but she’s not complaining. her thumbs fiddle with the top of caitlyn’s jeans as caitlyn pulls herself back to face vi, one hand caressing the back of her neck and the other cupping her chin. vi groans at the sound of cait’s voice as she asks vi a very important question.

“do you want me to tell you, or would you rather i show you?”

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

as the earth burns to the ground,

lay here with me

IN WHICH it takes an asteroid hurdling toward earth for you and jay to be pulled apart, and then brought back together—but it's worth it

PAIRING ⟡ wealthy (ex)bf!jay x scientist!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ end of the world au

WARNINGS ⟡ inspired by as the world caves in by matt maltese, exes to lovers, arguments, some platonic!jake thrown in there, ambiguous ending, elements from the movie don't look up, inaccurate portrayal of astrophysics and high school debate clubs

WORD COUNT ⨯ 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . starting again with the first fic i ever posted!!

"It's a silly rumour!" he said, exasperatedly.

You told him, "A rumour?! We've estimated its trajectory, analyzed dozens of possible routes, calculated probabilities... You can't deny the research, Jay!"

It was hard to believe that your relationship had come down to this. Had come down because of this.

You and Jay met during a high school debate tournament. His school had been reigning champions for years, until you joined your school's team and beat them. Jay was both annoyed, but impressed by your quips and arguments. He caught up with you after the match, and the rest is history.

High school sweethearts from rivalling schools, a true Romeo and Juliet reenactment.

The two of you went on to attend the same university in different programs. You—garnering a PhD in mathematics and physics, in order to pursue your lifelong dream of becoming an astrophysicist. Meanwhile, Jay went into marketing to one day take on the family business.

Although pursuing very different paths, you always came together at the end of the day. You'd often stay over at his apartment, large as it was, and watch movies together, cook new recipes he thought you'd like, whatever it is you both wanted to do, as a pair. Soon after graduation, you officially moved in with him.

Of course, you weren't perfect. You argued, you disagreed. There were a few significant arguments that led to you slamming the door on your way out.

But it always came down to how you first met. A good debate, a good argument, happens only when both sides respect each other, and don't let their emotions take on the best of them.

So, after every argument, you or he would call the other to apologize. Or, you'd wake up the next morning with a bouquet of roses with a handwritten note attached to it. Or, instead, you'd walk over to his place in the pouring rain, asking for forgiveness.

What brought you two together, however, eventually became what tore you apart.

During debates, Jay prioritized feelings over facts, in the sense that he would take on logical, everyday thinking to tackle the problem, usually winning over his opponents because they often lacked realism. You, on the other hand, gathered the facts and tackled the issue head on. In that way, you balanced each other out.

In another way, neither of you truly ever saw eye to eye.

You just didn't see it until word of an asteroid heading toward Earth came around.

You were ecstatic to be the one to discover the asteroid. At the time, its trajectory seemed to be close enough to Earth that it would be seen by an average telescope on the night it passes by.

"And my name will be on every article talking about it," you told him, wearing a proud smile.

Jay looked at you sweetly as you went into depth, ways that he certainly didn't understand fully, but he still listened intently because he knew it mattered to you.

Then, with further research, you discovered that you wouldn't even need any equipment to see the asteroid fly by.

"We could make a date out of it," he suggested. "When is it passing Earth?"

You continued to stir the pasta, humming at his words. "In about three months," you clarified.

You yelped when you suddenly felt his arms wrap around you. Leaning your head back comfortably onto his shoulder, you let him give you a short kiss. "Maybe we could invite the gang and set up a get together on the building's roof?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Within weeks, the morning tabloids were filled with new information revealed about the asteroid that you and your team discovered. Threads of information were shared on social media, and your name was attached to it everywhere. You felt a sense of pride whenever you checked your phone in the morning, scrolling through dozens to hundreds of comments congratulating you on your discoveries.

One morning, you woke up to a new headline greeting you:

Asteroid Heading Toward Earth: Here Is How To Prepare.

"Huh," you asked yourself, sitting up on your elbow to scroll through the article. You read some more and discovered there were more calculations done overnight by the rest of the team after you left earlier the night before, calculations proving a change in direction.

It was then that you noticed the seven missed calls from your team members. You mentally cursed yourself for being a heavy sleeper.

You quickly called the team leader first, and they barely greeted you before asking you to come to the lab.

"What's the hurry?" Jay asked from the kitchen. You rushed behind him to place a chaste kiss to his cheek, heading to the door to slip on your shoes, with your bag almost falling from your shoulder in the process. "I'm making pancakes."

"Check the tabloids. It's bad."

He frowned. "Yeah, I saw," he said with an unreadable expression. For a situation so serious, his voice seemed to toe the line of mockery too closely. "There's no way it's real, love, don't worry about it."

You stopped in your tracks with your hand still on the handle. "Sorry?"

"Are you serious? An asteroid heading toward Earth?" He raised his eyebrows. "C'mon, we're not in a movie."

"This is serious..." you told him slowly. "Just 'cause it's the first time something like this has happened, doesn't mean it's not real—" You shook your head. "—Look, I have to go. I can tell you about it tonight."

And, sure enough, you spent the day proving the team's theories from the evening. The asteroid was surely coming toward Earth, in approximately nine weeks. At that moment, you weren't able to estimate the true extent of the damage that it would bring, but it would be bad, you knew that well enough.

Jay didn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, Y/N," he said.

You had to take a step back, close your eyes and take a deep breath to make sure you didn't scream. "You don't trust me." The statement was short, but garnered a large reaction.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you're saying," you explained. "You don't believe my research. I can show you my notes, I can call the team leader for confirmation. Yet, you don't believe me."

He scoffed at you. Looking around, Jay sputtered out half-finished words, taken aback by your confrontation. "I trust you, Y/N, I just—"

"Just what?!" you interrupt, throwing your hands in frustration.

"Park Enterprises has already disproved it."

You wait for him to continue, but he looks at you as if that was enough explanation.

Out of pure disbelief, you let out a half-breathed laugh. "No, this is ridiculous," you throw his own statement back at him. Classically using his own words to turn the tables.

"My father's team has been tracking that exact same comet you're all after, and their studies show that it won't be coming near Earth, not by ages." It was unbelievable the absolute lack of hesitance in his voice. The confidence, which used to draw you into his arguments, repulsed you. "They have better funds for their research, it's much more developed."

This had you looking around for an audience, waiting to hear the laugh track in the background because his speech was straight out of a comedy. "You rather believe people who are solely in it for the money, people who completely disgrace their PhDs and the professors who taught them. Jay, we've laughed at them together because we both agreed they'd agree the Earth was flat if they were offered a large enough check!"

"Well, at least what they're saying now is much more realistic! Your studies don't even make sense."

"So, the date?" you ask him. "What–What was that about?"

He laughed. Laughed. "Obviously I'd take any excuse to spend time with you, love. Sure, you'd be disappointed that we didn't see anything, but I figured the night itself would've gone so well that it wouldn't have even mattered." He shrugged at the end of the words, clearly thinking that it was a given.

"I need you to leave," you told him slowly. You no longer had the energy to deal with a baseless argument. Surely you could get to him, just not then. "I need to be alone. Please."

And with that, he left.

Only a few text conversations were shared after your argument. Neither of you came forward to settle what had happened, talk it out.

Two months went by. Not seeing each other again, nor speaking in all the time that passed by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You look over your notes again, brows furrowed in concentration. Trying not to get distracted by the ticking of the clock, or your desk-neighbour sighing every few minutes, you scramble to find a sheet of paper you surely misplaced—because there's no way, no way that this is all you have. If it is....

Jake leans back in his chair and exhales loudly, and suddenly all hell breaks loose. "No way, no way..." you mumble over and over. "Shit! This can't be happening!"

He looks over at you in concern. You also start to hear the other scientists pushing back their own chairs, some turning around to look at what you're seeing. "Y/N? Everything okay?"

Wordlessly, or rather without any intelligible words shared, you turn your computer screen to his direction and hand him your papers.

Jake studies the notes quietly, looking up every once in a while to analyze the images and graphs from the screen to compare. Your hand instinctively comes up to your chest, trying to settle your heartbeat, if it's even possible. "Is this...." He doesn't finish. He understands.

You nod at him. Tears well up in your eyes.

"We'll send them up to Dr. Lee, and get his team to confirm everything," he eventually responds. His voice is clear, despite his own tears spilling. The other scientists come closer, leaning over Jake's shoulder, all reading until everyone is in the loop of what's going on—what's going to happen. He turns to them too. "In the meantime, we'll all go home. Spend time with your loved ones." It goes without saying that this is the last time everyone will be seeing each other.

Saying goodbye to the members of your research team is bittersweet, you learn.

Despite the pride you feel looking at them, considering everything you've learned and discovered together, it pulls at your heartstrings for it to come down to this. You almost wish you had never pursued this career path, wish you weren't even smart enough to come to these conclusions.

You hug Jake tightly at last. He's the one you've always been closest to, after all. "Thank you," he tells you, your face buried in his shoulder and finally letting the tears fall freely, since everyone else is gone. "For everything."

"You too," is all you say.

You hold onto each other for a few moments more when a pit forms in your stomach. Something different than the gnawing fear of knowing the end is near.

No, this is different.

Regret, you realize. Regret, with a mix of guilt.

You pull away from your coworker, a shaky smile on your lips that can't quite reach your eyes. "I have to go." And despite the ache of never seeing him again, you turn away from Jake for the last time and rush out of the building to your car.

As you're pulling out of the parking lot, soft melodies play from the speakers. You recognize the beat instantly.

My feet are aching and your back is pretty tired;

You resist the urge to pull to a stop and just let your eyes shut as you listen to the familiar tune. It'd be nice, but no. You know you have somewhere to be, and the radio coincidentally playing your—and his—song is only more proof that you need to do this.

And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe, and set our grief aside;

Driving down a road you've been through dozens of times brings up many old memories. You remember the first time Jay brought you to his parents' house, nervously fidgeting with your dress from the passenger's seat. He noticed immediately and placed his hand reassuringly on your thigh, risking taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet with your eyes and ask silently: "Are you okay?"

You told him you were just fine, and that wasn't a lie.

The papers say it's doomsday, the button has been pressed;

Your phone buzzes from the compartment. Sparing a glance, you notice an alert glaring back at you, probably something along the lines of "Take immediate cover. Do not go outside. Protect yourselves."

The radio cuts out, nearly at the same time. The same announcement rings in your ears, so you swiftly turn down the volume and lean back into your seat.

You look through your blind spot for clear roads, and press the pedal harder.

We're gonna nuke each other up, boys, till old Satan stands impressed;

The nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach ironically dissipate into a new wave of nostalgia instead as you pull onto the street, seeing the grand Park household in the distance.

Happy memories, although bittersweet, flood your mind, and you realize how grateful you are for having them.

At last, you make it to their driveway, relief washing over you when you see Jay's car parked right in front of yours. Clearly, he hasn't been staying at the apartment with you over the past couple months, so you just assumed he'd been staying at his parents' house during your time apart.

You know him well.

Walking up to the doorstep brings back a tremble to your limbs. You reach out with a shaky hand to the doorbell, ringing it once. Twice. And thrice—Like you always have.

It takes all but a moment for the door to open, when your eyes meet for the first time in forever.

"Y/N..."

And here it is, our final night alive;

It's been so long.

You could never forget what he looked like, not with his face still waking you up every morning on your phone screen. But still, seeing him in person again leaves you stunned.

"Hi." You hate the way your voice shakes on the syllable, but you conceal it with a nervous smile.

He doesn't look angry. If anything, he's surprised. Maybe even happy, if the way the corners of his mouth come up when you greet him says anything.

"Y/N," he repeats, disbelief leaking from his tone. "You're... here."

"I missed you," you say at the same time.

You share a quiet laugh before he steps aside and motions for you to come in. You follow him without hesitation.

Taking in his comfortably familiar scent that filters the air, you instinctively close your eyes when you make your way into the living room. You notice Jay doesn't sit down next to you on the couch immediately, so you awkwardly open one eye in a squint to find him standing across from you, with a small smile on his lips.

"What're you looking at?" you ask him with a teasing lilt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Have you checked the news?" Technically, you haven't either. But you know by now, from the announcement on your phone and the radio, it'll be all over every channel.

You watch Jay frown curiously and turn on the television. You're both welcomed with a pre-recorded video—as stated in the top right corner—of a newscaster anxiously fidgeting with her cue cards.

"—comet found and followed by a local research team associated with the Seoul National University is indeed heading toward Earth at a concerningly rapid rate." She pauses, looking over her notes and taking a breath. You can't imagine how it is to hear this news when you've been falsely led by the media for so long. "Park Entreprises have released a statement confirming their calculations."

You watch the colour drain from Jay's face.

"We have approximately seven hours before the asteroid collides with Earth, and causes severe to irreparable damage to the planet and all living organisms." A tear rolls down her cheek, she can no longer hold character. You notice the clip cut, before coming back, with the woman looking significantly more distraught; red in the face, tears staining her cheeks. "Please, everyone, spend this time with your loved ones. Stay safe. This has been Channel—"

Click. Jay shuts it off.

He stands in silence, staring at the blank screen. You watch him run his hand over his mouth anxiously, resisting the urge to get up and hold him.

"So... What—What does this mean?"

"The asteroid is much larger than we predicted, which means we gravely underestimated its speed." You keep your head down and voice low. You've been in this situation before and although you hate to admit it, you're afraid it won't be any different from the last time. "We thought we had at least another week before it came within radar, and with the size we had believed it was, it would've done damage, but nothing too extreme. We were wrong."

"And now we have roughly, what, seven hours before we..." He doesn't need to finish. You nod.

He runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" You think you misheard him.

Jay makes his way toward you, situating himself comfortably on the couch and turning to take your hands in his own. "I said some pretty messed up things that I no longer stand by. I should've let you talk, and I should've had the decency to listen and, at the very least, try to understand."

It's nice, you discern. Hearing what you've been wanting to hear for months. "Thank you," is all you can think to say because, well, what else is there to say?

"I think I've known that my dad's team was hiding something, or purposefully miscalculating, but I chose to ignore it," he admits. "I was scared. Fuck, I'm still scared."

"Understandably, there's a literal asteroid headed towards Earth!"

You both laugh in agreement.

"I know it's probably way too late to ask you this considering we won't be alive by tomorrow, but can we please spend these last hours together as a couple?"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend," you tease. "Again?"

"Yes, Y/N." He rolls his eyes, but he isn't annoyed. You feel your heart pull at its strings when you see the familiar smile spread across his face again, something you haven't seen in a long time. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course."

You spend the first few hours helping him out in the kitchen. Jay explains that he's been there all day preparing a big meal for the family, as a surprise because they hadn't spent much time together as of late. It's much clearer to him why.

Together, you make a mess of the place. Not much with Jay's help, no. He's always been the better cook of the relationship. Clearly everyone has their specialities. You—in astrophysics and having the balls in the relationship, and him in the kitchen and being utterly stupid sometimes.

"So, is your dad coming over?" You toss a grape into your mouth, sitting on the counter top after giving up on actually helping. "He probably has some kind of vendetta against me, or something. At least I do."

Jay gives you a look.

"What," you draw out exaggeratedly. "We're scientific enemies. It's textbook betrayal."

"No, he won't be," Jay assures you. "I was hoping to make a meal for him and Mom, but one of their messengers told me they were leaving for a business trip tonight. Looks like that isn't gonna end well."

You frown. "I'm sorry..."

He shrugs it off and waves his hand. "No, no, don't be. I think I'd flip at him if I saw him, and I'd rather not spend my last moments in a screaming match with my father." He quickly washes his hands in the sink before wiping them against his apron to dry them off. "Besides, I'm here with you, and that's all that matters."

If you let a smile escape you, that's for no one to know.

The oven makes a ding! which prompts you to hop off the counter, Jay swiftly catching your movement and letting you fall into his arms. You laugh as you notice his dirty hand hovering over your body to not touch your clothes.

"Do you want to help me plate this?"

As expected, the meal is delicious. Even the burnt edges caused by your excess lathering of butter were more than salvageable. It's nothing like a grand meal at a three Michelin star restaurant, but it's damn near close enough.

You furrow your brows as you take another bite—you can't help looking angry when the food tastes good!

Jay notices. "You like it?" he asks, but not genuinely. His smile hints that he already knows.

You simply hum in response.

The rest of the meal passes by in comfortable silence. Comfortable as either of you can be.

There's some tension in the air. A mix of fear, worry, maybe even curiosity.

How else are you meant to feel on your final night alive?

Once both your plates are cleared, Jay's quick to reach and grab the dishes. You follow him to the sink with whatever else he couldn't hold and help him wash them.

You watch him thoroughly scrub at a plate that's already spotless. You don't interrupt him.

In the meantime, you clear the table. Push the chairs. Rearrange the center piece. Even take out the broom and start sweeping the main floor.

You're not sure why. It's not like it really matters. All of this will be whipped out in a few hours.

A shiver runs down your back, and you decide that you're finished cleaning.

"You wanna watch a movie?"

You settle yourselves in his bed once the dishes are done. Jay toys around with the projector before turning back to you, his face twisting in an unserious grimace.

"Oh, right," he says pointedly. "I forgot you only started dating me for my projector."

"What can I say, the richer the man, the more attractive he is." Yet, even if he didn't have a dime to his name, you would still find Jay to be the most handsome man on this dying Earth. "Come here."

Normally, he'd probably tease you for your clinginess. He'd say something along the lines of your hands being covered in glue, or make a dumb joke about magnets.

Today, though, he doesn't hesitate for a second before diving under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

It feels good, but also makes reality set in.

He feels you let out a shaky breath. "It'll be okay, love," he whispers before placing a long kiss on top of your head.

The opening credits start to roll. You try to take note of all the actors you recognize, try to remember in what movies and series you've seen them in. It calms you down. Then your mind drifts, and you start to worry about what those actors might be doing right now.

Do they know the world is ending in less than four hours? Do they know that no matter where they hide, there's no way to protect themselves?

Jay runs a finger through your hair. Your thoughts hush.

As the camera pans to the main character wiping the back counter at the diner she works at, you look up at your boyfriend. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but you can tell he's not entirely paying attention either.

You shift your position to face him better, still lying comfortably on his arm. "Why didn't you go to culinary school?" The question's been on your mind since he told you about applying for business, but you never had the guts to ask him, already being able to guess the answer.

It's always been known that Jay loves to cook. He's always found experimenting, stepping outside of the box (or the cookbook) to try new things to suit his palette. It was one of the first things you two bonded over when you started dating way back then.

You remember the first time you went to his apartment. Already from the entrance, your senses were filled with the sweet smell of pastries and fresh meat. A combination that wasn't too shabby at all.

He'd been cooking and baking all afternoon, not sure what to focus on because he wasn't familiar with your preferences yet. "Just to be safe," he had specified.

Now, his brows furrowed in thought.

"It wouldn't have worked out," he says finally.

He lightly butts his head into yours. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"

Your eyes drift down from his eyes, to his lips, to the birthmark on his neck, to your hands fidgeting with the blanket. "This is really it," you whisper into the air.

"This really is it," Jay repeats.

To think, you had planned a night with your friends for this exact event. You'd be all gathered on the rooftop, set up on lawn chairs and the terrace sofas, with an abundance of snacks, music from your shared playlist, laughter and cheer filling the air as you all watch the sky, waiting for a star, that isn't really a star, to run through the blankness, just a little brighter than everything else.

And then you would go about your lives.

Heeseung and his girlfriend would celebrate their two year anniversary.

Maybe Jake would finally gain the courage to ask the barista out on a date.

Everyone would say goodbye to Sunghoon again as he'd head off on another skating tour—or whatever the athlete does.

Jay would eventually inherit his father's business. But out of everything, that would probably take the longest. Mr. Park wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. Clearly he was hoping so, too.

You.... You're not so sure about yourself.

After discovering one major comet, you'd move onto the next, you supposed.

People don't ever really stop discovering things about the universe. So much of the planet you live on has gone undiscovered, let alone the infinite plane of space and time.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the millions of things that will forever be left undiscovered, until another species comes to life and starts all the way from the beginning. You realize that maybe that's the point of it all; No one is ever meant to see the end of it.

Maybe it's the moments in between that matter the most.

So, you wrap your arm around Jay's waist a little tighter. You let the voices on the screen fade away as you take in his scent, the movement of his chest as he breathes in and out, and the soft way he strokes your hair.

You tell him I love you without words, hoping he hears it, and fall asleep before you can hear him say, "I love you too."

And as the Earth burns to the ground, it's you that I lie with—It's you I welcome death with.

[raven-dor]

close to you

in which fred weasley and his best friend are oblivious to each other's feelings

PAIRING: fred weasley ii x gryffindor!reader, fred weasley ii x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, obliviousness!!, arguing, misunderstanding, poor theodore nott jr

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

“Godric.” James groaned, holding his head between his hands. “They’ve been arguing for hours.” 

Roxanne laughed. “You think we’d be used to it by now.” She crossed her arms. “What are they arguing about this time?” 

James scoffed, leaning back into the plush Gryffindor common room couch. “Oh, you weren’t listening?” Roxanne shook her head. He smirked, sighing as if he was disappointed. “Allow me to enlighten you. Your darling brother brought up the fact that Ophelia Scamander was going alone to the Yule Ball.” 

“Alright?” 

“I’m almost certain he brought that up to get a reaction from Y/N.”

Roxanne laughed. “Is that what started this then?” 

James shook his head, thoroughly entertained that Roxanne hadn’t caught on yet. “What started this was that Y/N brought up she already had a date.” 

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.” 

“I wish I was. Your brother overreacted…” 

“Typical.” 

“Hence the argument we’ve been spectators to for roughly-” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.” 

“That’s it!” 

They looked over, surprised that steam wasn’t hissing from Y/N’s ears. Her voice was shrill, ringing through the otherwise empty common room. “Come find me when you become an adult.” She stormed off, her gaze fixed on the exit. 

Fred scoffed, yelling after her. “Jokes on you. I already am!” 

The portrait door slammed shut, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. James coughed. “Trouble in paradise?” 

Fred glared, plopping on the couch beside him. “Shut it, you.” 

Roxanne sighed. “Freddie, why do you think you were so upset about this?” 

“I assumed we were going together.”

James grinned. “And why’s that?” 

“I know where this is going, James. We’re best friends.” Fred almost looked dejected as he said it. “Nothing more.” 

Roxanne laughed. Godric, it was a miracle he survived day to day with how thick he could be. “Do you ever stop and think that perhaps the reason you and dear Y/N/N argue so often is because you fancy each other?”

“Rox…”

James sighed, looking at his cousin guiltily. “She’s not wrong, Fred.” 

Fred groaned. “Not you too.” He stood up, his hands on his hips. “I’m off to find Y/N.” 

“Have fun!”

“Bugger off, James!” 

The library was quieter than the Gryffindor Common Room, that much was evident. The majority of the student body could be found there at any time of day staring at textbooks, committing their information to memory. She smiled to herself, it was nice to have the solitude the library offered compared to the chaos her home brought contained. It almost made her laugh: Fred had no right to be that upset, but she couldn’t help but feel butterflies erupt in her stomach whenever he had an overprotective stint. He was gorgeous, anyone with eyes knew, the way his eyes lit up when he was passionate about something. And the fact he was so annoyed with her choice of date made her dare to think that-

“Y/N.” 

“Fredrick.” 

He sat down, carrying a look that mirrored that of a kicked puppy. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It wasn’t fair.” 

Ah. She felt disappointed. “That’s very… responsible of you.” 

“Do you, do you have anything to say?” 

“Do I?” She scoffed, setting down her quill to see if he was being serious. “Am I supposed to be apologizing as well?” 

He sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just-” 

“What?” She snapped. “What did you just-” 

“I can’t stand you being mad at me.” He hissed. “I know it’s my fault, love.” He reached out, holding her hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. “You’re my best friend, and we can’t be mad at each other forever.” 

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown on her face. Why had he always felt the need to break her heart? “I don’t know what gave you the impression I was mad at you Fred.” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” He laughed. “The fact that you stormed off and have been avoiding eye contact this entire conversation.”

She stuck her tongue out. “You’re my best friend too. And trust me, I could never be mad at you.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Have you found a dress yet?” 

She shook her head. “I haven’t, actually. Would you want to come along? Roxie already got hers, and the rest of the girls had them shipped in.” 

“Sounds like you've already planned my Saturday.” 

She shoved his arm, glaring. “Oh, because you had such compelling plans.” 

“Godric, woman, stop pulling me,” Fred whined.

She rolled her eyes, pushing open the door of Gladrags. “Would you rather have frozen? Really, you should be thanking me.” She let go of his hand to remove her coat, and Fred almost outwardly whined from the loss of touch. “It’s not my fault you walk slower than a flobberworm.” 

They strolled through the aisles, and every so often Y/N handed Fred a dress to hold. “Are you excited?” 

“To watch you play dress up for two hours?” He smiled sarcastically. “Ecstatic.” 

“Guard my room will you.” She yelled through the curtain. “Do you swear?”

He nodded, smiling to himself. “I solemnly swear.”  

She rolled her eyes, laughing to herself. “Is that a reference to that stupid map?” 

“Love, they’re all starting to look the same.” 

Y/N glared, visibly defeated by the many hours of trying on dress after dress after dress. “If I knew you would be so unhelpful I wouldn’t have brought you.” 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.” 

Fred stood up, and she naturally followed after him. “You need something different. Not something you find at first glance.” She smacked his arm, obviously taking offense. “I wasn’t saying you have bad taste, I’m just-” Her eyebrow raised impatiently. “Getting to the point.” He stopped, pulling out the most stunning dress she’d ever seen in her life. “I know that I don’t have the best taste-” 

“It’s perfect.” She squealed, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re perfect.” 

He laughed, handing her the dress. “Go on, then.” 

She ran to the dressing rooms. The dress he'd picked was white, with (what looked like) a thousand layers of tule, all coming to an end at an empire waistline. Jewels had been expertly sewn in, and as she looked closer, she realized they were snowflakes.

The back would prove to be an issue, she thought as she closed the curtain. She could lace most of it herself, but- Godric, she would need someone else to help her. “Fred.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything alright, love?” 

She took a deep breath. “I need your help.” 

“With?” His voice sounded tight. 

“I can’t-” She huffed, picked up the front of the dress, and walked out of the dressing room. “The lacing...” Fred stared, and her heart skipped a beat, there was that look again. “Stop looking at me like that.” He stepped forward, whispering gently.

“Turn around.” 

“Excuse me?” She tilted her head. 

“The lacing.” He reminded her why she'd even called for his help. “Turn around.” 

She obliged, smiling to herself as his fingers grazed her back. “You picked the perfect dress, Freddie.” 

His cheeks felt like they were on fire, tightening the laces once more before tying a bow. “It’s nothing…” She turned around, and he realized how serious this moment really was. “You know, you look like the moon itself.”

She laughed, actually laughed. He almost glared, here he was complimenting her, and she laughed at him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you looked so serious when you said it.” 

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping on his face. “Well, remind me to never compliment you again.” 

“No!” She begged. “Please, don’t.” 

“Fine, fine.” Somehow his arm had found its way around her waist, and time seemed to stand still. It felt natural almost, like her waist had been made for his arm to be draped around it. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“What are we doing? This is-” 

“Y/N." He swallowed, his mouth felt dry. "I need to kiss you now. Is that- okay?” 

She nodded, her eyelids lulling in anticipation. “Yes.” 

“I- I’m going to-” 

“Fred, just kiss me!” Her voice was ruder than she intended, her eyes widening. “Sorry, I-” 

“I don’t think we should.” He whispered. “It would only-” 

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she felt like she could die right there. Her voice broke as she spoke. “Can you undo the laces please?” 

He nodded. “I’m sorry-” 

“Fred, just do it.” Her voice was harsh, and his fingers fumbled with the strings. “Don’t apologize to me. We both wanted to, just…” The dress was loose, and she crossed her arms, barely holding it up as she turned around. Her eyes were glassy, and Fred had never felt this guilty in her life. Tears were steadily streaming down her face. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I-”

“Promise me!”

“I promise.” 

She shoved past him, pulling the curtain shut. “I think you should leave.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Fred, go away.” 

Her tone dripped with venom. He’d never heard her sound that betrayed, more angry, and it made him want to stay even more, to help her and make up for his cowardice. “Love, let me-” 

“Just stop!” She screamed. “I think it’s best if we take a break.” 

“A break?” His voice sounded nervous. Good, she wanted him to squirm like she just had. “From what?” 

“Whatever this is Fred. I’m tired of it. You- You coward.” She walked out of the dressing room, glaring at her best friend. “I have feelings for you and I can’t- I can’t be around you like this. So please just don’t talk to me.” 

She stormed out of the shop, leaving Fred alone with his thoughts. He was empty, he realized. It was stupid: honestly, the most foolish thing he’d ever done, backing out of something he knew he'd wanted to do for ages.

She was right, he was a coward. How many, he asked himself, could stand in the face of perfection itself and not crumble? He pushed open the curtain, frowning at the dress that had been thrown on the ground. 

“Excuse me?” He stood up, turning around to see an older witch looking at him with blatant concern. “Is everything alright, dear?” 

“I’d-” He took a deep breath, folding the dress delicately. “I’d like to buy this dress please.” 

The older witch nodded, leading him to the register. “She’s very lucky.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.” 

“Y/N!” Roxanne called out from the bottom of the stairs. “There’s a package for you.” 

Her mother wasn’t due to send her a care package for another week. Her eyebrows furrowed as she climbed out of bed. She’d wanted to sleep as long as she could before getting ready for the ball, but the universe had other plans for her. “Who’s it from?” 

Roxanne shrugged. “Don't know.” 

Y/N laughed. “A lot of help you are. There’s no note?” 

She shook her head. “It’s a pretty big box.” 

Y/N nodded. “Thanks, Rox.” 

“Can I-” Roxanne smiled. “Can I come with you?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows, racing up the stairs, with Roxanne hot on her tail. They jumped onto Y/N’s bed, ripping the box open eagerly. 

“A note!” Roxanne grinned. “Any idea who could be your secret admirer?” 

“Not a clue.” She was lying through her teeth of course, but she couldn’t tell Roxanne this secret. This one had to be just for her and Fred. Taking the note from her friend's hand, she carefully opened it, her cheeks flushing at its words. 

“You were right?” Roxanne murmured. Y/N turned around, glaring. “Sorry. It’s just so interesting.” She pulled the dress out of the box, smiling softly. “It’s a beautiful dress.” 

“It is.” Y/N stood up, holding it against herself as she looked in the mirror. “It really is.” 

“I’ll see you down there, yeah?” Roxanne squeezed her hand. “You look radiant, truly.” 

“Thanks, Rox.” Y/N squeezed back, taking a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.” 

It was a few moments later before she felt brave enough to walk down the grand stone steps. She could hardly breathe, and wearing this dress- Merlin, she hoped tonight was perfect. She rounded the corner, gripping the railing with all of her strength. The crowd at the bottom of the stairs hadn’t turned around in awe, which did wonders for her nerves. She would have hated for people to fuss over her. 

What had made her nervous was the fact that ever since she’d stepped out from behind the corner, Fred had been staring at her so intensely, that she thought she would burst into flames.

Behind Fred, was her date, Theodore Nott. Much like his father, he was stoic and knew what he wanted. When he’d asked her, she thought it had been a joke. But he'd proven to be a kind man underneath it all, and she knew she would have a nice time with him.

Now, she was dreading seeing his face; there was no way that he'd see past her evident feelings for her best friend.

When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, they was practically standing face to face. Her heart lept, frozen in time. Fred was just standing there, staring at her as intently as before. She quickly stepped around him, making her way to Theo before she would do something she'd regret. 

Her date was rather cheery, which made her cheery as well. He bowed, taking her hand and kissing the back gently. “Your beauty rivals that of a veela, Y/L/N.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She grinned, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss his cheek. “But thank you.” 

He smiled, extending his arm. “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” 

“She looks perfect,” Fred murmured, watching her walk into the ballroom. 

Roxanne nodded. “She does.” 

“I’m an idiot, Rox.” 

The girl smiled. “We all make mistakes, Freddie.” 

“I should’ve kissed her.” He whispered so quietly she almost hadn’t heard him. “Has she-” 

She shook her head, and Fred laughed. “How did you know?"

“She’s my best friend, and you're my brother. I know you two better than I know anyone." She smiled, hooking her arm through his. "I knew something was wrong the minute she came back without you."

“I love her.” He practically whined. “Do you know what it feels like to not be with the person you love?” 

She shook her head once more. “I don't. But I can imagine that it’s painful, and it hurts. But then you realize that you would go through it all again…” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Just for the chance to be with them.” 

“Are you having a good time?” Theo felt helpless as he watched his date stare at another man. “I’m sorry if I-” 

“What?” She shook her head. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Are you having a good time?” 

“I should ask you that.” She frowned. Theodore hated it when she frowned, she was too beautiful for that. “I haven’t been a proper Yule Ball date.” 

He smiled, murmuring to himself. “I should have known.”

“I’m sorry?” Her heart stopped. 

“I never should have asked you.” 

“I’m confused.”

“Well, it’s obvious you wanted Weasley to ask you. Right?”

“I-” She looked out at the dance floor, smiling faintly at his horrible dancing. “Unfortunately.” 

He nodded, standing up. “You won’t mind if I-” 

She shook her head,  “I’m really sorry, Teddy.” 

He laughed. “You’re the only person that calls me Teddy.”

“Go talk to her.” Roxanne nudged her brother. “If you keep staring at her from across the room she’s going to think you’re obsessed with her.” 

“I am.” He corrected. “Obsessed with her.” He looked back, tilting his head. “You think I should?” 

“Freddie…” James groaned. “Go talk to her before I do. I’m getting sick of this back and forth. OW!” 

Fred looked over, laughing as Roxanne smacked their cousin over the head. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. Just stop fighting.”

“She’s waiting for you.” Fred tensed at the familiar voice. “Nott.” 

“Weasley,” Theodore responded. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t hurt her.” 

“What are you-” 

The Slytherin’s eyes looked dark, and a chill ran down his spine. Theodore stepped forward, whispering. “Swear it, Weasley.” 

“I swear.”

Theo smiled, not bothering to address Fred any longer, and waved goodbye to the two spectators. “Roxanne, Potter.” 

James glared at their peer as he walked away. “What an odd bloke.” 

She looked radiant. The wind elegantly blew what hair had fallen out of her updo. She looked straight out of that muggle film she’d forced him to watch.

The dress was glowing in the moonlight, she looked like pure magic, but he knew there was no way she wasn’t cold. She always had a shiver, even if it was bright and humid outside. He shrugged his suit jacket off, walking beside her and draping it over her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Freddie.” 

Merlin, her voice was like music to his ears. “Anytime, love.” 

She hadn’t bothered to look over, and it brought comfort to him that she knew it was him without looking. He took a side step closer to her, whispering so that only they could hear. “You wore the dress.” 

She nodded. “You have great taste.” 

“I do, don’t I?” She rolled her eyes, finally looking at him, and he smiled, even if her look was a glare. He held his hands up in surrender, which seemed to be a common theme between them. “All jokes, love.” 

“Did I-” She sighed, turning toward him. “Did I read it wrong?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“And if I want to kiss you again-” 

He lunged forward, he couldn’t help himself any longer. He was a coward then, but Godric help him if he was a coward now. Their lips were still touching when he spoke next. “I love you.”

Her eyes were teary. “Fred…” 

“I know you love me too.” He smiled, kissing her again lightly. “In my soul, I know it.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled it up to his chest, placing it directly over his thumping heart. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I’m sorry that I ignored it, but I’m here now, and I-” He grinned, kissing her again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

“Yeah?” He nudged his nose against hers. “You do know you’re stuck with me, right?” 

“Freddie…” She laughed. “We've been stuck together for eighteen years. The chance to lose me has passed."

"I have never..." He whispered. "And will never want to lose you."

Her heart fluttered, caressing his cheek gently. “It’s snowing.”

He nodded, placing his arm around her waist, swaying back and forth. “It is.”

She giggled. “My, you’re smooth.”

“I pride myself on my charm.” He whispered, leaning down.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “As you should.”

He smiled, their lips barely touching. “You know, you really do look like the moon.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

[roseofcards90]

this is super random, but did you notice that gekkabijin didn't appear at all in coquelic's flashback/vision(??) of the garden in flora unfurl?

this paired with the fact that gekka technically failed the garden admission test but was let in (for whatever reason i gen forgot 😭) ... do you think that coq doesn't see her as a member of the garden? or gekka doesn't see herself as one? or maybe both???

OH!!! This is so interesting actually, I ended up looking into it because I was also confused on Gekka’s Garden status 😭

I think long story short, she is still considered a member of the Garden (to Coq and the others) while Gekka seems to see herself as a member but she doesn't think she's strong enough to be??? Let me try and explain.

Shown here in Gekka's arrest records, we do know she was defeated by Sumire in the test, but she was still allowed to join the Garden. That would make her a member:

Gekka herself still has her personal goal of trying to become the "number one assassin". She doesn't want to be weak, so she's trying to improve herself and train. Despite being accepted as a member, they think she is still not worthy of joining. Gekka was also the one who chose her own name, not the mentor/Coquelic:

Because of what she says here, it seems like she doesn't really view herself as a "true" member? And that's why she keeps training, why her wish is to be stronger and become a worthy member. Despite this though, she's looped in with the other Garden members in Coquelic's interrogation. She's clearly close with them and treated as a member there.

In Glitchwave Nihil, she is the only member to not become a stand in the real world, and she even remarks on this in the messages you get during the event. She's sad that she was the only one left behind 😭 this seems to suggest that at the very least, she sees herself as a member but still thinks she isn't strong enough.

Because of her voice lines and her ECB text, we also know that the mentor looked down on Gekka while she was there. This is one of the major reasons why Gekka continues to train and why she also doesn't think she's strong enough for the Garden:

"So piteously weak that I don't even want to bother killing you."

The mentor's attitude we see here is noteworthy because it's pretty unclear who the mentor is here (something that the sin website also takes note of). This could be the previous mentor, or it could be Coquelic. I am heavily leaning towards this person being Coquelic, only because that harshness (which often masks the concern she has for her flowers) as a mentor is a trait she's shown to have before in Sumire's interrogation and in general (idk if you've played through Sumire's interro but basically Coq is very harsh there with her because she doesn't want the Chief to betray Sumire and have her get hurt). I don't think it's that farfetched to say this was Coquelic trying to protect Gekka because she wasn't ready to be a full on member yet.

In short, I think Gekka ultimately sees herself as a member, but she is still in the whole "I need to be stronger" mindset so that's probably she seems a bit more distant than the others.

What about Coquelic though?

I also think Coquelic and the others see her as a member, despite her lack of a presence in Flora Unfurl. A lot of this is evident in Coquelic's interrogation, where she is treated as one of them.

Coquelic mentions her along with Sumire, the other Garden member at the bureau at the time when she is trying to get captured by the MBCC:

And she is included with them again when Coq talks about each of her flowers and their wishes. The one for her and Gekka is interesting because it seems to suggest that Coq was the mentor who looked down upon Gekka before (although it could still be the previous mentor who did this tbh. That part is unlcear, but I think it would make sense given Coq's tough love attitude and their relationship)

I'm not exactly sure why Gekka isn't really shown in Coq's vision (assuming you mean this image) but it could just be because she wasn't involved in the Rain Burst/Flora Unfurl story line, so that's why she's not present in this 😭 (kinda sucks that she's being left out yeah but I'm glad they still have her in the interro)

We know that despite not being shown there, she is still included here in Coquelic's interrogation, which definitely suggests to me that she is a member of the Garden to Coquelic and the others.

Also it’s funny that you mention that scene from Flora Unfurl because I also wondered why Gekka wasn’t shown there when I first went through the event fkdjndfj what's even more funny is that in Coquelic’s interro, another similar scene shows up except Thistle is the one not included this time LMAO:

But I think the reason why Thistle isn't here (and also why she doesn’t show up in Coq’s interro like the others and only in a flashback) is probably because they didn’t want to show her new design yet 💀 since Thistle's interrogation takes place before Coq wakes up (and she's in her new outfit there), it's not like they could've shown her here lmao since she released as a playable character after Chapter 13, and Coquelic's interro released way before then (despite the story itself taking place after Chapter 13).

Still mentioned tho!!! Also iirc in Thistle's interro, Coq only began to wake up when all the members of the Garden were present there, another nod to Gekka being considered a member to her!

TLDR: THEY ARE ALL ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY, COQ IS JUST A GRUMPY OLD GRANDMA ABOUT IT KDJSNDFKJKFD

[vidavalor]

Continued TW from the original post: mention of rape.

I don't think there's anything-- food, in particular lol-- that they can't make into some form of wordplay. Not all of it related to the dark stuff mentioned in the earlier posts, though. The Brassicaceae plant family is pretty large but there are a few sub-categories of it. Those categories explain why the turnip is different from the other plants/foods you mentioned and why it was the one in the "the turnip and the inkwell" metaphor.

Broccoli, kale, cauliflower, collard greens, etc. are all part of a group called brassica oleracea. It's under the overall umbrella of Brassicaceae but they are more like cousins to the category of brassica rapa, which is the one being referenced in the story for the etymology related to rapa/rape/the turnip.

The category is called brassica rapa because the word rape actually derives from rapa and rapum, which were the Latin names for the turnip. The turnip was actually called rape for a very long time. That's really the heart of why it's specifically the turnip that Aziraphale is turning into an inkwell in the metaphor here.

The plants in brassica rapa include the turnip, bok choy, rapini, komatsuna (a type of spinach), and napa and spring cabbage/bomdong, as well as a couple of other, lesser-known plants. So, the most historically common and frequently grown thing in the category is still the turnip. The category overlaps slightly with brassica napa-- as you can see through the napa cabbage weirdly showing up in the rapa category-- as a result of some confusing word evolution of rapa/napa over time.

Even though the turnip/the rape form the core of the rapa category, rapeseed oil is often made with some brassica napa plants as well. At one point in history, one version of rapeseed oil was apparently called bird's rape. It's a bit unclear as to why but considering all the bird-related stuff in GO, I thought it was worth a mention.

It's relatively easy to avoid turnips in the modern era but I'm sure they'd want to eat broccoli and other non-rapa members of the Brassicaceae family. They're English-- they love a good mustard. (Well, this American does, too, lol but...) Pairs especially well with deli meats and they be carnivorous on several different levels. 😉

You brought up mustard... Mustard comes from the word must (from the Latin mustum), which refers to must not in the sense of something that has to occur or be done but in the sense of a funky smell. Not really "I must get through my to-do list!", more like "what is this musty smell in the basement?" How that word came to describe the utter joy that is the condiment of mustard? Apparently, a bit of culinary history mixed in here...

Must originally meant a funky smell but, also, unfermented grape juice. Yeah, interestingly enough, the mustard you brought up actually ties straight into one of the other examples from the first post-- grapes. Why unfermented grape juice?

Grapes were usually smashed up as part of the early stages of winemaking, as they still are today, and the product of that-- the liquid made from pressed grapes-- is/was known as grape must. Back in the day, most mustards used to be made at least partially with grapes, and some still are today. There's a French mustard called Moutarde Violette that is still made like this-- it's basically grape must, mustard seeds, spices, and red wine, usually.

Mustard evolved from a combination of the Old & New French mostarde/moutarde, meaning the mustard plant, and the Latin mustum, meaning the shortened version of what it evolved to mean: grape must/new wine. So, that'd seem likely to put all mustards in the same camp as grapes and crepes in their food-adjacent wordplay. Mustard is a good thing. There's also the element of fermentation-- lack of it, in this case, which doesn't really matter. Fermentation overlaps with alcohol and fish, like sushi, gravlax, etc., as I was musing about um hang on *searches own blog lol ah ha!* over here.

One more thing about turnips... there's also something that feels relevant because of a couple of scenes, which is that, for the last couple hundred years, turnips have largely been grown as food for animals. Humans still eat them obviously but the vast majority of turnips still grown on the planet are being used to feed cattle. There are two scenes related to the topic at hand that are loosely referencing that a bit by using words that connect food and animals with the context of the scenes being related to metaphorical turnips.

One is Hastur's homophonic confusion of mixing up Crowley's use of ciao with chow. While chow can be used as slang for humans having a quick, informal bite, it is that off of being a word meaning food for animals. So, Crowley said "ciao"-- said "goodbye" in Italian-- but Hastur ironically heard and foreshadowed what Crowley then became alongside the Italian in "Bohemian Rhapsody" a few moments later-- food for an animal.

The other scene like this is 1793, when, prior to all its dialogue about crepes and brioche and all that food, Aziraphale gets away from Jean-Claude touching him and calls him an "animal", just as Crowley shows up.

Crowley says: "Animals don't kill one another with clever machines, angel. Only humans do that." Clever derives from to cleave-- it's an etymological pun on what the guillotine does... which is to kill someone by separating their heads from their bodies, right? As Jean-Claude went into in disturbing detail earlier in the scene?

So, there's the parallel between Jean-Claude the rapey executioner with an appetite for sexual assault and literally cutting people's heads off and with what this situation triggered for Crowley.

Non-consensual possession is Satan cutting off Crowley's head from his body, in the sense that Crowley loses control over it, and the aftermath of it can/has/periodically does cause a different kind of parallel separation--the previously discussed mind/body disconnect.

What do you think is happening in the scene when Crowley falls to the ground in pain in Tadfield?! I find your thoughts about Satan and Crowley really interesting and sorry if you've already mentioned it but I think I've gobbled up all your metas on the subject and didn't see it. Thank you 🤗

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & asking. I have an assortment of Christmas cookies to share. *gets the plates* Sugar feels extra necessary for Satan-related Crowley meta...

Let's talk about that 1.06 scene you mentioned where Crowley is dragged to the ground by Satan in Tadfield, what it has to do with a motif throughout both seasons around a thing known as proskynesis, and how all of that is relevant to The Final 15 in S2.

TW: rape (mentions of the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory).

Note: Themes of bodily autonomy and its relationship to freedom overlap between Good Omens and Terry Pratchett's Discworld and that's the main reason why some of us are still here, not giving up on this rare, A+++ survivor story, despite also wanting to hurl a certain, other person once involved with it into an active volcano. Considering the topic, I felt the need to just mention that at the start.

Sooo... let's talk about what the scene in your ask has to do with a bunch of other ones, including that scene in The Final 15...

Good Omens has a few scenes that are dealing with a thing known as proskynesis. If you're unfamiliar with this, it's a word describing rituals of reverence and worship in royal courts, as formed originally in various parts of the ancient world, like Persia, Greece, and Rome, as well as rituals involving religious worship across many different religions.

Aspects of proskynesis exist into the present in different ways in different cultures. For societies that are monarchies, proskynesis is at the root of rituals regarding how subjects in those societies address royalty. Everything from kissing the ring of high-ranking clergy in some churches to doing the same with some mafia leaders has historical ties to this. Things like bowing and curtsying customs in Victorian England can also be rooted back to proskynesis.

There are also elements of it in everyday manners and customs in societies that you wouldn't think would have any connection in the modern world to things like this. In many democracies, for instance, as in many other countries of the world, the custom of getting down on one knee to propose marriage is actually rooted in proskynesis, even if the partnership is (hopefully) more equal in today's societies.

The Japanese, who have an intricate system of bowing as part of the social expectations of their society, are a great example of how proskynesis elements have evolved to not necessarily be related to royalty or religious worship but also form the roots of manners between people throughout all classes of a society.

The rules of proskynesis in a society or a religious group varied in details a bit between cultures but has always had the same, general, wide gap between different types of actions.

As a general rule, there's a polite head bob of a bow on one end of the spectrum of proskynesis, with different bows then getting progressively lower and more intense, until we're closer to the other, more extreme end of the spectrum. That end involves kneeling at the feet of the king or in worship of a deity. The absolute, opposite end of that spectrum from that polite, head nod/bob of a bow is fully prostrating, which is lying fully on the ground, and what of this is tied to the scene in your ask, as we'll look at here.

The sketch below is a good, simple visual of what I mean:

[User: Arseni on Wikipedia]

What's interesting to note here is that when you look at the above sketch and see different movements in it that are associated with different religions, these things came to those religions by first being associated with the royal court of ancient Persia and then being adopted, in part, into Greece and Rome. What physical worshipping in a religious way looks like to this day was adopted into different religions from how humans were showing deference to other humans as royalty.

One, big debate in Christianity is actually what kind of proskynesis was given to Jesus. The word is found in The New Testament but Jesus is the perfect example of the blurred lines here between venerating a human being and treating one like a god.

There are different levels of proskynesis for religious figures, with saints and the like being ok to venerate but proskynesis involving full worship supposed to remain only for God. What kind of treatment Jesus received or should have received and what he thought about it is a matter of debate. Is he a carpenter or is he a king of kings, right? Is he human or is he supernatural... or is he both?

Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this, too, but what they wind up doing is not technically proskynesis but it's arguably a lot better. They bear witness to Jesus' suffering and murder. They show him empathy and respect. The scene we see shows them talking about him a bit, as two people might do at any wake or funeral or the like for ages to come.

When it came to royalty, what kind of proskynesis you would perform would be dependent in different courts on your rank and your relationship to the king. You might be expected to grovel with some really low bows if you were of low rank or to have a more modest bow or to kiss the king, if you were of higher rank. The lower ranked people were expected to go lower in their bows and do more work with all of this, in order for even the chance of being recognized by the king or another high-ranked royal.

When Crowley mocks Beez, addressing them formally as Lord Beezlebub, he does a formal bow, complete with the proper foot positioning-- you can see him step into it from how his hips move. He bows almost to the waist, complete with flourishing hand gestures that are showing mock-fealty and deference to the Grand Duke of Hell by sarcastically treating them as if they were a king.

This scene which, as we'll see, is related to the one in your ask, is only one example of a couple of Crowley sassing the fuck out of someone, specifically by using proskynesis. It also adds to the chilling nature of the scene in your ask by having occurred just a matter of moments prior.

Beez lets it pass entirely because they're really only Lord Beezlebub in an attempt to project power enough to try to survive Hell. Their title is more about self-protection than it is about an expectation of deference-- which is something that Crowley also knows and is at the heart of the mockery.

Like Aziraphale, with his respectful bowing to his friend in gratitude for the sushi in 1.01, Crowley has no issue with a polite, non-religious, non-royal version of proskynesis. If worshipping the humans is wrong, Crowley and Aziraphale don't wanna be right. They don't revere individual humans as kings or gods but they do revere humanity itself as a whole in that way. They show polite respect to those sharing that with them or educating them in it.

They also do that with one another. Crowley's soft, polite nod of a bow to Aziraphale when they meet in Eden is gentlemanly. It's respectful but not in a way that isn't just treating Aziraphale as an equal. Nina gets a similar treatment when they meet in S2.

Crowley still does something similar into the modern era with Aziraphale-- note the little nod/bow when Aziraphale accepts his lunch invitation in S1.

This is all very much on the egalitarian end of proskynesis; it's in where it basically formed parts of the foundation of gestures related to having good manners in different societies. It's respect and acknowledgement between people who view and treat one another as equals, as is the case with Crowley and Aziraphale.

Their relationship is one that is built around equality, free choice, and consent. Therefore, when Crowley apologizes in S2 in another scene that is related to the one in your ask by being an intentional, totally opposite contrast to it, Aziraphale can barely contain his laughter at Crowley's mock-submissive dance. The dance, in many ways, is really a satire of proskynesis.

Crowley is doing this "yes, my king" dance for Aziraphale with tongue firmly in cheek. The dance is poking fun at the difference between general submissiveness, which Crowley loathes and likes to mock, and voluntary sexual submission with one another, which different scenes have shown us that they both periodically enjoy as some light fun from time to time.

Aziraphale is desperately trying not to laugh long enough to reply with equal humor in his dry, self-aware, soft dom voice. He can't resist smiling a bit and mimes a kiss at Crowley-- seeing Crowley's droll mocking of proskynesis-- which is etymologically linked to words related to kissing and which can involve it in different stages-- and replying by bestowing upon Crowley a kiss.

Aziraphale is intentionally doing something that isn't really the result of proskynesis when in the royal circles that Crowley is referencing with The Apology Dance. The subject is meant to seek the king's favor and would be the one, if ranked high enough to warrant such a relationship with royalty, who would kiss the king-- not the other way around. By miming a kiss at Crowley, Aziraphale is meeting Crowley's mocking of inequitable aspects of proskynesis with some mocking of his own by being miming a kiss at Crowley, who is his equal and partner.

There's also a droll joke in there where the only royal subject of a king who could reasonably have expected a kiss from the king, if maybe not always in a public setting, was the king's queen. So, Crowley's whole mocking Apology Dance has a joking, "yes, my king" vibe to it and Aziraphale's response is to show equal humor towards and affection for the person who is-- in all senses of the word-- his queen.

The end of Crowley's dance is a combination curtsy and what's known as a bow-and-scrape-- the thing from which the phrase "to bow and scrape" comes. The scrape is the movement of the foot behind a person across the floor, done to be able to go lower to the floor on the bow.

To "bow and scrape" was to basically grovel in this really overly demonstrative way for favor with the king, in the hopes that he'd be impressed by your humiliating submission enough to bestow favor upon you. The phrase now refers to doing a large amount of work or groveling to someone in a position in authority, usually with the suggested reward likely not forthcoming.

The second word in the phrase-- scrape-- also contains the word for the thing Crowley has survived at the hands of that fucking monster, Satan, who lives for the demons to bow and scrape for his favor. That's intentional on Crowley's part-- the end of this apology dance is also a visual pun on the word scrape, which contains the word rape, and this while he's doing this mocking dance that is a perfect example of how completely different and very healthy his relationship with Aziraphale is by how he is free to be this hilarious, sassy shit with his partner versus the forced subjugation by his assailant.

You might think that wordplay-- visual or otherwise-- involving the word rape is a bit dark. I won't disagree with that but I just want to briefly show you other examples of it that I've noticed so you can see what they're showing as the rationale for it between Crowley and Aziraphale. It's actually more of an empowering thing when you see other examples of it that are in other scenes.

Crowley and Aziraphale's cant vocabulary-- their invented hidden language-- uses a lot of words-within-words, just like how rape lives within scrape. If you consider that, you might also notice a couple of foods that recur in Good Omens that also are related to this. In Crowley and Aziraphale's language and in their life together, food is food but food is also figurative language for sex. Their healthy relationship and all the food and sex that is part of their life together is their answer to the traumas they've both suffered.

It's sensual, mindful living that focuses on healthier, positive experiences that help them to provide one another with a quality of life that the pain of Heaven and Hell does not. As a result, some frequently mentioned food and drink is held up between them as examples of the loving, enjoyable, pleasurable relationship with one another that they have that stands in contrast to Heaven and, especially, Hell.

Crowley enjoys wine, right? Which is made from? Grapes, as Aziraphale orders in 1601...

The opposite of the rape-related issues that Aziraphale unintentionally triggered in Crowley in 1793, for example, is what he then offers him for lunch-- both figurative and euphemistic crepes.

Not coincidentally, that's also what Aziraphale suggested the day after Crowley was assaulted by Satan on the night Armageddon began-- the crepes of Paris, 1793-- and Crowley, as we could see, was all for it:

Another covert reference to this is Aziraphale's magic trick of changing a turnip into an inkwell. It's a metaphor on a couple of different levels but one of them is that the word rape overlaps with a type of plant that is also called that and is the category name for a group of plants and vegetables, the most famous of which is the turnip.

Turnips are also a pretty clever food metaphor for rape. They have been in existence for forever and are, horrifyingly, really common, but no one-- no one lol-- has ever really wanted to eat a turnip. They're not a terribly appealing food and I would wager that if you lined up every person on the planet and asked them to name a delicious food no one-- at all-- would say the turnip.

So, adding that into the etymology of the vegetable being tied to the word rape, then turning "the common turnip" into "an inkwell"-- when sea creatures, like octopi, are often sources of ink, and 'well' meaning both healthy and a flowing source of liquid? It's Aziraphale making a magic trick that is a metaphor for him helping Crowley heal from the rape-related inorgasmia referenced subtly in a few, other scenes, and which is the subject of the Fish meta, if you're interested in that.

Anyway, the healthy, humorous, proskynesis-mocking apology dance is one of the scenes that serves as a direct contrast to the scene in your ask where Crowley is forced to the ground by Satan in Tadfield. That scene involves the other, more extreme end of proskynesis, which is number 6 on the sketch near the start of the meta: prostration.

To be clear: how people want to worship in any way, if they do, is no one's business, so long as it's not harming anyone else. There's nothing inherently wrong with any of this if it's of someone's free will. The scene in your ask, though, doesn't involve free choice, it involves forced subjugation, which is from where the horror of it comes.

Prostration involves lying flat and face down on the ground with your arms outstretched. It involves kissing the feet of the king or the ground that you believe belongs to the deity you're worshipping.

Prostration is complete submission. It's basically a rejection of any sense of self in full deference to the king or the deity.

In Hell, all the demons are seen as belonging to Satan. Several of them, like Hastur and Shax, refer to Satan as "our Master." They are all seen as Satan's subjects and his property-- all known as a collective referred to by Hastur in S1 as The Fallen, as we also looked at in relation to Aziraphale being Mr. Fell in this meta.

In Heaven and Hell's view, The Fallen do not belong to themselves but to Satan. Crowley's sense of autonomy and his relationship with Aziraphale are secrets he keeps because of how they conflict with Hell, where he's not supposed to have any other desire but to live to serve his rapist, who believes that he owns him.

All of Crowley's mocking of anything more than a polite nod when it comes to proskynesis is more than just being generally anti-royalty and anti-authority. The root cause of all of it is Satan.

In the scene in Tadfield, Satan is forcing Crowley to first kneel and, then, to prostrate, before him.

When Crowley clutches one hand to his chest and uses his other hand under him to keep himself an inch or two above ground, he's doing so in an effort to resist fully prostrating.

He's trying to keep his hands from being pulled out in front of him and to keep up enough to keep his lips from kissing the ground in forced subjugation to Satan.

This is probably the darkest scene in the show-- even darker, maybe, than 1.01's scene of Satan attacking Crowley in The Bentley-- because this is a whole new level of horror here. Crowley is shaking with the pain of fighting for enough control over himself to keep from prostrating any more than he is being forced to. This is happening with other people present-- including Aziraphale and kids, including Satan's own kid-- with the obvious humiliation factor being part of the attack.

Unlike in 1.01, when Satan took complete control of Crowley to a point that he couldn't speak, he's left him that ability in this scene, getting off on hearing Crowley protest. This scene shocks because the 1.01 scene of Satan attacking Crowley, and subsequent scenes reinforcing the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory throughout the story, lead the viewer to believe that this is how it will always be referred to in the story. It lulls us into a sense of complacency where we think we know what the show will do, which has the desired effect of making this scene, in which they shift that tone pretty dramatically, all the more impactful and terrifying.

Furthering the allegorical here is that Crowley is outmatched, power-wise, for the most part, but is putting up a fight. He's moved by an assailant against his will, quite violently. He's dragged to his knees and then pushed forward to the ground. He's in pain and distressed, he's lost control of his body, his legs end up splayed, he pulls in on himself as much as he can, and he's repeatedly saying the word no. I think it might be pretty much impossible to make a scene full of more direct correlations to rape than this scene. They're doing so to really underline this survivor story with Crowley that is running through so many of the other scenes.

Crowley grabs his right leg when he is forced down to the tarmac, presumably because that's the side that is being forced to move by Satan to drag Crowley to his knees. It's possible, though, that this might be also be an allusion to the aftermath of 1827.

When we saw Crowley in 1862 in the scene that functions as him still trying to deal with what happened in 1827, Crowley was carrying that cane that many think was more than a fashion statement. Something that could cause Crowley periodic pain, while also still allowing for other scenes in which he pretty clearly isn't in any pain, is the possibility that, in the 1827 aftermath, Satan broke one or both of Crowley's legs.

As any of us who have ever broken a part of our human corporations know, they can often be painful long after they heal and frequently subject to weather and stress. It's possible that Crowley had recurring pain for decades and might still into today. This is all speculative but why else might this idea also fit?

Possibly just because there are so many scenes in Good Omens that are nothing but Crowley just walking freely or hopping, owning his human body by sauntering around on the legs that are often symbolic of his life as a human of Earth, as he very notably doesn't have them in snake form... and his snake form is something that he associates negatively with his fall and Hell.

Crowley's walk at any given time is related to his sense of empowerment and, sweetly, there are also a bunch of scenes of Aziraphale just gazing at Crowley as he walks around. Including, darkly, the one that was happening when Crowley was dragged to Hell in 1827:

The scene related to this that I like best, though, is when Crowley and Aziraphale both get one over on Satan and The Metatron by successfully hiding Gabriel in S2. They grin at one another as Crowley hops down from the chair, fully in his body, landing gracefully and happily on the legs that, whether once broken or not, we have seen in 1.06 ripped out from under him by Satan before.

Hell also has some Godfather-referencing, mafia-like nods in different scenes in the series and breaking someone's legs is kind of classic mob stuff but, really, I think it's more tied to the whole forced subservience snake thing. Crowley, telling Aziraphale that he'd changed his name to one we learn in S2's Job minisode is associated for Crowley with freedom, autonomy, choice, and Aziraphale...

...from one that is "a bit too squirming-at-your-feet-ish" to Crowley. It's a comment made more horrifying when 1.06's scene in Tadfield makes it clear that this isn't just a metaphor here-- Crowley's unwillingness to be Crawly and his discomfort with being a snake makes even more sense once we have this scene in Tadfield that sees Satan knock his human legs out from under him and force him into literally squirming like a snake at his feet.

No wonder why Snake!Crowley has a tendency to prefer roaring like a lion when transforming into a snake-like monster, like he did in the paintball scene...

Crowley and Aziraphale working to reframe and claim The Serpent from Crowley's negative associations with being a snake is something I talked about in the other meta I posted recently, should you also be interested in that.

The other thing of note when it comes to this scene of Satan trying to force Crowley to fully prostrate is then the fact that, while we've looked at the horror that Crowley is experiencing here, there are some other scenes that are subtly referencing positive life experiences that can be associated with this same type of position, if the situation is consensual and of someone's free choice.

They're also the exact types of things that can be complicated by having been assaulted. Lying face down are obviously both common sexual and sleep positions, for instance...

In S1, one of the scenes that got cut was supposed to be Crowley waking up from a nap in his flat. The script book says it was supposed to be that Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling in his bedroom, which also looks to be how they were filming it from the picture of it that exists. DT filmed it standing up, presumably so that they could flip the shot around and make it look like Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling. In addition to the heat-seeking snake aspect of this, there's some interesting psychology that may be at work here.

Crowley's flat in S1 was not owned by Crowley-- Hell owned it, as we can see even more in S2-- and he was not technically safe in it. Hell isn't great with boundaries and, although Crowley had structured the flat to make it so that he might have some warning if someone were to come through the front door, there was no guarantee that they would do that. Crowley sleeping on the ceiling in the bedroom in his flat might suggest that he did so, at least in part, to try to have an advantage over someone who might show up in his flat.

It might suggest that Crowley likes to sleep on his stomach but he felt too vulnerable to do that in the bed in his flat so the only way he could make that happen there was to sleep on the ceiling, where his position would potentially be a bit more advantageous. Where Crowley likely does not have that issue is in the bookshop, as he's much safer there.

In another area of life? After 1.06 showing where the proskynesis theme was leading in that season, this scene below is then retroactively given another layer:

As looked at before, Aziraphale's hand gestures here are actually massage movements. His dialogue is also full of massage-related puns-- need/knead, back, practice. Probably also not coincidentally? In addition to just being fun and relaxing, massage is also often suggested by therapists working with couples where one or more partners has been assaulted, as it can be therapeutic on a variety of levels. The scene is suggestive of Crowley being comfortable with a variety of different kinds of pleasurable prostrate positions with Aziraphale, which stands in obvious direct contrast to the horrors of Satan.

So, here's where we're going to end this by talking about some mirroring to the scene in your ask with The Final 15, especially through using etymology. The word proskynesis comes from the Greek and is a combination of pros (meaning: towards, in this case) and kyneo (meaning: kiss). Some translations of it actually wind up being less "towards the kiss" more along the lines of "to kiss in the presence of."

Yeah... There's a word in the mix in this story that means "to kiss in the presence of" and that feels pretty relevant to the last few minutes of the most recent episode we've seen, no? 😂

In the S1 finale, the season's recurring moments of proskynesis lead towards the Tadfield scene, in which we watch Crowley wind up forcibly prostrated before Satan and resisting a kiss with everything he's got. While he'd do that anyway, what's the biggest reason as to why he was in that moment? Aziraphale, right?

It's because Aziraphale is right there and this is all already more than horrible enough. Crowley does everything in his power to retain enough control to resist this kiss because he is absolutely not kissing the Earth Satan claims is his, in forced deference to him, with Aziraphale watching.

Poor Aziraphale can't do anything about this in the moment that it's happening. He can't go to Crowley without giving away that he's Crowley's partner. They've been terrified for a long time that Satan would kill Crowley if he found out about them and, based on what we've seen of how violent and dangerous Satan is, it doesn't seem like that fear is at all unfounded.

By S2, Crowley and Aziraphale are becoming a bit less of a secret but the people who they are letting in are ones they feel are trustworthy. None of them have any affiliation with Hell or Satan. The one person around them each a bit that does have affiliation with him-- Shax-- is the one they're both still attempting to fool.

The S2 mirror of the proskynesis/"kiss in the presence of" moment from 1.06 of Satan attacking Crowley in Tadfield and Crowley resisting the kiss in front of Aziraphale involves these same three characters again... but some aspects of it are-- as they would be with a mirror-- shifted around a little.

In 2.06, it's Crowley with a kiss again-- but, this time, it's Aziraphale that he's kissing. Instead of being the person who is watching the kiss be resisted, Aziraphale is the recipient of a kiss that Crowley is actually willing to give.

Aziraphale, like Crowley in 1.06, is mostly resisting the kiss. While Crowley pushed to resist it entirely in S1 for obvious reasons, Aziraphale isn't put off by the idea of kissing Crowley in general but, in S2, is resisting it as much as he's able to do so.

Why?

Because Aziraphale knows with almost complete certainty that it's Satan watching them through the window.

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And Tonight, We’ll Be Warm

It is technically still the 25th where I am so have a holiday-related fic! This is just an excuse to write that obligatory Christmas fic that nobody asked for

Whitebeard Pirates x Reader (no particular pairing but very Ace-centric)

The Whitebeard Pirates never needed an excuse to party, but surprisingly, they always celebrated one specific holiday.

The sight of white flecks on the deck heralded the arrival of the Moby Dick to its destination, the cheery winter island in front of you a familiar sight. You couldn’t see it at this distance, but you had no doubt that if you asked Marco, he’d say that it was decked out in its annual holiday decoration already.

Around you, the hustle and bustle of docking preparations were in full swing, excitement filling the chilly air more than usual. Every year, on the same day and if time was willing, Pops liked to return to this specific island, deep in the heart of his territory, known for its celebration this time of year. It was done often enough that the locals left a special place for the Whitebeards and the crew always brought in supplies when they came. What would commence would be a two-day, island-wide celebration where the Whitebeards and even other friendly crews would toss aside their worries to rejoice. Though Pops’s family may have been a wide assortment of characters from all over the Blues, it was a unanimous agreement that all of you would indulge in this holiday because of how much joy it brought the old man. Though as pirates, there was never a reason needed to party.

You’d been with the crew long enough to have attended a few, the first few times never something you’d never forget. Overwhelming in the best of days, there would be lots of work done once you docked to unload the supplies and crates, but then the locals would whisk it all away and the crew would be able to release themselves upon the festivities. There would be stalls upon stalls of vendors selling indulgent foods, gifts, and knickknacks for the holidays. And—of course—the booze. It was a pirate island, after all.

A relieved cheer broke out as the Moby coasted gently to a stop, a few of those who could handle the jump vaulting over the side onto the dock, while those who remained up top tossed down the mooring line for them. You double-checked the ropes on the winches responsible for lowering the cargo and leaned over to ensure that nobody was in the way.

“Lowering the crates!” You yelled down to the people milling down below. The worn wooden crank was familiar in your work-calloused hands as you cranked it, lowering the creaking platforms of foods and ingredients down. A ‘thump’ and the lines slackening signaled the contact with the dock below you, and you left the unpacking to the ground crew.

Beelining for the rope ladder, you scaled down it to join the others, an eager grin pulling at your cheeks. Wagons waited for their loads, but you left that to those like Fossa and Blenheim, the likes of them able to move much more efficiently when they had no smaller crewmates running underfoot. Your eyes darted across the space, seeking one specific person. For once, a majority of the crew had a shirt and jacket on, only the hardiest of them forgoing it, so it was easy for you to find that tattoo stretched across a tanned back.

“Ace!”

The young man spun around, seeking the call of his name. You started toward him, waving to attract his attention. He returned your grin easily as the two of you met up. Close to him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Despite your layers, it was still bitingly cold with the snow fluttering down. But with Ace nearby, his heater tendencies, courtesy of his Fruit, were a warm balm against the low temperatures.

“You were right, this does look fun!” Ace said, hands on his hips as he regarded the festivities beyond the dock. I’m glad I’ll have someone to lead me around.”

“Hm.” You rubbed your hands, fingertips red. “I’ll show you all the good places to hit up. Ignore what Commander Marco says. He’s a geezer who’s got outdated tastes.”

“Does he now, yoi?”

You stiffened, spine prickling with unease as footsteps came close. The warmth of the other flame-related Devil Fruit user on your back betrayed his approach. You shot Ace a nervous smile, grabbing his shoulders and swinging behind him to escape the fingers that skimmed the collar of your jacket. Grabbing the black-haired man’s hand, you readied to bolt but flailed when he didn’t move.

“C’mon! We gotta run!”

Ace glanced back at you, shrugging helplessly, still gripping your hand.

“You should know better,” Marco tsked as he stopped in front of Ace (and you, who ensured you were soundly on the opposite side of Ace from him). He crossed his arms, a lazy smile twitching into something mischievous. “We have to wait for Pops, yoi.”

As if that mention summoned him, the ground trembled with the impact of your captain landing down from his leap off the ship. He did a sweeping glance over his nakama, still milling about the dock as they waited for his arrival, and unleashed his booming laughter. “What are you all waiting for? Go have fun, my children!”

Noise erupted over the dock, and you suddenly found Ace very agreeable as you ran away from Marco. The two of you darted into the crowd, away from the blonde.

“Go! Go! GO!” You yelled as Ace swept you onto his back, laughing as he bolted. You wrapped an arm around his neck to keep balance, while the other one pointed in front of him to where you wanted him to go. Rakuyo jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being plowed over, and Atmos bellowed in laughter when Ace ducked under his arm, revealing you clinging to his back.

Despite you acting as a backpack for him, Ace was barely winded when you finally told him to stop. He regarded the street around you with wide eyes as you slid off him, dusting your clothes. “Where to know?”

You pointed to a little stall that had a small metal stove by its side. “First order of business: Drinks!”

The little old lady there waved as you approached, a smile of familiarity greeting you. “Welcome back, dearie. I see you’ve brought a friend!”

Nodding, you stepped aside to showcase the now-shy ravenette to her. “Hi again Miss Rose. This is Ace! He joined us a little while ago.”

“Showing him around, I see…” Miss Rose said

“Yep,” you said. “I gotta do it since I don’t want to put him through the history lesson that Commander Marco might’ve exposed him to. And I thought it’d be good to start everything off with drinks from your stall!”

Miss Rose tilted her head, an apologetic expression falling onto her face. “I’m sorry, dearie, but my stove just went out, you see. I sent my son off to fetch flint, but it’s going to be a while before I can get anything warm for you.”

“I can help!” Ace said, straightening up as he lifted a hand, small flames flickering to life. He, however, quickly extinguished it, and added on nervously, “I-If you want.”

The woman didn’t flinch at the small display of Ace’s powers, long-familiar with Devil Fruit displays on an island such as this, and toddled over to the stove, pulling open the door, and stepped aside for Ace. “Oh, if you could, that would be delightful.”

Caught off guard by the open friendliness, Ace glanced at you in a silent question. You bumped him forward with your shoulder. “Yeah. Miss Rose has the best cider all around, and you can’t start the festivities without getting a cup.”

Ace exhaled with a smile, sticking his hand into the open maw of the stove. With a flash of orange, the lumber within it lit up. The door was closed, and Miss Rose quickly put a pot over the top. Within moments, the warm smell of spices suffused the air and the pot’s content bubbled merrily away. Miss Rose moved with a speed that belied her age as she quickly set up two steaming cups of liquid. You barely just finished fishing out the appropriate payment before they were shoved into your grasp. Passing one to Ace, you slid the coins over to her quicker than she could react. Grabbing Ace, you led him away despite the woman’s protests refusing your payment and called back, “Thanks, Miss Rose!”

Your action prompted a curious look from him as the two of you hurried from her stand. “What was that about?”

“She’s too kind for her own good, and if I didn’t do that, she would’ve tossed my coin back at my face,” you explained. Taking a long sip, you let out a satisfied sigh at the warmth spreading through your guts and prompted Ace, “Try it.”

He took a tentative sip. Your catlike grin widened as his eyes lit up, and he went in for seconds. “Woah, this is good…”

“Mhm,” you hummed, turning to look at the busy street in front of you. You pulled the cup closer to your face to allow the steam to warm up your cold nose. “It’s good that we got here before the crew. Otherwise, we’d be fighting Kingdew for a spot in line.”

Ace didn’t reply, and you glanced over to see him staring at the colorfully lit lanterns above you that cast festive colors onto the street. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was nice seeing the awe on his face, and you realized this must’ve been why Marco was chuckling at you when it was your first time on the island. 

The growl emitting from him broke you out of your reverie, and you chuckled, hefting a bag of Berry in your hands.

“Alright Ace, since it’s your first time here, you can get any food you want, my treat. But—” You held up a finger when he brightened, “Only as much as this pouch can pay, and don’t spoil your appetite for later.”

“What’s for later?” Ace asked as he began walking to the nearest food stall, something to do with skewers.

“Five, please,” you said pleasantly to the vendor. Glancing back at Ace, you said. “There’s always a big feast and bonfire set up. It’s great. You’ll love it.”

The food was given to you, and you exchanged it with the correct amount of bills, passing four of the roasted chestnut and meat sticks to Ace while you kept one to yourself. Silence stretched between you two for a few minutes as the food was savored. As you were crunching through a chunk of chestnut, you heard Ace murmur, “Lu’ would’ve liked this.”

You swallowed your bite. Aside from his explosive (literally) introduction to the crew, there were a few other things about him that he never kept quiet about, one of them being his very cherished brother. “Oh yeah? I mean, this island is known for good chestnuts year-round, so food like this is common anytime. You can bring him here when you meet him again.”

Ace polished off his second skewer, expression wistful as he murmured, “Yeah…”

“Oi, you two!”

Like twin dogs, the two of you turned to the call. Thatch waved at you, Izou by his side. The former looked a little silly, with a sprinkling of snow piling up atop his pompadour, while the latter looked immaculate in his dark-blue kimono, its woven threats gleaming when it caught the lights. Amusement lit up the two Commanders’ faces when they saw the food in Ace’s hold.

“Putting another person’s wallet to work already, I see,” Izou said with a small smirk on his painted lips.

“Well, better than the alternative,” Thatch quipped, hands on his hips. “The locals may like us, but that can change if someone decides to dine and dash.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you pipped up. “I’m treating Ace today since it’s his first time.”

“How thoughtful,” Izou said. “You would have had the same result tossing your wallet in the sea.”

“I know better! I only brought a set amount.”

“Hey!” Ace protested. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

You, Thatch, and Izou exchanged glances. A beat of silence passed.

Thatch was the first to crack, folding in half as mirth shook his body, and you had to make efforts not to spill your drink in your laughter. Even Izou cracked, one fist coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted. Ace leveled a betrayed look at you all.

“By the way,” Thatch began, once he finally reigned his laughter back in control. “Where are the two of ya headed?”

Shrugging, you motioned down the street you two were on. “Just roaming for the most part, but the goal is to the town center to show Ace the stage before going to the bonfire.

“Hm. Mind if we join y’all?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. Ace?”

Silence greeted you, and you whirled around to find him face down in the snow, breathing deeply. Somehow, he still held his drink and food aloft. Sighing, you sent the other men a helpless look.

“We can wait until he wakes up to see what he wants,” Izou amended. “Let’s move him to the bench over there.”

Thatch smiled, lifting a hand. “If ya can grab the food and cup, I’ll carry our resident flamethrower out of the street.”

Chugging the rest of your cider, you crouched down and carefully wormed the sticks and cup out of Ace’s hands. There was no food left, so you tossed those, but Ace’s cup was still three-quarters full and steaming, so you decided to keep that for yourself. At your go-ahead, Thatch effortlessly lifted Ace’s snoozing form, while Izou cut ahead to dust off the coating of snow from the seat. Thatch set Ace down first before sitting down, and you immediately claimed the other empty spot of the sleeping Logia-user, sighing in happiness at the warmth that bled off him.

“I’m surprised that you’re not with Commander Marco, sirs,” you admitted, moving to sip from the cider cup.

You squawked as Thatch took it from you, using his long reach to lean over Ace. He took a sip from it and hummed. “Ah, that’s good. From Miss Rose?”

Sulkily side-eyeing him, you nodded.

“And stop with the ‘Commander’ stuff. We’re off-duty, and we’re all friends anyway.”

“Well, as my friend, you should give me back my drink.”

“Is it really yours in the first place, if you took it from Ace?” Izou asked. He waved the cup away when Thatch offered it to him.

As the brown-haired man was leaning back, Ace suddenly shot forward, knocking into him. The cup flew out of Thatch’s grasp, spilling its contents onto the snow in front of you all. Izou hissed, jerked the hem of his kimono away, and shot the others a poisonous look.

“Haahhhhh? Since when did we sit down?”

“Since you decided the snow would be a good cushion for your face,” Izou replied.

“Ah dang, was I out for long?”

“No,” you said. “Thatch and Izou were wondering if they could tag along with us.”

Ace stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I don’t see why not! As long as your offer still holds up.”

Sighing in exasperation, you stood up with a shake of your head and a smile on your face. “Fine. But if you want to explore, we gotta get going.”

Your words were a reminder of the changing sky, the days shorter in the thick of winter. The others all agreed, and once everyone gathered themselves, you all set off again. Your motley crew would’ve struck an unusual sight, with Thatch’s stature and hair, Izou’s elegant dress, and Ace completely bare-chested in the snow, but the locals of this island were long-used to it, a few folks even greeting the Commanders by name.

The festival was still as eye-catching as ever, with the soft haze of snowfall spreading a dreamy air over everything. True to his nature, Ace ended up dragging you to a few more food stalls. You four wandered with no hurry, simply basking in the peaceful, jovial air that was seldomly seen on the seas.

“I wonder how long these chestnuts can keep,” Thatch mused as he rotated a candied chestnut in his fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he passed you one from his cup. “I have plenty of recipes that’ll be nice for the colder weeks when we’re sailing.”

“I think if you can store them in the ice closet, they can last up to six months!” you chirped.

You could see his mind beginning to form ideas. “That’s plenty of time. I doubt they’ll last that long. Since it’s so cheap here, I think I’ll arrange for an order to the Moby tomorrow.”

A folded hand fan whapped Thatch on the side of the head, Izou tucking it back from wherever he summoned it from when the brown-haired man turned to him. 

“What gives, you bastard?!?”

“Stop talking about work,” Izou sniffed. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the festivities, damn you.”

Thatch leaned down into Izou’s space. “Well, you didn’t need to hit me!”

While the two senior members squabbled like little kids, you turned your attention to Ace, seeing him contemplating the roasted squid in his hands like it contained the secrets of the world.

“What’s wrong?” You said, popping your head over his shoulder. “It raw?”

Ace blinked, shaking his head and taking a big bite out of it. “Nah. Just thinkin’.”

“Don’t hurt your head over it,” you said. “Now’s a time to turn it off.”

He hummed, and you linked your arm with his and marched forward.

“Well, we’re almost at the town center. You’d like it, I think. And if you don’t, it’ll be something to distract you, yeah? No worries.”

Izou and Thatch fell in line when they saw the two of you heading off. One was fixing the collar of his kimono, while the other had a red mark on his forehead. Neither said anything when you raised a teasing eyebrow in question.

You led them down the streets until it opened up into a wide space, the large, towering pine tree in the middle marking your arrival to the town center.

Ace froze as he gawked at the monster of a tree in front of you all. “Holy shit.”

Tall enough to make even Pops look small standing next to its trunk, the ancient growth was decked out in flickering candles and carved, wooden ornaments of all colors. Bands of embroidered cloth swayed gently, depicting the winter flowers that bloomed this time of year.

“This is one of the island’s pride and joy,” You told Ace, banking on the information Marco told you during your first time. Damn, if he knew, he would never let you live this down. “It was said that this tree was already massive by the time people settled onto this island, and it was decided that they would keep it and treasure it. The festivals came later, but this tree was integrated into every celebration as well. Looks like we came just in time.”

Chattering quieted as a door hidden in the tree trunk opened. A pair of men walked forward to the platform mounted there, rolling some sort of canon in between them.

“It’s safe,” you reassured Ace as you saw him shift in nervousness. “Just watch!”

With a muffled pop, a flurry of flat, petaled shapes shot up into the air. The crowd roiled, eager hands reaching up as the large charms fluttered down. This was what you came here for. This town’s yearly charms, hand-carved from a specific type of lightweight crystal only found here. When refined down into the flowers and the snowflakes fluttering down upon you now, they caught the light in a kaleidoscope of rainbows. They were beautiful.

And very desired.

“Quickly,” you hissed, pushing Ace forward. “Try and grab one! They say that whoever got one will have good luck for the upcoming year.”

Unsure, the man reached out, only to have it snatched in front of his fingertips. The old lady who took it from him gave him a sharp glare and toddled off.

A spark of competitiveness lit up in Ace’s eyes. “Oh, that does it.”

The two of you shared a look of determination, exchanging a nod before delving into the crowd.

“Over here, Ace!”

“Too far!”

“Watch out for that lady!”

Your teamwork fell in line seamlessly, the months together on the seas and all the training and fighting giving you and Ace a leg up. Though it always seemed like there were five people trying for every one charm. Eventually, there was nothing left in reach, but you spotted one still fluttering above the crowd. You were not the only one, as you locked eyes with a burly man who was bullying his way through the crowd toward it. The two of you scowled at each other, and you stuck out your tongue at him.

Looking back at it again, you saw that it was out of reach for even the tallest folks.

But not too tall for what you had in mind.

Spinning around, you pointed at the crystal and yelled out, “Ace!”

The man turned around to spot it, and you quickly took a knee, putting your cupped hands low to the ground. A move that you’d done once or twice before.

“Go for it!” You yelled, hiding a wince when an elbow dug into your back.

Ace stepped back, lining himself up before running towards you. His boot landed in your palms, and you pushed yourself upward, propelling him up with you as he jumped. You turned around to see his trajectory, a wild grin on your face. Ace had a similar expression, one hand on his hat while the other was outstretched as he approached the snowflake. With bated breath, you watched as his fingers grazed the edges of the charm, seemingly missing it before, with a burst of flames from his legs, he propelled himself up a bit and the charm landed in his grasp. With the prize secured, he brought it to his chest and pivoted in the air, landing at an empty spot with a perfectly tucked roll.

You let out a whoop, throwing your arms up in victory, before moving your way through the crowd to where Ace landed. Your cheeks ached not just from the cold, but also from the size of the grin overtaking you sported. Spotting Ace, you hauled him up and pulled him into a hug, your laughter ringing out in the air.

“You got it!”

His cheeks were flushed as well when you pulled back, a pearly smile on his face. “Yeah.”

The crowd’s excitement was dying down and a part of you dropped in dismay over the fact that you’d missed your chance to grab something, too busy making sure Ace had his moment to focus on your own. But you were at least glad that Ace managed to get one of the charms of his own, so you shoved down that bit of sadness.

“What shape did you get?” You asked. “Can I see?” 

He pulled the hand holding his charm away from his chest, and your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of a flat carving of a flame lily. As he lifted it into the air, the clear crystal caught the light, throwing out fiery red and orange iridescence from within its lattice.

“A flame lily, lucky you!” You shot him a thumbs-up. “That’s the most prized one. A symbol of undying warmth in the cold. Good luck is definitely coming your way.”

“There you two are,” Thatch said, panting a bit as he got through the crowd. “You crazy little cretins, I can’t believe you two did that! And don’t deny it, I saw Ace in the air.”

You whistled, adverting your eyes. “Welllll, it was worth it. Ace got this year’s Flame Lily. How ‘bout you?”

“Right here,” Thatch sighed, reaching into the top of his pompadour and pulling out a glittering, clear hexagonal plate that had flashes of smoky black when he tilted it. “Some lady tried stealing it from my hands after I got it.”

“Looks like all that hair really is useful for something,” you chuckled.

He harrumphed, tucking it in the inner breast pocket of his coat. “Whatever. Did you get one this year?”

You shook your head, a rueful smile on your face. “Nah. Looks like my collection is not growing this year.”

You only caught a flash of guilt on Ace’s face before something was thrust into your face.

“Here,” Izou drawled, a bored look on his face.

Going cross-eyed, you took a step back to see what it was. Your eyes widened when you saw the intricate poinsettia carving in his hand, the details of the flower it was mimicking catching the light prettily.

“I found this stuck to mine,” he said, motioning to the bird-shaped crystal peeking out of the collar of his kimono before you could ask. He shook it. “Take it. I don’t need two of them.”

“Aww, you do care,” you teased as you reached for it.

Izou jerked it out of your grip, raising it out of your reach. “I am not above breaking it over your head.”

“No don’t! I’ll be good, I promise!”

He finally gave it to you, huffing out of his nose as he swept past the tree of you. “Fine. Let’s go. We need to head to the beach if we want to catch the bonfire in time.”

At this point, the sky was blue-hued with the end of sunset, the chill settling deeper into your bones. But still, the lights and candles kept the island festivities in full swing.

“So, what do we do with these things?” Ace asked, inspecting his lily carving.

“You just keep it.” You shrugged. “Put ‘em in a box or something. It’s your choice. Hell, you can even toss them into the ocean, but make sure to point out where you did it so I can go diving for it.”

Ace hummed in thought, glancing over to see your expectant gaze on him. With a smile and shrug, he shoved it into his pant pocket. “I guess I’ll keep it. So what are we doing now?”

“Bonfire should start soon,” you affirmed. “There’ll be food and drinks, the full Whitebeard Pirates shebang, yaknow?”

The growling of a stomach was the response you received from him, and you chuckled.

“We’re almost there,” Thatch reassured. 

True enough, you four took the stone steps down from the edge of the town, where your shoes immediately sunk into sand. Already, you could hear the hubbub of conversation, men on their way to getting sloshed. There was a chorus of greetings that rose when those present saw you four.

“Finally,” Atmos roared, his beer sloshing over his tankard. “Was thinkin’ you guys died fighting in the town center.”

Izou scoffed, sweeping past him as he headed for where Vista and Haruta were. “Please. As if I’d be taken out by something so simple.”

“I’m going to check out to see if the Fourth Division needs any help,” Thatch called, splitting away too.

That left you and Ace again, and you steered him toward a table set up with food. You unleashed him upon the meal, picking up a few things that pulled at your interests too, and allowing yourself to mingle with everyone.

Like most other Whitebeard parties, it was easy to be swept up in the merriment. At one point, you managed to wrangle a spot beside Haruta as he lit up the main bonfire, toasts being called out into the air. Smaller bonfires went up around the beach too, like twinkling, golden stars in the dark.

And when the moon was high in the sky, just about the time when you knew the spectacle of the night would begin, you sought out Ace again.

He was warm as you slung an arm over his shoulder, warmer than even the slight bit of alcohol coursing through your veins. “Aceyyyyyyyyy. Come on closer to the bonfire.”

“Hm? Why’s that.”

You pointed to the towering back of Blenheim in front of you. “Too many tall ones over ‘ere. And you’re warm, but I wanna be warmer.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a heat hog,” he said, rising from his seat at your insistent tugging. 

Fossa smirked at him when he saw the two of you pass by. “Looks like you’re the victim this time, brat. Good.”

You stuck your tongue out at the older man, aiming towards a log laid on as a seat, angled to look into the island instead of out over the sea. Plopping into it with none of the grace you normally held when somber, you sighed at the heat that suffused your back from the bonfire.

At Ace’s questioning look at you, you raised your arm and pointed over the top of the island, where the top of the pine tree could be seen peeking out. “You’ll wanna watch o’er there. It’s good. I promise.”

Following your words were the lights from the town being extinguished, plunging the inland into darkness. Soon, the only lights came from the bonfires dotting the beaches like fireflies as everyone settled. An air of excitement took over the party, those sober and not tilting their heads up to the sky.

A whistle announced the first of the launches before the sky exploded with color. Fireworks bloomed in their brilliant glory, popping and crackling hues of sparkling rainbows before fading out. It was stunning as ever, but since you’d seen it a few times before, you chanced a glance at the man next to you.

Ace’s eyes were wide, the glow of the firelight making them glitter. You smiled softly at the way it transformed his features into something softer.

Even though you haven’t known him for long, the look on his face earlier was too somber for your liking. The two of you may not be close-knit, but you were at least friendly with him on the account of you two being newer to the crews. So to see that troubled look that bellied something deeper made you worried. You may not be close enough to pry, but at the least, you hoped that this was enough to lift his spirits lightly.

You tore your gaze from the black-haired male just in time to see the second round of fireworks going up. More impressive than the last, this time the fireworks were set up into shapes. All around you, cheers rose from the crew as the doggy face of Stephan bloomed into view, followed by an impressive arrangement forming the Moby Dick. 

As this round began to die down, Marco appeared at your side, handing you a steaming drink. “Here, yoi. Keep warm.”

Reaching for it, you asked, “Is it warmed rum?”

“No. I’m not letting you have that again, yoi.” He turned to Ace and jabbed a thumb at you. “No matter how much this one asks, no more of Raykuyo’s rum, alright? I promise you don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

You sulkily sipped from the cup, finding that it was hot chocolate. Sweet, yet not too heavy to upset your stomach. “Whatever, I drink it ‘cause it chases the chill away.”

“You have Ace with you, yoi.”

“I’m still cold!” you barked. Your eyes gained a calculating gleam as you shuffled closer to Ace, your free hand whipping out to latch onto Marco’s wrist. “But if you’re insisting, why don’t you come have a seat, Marco? I’m sure you’re awfully tired, and it’s an awfully good view to see the fireworks.

His half-lidded eyes were knowing as he moved to sit beside you, bracketing you on all three sides with heat. You sighed in happiness, and relaxed, returning your focus to the sky.

With the bonfire at your back, Ace and Marco by your side, and the crew all around you, your heart was warm.

[titi-1188]

Always in your corner

“You know that Chan would truly always be in your corner and you hope he knows you’ll always be in his. Neither of you asked to be born to parents who had no care in the world but at least the two of you had each other.”

—

WARNINGS: Parents who don’t care(?)

PAIRING: Older Brother Chan x Younger Sibling Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1K+

EXTRA INFO: Angst(?)/comfort, Christmas, Cringy Frozen reference, Life Advice from Older Brother, ‘Baby’ used as a term on endearment in a ‘omg you’re literally a baby’ way. SAFE FOR WORK ONLY!!!

A/N: Happy Christmas to those who celebrate and in general Happy Holidays to all!! As always, sorry for any mistakes, my english writing skills are NOT the best, I try to look over it and make sure everything makes sense to an outsider perspective of someone who ISN’T in my head but yk how it can be🩷 hehe i hope u like it!!! (can u tell what kind of issues I may have…)

Every Christmas since Chan started college whenever he’d come back, you’d be there, ready to greet him with a hug and some sort of small ‘welcome home’ gift. Christmas was probably the only time in the year year you got to see each other with how busy you both were; you being in high school and Chan attending college, working his ass off to get his degree. You and your brother couldn’t even see each other during the summer holidays-your parents sent you off on exchanges to other countries, so far, you’ve been to Spain, France and Italy (twice), and your other breaks from school just never lined up. Safe to say Christmas was like a blessing. An opportunity for two siblings to reunite.

So, this year when Chan got out of your dad’s car after a very awkward three hour long ride from the airport and walked into the house and wasn’t met with you he was surprised, disappointed even.

“Where is she?”, he asked as your mother came out of the living room. She rolled her eyes as if the mere question was a bother and replied simply

“Probably moping around in her bedroom again”. Chan frowned. You? Moping around? That didn’t sound like you. “What do you mean?”, he questioned.

“Your sister is just going through an emotional phase—but honestly she needs to get over it, at her age she should be able to just get up and move through it.”, your father spoke up and Chan watched in mild disgust as your mother nodded along.

Your parents made it abundantly clear before that they never wanted kids and yet somehow ended up with the two of you because of societal pressure but at least years ago they would at least pretend to be concerned parents. Now that Chan was a young adult and moved out and you were a teenager they probably didn’t see the need to.

“I’m going to go up then”, he announces. Your parents shrug, mumbling a quick ‘do whatever’ before retreating back into the living room.

Meanwhile, Chan hauled his suitcase and bag up the stairs, dropped them off into his room (that definitely needs to be dusted down) and went to your room at the end of the hall, on the right. He smiled seeing the pink, bedazzled wooden sign on the door to your room with your name on it—he remembers watching you make it all those years ago and likes to see you haven’t taken it down yet.

In Chan’s head, you’re not just a regular set of siblings, although he only is almost seven years older than you, he always felt an almost paternal instinct with you.

He had a huge part in raising you and as much as he hates to admit it for purposes of being too sappy and cringe—he hates that you are growing up so quick. He sometimes wishes you were a kid again and often finds himself reminiscing all the tea-parties he was forced to attend, all the times he’s sat over you helping you with simple maths sums while he had an essay to do, all the extravagant games you two used to make up as something to do while your parents were working.

God he misses it. And he would pay so much money to get to relive it, because even without the regular caring parents who are involved in their child's life-watching you grow up all over again would be worth so much more.

Chan snaps out of his thoughts and regains his composure before knocking on the door gently.

“Y/N, it’s me—can I come in?”. He’s about to open the door and enter when it opens in his face, and there you are, wearing a comfy set of clothes.

Chan takes your appearance in and notices immediately that you look…not like you. The light that normally shines in your eyes is dimmed, there are bags under your eyes and your normally well kept hair is disheveled.

“Y/N…”, he starts but you cut him off with a hug.

“Channie”, you murmur in a soft voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready this year.”

Oh the way you sound so defeated breaks his heart. “Y/N baby—it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I swear I knew when dad was picking you up and I had everything planned and stuff and then I got distracted and everything I planned just went out the window-”

“Y/N. It’s fine.”, Chan reassured, pulling back from the hug but keeping a firm hold on your shoulders. “Let’s talk?”

You nod at him and let him into your room, closing the door behind him. He flops down onto your bed and pats the spot beside him. “Come on over”.

You don’t hesitate and take your spot next to your brother. Words can’t describe how grateful you are that you’re not the only child in this fucked up family and that Chan is here. Every christmas is a blessing in your eyes because he’s here, a family member who cares.

His arm wraps around your shoulder and he pulls you in closer to him, pushing your head down to rest on his chest. “There, just like when you were a baby”.

“You mean a kid?”

“Fine, just like when you were a kid”, he states again, although in his head you will always be a ‘baby’.

“Oh please, when I was a kid you were just a teenager”, you scoff but don’t make the effort to move.

“Yeah but you still clung to me like a koala, so my point still stands.”

“Okay fine..”

“You’re still clingy”, he teases, when you don’t give your usual sarcastic response he clears his throat and starts speaking in a softer, more serious tone. “Mom said you’re ’moping around’..wanna tell me about that?”

“Things have just been…utter shit”, you respond simply.

“Utter shit?”, he questions, prompting you to further explain as he starts to run his fingers through your, messy, hair.

“I just…I feel like I’m stuck in time. Everyone else around me is moving on and I’m stuck in this spot. All my friends are starting to go to all sorts of house parties and get drunk off their heads, in school they keep shoving down future career paths down our throats and in general there’s just more and more work to be done ever single day...even mom and dad are talking about having me move out soon since technically it’s legal for me to move out after I turn sixteen—but I’m just, I don’t want to do any of that. I want to just be a kid for a little longer. In my head I’m still like eleven or like twelve—I’m not ready for all of this, I don’t want to be ready for all of this!”, you start rambling, your words flowing out quickly, as if you’ve been waiting to say all of this to someone.

“I see”, Chan responds. “I think…and hear me out, I think you’re just craving a normal childhood-one where you weren’t basically left to fend for yourself.”

You nod and he feels it’s safe to continue.

“You don’t want to grow up because you already feel like you have been at a higher maturity level since you were learning your ABC’s..”.

“How do you know exactly how to put this into simple words?”

“Because I know exactly how you feel. You know, I suppose when you were born I not only had to fend for myself, but also for you—and I do not hold it against you Y/N, you are the best thing that could’ve happened to me. I think if I was an only child in this family I would’ve gone insane.” You both giggle at his words but you both know he’s right. You know especially now in his absence that living in this house by yourself is not a nurturing and caring environment.

Chan continues speaking, “So you could say that from a young age I was acting like I was in my 30’s, taking care of myself, you, teaching you life lessons while learning them myself..and when it came to actually being a grown up..I didn’t want to do it because I felt like I already have been doing it. I wanted to just be able to I don’t know…play around with fucking legos or just go to the beach and build as many sandcastles as I desire, I wanted to reverse time and somehow get our parents to care for us and give the both of us the childhood we deserve. I still want that. I still wish that there was a switch I could flip and suddenly they’ll be asking more than the ‘required’ mundane questions…but…”, he trails off with a sigh.

“…That can’t happen”, you say. “Mhm, it can’t. So, trust me when I say that I understand how you feel.”

“How did you get over it?”, you ask.

“Well..it does turn out that adult life is a bit more complicated so I had to figure that out..but to heal my inner child..I did exactly what I wanted to, I realised that because I was an adult, no one could actually stop me from building sandcastles at the beach, or spending my first entire real pay check on all the lego sets I wanted and building them all”.

“Did it help?”

“Honestly, yeah. I gave myself what our parents couldn’t..or well wouldn’t and I felt much better about myself.” He pokes your arm, laughing a bit “Just don’t spend your first entire pay check on lego. I’ll teach you how to be smarter with money.”

“I feel bad you have to teach me these things.”

“Don’t. I want to.”, Chan replies. “The only reason I didn’t completely cut contact with mom and dad after I moved out was so I could see you like this, so I could continue to parent you because..you have so much potential Y/N..and our parents don’t provide you with an environment to encourage that kind of growth, they just want you to grow up and move out so they can be at peace, but I want you to thrive. I want you to be prepared and ready for whatever life throws at you. I want to encourage you in everything. I just want to help you. Make sure you have it better than anyone else..”. Chan’s words make you feel a pang in your chest, you close your eyes and slow your breathing, feeling his heartbeat as his fingers comb through your hair.

“Obviously, since you seem to be so nervous, I’ll tune my coaching down to a slower place, we can take this one small step at a time”.

“Thank you Channie. Really.”, you reply. “Mom and dad are no help at all…like no help. They just want me out of here.”

“I know…but it’s okay, you’ll figure yourself out, you’ll figure out what you want to do with your life, in your own time and I’ll be here in your corner supporting you every step of the way and teaching you things and well…everything I already said”, Chan reassures, patting your arm.

“Now…what if…we go and build a snowman or something?”, he suggests.

“A snowman?”, you laugh and sit up, meeting his eyes.

“What? It’ll be fun! I promise!”, Chan exclaims, “Come on don’t be a loser! Just come build a snowman with me!!”

“What you need me to sing it for you??”, he clears his throat. “Do you want to build a snowman? Come on let’s go and play-“

It’s only when you start laughing he does too. God when Frozen came out you both went through a terrible phase where you were obsessed with the movie..and when the second one came out god it all came back again.

“Okay Anna—let’s go build a snowman”.

That’s how your day ends. The two of you building multiple snowmen in the green in your estate (while your parents sat inside, oblivious to what their kids are doing). And honestly, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

You know that Chan would truly always be in your corner and you hope he knows you’ll always be in his. Neither of you asked to be born to parents who had no care in the world but at least the two of you had each other.

a/n: hope you liked this! i had to rush the ending a bit because I wanted it to be done by at least Christmas day so apologies!!!

p.s: if you have any reqs, feel free to ask!! just keep it sfw!!!

[666writingcafe]

The Angel's Halo

Once MC and I give my brothers the medicine and supplies they need to get through the day, we decide to spend some time out of the house. After all, there's not much more we can do there at the moment that would be beneficial to my brothers.

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat?" MC asks as we begin walking.

"Good idea," I tell them. "Azzy was going on and on about this new cafe that's supposed to be opening today. He mentioned it's not too far from here."

"What's it called?" Normally, names don't really stick in my brain, but this particular one stood out to me so much that it's practically engraved on there.

"The Angel's Halo." MC snorts in amusement. "Yeah, that was kind of my reaction, too."

Here's the thing: I figured that someone from the Celestial Realm was gonna be following us close behind once we got settled here in the human world. I mean, from my understanding, MC was more or less blessed by Michael to wear Lucifer's old ring; he probably wants to make sure he made the right decision, which means keeping an eye on both them and us to make sure that they remain "pure" enough.

If he's smart, he would have sent Simeon. He's the one that would raise the least amount of suspicion. And I suppose the little chihuahua would have to tag along. It would be cruel for his owner to leave him behind.

Sure enough, as we approach the entrance to the new cafe, Luke's outside, twirling a sign around.

"I'm surprised he's able to do that," MC quietly observes. "He's never been the most coordinated."

"He probably needs a break," I reply. "Who knows how long he's been doing that trick." MC playfully glares at me before walking up to the young angel, who accidentally hits them in the face with the sign. I silently watch to make sure MC's alright, but once the two of them begin catching up with each other, I duck inside.

"Well, hello there, Mammon." Simeon looks up from wiping the counter. Despite the smile he gives me, I can tell something's off with him.

"It's Mason around here," I reply, sitting down on one of the stools in front of the counter. "And you're lucky I'm here. If Azzy came like he wanted to, he'd be freaking out about the bags under your eyes." Simeon gently throws the towel he was using over his shoulder.

"I haven't been able to get much sleep. Getting this place set up has been a lot more work than I had anticipated."

"Clearly." He's hiding something. I've never seen him look this exhausted, not even when we were living together in the Celestial Realm and he was still one of the Seraphim.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we're here." I shrug.

"I mean, Michael probably sent ya down here, right?" Simeon hums affirmatively.

"Officially, we've been appointed to help coordinate relations between the human world and the Celestial Realm." He's given me an opening. If he didn't want me to dig further, he wouldn't have said "officially".

"And unofficially?" He glances outside, presumably to make sure that MC and Luke are still preoccupied.

"He's testing me," he whispers.

"Testing you? For what? A promotion?" Simeon sighs, shaking his head.

"I've gotten into a bit of trouble. One of my notebooks was discovered." Okay...

"But you're a writer, right? Like, you've gotten permission to do that."

"Yes, and if that was what was found, nothing would have come of it, but this particular one was more of a personal journal. The contents inside are, shall we say, things that no angel ought to even be thinking about, let alone express into words."

"They shouldn't have been snooping in the first place."

"You forget, the Celestial Realm believes that nothing should be kept secret. Everything must eventually come to light." Simeon pauses. "Plus, I accidentally left it in a public space. The person who found it was merely trying to discover whose it was so that they could return it to its rightful owner."

"Dude, what exactly were you writing about in there?" He sighs again.

"In a word, corruption." Oh shit. Well, no wonder he's in trouble.

"Of yourself, or someone else?"

"Technically both, but I'm the active party."

"Please tell me it isn't Luke." Simeon widens his eyes.

"Absolutely not. He's merely a child. I wouldn't do that to him."

"Then who..." Right as I begin asking the question, I answer it for myself. "Oh, Simeon." He gives me a tired smile.

"I know." He glances outside once more. "Believe me, I've tried to keep these thoughts at bay, but I can't help it. I mean, how can someone's soul grow brighter after spending a significant amount of time with all seven Avatars of Sin? It makes no sense, Mam--Mason."

"And it upsets you, doesn't it?"

"It's more frustrating than upsetting. I know it's wrong, but there's a part of me that feels like..." He trails off, trying to regain his composure. "If I were to fall, I'd want to take them down with me." Oh my...I had no idea that MC made him feel that way.

"You're lucky that you're merely getting tested."

"Yes and no. This little test of his will determine the severity of my punishment. If I behave myself, then I simply have to be supervised when I'm writing. And do a few extra tasks, but that's not a big deal."

"And if you don't?"

"You mean, if I succumb to temptation?" I nod my head. I hear the door open. Simeon leans in close, trying to make sure that neither Luke or MC can hear him.

"Then I might as well not be an angel anymore."

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[xcziel]

has anybody else thought about how jk could easily manage sofia's parts of slow dance or is it just me?

[wewerebornsextuplets]

thinking about the kiru and kara dynamic again. in particular karas view of her is very amusing to me

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

i want top neuvillette who's still femme and a crybaby my god is that so hard