#do not expect well-crafted decks

[afternoonapocalypse]

I know all of you follow me for my recent return to playing Magic the Gathering, so you will be very excited to know I have finally finished my spooky decks for Halloween.

And by spooky, I mean the commanders are creatures that might be Halloween related? Anyways, for y’all interested here are my shitty Halloween EDH decks. 🎃🦇

Elenda, the Dusk Rose - Scary vampire! Deck came together because I saw the card art and fell in love with it, so I wanted to make a deck using her. General idea behind this deck is tokens, life gain, and more tokens.

Thantis, the Warweaver - Giant spider, creepy crawlies! Honestly I just happened to add Thantis with some other cards to a cart a long ass time ago to qualify for free shipping because I liked her ability. This deck is literally just to fuck with my friends by making them engage (they don’t like to).

Mimeoplasm - And nothing scarier than oozes. Last but not least I wanted a tribal deck. Was gonna do zombies or something else, but I was going through my WIPs and saw I had an okay number of oozes finally put together, so welcome to my ooze deck. The goal? Ooze!

[xo-hoon]

club nights — DJ p.sh

minors do not interact!

pairing: dj!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers (maybe)

synopsis: you just wanted to unwind after studying hard for your upcoming exams. little did you expect that your quest for relaxation turned into an electrifying connection that left you pleasantly surprised.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: contains smut MDNI! unprotected sex (don’t..), fingering, public sexual interaction, clubbing, intimate dancing, slight alcohol consumption.

You were sprawled on your bed, textbooks and notes scattered around like a battlefield.

You were powering through your study session, knowing full well you'd ace your exams. This was more about keeping the edge sharp than actual worry.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Wonyoung

Wony🐰: big night for jay’s celebration. clubbing’s on us. come on, you deserve a break!

You smirked, your focus momentarily shifting from the textbooks. Before you could reply, Winter’s call came through.

“Y/N, you coming to Jay’s party? It’s gonna be epic. You need to let loose for a bit."

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just finishing up some stuff first.”

You answered with a casual tone.

Winter chuckled.

“Thought you might say that. See you soon.”

You ended the call and tossed your phone aside, gathered your things with a practiced efficiency, and slipped into your clubbing gear—something that combined effortless style with a hint of rebellion.

The exams were no sweat, but tonight was about embracing the energy and leaving the stress behind.

As you headed out, you knew you’d hit the ground running again tomorrow, but for now, it was time to reclaim the night.

The lights flicker in a chaotic dance with the bass, casting shadows that meld with the crowd's movement. You were nestled in a dimly lit corner, nursing a drink that’s losing its chill. Your friends are lost in the pulsating rhythm on the dance floor, but you're craving something different—something with an edge.

As you watched the swarming sea of bodies, you catch snippets of conversations and laughter. The usual group of guys has wandered over, but their small talk falls flat. They offer nothing but predictable flattery and lackluster charm.

Your gaze sweeps through the crowd until it landed on the DJ.

He was almost surreal, his features striking and chiseled as if crafted by divine hands. The way he commands the decks, lost in the rhythm, makes him look effortlessly magnetic. Every movement is fluid and intense, and there’s an undeniable allure about him that keeps your eyes locked on him.

But despite your fascination, you held back from approaching. You’ve always been the one to stay aloof, letting others make the first move.

Tonight, you were determined to stick to that principle.

If he’s interested, he’ll have to find a way to chase you—because that's how things have always worked for you.

You spent the night there, stealing glances at him from time to time. You knew right then and there that you wanted him.

—

Over the past few weeks, you've returned to this exact club every night, disregarding your exams because you knew you'd ace them anyway.

The club was throbbing with energy as usual, and you were nestled in your favorite corner, watching the DJ work his magic at the booth. The music feels particularly electrifying, and your focus remains unwaveringly on him. A mix of curiosity and desire simmers beneath your cool exterior.

As the night wears on, a sober friend of a friend, someone you’ve seen around but never spoken to, strikes up a conversation with you. He was a regular and seems to know everything about the club’s inner workings.

After a few exchanged pleasantries and a bit of small talk, he leans in conspiratorially, as if sharing a well-kept secret.

“You know,” he says with a smirk, nodding toward the DJ booth, “that guy up there? His name is Park Sunghoon. He’s not just some random DJ. He’s actually loaded. His family’s got more money than they know what to do with.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues, “He’s got this whole other life. Runs a bunch of businesses and everything. But he’s here every night, spinning records because he genuinely loves it. He’s quite famous around here; definitely one of the best assets of this club. And despite the fact that girls are practically falling over themselves for him, he couldn’t care less. It’s like he’s got this whole detached cool thing going on. Makes him even more interesting, don’t you think?”

You were taken aback, sensing that he’s aware of your interest. “So, why does he stick around here if he’s got all that?”

The informant’s smirk widens, as if he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve been keeping an eye on him. I figured you’d want to know. He sticks around because this is his sanctuary. No one bothers him about business or family here.”

You nod, feeling a mix of surprise and satisfaction at his perceptiveness. “Sounds like he’s got a lot more going on.”

“Exactly,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with knowing. “And he’s not one for easy connections. If you want to get to know him, you’ll have to bring something real to the table. He’s not impressed by the usual attempts.”

The revelation hits you with a jolt of excitement. The fact that Sunghoon is both wealthy and dedicated to his craft, combined with his indifference to the attention he gets, only deepens the intrigue you feel.

You thanked your informant with a nod, and he headed off, leaving you to process this new layer of mystery surrounding Sunghoon.

As the night progressed, you watched him with renewed interest. His effortless charisma and the way he immerses himself in his music take on a new significance. There’s a sense of challenge now, a question of whether you can penetrate the cool facade and discover what lies beneath.

The Next Night

You were at the club again, drink in hand, the familiar beat of the music pulsing through the air. The night is set for its usual course: you’re in your favorite corner, eyes fixed on Sunghoon at the DJ booth. It’s become a bit of a routine for you—an exercise in patience and subtlety.

Tonight, you were ready for what you have expected. To be just another night of silently sending your unspoken message: “Fuck me.”

You figured if you stared hard enough, he might have somehow pick up on it. It’s a game you’ve gotten used to, even if it seemed a little ridiculous. You were so focused on him until a guy approached you.

The guy was tall and confident, his smile effortlessly charming. "Hey there. Care for a dance?"

Normally, you’d turn a man down without a second thought, but tonight, you were feeling a bit adventurous. You considered the offer, a spark of curiosity piqued by the idea of doing something different. With a playful smile, you sat your drink down and nodded.

“Sure,” you said, rising from your seat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As you headed towards the dance floor, you stole one last glance at Sunghoon, who was focused on his turntables but would glance at your way occasionally.

You wondered if he noticed your change in routine. The night just might turned out to be more interesting than you’d anticipated.

The music is pulsating, and the crowd is moving in sync with the beats. As you start dancing, you make sure to catch Sunghoon’s eye, knowing he was watching.

You danced seductively, grinding and moving in intimate ways with the guy, all the while keeping Sunghoon in your peripheral vision. The guy seems to enjoy the attention but notices your focus elsewhere.

As you were dancing, you felt a presence behind you. The guy you were dancing with seemed to have sensed it too and steps aside, giving way to the new arrival.

And there he was. The famous Park Sunghoon emerges from the crowd, his gaze locked on you with a smirk.

He approached with purpose, his confidence radiating.

"Mind if I cut in?" Sunghoon’s voice was deep and smooth, and you can hear the hint of a challenge in it.

You turned to face him, your heart racing. "Not at all," you replied, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

Sunghoon took the guy’s place, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. The intensity between you two is palpable, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"You’ve been coming here a lot," Sunghoon murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hmm, I have my reasons."

"Really? And what might that reason be?" Sunghoon asks, his voice low and intrigued.

You teased, "You'll have to find out."

Sunghoon's smile widens, and he pulled you even closer. The music faded into the background as you focused solely on each other. His hands were firm but gentle on your body, guiding you as you moved to the beat. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and you can feel the passion building.

"So, what made you decide to come back here night after night?" Sunghoon asked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You shivered at his touch, your voice barely a whisper. "I’m seeing someone."

"Someone like me?" he probed, his tone both teasing and serious.

"Maybe," you replied with a playful smile. "Or maybe someone who makes me feel this way."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you. "And what is that feeling?"

You met his gaze, your voice steady but filled with longing. "Excited. Alive. Wet. Like I can’t get enough."

Sunghoon’s fingers traced a path down your side, sending shivers through you. "You’re making it hard for me to keep my distance."

You leaned closer, your lips almost touching his ear. "Then don’t."

The dance floor seems to blur around you as you lose yourself in the moment. Sunghoon's touch is electrifying, and you can feel the heat between you growing stronger. The music was pulsing around you, creating a perfect backdrop for the connection you're building.

After a few more songs, Sunghoon took your hand and guided you through the crowd, out of the club and into the cool night air. The contrast between the stifling heat of the club and the crispness of the night is refreshing.

You walked in silence for a moment, the adrenaline from the dance still coursing through your veins.

Sunghoon led you to a quieter, darker alleyway behind the club, away from prying eyes. The city's sounds faded as you stepped into the shadows, and he turned to face you. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, and you felt the electric charge between you.

He pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a fiery kiss. The urgency and passion of his touch took your breath away, and you responded eagerly, your hands exploring his body as his hands finds their way to your curves. Every touch, every kiss is a whirlwind of sensation, and you lost yourself in the moment.

Sunghoon’s hands slid under your dress, and you gasped as he found the sensitive spots that made you shiver. Your moans were muffled by his mouth as he kissed you deeply, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you.

His touch was both rough and tender, igniting a fire within you. You can feel his desire growing, and it heightens your own.

He lifted you slightly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The alleyway’s cold walls press against your back, but the warmth of his body and the intensity of his touch creates a cocoon of heat around you. The world outside seems distant and irrelevant; it's just the two of you and the throbbing beat of your hearts.

He pulled back slightly, making you slightly groan at the lack of closeness, his breath mingling with yours. His gaze is full of raw emotion, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You smiled, your voice a soft purr. “That’s the idea.”

With renewed passion, Sunghoon's hands grew bolder as they roamed over your body, starting from your legs and moving up to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

The touch elicited a soft whimper from you, a sound that made his eyes darken with desire. Taking advantage of the moment, he plunged his tongue into your mouth, exploring it thoroughly and claiming it as his own.

He lifted on of your legs off the ground, securing your waist in a possessive grip as he pressed your body tightly against his.

Your fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path from his neck down to his broad chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles under your fingertips. They continued their journey to his defined abs, each touch sending shivers of excitement through you.

Just as you were about to reach for his clothed cock, his hand shot out to stop you, and with a swift, controlled movement, he pinned both your hands above your head, holding them there firmly.

“Fuck… Not so fast, baby.” He whispered in your mouth as you looked up at him, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His eyes were dark and filled with desire.

“S-sunghoon.. please—�� He smirked at the sight of your neediness.

“Shh, let me handle this.” He lowered his head, trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a blazing trail of heat in his wake. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His other hand roamed over your body, exploring every curve and inch of your exposed skin that he could, making you even needier and wetter than you already were.

“Sunghoon… Please. I need you.” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Patience, baby. Good things come from those who wait.”

His lips captured yours once again, and this time the kiss was sloppy and even more intense, filled with a hunger that leaves you breathless. He releases your hands, and you immediately tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

“I know, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

With that, he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you to a more secluded area of the club, where the lights are dim and the music is just a distant thrum. He sets you down on a couch, his body pressing against yours.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked genuinely, you locked your eyes with his as you nodded.

“I have never been more sure,”

Sunghoon groaned at your response as his hands roam over your body again, this time more urgent, more demanding.

He slips his hand under your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He stared in to your eyes, his hand slipping inside your panties, fingers finding your most sensitive spot. You moan into his mouth, your body arching into his touch.

He continued to rub circles on your clit, thoroughly enjoying the expression you were giving him. You moved your hand to his, pushing his fingers deeper, indicating that you wanted him to give you more.

“So, so needy,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and desire. He leaned in, licking your earlobes before slipping two fingers inside you.

The sudden intrusion made you moan out loud, arching your back as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed into his ear, your voice trembling with need. You began to grind your hips, matching the rhythm of his fingers. Each thrust of his hand sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more.

“Fuck me now, please. I want your cock inside me. Fuck me hard.”

He smirked against your neck, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, curling just right to hit that perfect spot inside you.

“You want it that badly, huh?” he teased, his voice a low, seductive growl.

You could only nod frantically, your body desperate for more. “Yes, Sunghoon. Please,” you begged, your hips bucking against his hand. “I need you. Make me yours.”

His eyes darkened with lust as he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and yearning. He quickly undid his pants, freeing his hard length. You glanced down, your eyes widening at the sight of him.

Without another word, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you a bit by rubbing his tip against your wet folds. The sensation made you whimper, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he demanded, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I want you so fucking,” you gasped, your voice almost a plea. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me until I go dumb.”

With a groan, he thrust into you inch by inch, slowly filling you completely. The fullness made you cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his skin.

Without letting you savor the moment of his cock deep inside you, he started to move in a rough, fast pace, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body, making you roll your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your moans and his grunts blending with the pounding music in the background.

“God, you feel so good,” he panted, his lips crashing onto yours in a heated kiss. “So tight, so perfectly made for my cock.”

You could only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You matched his rhythm, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal fervor. The pressure built up inside you, threatening to explode.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna—” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Cum all over my cock.”

With one more thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls clenched around him in intense pleasure, making him moan.

Sunghoon continued thrusting into you, riding out his own high. Still sensitive from your release, the overwhelming pleasure made you moan on the top of your lungs and cling to him tightly.

"I'm cumming, baby," he groaned. With one final, powerful thrust, he poured his hot release into your tight, convulsing heat, filling you completely.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and spent. After a moment, he lifted his head, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“You were amazing,” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"That was... incredible," you say, your voice still shaky with emotion.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, pulling you close again. "It really was. We should do this more often, and maybe you might consider going on a date with me.”

You smile, feeling a new connection with him. "A date? With that Park Sunghoon? I’d like that."

As you walked back to busy area of the club, hand in hand, you were filled with excitement and anticipation for what comes next. The night has just begun, and you can't wait to see where this new connection with Sunghoon will lead.

[temporarywelcome]

Turkey - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2k

Summary: JJ's son, Henry, loves his Uncle Spencer and Spencer's girlfriend, so JJ invites the two over for some holiday crafts.

WARNINGS: some swearing? mostly just fluffyness

A/N: technically a continuation of my little "Smooth Criminal" series though this can 100% be read standalone. If you want to know why Girls' Generation is mentioned, perhaps read "Babysitting", tho you really don't need to

____

Look, she didn’t hate kids.

She just didn’t like them.

Y/N didn’t hate Henry, but she wasn’t exactly a fan either.

Spencer adored the kid to bits, being his godfather, and as Spencer’s girlfriend, Y/N saw Henry quite often. She had won JJ over, another member of the BAU that was able to look past her sketchy past as a kleptomaniac. All that was left was Rossi. 

Winning JJ over wasn’t as easy as Garcia, Morgan, or Prentiss. Hell, Y/N found getting on Hotch’s good side to be easier. She helped with a few cases using her knowledge from her life of thievery, helping them catch a few unsubs. Hotch didn’t mind her.

But with JJ? It took multiple days of babysitting. 

And Y/N didn’t like kids.

But it paid off in the end, she could assume. 

November had just arrived, and Spencer being the holiday fanatic he was, had their shared apartment decked for the season.

This was the most orange she had seen in a while. 

This was their first November living together, so she let him have his fun, just like for October. Being the sucker she was, anything he wanted, she let happen.

But this time it was JJ who had a request for her. Well, both her and Spencer.

Like most days Spencer wasn't out on a case, Y/N had driven off to the FBI building's parking garage, sitting in her usual parking space to pick him up. She was exhausted from her own responsibilities at the theatre, busy at rehearsal for hours. 

She was reviewing her lines, because she always took work home with her, tired and cranky as hell. She already knew Spencer was probably going to be equally tired and cranky as hell, and he was always annoying as fuck when he was, well, tired and cranky as hell. 

Noticing Spencer approaching from the rearview mirror, Y/N grinned. She was already excited to just go home and cuddle in bed with her man. Her smile faded when she saw JJ walking next to him. Not like she had a thing against JJ, she just wanted to be in bed already. 

Spencer slid into his designated seat in the front, but he didn’t close the door, “JJ has a proposition for us,” 

“Does it involve a bubble bath and wine and then my nice warm bed?” Y/N deadpanned. 

JJ, who was standing to the left of Spencer, answered, “Unfortunately no. However, Henry really wanted to do some holiday crafts with his Uncle Spencer this weekend but also wanted you to be there too, Y/N,”

She paused, shocked, “Me? Henry wants to do some holiday crafts with me?”

“Yes, he really likes you,” JJ replied, “And it would mean a lot to Henry and Will and I if you came.” 

“Er,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, “I don’t see why not,”

Spencer’s eyes brightened, “Really?” he expected her to make up some lame excuse not to go, pleasantly surprised now. “Great! I-”

“Alright, g’bye, JJ,” Y/N grumbled, reaching over Spencer and closing his door, “Sorry, I’m exhausted and ready to bite someone’s head off,”

“That someone is going to be me,” Spencer sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, please, you’re always getting pissy with me when you’re tired-”

“Okay but you get pissy even when you’re not tired-”

“So we’re lying now? Okay, fine-”

“You two have fun,” JJ muttered, leaving them to their bickering. 

It was like that for the whole car ride, which led to Y/N and Spencer grumbling to themselves and dramatically stalking off to separate rooms. Within minutes, they both felt like shit. And so Spencer scurried to run her a bath with those bubbles she wanted, and when he went to get her a glass of wine, he found her in the kitchen, making him a late-night snack. 

They made eye contact, very well aware of what the other was doing. Y/N spoke first.

“You’re so fucking annoying when you’re tired, y’know?”

“So are you.” he shot back with a huff. 

“Yeah, but you let all your crankiness pile up until you’re in my vicinity to let it all out on me,” she explained, still chopping up some fruits as she spoke, “At least I take out all my anger equally onto everyone,” 

“How nice,” he rolled his eyes, “...I ran you a bath,”

“I made you a snack,” she held up a bowl of freshly cut fruits, his favorite kinds. He slowly took it.

“...I love you.”

“Love you too, fucking pain,” she said dryly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before walking off for her bath, smirking slightly. That was usually how their arguments went. 

___

On Saturday, Y/N and Spencer arrived at JJ’s place at around noon. JJ was the one who answered the door, but before she could even greet them, Henry pushed past her.

“Y/N! Uncle Spencer!” He exclaimed. He was known for being extremely… loud. “You're here!”

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer grins, hugging back as Henry ran at him, “Of course we’re here,”

Once Henry was tired of Spencer’s hug he jumped on Y/N next. She choked, eyes widening before awkwardly patting the kid’s back. It was funny. She was usually the affectionate one and Spencer shied away from physical touch. But with kids, Spencer was always giving them love while Y/N was ready to jump out a window to get away. 

“Guess what, Y/N?!” Henry said in his usual annoyingly loud tone, “I’m going to be in a Thanksgiving play at my school!” 

When Spencer and Y/N had babysat Henry for the first time, Henry was a monster, and Spencer got overstimulated within the first hour. So Y/N had kept Henry distracted with her usual fix of Girls’ Generation and then put him on MTV for a while. Y/N had a career in the arts, and from what JJ has said, it seemed like Henry was becoming interested in it too. 

“Oh, really?” she asked, ruffling his hair, “I did a few when I was in elementary school,”

Henry’s eyes lit up, “REALLY?! I’m just like you!” he then skipped off inside of JJ’s home. Y/N debated running off into the street. 

“He really looks up to you,” JJ grumbled, clearly in a Don’t Mess This Up way. 

“Me? B-But I’ve only seen him a few times,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck, suddenly feeling this responsibility (that she did not even want). 

“Well, you made an impression on him,” JJ replied, “Now come on in. Will just made some lunch,”  At the word lunch, Y/N was off inside the house and Spencer went to follow, JJ stopping him, “Did you two have the talk yet?”

His brows furrowed, “Like sexual education-?”

“No,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “The whole kids thing…”

Oh. That. 

During that one babysitting adventure, Spencer had admitted to his girlfriend he had wanted kids, but didn’t think he would be a good dad. She had assured him, saying she was sure he would be a great dad and even said as a mom she would definitely pull as much of the weight as she could. 

But she doesn’t even want to be a mom.

She only said those things to calm him down.

They had agreed to discuss the whole kids thing after, something they probably should have done before they got serious with each other. But never did. He was terrified, and he was sure she was too. 

So they never did. 

“No,” he looked down, fiddling with his fingers, “We have not,” 

JJ sighed, “Reid.” Here we go. “You two have to talk about this.” 

“I know,”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I just…” he shrugged, still not making eye contact, “I don’t want to lose her,”

“Spencer, if you guys have different wants, no matter what happens, you’re going to end up resenting each other,” 

She was right, and he knew that. He knew that if they didn’t have any kids he would probably start to resent Y/N, and if they did have kids, Y/N would probably start to resent him and the children, which he wouldn’t be able to bear. 

But he won’t be able to bear losing her either. 

“I know, I know… I’ll talk to her about it, promise,” 

“No you won’t,” JJ shook her head with a sigh, and with that, she let him in.

____

“I can feel you lookin’ at me, I know what you see. Any closer and you feel the heat,” Y/N and Henry were singing obnoxiously as they cut up little turkey body parts for a little arts and crafts project, sitting together at the kid's table.  

Spencer, JJ, and Will were seated at the “adult” table, occasionally giving each other glances as they watched the scene unfold before them. The way both Y/N and Henry looked equally concentrated on their turkeys as they cut the paper, brows furrowed with tongues sticking out in determination. 

“For someone who doesn’t like kids,” JJ mused, “She’s good with them,”

“Yeah, because she’s like one,” Spencer scoffed, sipping at his coffee, “That’s like her third turkey,” 

“He still hasn’t had the ‘kids’ talk with her yet,” JJ told Will, who tutted in disappointment. 

“Do you gossip about me?” Spencer’s mouth dropped. 

“A bit,” 

“Wow,” 

“To be fair, it was Garcia who told him about it,”

Spencer rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle, “Of course it was her. She blows up everything in my relationship,”

“She does it with love,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

“GIRLS GENERATION MAKE YOU FEEL THE HEAT-”

“-I hope it works out,” Will said, always the earnest one (also ignoring the practical karaoke in the living room), “I feel she’s good for you-”

“-AND WE’RE DOIN’ IT, WE CAN��T BE BEAT-”

“-Yeah, you need some fun in your life-,” JJ agreed with a grin. 

“-B-BRING THE BOYS OUT-”

“-Sometimes it makes me want to scoop my brain out of my skull via my nostrils,” Spencer grumbled, wincing at the loud yell-singing, “I have to deal with this pretty much every day-”

“-WE’RE BORN TO WIN, BETTER TELL ALL-” The singing suddenly stopped, and a child plus an overgrown child scampered on over, showing off their turkeys. 

“Look, Mommy!” Henry shoved one into JJ’s face, “It’s you!”

JJ surveyed the turkey with the colored in blonde hair with a smile, “Aw, it’s beautiful-” she paused, “...why does it look angry?”

“You get angry a lot,”

Will immediately covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“And I did you too, Daddy!” Henry handed Will his turkey.

“Why is his smiling?” JJ grumbled before laughing softly, petting her son’s hair. 

“Because he smiles a lot,” Ah, kids with their zero filter. 

“Look,” Y/N slapped down her turkey onto the table in front of Spencer, eyes bright like the overgrown child she was. 

Spencer looked down at the turkey and grinned, already knowing exactly who it was.

“It’s you, pretty boy,” she said proudly, doing jazz hands like the theatre freak she was. 

The turkey was definitely him, with a silly hairstyle colored in and some glasses, accompanied by a sweater vest. 

“Why does my turkey have no pants on?” he asked like some art critic.

“Because it’s a turkey, I bet pants would be uncomfortable.”

“But glasses wouldn’t be?”

“The turkey won’t be able to see without glasses!” 

He laughed, looking down at the turkey again. He complained a lot, he was well aware of it, however, there was nothing in this world that could make him dislike the woman in front of him. 

And so he pulled her down, not bothering to stand, planting a kiss to her lips. 

“EWWWWW!” Henry gasped, covering his eyes, “What are you DOING?!”

When Spencer pulled his lips away, Y/N smirked, “You should totally make a turkey of me now,”

___

song is "The Boys" by Girls' Generation

[cassafrassie]

testing the waters - (also on ao3) length: 2,938 words rating: G (v mild swearing)

It’s a slow, hot, lazy late August afternoon. The world has been saved, triangle demon vanquished, Grunkle Stan’s memories slowly returning to him, and Dipper and Mabel Pines lounge on the front deck of the Mystery Shack soaking up their last moments of summer before returning to Piedmont in just a few days.

Dipper lays flat on his back on the wood slats, watching the trees sway in the warm breeze while Mabel sprawls on the couch, tapping away on her phone.

“Oh-ho-ho!” She says after some time, breaking the easy silence.

“What?” Dipper asks, glancing at her but not moving.

“Nothing…” she replies in such a mischievous tone that Dipper immediately knows it’s anything but nothing.

Dipper lifts his head to get a better look at his sister. She’s grinning like a mad woman as she taps something on her phone.

It makes Dipper uneasy.

“Mabel,” he says, slower. “What is it?”

Mabel ignores him at first, still tapping away, but eventually looks down at him with a smug smile on her face.

“Time for you to get your own phone I think, bro-bro.”

“What? Why?”

“Well you can’t exactly expect me to be the middle man for you and your girlfriend forever.”

“Girlfri—…?” Dipper trails off as Mabel tosses him her phone, open to a short text conversation.

Pacifica: Mabel. Tell your brother to meet me at Lake Gravity Falls at 4PM today.

Mabel: OoOooh. Looking to do some more huggin’ are ya?? Or maybe taking it up a notch? 💋💋😘

Pacifica: Ugh, just tell him.

Mabel: What’s the magic woooord?

Pacifica: Now?

Mabel: Come on Pazmatazz we practiced this.

Pacifica: Don’t call me that.

Mabel: P

Mabel: L

Mabel: E

Pacifica: Fine! Please! Just stop!

Dipper throws the phone back at Mabel, a little rougher than he needed to.

“Do you have to be like that?” he bites out.

“Um, securing your romantic future? Yes, you’d think you’d be grateful, jeez. Make sure you shower before you go though, you smell like the inside of a gym sock.”

“Who says I’m going?” Dipper says, flopping back down on the deck. “She can’t just boss me around like that.”

“Sure, Dip,” Mabel says, returning to her texting.

---

Two hours later Dipper finds himself showered (he needed to anyway, okay?!), changed and waving his thanks to Soos for the ride as he trudges down toward the lake from the parking lot. To his right he sees the lake’s marina.  It’s mostly modest speed boats and fishing vessels, but rising like a skyscraper above all the rest is a large pleasure craft, at least 80 feet from bow to stern, with the familiar “N.W.” emblazoned in gold script along the side of the bow. He figures this must be his destination, so he heads down the dock toward the end, where the massive yacht rests bobbing in the water in the final slip.

“Pacifica? You there?” he calls out from the dock, finally reaching the boat.

Pacifica’s blonde head pops out from a door to the interior almost immediately. She bounces up on deck and trots over to the side, leaning over to peer down at him.

“Dipper! You came!”

She’s is wearing a striped purple polo top similar to the one she wore the night the Lilliputtians attacked, simple pleated white shorts and camel-colored boat shoes. Her long hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and the overall effect is classy but understated. She looks… nice, Dipper thinks before shaking the thought away.

“Well you kind of made it sound like I didn’t have a choice.”

Pacifica shoots him a grin that’s just a little dazzling in the late afternoon light, and before he knows it his feet are carrying him up dock's boarding steps to the side of the boat. As he lifts his foot to step onto the yacht, however, Pacifica holds up her palm, stopping him.

“Ah, ah, ah, Pines! First rule of boating etiquette. Always ask for permission to board.”

“You invited me here!” he shoots back.

“Manners still matter,” she says, flipping her hair.

Dipper groans. He feels annoyance rising in his chest and is about to tell her to forget it, but then he studies her face and he sees the playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Oh. She’s… messing with him.

He feels his own mouth quirk up at the sides.

Well two can play at that game.

Dipper clears his throat, straightens his back and assumes an air of hyperbolic chivalry.

“Very well, Miss Northwest. Would your highness deign to grace herself with my presence by allowing me to step aboard thine’s most glorious seafaring vessel?” He finishes with an exaggerated twirl of his hand.

Pacifica giggles and holds out her hand to him palm up. “She will. Dork.”

He grips her welcoming hand and allows her to help him come aboard, taking a second to find his footing on the gently bobbing boat before releasing it.

“Pretty nice, uh, schooner you got here.” He says, hands on his hips, looking around.

Schooner? Is that even right? Why is he trying to impress her with big boat words? He doesn’t know a darn thing about boats.

Pacifica quirks an eyebrow but lets it go. “Yeah, it’s fun,” she says wistfully. “But I’m pretty sure it’s going up for sale next week along with the manor.”

“Oh,” Dipper says rubbing his neck. “Do you know where you’re moving yet?”

He feels just the slightest confusing feeling of guilt tugging deep in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t feel bad about Preston and Priscilla getting found out for their years of crookedness, but Pacifica didn’t really have anything to do with that.

“Another mansion here in town. It’s way smaller though. Only one swimming pool,” Pacifica says, her face falling briefly, but she shakes it off.

Dipper chokes back a snort, all feelings of guilt instantly evaporating.

“You want a soda? I can show you around,” Pacifica asks, though the way she confidently strides back toward the interior leaves him with the impression that’s it’s not really a question as much as it is a command to follow.

He trails after her, following into the inner cabin of the boat. They enter a spacious galley. The walls are lined in deep teak wood and a massive crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room. Dipper thinks this seems pretty impractical for a boat, but then again little about the Northwests has ever been practical.

A steward brings a silver tray with an assortment of sodas and juices. Dipper picks a Pitt Cola from the offering and then continues following Pacifica deeper below deck.

“So, uh, what’s the occasion?” he asks, following her down a narrow staircase and down a hallway lined with staterooms. “You just showing off the last of your family’s spoils before it goes to the auction block?”

Pacifica rolls her eyes as she stops at a door near the end of the hall.

“No. Well, not just that.” She opens the door, which leads to a small storage room. She doesn’t turn on the lights, but he can make out that the cabin is filled with boxes and chests from the warm light coming in from two small portholes. “This is the main reason.” She grips a large trunk in the corner with both hands and tugs it out from the shadows. The same “N.W.” monogram is etched onto the lid, the faint light catching the gold script.

As she tugs, Dipper feels the cabin shift around him unnaturally. He realizes the boat is pulling away from the dock. He braces himself against a wall with one arm, but Pacifica isn’t as quick on her feet and she stumbles forward. Dipper reaches forward with his free arm and grasps her around the middle. Her hair ends up in his face.

Lavender, again.

“I gotcha,” he says.

Pacifica grasps onto his arm as she steadies herself, then meets his eyes for the briefest of moments before turning away from him abruptly.

She coughs. “Thanks.”

Dipper feels his face flush. Not going to think too hard about that.

Pacifica turns back to the trunk, kneeling down and fiddling with the lock.

“My family has had these tapestries for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure where they came from, but I took the one in my bedroom down the night after the party. I didn’t know why at the time, but after the last few days things started to come together… so I took the rest down too and stashed them down here.” She looks over her shoulder at him. “Mom and Dad don’t know.”

Dipper feels a burst of pride swell in his heart at her small rebellion, whatever this is.

He leans over her shoulder as she lifts the lid to the trunk, but freezes when he sees what’s within.

He sees the eye first. That piercing, maniacal eye. Then the shape and color. And its enough to send him gasping backward, air completely leaving his lungs.

“Dipper?” Pacifica asks, spinning around toward him.

Dipper’s heart feels like it’s stopped. Where’s the wall? He needs to grab on to something. His arm waves behind him until it finds purchase on the side of the cabin.

“Dipper!” Pacifica continues. “Shoot! I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” She slams the lid shut and turns to grasp Dipper’s shoulders. “Hey, hey look at me.”

Dipper reluctantly meets her eyes, but he’s glad he does. Her blue meets his brown and he sees her concern and immediately feels calmer. In the recesses of his mind, fleetingly, he had feared that this was all some sort of trap, but when he sees her sincerity he knows she’s still on his side.

“You’re okay. I’m here. Crap, I’m so sorry,” she goes on, lowering her eyes but still gripping his shoulders.

Dipper feels the oxygen returning to his lungs and his head clearing.

“No, no it’s okay. I’m okay. It was an accident,” he says, taking a deep breath.

Pacifica looks back up at him, lip quivering. She releases his shoulders.

“Hey,” he chucks her under the chin lightly. “All good. Nothing wounded but my pride.”

She gives him a wary smile.

He returns it, feeling relief as he watches her features slowly relax. She really is pretty, huh?

Shit.

No.

No, no, no we are not doing that right now, brain.

He clears his throat.

“So… uh, why exactly are you showing me this?” he finally asks, breaking their eye contact and gesturing to the trunk.

“Oh! Right.” Pacifica tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she straightens up, putting her hands on her hips. “I want you to help me get rid of it.”

Dipper’s mind races through memories of spells and incantations he read in Ford’s journals. Was there one for expelling physical objects from reality? Could they summon a self-contained fire that wouldn’t compromise the boat? Maybe if they contacted the ghost of Archibald Corduroy he would be able to bring the tapestries to the… ghost realm? If that’s a thing?

Pacifica looks at him curiously. “Uh, hello? What’s going on in there?” she asks, tapping his forehead with her pointer finger.

He continues studying the trunk. “Just trying to think of the best way…”

Pacifica raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Pines. Lake Gravity Falls is 742 feet deep at its center. Where do you think we’re going?” She gestures around her to the moving yacht.

Oh.

Right. Well that could work too.

With some effort and griping the two manage to bring the trunk up the stairs (“Pivot! You have to pivot!” Pacifica had sniped more than once) and on the main deck of the boat.

Together they lift the heavy chest to the railing at the stern, letting it balance delicately just shy from tipping over. They each hold one handle.

“Any final words?” Dipper asks, turning to face her.

“Good riddance.” Pacifica says, still staring at the trunk, eyes focused on the “N.W.” monogram. She turns to him. “Let’s do this.”

Damn, she’s fierce. He gives her a half smile and nods.

They each let go of their respective handles and give the trunk a firm push. It goes tumbling overboard, falling the dozen or so feet it takes to reach the water before hitting it with a satisfying splash.

Dipper and Pacifica stand side by side, watching it sink below the surface slowly, murky darkness slowly obscuring it from view. Then it’s gone.

Pacifica turns and leans her back against the railing, letting out a long exhale. “Wow, it’s crazy how much better I feel.”

Dipper smiles at her. Her features do look more relaxed. Like a heavy burden— or curse, maybe—has been lifted.

He nudges her side with his elbow. “So this tub is going away in a few days right? What do you say we enjoy it a bit before it’s gone?”

Pacifica turns to face him and grins.

---

A couple hours, an impromptu water gun fight, and a few unceremonious pushes into the lake later, Dipper and Pacifica lay next to one another on their stomaches at the bow of the boat, each wrapped in a fluffy towel. Together they watch the sun drop below the tree-lined horizon. Orange and pink gives way slowly to purple and blue. Dipper lets his eyes drift from the hazy sky to the gentle waves created by the yacht cutting through the lake surface, and finally to his new friend. Her eyes have shut and her head is cushioned on her arms. The soft light of the dusk plays on her delicate features, and he takes a moment to watch the steady inhale and exhale of her breathing. He feels himself smile, and decides to let himself indulge in the warm feeling that comes with it. Just for now. Even if he still isn’t sure what it means.

After a moment her eyes flutter open and her cheeks dust with pink. “Guess I dozed off a bit?” she asks, scrunching up her nose.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s been a big day.”

She yawns and looks at the horizon.

“So I guess you’re going back home to California soon, huh? After your party?”

“Yeah… but is it weird that to say that Piedmont doesn’t really feel like home anymore?”

“No.” She turns to him. “I think ‘home’ can kind of change. I never used to feel like Gravity Falls was where I belonged, honestly.”

“Really? Do you still feel that way?”

“I’m not sure… I feel at home right now though, I think.” Her cheeks grow rosier.

Dipper smiles, feeling his own cheeks warming once again as well.

“What are you gonna do? After?” he asks, not really knowing precisely how to articulate what he means, but trusting she will understand.

“I don’t know,” she laughs. “Back to school, I guess. Maybe I can convince my parents to let me start boarding. I’m just a day student right now, but there are a bunch of kids who live too far to go home at night. I wouldn’t mind staying away from my parents for awhile.” Dipper isn’t sure he completely understands how private schooling works, but before he can ask she keeps talking. “Mom and Dad—they, uh… fight a lot, you know? And I kind of think it’s just going to get worse now that we’re only really rich and not insanely rich.” She drops her chin to her rest on her right forearm, lets her left arm dangle over the side of the boat.

Dipper flashes back to four months earlier, hearing his own mom and dad say the most horrible things to one another late at night in their kitchen, long after he and Mabel were supposed to have gone to bed.

“Yeah,” he starts, slowly. “That’s… rough. I get that.”

She tilts her head to him, eyes wide. “You do?”

“Yeah...” He lets his own head fall forward, cushioned by his laced fingers. “I’m not really sure what I’m going to be walking into when we get back, either. Family-wise, I mean.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Honestly, not really. It’s too pretty and peaceful here right now.” He meets her eyes.

“Another time then,” she says, like it’s not even a question.

He feels a smile tug at his lips. On a lot of people, such declaration would come off as presumptuous, rude even. But Pacifica’s so naturally confident and matter-of-fact that it’s just… endearing. Honest.

And he knows it’s true, too.

“Yeah, another time.”

The yacht’s crew eventually brings the boat back to the marina just as the stars are beginning to make their first appearances in the evening sky. Her driver gives him a ride home, and clambering out of back of the town car, Dipper notices Mabel peeking through the Shack’s curtains. He rolls his eyes and turns back to where Pacifica still sits in the back of the car.

“So you’re coming to our birthday tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Duh, I am the Party Queen after all.” She winks and his stomach does a funny little flip. “It would be cruel to deprive you of my presence on your birthday.”

He laughs and shakes his head, sends her a final wave and smile over his shoulder as he makes his way back to what will almost certainly be an interrogation of epic proportions from his sister.

But, yeah, maybe Mabel is right. Maybe it is time to get his own phone.

[sorchathered]

As you wish

Summary- Bob, Mickey and their girlfriends go on an adventure to the local renaissance faire, but how can Bob be expected to keep his hands or thoughts to himself when you look like the fairy princess of his wildest dreams?

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, drinking, smut, knife play if you squint.

It was probably the hottest day of the summer, but that hadn’t deterred any of you from gearing up in your painstakingly hand crafted costumes and caravanning down the highway to Escondido for the Renaissance festival. Fanboy and his girlfriend and you and your newly minted fiancée Robert Floyd had been playing dnd with a group in Coronado for about 2 years now, that’s how all of you had met. You were putting signs up for the new campaign at the library, and Bob happened upon the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, feet carrying him to the bulletin board before his brain caught up with what he was doing. He’d been shy but charming, and you had enthusiastically convinced him to join your group later in the week to try it out. He’d never played before but he new for sure that Mickey had, so with a little (a lot) of begging and promises to buy his beers at the Hard Deck that weekend, the both of them turned up at the community center in Coronado to join the band of misfits they would soon call a second family.

It had turned out to be the best decision he’d ever made if he was honest, the two of you had gone out for coffee after the first meeting and had been inseparable ever since. Two years later and he would follow you anywhere, you were quite literally like a fairy, full of bright energy, quick witted and downright ethereal with your wide shining eyes and angelic features, he truly didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. You’d kept your costume a secret all month, carefully curating little bits and pieces and as you crossed the threshold into your bedroom he had the thought to just stay home and ravish you all day. A beautiful green peasant dress was split at the hip, the skirt frilly and flowing down past your knees, with a beautiful laced up corset starting at your waist and pushing your cleavage impossibly high on your chest, he was definitely salivating and couldn’t seem to snap out of his trance until you skipped over and tapped his nose. “Hmm? What? I’m sorry baby, what did you say?” He wasn’t subtle at all and you giggled as you leaned into him to pepper kisses along his cheeks and slotting yourself between his thighs. “I take it you like what you see my strong, powerful warlock…buuuut I don’t think we have time for what you have in mind so get dressed handsome it’s time to go!” You say with a laugh as you step out of his arms and skitter down the hall with a cackle. Good Lord, he was going to lose his mind watching you all day, as he heaved himself off the bed he heard you holler down the hallway, “oh and baby just wait until you see my wings!” He groaned again at the thought and trudged to the bathroom to take an ice cold shower, grumbling about his temptress fairy princess and how he’d rather stay home.

You couldn’t have had a better time if you tried, somehow you and Mickey’s girlfriend Lana had convinced the boys to dress up as well, and you both had to admit there was something to be said about watching them walk around in billowy shirts looking like they’d just stepped out of a Tolkien novel. The boys were having the time of their lives, drinking ale from giant wooden tankards and consuming their weight in turkey legs, while the two of you girls bought glittery potion bottles and crystal necklaces from the local vendors. Finally heading home as the sun went down you peeked through the rear view at the drunken rogue and warlock passed out in your backseat and giggled, you just hoped Bob would be alert enough for what you had planned for the evening when you got home.

After safely depositing Lana and Mickey at home, your knight in shining armor clambered into the front seat, bright eyes full of mirth as he looked you over, his fingers had been itching to loosen your corset strings all day and if he was honest he was a little hard at the thought of letting you ride him with nothing but your fairy wings on. You fortunately were on the same page, impatiently ushering him through the doorway and down the hall as you groped at him and sucked on his tongue, you’d always wanted to role play as your characters but had been too scared to ask, but now looking at Bob’s flushed cheeks as he toyed with the laces of your corset you knew he was absolutely into this.

“Can I help you handsome? See something you like?” You said as you turned in his arms, looking up at him through your lashes and rubbing your body all over his. “Fu- I- I see a lot of things that I like my lady, think you should show me what’s hiding under this gown, can’t be too careful can I? Fairies are known for their trickery.” He says as he leans in to suck a mark behind your ear and begins unlacing your corset, tantalizingly slow as he continues to nibble at your neck and collarbone, nimble fingers untangling the laces and smoothing over exposed skin as your dress begins to loosen and slip from your frame. “I don’t know what you mean sir, we fairies are a peaceful lot, I would be a fool to try and get the upper hand on such a strong, powerful warlock such as you” you say with a cheeky grin, sliding the dagger you’d bought today from your thigh holster and pressing it into his side. “Hmmf, exactly like I said, tricky business dealing with fairies” he huffed out a laugh and raised his hands, letting you lower him to his knees in front of you. You switched to your normal voice as you lifted his chin, stroking the stubble that you always loved him to have on the weekends. “What’s your color baby?” “Green, so so fucking green, You’re a dream come true you know that?” He said as he smoothed calloused palms across the back of your thighs, taking your thumb into his mouth and sucking it, drawing a whimper from you as you nodded furiously at him.

“If you wanted to check me for weapons all you needed to do was ask, but since I have you on your knees, why don’t you put that smart mouth to task on something useful” you said you hooked your leg over his shoulder and pulled him close to your core, as fun as the banter had been you were wound up and needed him to touch you. He ran his nose along your underwear, teasing you with little nips to the side of your thighs and pulled back to look at you again, disappointment crossed your features and he chuckled and pinched your ass from under your skirt. “I think you might want to roll for persuasion sweetheart, I could draw this out a little longer if I’m honest, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you begging for it.” You blinked down at him a little stunned, that cocky son of a bitch, he knew exactly how to play you. “Oh- oh that’s mean. Fine. Give me your dice then, I know you bought new ones today.” He definitely did buy a new set today, and he would be lying if this wasn’t absolutely hilarious to him so he pulled them from his pocket and placed them in your hand, throwing his head back and laughing at the irritated look on your face as you shook the dice and tossed them at his feet. “Ha! D20! You heard me Warlock, put that silver tongue of yours to good use or I’ll cut your throat where you stand.”

You feigned irritation but you’d get what you wanted, you both knew he’d never tell you no anyways, he ran his hands over your thighs again and began to slide your underwear down your legs, letting it dangle off the leg hanging from his shoulder and set to work, licking a stripe through your folds as he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. Fuck he was always so good at this, eating at you in earnest as you ground against his face and tugged his hair, making out with your cunt and moaning into you like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Oh, oh fuck I’m there just like that” you breathed out and came hard on his tongue, he didn’t stop until you were overstimulated and pushing at him to stop, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and pulling himself up to grope your chest and kiss you. “What do you want my sweet fairy princess? I’m at your service my love.” “Want you to fuck me, need you inside me, claim me.” He was pretty sure you were trying to kill him, it wasn’t even his birthday and you were giving him his wildest dreams, he pulled the rest of your dress and corset off as you clawed at his shirt and pants trying to strip him down to nothing. Finally free of clothes his eyes roamed over you, you were perfect in every way but he still couldn’t get that one thought out of his head so he stepped around you to grab the wings you’d dropped and held them in front of you. “Can’t get it out of my head, what do you think baby? Ride me with the wings on?” He had the gall to look a little sheepish as his cheeks heated up, you’d never get over just how damn cute he was, he could be downright filthy but this is somehow what caused him to get shy on you. You slipped your arms through the holes and shoved him backwards into the bed climbing onto him and sliding his hard cock into you, rocking slowly with him as he sucked on your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth as you cried out, oh God were you close again already? Shit maybe you two needed to start doing this more often, you felt like you were buzzing with electricity with every thrust, the small thatch of hairs at the base of him grazing your clit deliciously as you came hard for the second time, sending him tumbling over the edge with you as his teeth sank down into the juncture of your neck, painting your walls with his spend.

He made to roll you onto your back but you made him wait, your wings were expensive and you didn’t want him to crush them, so you slid them off and let them hit the floor, rolling him on top of you as you continued to kiss lazily. “Damn this could be a problem” he said with a grin and you looked up at him puzzled, “how am I ever supposed to go to dnd on Fridays with you when all I can think about is you rolling a d20 so I’d eat you out.” You both couldn’t stop your giggles, and when Friday rolled around and your DM suggested Bob roll for persuasion, you couldn’t help but giggle and wink at him, thinking about taking him home and donning your pretty wings for him again and how it should definitely become a regular event.

————————————————————————

Divider by- @strangergraphics

Tagging- @attapullman @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @pinkdaisies9285 @hangmansgbaby @sugarcoated-lame @teacupsandtopgun

[hwnglx]

what do they think of each other? jungkook + hyunjin

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

what does jungkook think of hyunjin?

jungkook thinks that hyunjin is talented, and good at what he does. he sees him as someone who didn't just lazily sit on his potential, but was able to develop into the established artist that he is today, by actively working on his skills and enhancing his craft. he views him as a person who has an impactful and strong presence, a lot of charisma.

there's also this impression on jungkook's side, of hyunjin being a clever guy; by using his cards to his advantage, whether that's his looks, his charm, his skills. he thinks the stray kids member is someone with a lot of hunger and desire for the spotlight. i kept hearing “욕심” which translates to “greed” or “ambition”. but also “과해” which translates to “too much”. with the devil present, jungkook might view hyunjin's ambition being to an extreme and obsessive degree.

interestingly enough, i believe he might see some parts of himself in hyunjin, especially when it comes to his relentlessly hard-working attitude.

actually, both of them have given me this energy of setting themselves immensely high standards, and therefore being on a continuous grind. even if they rest physically, they can feel this constant itch to be working on something; their mind usually does not rest. they're likely to already be thinking of their next project; they can both feel that burden.

jungkook thinks that hyunjin might also be someone who can feel the need to carry a lot of the public's expectations and pressures on his back, and can struggle putting it down.

what does hyunjin think of jungkook?

so, hyunjin sees jungkook as an allrounder. (didn't chan talk about this some time too?) i got the three of pentacles along with the world, which is the very last card in the tarot deck; it's the card of completion and wholeness.

he thinks the bts member is someone who's recognised among his peers, as an exemplary artist you look up to, who basically has all it takes to be successful in this industry, and is well-liked and respected. i can feel a lot of praise for his craft.

he also recognizes jungkook's immense drive, and ongoing determination resulting in him becoming such a commendable figure in the industry. i get the feeling he might see him as the stand-out member within bts.

in addition, hyunjin might struggle with truly figuring him out as a person. jungkook can be a bit of a mystery and enigma in his eyes. someone who seems more detached, and closed off. a person you can't actually get close to as easily. i can sense some curiosity like “i wonder what he's really like.”

he thinks jungkook might be someone who's good at hiding some of his more complex and complicated sides behind his polite persona and public image. like he has this image of a charming “everybody’s darling” who appears to be on good terms with everyone, but doesn't reveal much of his deeper inner self to many people, and prefers remaining private about his personal matters.

[adhdnursegoat]

BTAS

cw: fluffy goodness 😊

word count: 1.8k

The toy launch party for Wacko Toys is in full swing, and Charles Baxter has spared no expense. Bright lights, colorful banners, and giant inflatable toys surround the room, creating an atmosphere of childlike wonder. Guests dressed in suits and cocktail dresses mingle, sipping on drinks and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. It’s loud, it’s bustling, and, despite the elegance of the event, there’s a sense of playfulness in the air.

Edward Nigma, however, has little interest in toys. Sure, they bear his branding, his carefully crafted puzzles and riddles turning each trinket into a test of wits. Yet tonight, there is something else—or rather, someone—who has captured his full attention.

You’re standing on a small platform in the middle of the room, surrounded by an eager crowd. The lights dim, and you wave your wand with a flourish, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Prepare yourselves for a little magic!” you declare, voice smooth and confident as it echoes through the room. “The sleight of a hand, illusions that tilt your sense of reality.”

From his vantage point at the edge of the crowd, Edward watches you intently, eyes hidden behind that domino mask of his. A magician at a toy launch party? Yes, please. But it’s not just your tricks that have drawn him in—it’s you. The way you move, the graceful swish of your hands as you perform each trick, the sparkle in your eyes as you captivate the audience... He can’t look away.

You pull out a silk handkerchief, displaying it for the crowd. With a flourish, you throw it into the air, and it transforms into a cloud of shimmering confetti. The crowd gasps and claps, and you give a playful bow. “Ladies, gentlemen, gentlepeople… for my first trick,” you say, glancing around the room. “I’ll need a volunteer.”

Without missing a beat, Edward steps forward, a swagger in his step. “I’ll do it,” he says, his voice dripping with charisma as he flashes you a charming smile.

You raise an eyebrow at the man before you. His green suit and the signature question mark tie make him hard to miss. Of course, the Riddler himself. You recognize him. The party is for him after all, though you didn’t expect him to step forward so eagerly. A smirk curls at your lips, and you adjust your white bowtie before tugging at the cuffs of your white gloves, fluffing your feathers in the face of this infamous con man. “Very well, Mr. Nigma,” you reply, snapping your fingers to summon a deck of cards in a flash. “Let’s see if you can keep up with my tricks.”

Edward strides onto the stage, his every movement dripping with calculated confidence and an almost feline grace. The subtle sway of his body, the way his tailored green jacket clings to his lean frame—all of it pulls the room’s attention, but you know it’s you he's focusing on. His sharp eyes lock onto yours, a smirk already tugging at his lips. The air thickens with anticipation, the crowd buzzing in low murmurs.

With a flick of your wrist, you toss him the brand-new deck of cards. He catches it effortlessly, shifting his body just in time, making the catch seem both precise and casual. That smirk of his deepens when your eyes meet, both of you tilting your heads in mutual intrigue. This is electrifying.

Edward unwraps the deck with a slow deliberation, the sound of the plastic tearing somehow sensual in the heavy atmosphere. He hands the wrapping to a nearby waiter without breaking eye contact, and with a single, fluid motion, cracks open the deck. His hands are deft, skilled, as he holds them up for the audience to see, shuffling them with a skilled showman’s flair of his own.

“A normal deck of cards,” he announces, his voice smooth as velvet, projecting to the audience yet laced with an undercurrent meant just for you.

He closes box and tosses the deck back with a sharp snap, and you catch it with ease. The way your fingers brush the cards is slow and deliberate when you open the box, showing off just how in control you are. You can feel his eyes on you, studying you with keen interest, and the weight of his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. With showmanship to rival his own, you shuffle the deck once yourself before arcing the cards in he air from one hand to the other. You’re good at what you do - and you know it.

Then you fan out the cards, a playful glint in your eyes. “Pick a card, Mr. Nigma. Any card.”

Edward’s lips curve into a slow smile. He takes his time, drawing out the moment, savoring the power play between you. When he finally selects a card, it’s with a calculated grace, pulling it from the center of the deck. His eyes never leave yours, not for a second, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he reveals the card to only the audience—the Ace of Hearts.

He arches a brow, his voice low and drenched in challenge. “So, what happens next, my lovely magician?”

Your heart flutters at the sound of his voice, but you hold steady, your composure as sharp as ever. You lean in just a little, your voice dropping into a sultry purr. “Hold onto that card and your hat, my comely assistant.”

With a snap of your fingers and a clap of your hands around the deck, it vanishes in a puff of smoke, leaving the audience gasping in awe. For just a split second, Edward’s smug mask slips—his eyes widen, momentarily taken aback. But then, just as quickly, he regains control, his lips curling into an amused smirk, his intrigue only deepening.

As the smoke clears, you step closer to him, your chest inches from his. The air between you sizzles with a barely restrained intensity. You can feel the heat of him, the way his breath catches for just a second, and you revel in it. But, as always, Edward remains composed, meeting your boldness with a dazzling grin that matches your own.

Your gaze flicks to his jacket, and with a slow, sensual movement, you gesture toward it. “Check your pocket, please, Sir.”

He hesitates, just for a moment, the thrill of the unknown dancing between you. Slowly, his hand dips into the inner lining of his jacket. You watch as realization dawns on him, the faint widening of his eyes betraying his surprise as he pulls out a little package wrapped in a handkerchief—the very one you had turned into confetti earlier. With the Ace of Heart tucked between his fingers, he carefully unwraps the cloth, cheeks dimpling in an amused look of admission when he sees what's inside. It’s a loose deck of cards.

The crowd watches, spellbound, but for you, there’s only him—Edward, the thrill of the game between you, and the magnetic pull neither of you can resist. You smirk only deepening, you gesture towards the deck. “Look for your card, please, Sir.”

His lips part in a question, but the edges are curling into an appreciative grin as he inspects the cards in his hand—the Ace of Hearts not in the mix of the deck. His gaze finds yours again, a look of appreciation on his face. He barely glances at the crowd when he says in finality, “I’m surprised to say the Ace of Hearts is missing, everyone.”

The crowd erupts in applause, completely enamored and enchanted by your showmanship and mind-bending tricks. But you hardly notice them, your focus solely on Edward.

Edward’s eyes flick up to meet yours once more, and there’s something darker, something more intimate in the way he looks at you now.  “Well, well,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, yet rich with suggestion. “Look at that. It takes a lot to impress a man of my wherewithal, but I must admit I am surprisingly stunned.” He speaks only to you, ignoring the party around you. His gaze lingers, smoldering, making it clear that in this match of magic and wit, you may have just won more than his accolades.

“Coming from you, Mr. Nigma, that’s quite the compliment,” you reply, keeping your voice smooth despite the flutter in your chest. With a playful bow and the tilt of your top hat, you maintain your composure, though the air between you feels electric. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Edward inclines his head, the edges of his smirk deepening. “The pleasure was all mine,” he says, his tone dark and silky, the way it wraps around you sending a shiver straight down your spine.

The show goes on, yet his presence never fades. He doesn’t retreat into the crowd. Instead, Edward remains near the front, his gaze never leaving you, watching each movement, each trick with a fascination that feels almost... rapacious. Every flick of your wrist, every illusion only seems to draw him in further, his stare piercing through the bright lights, making your skin tingle with awareness.

As you take your final bow, removing your hat with a grand flourish, you feel the weight of his eyes on you. When you step offstage, collecting your props, he’s already there. His presence is magnetic, undeniable, and your pulse quickens as he leans in, hands clasped behind his back, that same knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Quite the act,” he purrs. “You’ve managed to captivate me, and trust me, that’s no easy task.”

You arch a brow, trying to maintain your playful edge, though his attention makes your heart race. “Is that so? And here I thought I was just performing silly little magic tricks.”

Edward steps closer, his voice dipping lower, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “There’s nothing simple about what you do,” he counters, his tone thick with intent. “You command the room, every movement, every flick of your wrist— you wield misdirection with an elegance I rarely see outside of my own... endeavors. It's mesmerizing.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words, and you feel your eyelashes flutter shamelessly against your flushed skin. “Well, Mr. Nigma,” you say softly, letting the moment stretch, “I live to entertain.”

His smirk deepens, and he leans in even closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks. “You’ve done more than entertain me.” The space between you feels almost unbearable, a pull you can’t ignore. He offers his arm, his voice turning into a low rumble. “Now, tell me—would you care to join me for a drink? I’d love to uncover more about the magician who has left me utterly... spellbound.”

For a heartbeat, you consider teasing him, brushing off his request with a sharp retort to keep the chase going. But the way he looks at you, like you’re the most intriguing puzzle he’s ever encountered, makes you pause. His intensity leaves you breathless.

With a soft smile, you loop your hand under his and grasp his offered arm, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric.

“I’d be delighted.”

[cemetery-baccanal]

The Phantomhive Servants (minus Tanaka)

Finny, the gardener of the Phantomhive estate, is inspired by haflinger horses. He has a short, stocky build that probably won't ever change.

As of right now (there's no set timeline for this au but I was definitely going off of their early designs and personalities for these designs) he is a blank flank! He grew up as a test subject, not an individual, so the circumstances that usually precipitate a cutiemark did not, understandably, have a chance to.

Luckily it is not unheard of for a pony of his age to be without a cutiemark, just uncommon, so any curious glances from those of polite society who bother to look are easily waved away by the head butler without suspicions of his origin.

Baldroy is, obviously, inspired by American Paint Horses. He has curly hair because I said so and also do you know how hard it is to do his straight hair "im growing out my buzzcut" looking haircut on a horse and have it not be ugly. it overcame me. not the other way around.

Anyways! His cutiemark is perfect for a chef, and guests to the Phantomhive manor are always assured by it that their dinner will be one crafted at the hooves of a life dedicated chef. Unfortunately for them (Or not, the head butler would never allow something subpar to grace their lord's table.) His cutiemark appeared when him and his soon to be wife finalized the plans for the house that they would surely spend the rest of their idle, love filled days in.

Mey-rin, the only pegasus among the Phantomhive servants, is a flighty, clumsy creature who is only saved from falling down the stairs by the fact that she can fly. There was no specific breeds used for inspiration on her, but I was thinking heavily of strawberry roans (my beloved) while thinking of her color; just greyed the color out a bit more to fit her og color scheme. She is my favorite design out of all of the staff.

Her cutiemark isn't really one you'd expect to see on a maid from a respectable family who can afford to hire ponies who have dedicated their lives to their work. If seen, it could raise some unwelcome questions from polite society. Thankfully her maid uniform does a good enough job of concealing it that there has yet to be an issue.

I plan to showcase her maid uniform, as well as Baldroy's chef uniform at a later date but I wanted to finalize their base designs first. My current plan with outfits is that they are not REQUIRED to be seen as "decent" (Not naked) But the farther up you get on the social ladder the more common they are. For example, a commoner would wear an outfit on their wedding day, and would probably wear them to other formal occasions if within their budget, but other than that outfits aren’t worn on the daily or with any regularity. An aristocrat, or those directly in front of aristocrats (maids, chefs at a dinner party, etc) are much more likely to be dressed most of / all of the time. Its very much a status symbol to have full wardrobes and all of your servants decked out, especially in this magic starved world where fabric/clothes production is so much more expensive.

[galamalion]

˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ cupid’s revolver

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ summary﹕you confess your feelings to a certain lipstick-wearing gunslinger.

⋆ * ˖ ⋆ notes﹕hello! this is a request by @lady-winter13​ for an izou x reader! hope you enjoy!

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ౨ৎ ⋆ pairing﹕izou x gn!reader

when you first joined the whitebeard pirates, you knew from stories what to expect. you prepared yourself to be pushed around as the runt of the litter or suffer through a humiliating ‘initiation.’ what you weren’t expecting was the kindness and love they showed you. your fellow pirates greeted you as an equal despite your lack of experience, gladly showing you the ropes.

thatch taught you how to cook, sharing family recipes and the favorite meals of each member. marco showed you the proper way to clean a wound, having you memorize the steps before going on to the next topic. jozu coached you on correct punch formation, contorting your body in uncomfortable ways to reach optimal punch velocity, though you got more bruises than knowledge from those lessons.

however, your favorite lesson by far was weapons training. firearms, to be exact. not because you were particularly interested in guns, no, you hated them. they were your favorite because they allowed you to spend one-on-one time with izou.

you’d wake up bright and early to finish your chores, swabbing the deck, doing laundry, sorting through marco’s supplies, and taking inventory for thatch. and finally, when you completed everything, you’d run up to izou, waiting for his acknowledgment. he’d always turn to you and give a curt nod, causing the butterflies that had been waiting all day to emerge, fluttering about in your stomach.

to say you had a crush on izou was the understatement of the century. whenever you saw him, your heart soared to unimaginable heights, piercing the clouds until it hit the sun, burning alongside the star with passion. there was no way to pick a favorite part of the man, but you had a list. the strands that escaped his hair tie and framed his face, the lipstick he carefully applied every morning, or the mix of his perfume and body wash that fused to create a flowery-citrus scent that lingered around him.

you could write enough things about izou to fill a short novel, but you’d never dare write them down on paper lest another crewmate finds it. while the crew was tight-knit, you knew they could be ruthless snitches, specifically marco and thatch. those two were eager to get in on any gossip they could, like reporters snooping around for the next juicy scoop. you had no intention of ever letting them know your true feelings.

the moby dick had just docked on an island, allowing the crew to make light purchases and restock any necessary supplies. you, however, were forced to serve thatch in his kitchen, grabbing whatever spice or vegetable he barked at you. only tuning into every third word he screamed, you instead thought about the gun practice you’d be having with izou tonight.

“hey hey hey!” thatch shouted, “i said three cloves of garlic, not three bulbs! are you trying to poison everyone on board!” 

you jumped, dropping the garlic onto the counter, narrowly missing the pot where thatch’s masterpiece was cooking. “sorry! i got lost in my thoughts, but I’ll be more careful, i swear!”

thatch looked at you incredulously, determining whether or not you would be a further nuisance to his culinary craft. “and what was so important that caused you to forget what a clove was?”

“well, i was…” you froze in your tracks, desperately thinking of a clever lie. you couldn’t tell thatch just anything. he’d see through you in an instant.

“...i was so hungry that i couldn’t think straight! tonight is pizza night, after all. i just couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“well, we’re not making pizza right now, so throw that pie out of your noggin and start dreaming about soup!” thatch yelled back.

internally you let out a sigh of relief. everyone on the ship eagerly anticipated pizza night, so it wasn’t too outlandish to suggest you might be excited.

“my my, is teach in here? all this talk about pies…” 

you jerked your head towards the door, looking at the new voice. but you knew who it was, even without turning your head. how could you not? that sweet dulcet voice plagued your dreams every night, not that you opposed its intrusion.

“you think i’d let that fool in my kitchen? he’d eat everything in here!” thatch shot back.

izou gave a hearty laugh before turning to you. “are we still on for practice tonight? you might miss out on pizza if we go.”

there was a lump in your throat, connecting down to your heart, resounding in your ears. all you could do was pitifully nod at the question, doing your best to give a reassuring smile.

he gave you one in kind, then turned and walked out the door, leaving you and thatch alone.

thatch slowly turned his head, eyeing you suspiciously. “...i thought you couldn’t get pizza night out of your head. you’re telling me you’d sacrifice one of my north blue-famous pies to shoot guns?”

you didn’t give thatch an answer. instead, you sprinted out of the kitchen, hearing him shouting after you. you knew he couldn’t give chase, not with his soup still cooking on the stove.

upon reaching the ship deck, you crashed by the railings, taking deep breaths. while desperately gasping for air, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, seeing izou standing above you with a genial smile.

“done with the chef so soon? i know thatch can be pretty demanding, but this is only the second time i’ve seen someone get chased out.”

you quickly brushed your clothes, standing up. “i wasn’t chased out! i was just so excited for practice that he let me leave early!”

izou smirked at your hasty response. “well, if you’re that stoked, perhaps we should leave now?”

nodding eagerly, you followed closely behind as he left the ship, searching for a spot on the island to begin practice. he led you to a small clearing, placing a few bottles on various rocks and high points.

“now, remember what i’ve taught you. aim just a smidge above the target, not directly at it.”

you carefully pointed the pistol at one of the bottles, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself to fire.

“your stance is off,” he spoke suddenly, “feet apart, and your hand is too shaky.” izou stepped behind you, pressing his foot between yours, forcing them apart. he laid his hand on top of yours, steadying and straightening your posture.

“deep breaths now; calm yourself.” how could he ask something so unreasonable after doing something like that!? every nerve in your body worked overtime to calm down from his actions, demanding you flee immediately to stop your body from imploding. 

however, you refused to let your body ruin this opportunity of one-sided intimacy. taking a deep breath, you held the pistol up, aiming at the bottle, pulling the trigger, and letting the bullet fly.

much to your dismay, it didn’t hit the target, only scraping the rock it was sitting on. you angrily threw the gun to the ground, stomping toward the bottle and kicking it, letting out a long frustrated groan. izou reached a hand out to console you, but you stopped him.

“i hate guns!” you shouted. “i don’t like shooting them, and they’re insufferable to use!” you continued your impassioned rant, much to the shock of izou, shouting for the next couple of minutes about your distaste for firearms.

once you finished and were entirely out of breath, izou chimed in.

“then why shoot with me so often? it’s not mandatory, you know,” he said wryly.

“because of you!” you yelled back.

“i don’t force—”

“i come because I want to shoot with you! to spend time with you, because i like being with you! i like hanging out with you, listening to your bad jokes, and when you offer to do my makeup, all of it! i like you a lot, so i’ll hang around you, even if it means i have to shoot dumb guns.”

izou just stared at you, eyes wide at your heartfelt assertion. after realizing the weight of your words, you felt your entire body heat up with embarrassment and shame.

“n-not that i think guns are dumb! i just don’t like them personally! they’re very pretty, especially the ones that—”

“you…like me?”

his words barely registered in your ears as your hammering heart overpowered any outside noise. 

“well, i mean, yes— but if you don’t feel the same, we can pretend this never happened!”

silence permeated the air as you stared at each other, letting your proclamation sink in. embarrassment didn’t begin to describe your feelings, and you felt sick to your stomach.

disheartened by his lack of words and wide-eyed stare, you turned around and began walking toward the ship. it’s alright if izou couldn’t pretend, you already planned on doing your best to erase this interaction from your memory.

before you could return, you felt a tug on your hand. izou stood behind you, grasping your hand tightly and pulling you close. his expression was completely different, now sporting a determined look, eyebrows knit tightly together as he spoke.

“your declaration of love was inspiring, though i’d keep your comments on firearms to yourself, ” he shifted onto one knee, kneeling before you. “i apologize for my lackluster reaction, and i ask for your forgiveness, as you…caught me off guard. i would be honored to share my heart with you, now and forever.”

this time it was your turn to stare stupidly. you had prepared to never speak to izou again, to stomp to the boat and cry your eyes out, lamenting your big mouth. but for izou to declare that he returned your sentiments? if it weren’t for his tight grip on your hand, you’d pinch yourself to check if you were dreaming.

“...you really mean it?” you whispered, praying he was being truthful.

he stared into your eyes, unblinking. “if i am a liar, may i be struck down.”

tears of joy gently pricked your eyes as you squeezed his hands in response, beaming down at the gunslinger. izou stood, offering you his arm, which you gladly took. the two of you walked side-by-side, preparing for the cheers and jeers of your fellow pirates as you boarded the moby dick. 

a caramel pompadour peeked out from a nearby shrub, watching as you and izou walked away from the clearing.

“well, there goes 1,000 beri…you win, marco!” thatch groaned, tossing the money into the trees above.

from within the trees, a blonde man caught the sack of cash. “izou would’ve never confessed first; you know how proper he is!” marco cackled, counting his newly earned capital.

thatch sighed. “you know, you might be right,” he said, crossing his arms. “but i think we have those shooting lessons to thank. the straw that broke the samurai’s back!” thatch let out a boisterous laugh, only to be knocked over by marco.

“shaddup! they’re still close by, and i’m not going to be the one explaining why we were creeping.” marco hissed.

the doctor swiftly grabbed thatch with his talons, flying away from the island and towards the ship, all while the chef hung on for dear life. he knew he had to be fast, as he planned to be the first to congratulate you two on your budding romance.

“did you hear that?” you whispered, turning around to the fluttering bushes. izou  spun you back around, giving you a reassuring smile.

“i’m sure it was nothing, just some lousy birds, that’s all.” he chuckled, giving a quick glance towards the greenery.

izou pulled you closer, stretching his arm around your shoulder, giving you an extra layer of safety. it was something you’d dreamed of for far too long, but now you knew he’d always be by your side, no matter the trials you faced. you smiled at the thought, leaning against your newfound lover as you anticipated the new chapter of your life.

[officially-other]

Intro post

Hello! My name is Frog. Don't ask me why I'm not frogkin, but my name is Frog, I don't know. /silly

If you're coming from my main blog:

Yup, this is the "super secret" otherkin account of @tadpoles-and-daydreams. I decided to make a separate account and blog for dragonkin and dragon work rambles, since... well, to be honest I just wanted to separate my blog for witchcraft writing, tarot, etc. from this. This is a more personal blog in which I mostly reblog and post random little memes and tidbits, heavy UPG, dragon work, and what the hell does it look/feel like finding out your soul is draconic anyway?

And just in case: if you're coming from my main blog and are unfamiliar with any of the shit I'm talking about here in terms of otherkinity, dragonkin, being a dragon- please feel free to send in asks. I plan on writing more in-depth in a bigger post about what it is, what it's like, how I found out about it, etc. etc. but that will take a lot of time and energy that I currently don't have. Further down, though, I give the best TL;DR I can!

If you have no clue what the fuck the main blog is:

I talk about my experiences as a witch and meme about the funny side of witchcraft over there. Go there and check out my tarot readings if you want a dragon to throw some cards at you, or if you want to hear more about my craft outside of dragon work! I write a lot as a witch over there so if you like my witchy posts here, it's worth checking out.

He/him pronouns

Trans, panromantic, polyamorous, just generally queer

auDHD

20

My special interests include: Writing, Genshin Impact (I don't associate with most of the fandom they scare me), music, anime, the ocean, and "weird miscellaneous facts."

Dragonkin, specifically an amphitere.

local funny little witch man, I work with primarily with my deities and dragons and get bullied by a deck of cards a lot.

My familiar- though I hesitate to use that word due to its connotations as an "assistant" rather than a partner in my practice- is the one who kickstarted this by implying my energies were draconic in nature.

For everyone, regardless of how you found me:

This is where I plan to blog about my experiences when it comes to working with dragons, and fucking being one apparently. I want a safe space to write about my experiences, no matter how much I change. I feel like I've only dipped my toes into a vast ocean, a whole new aspect of my identity and my craft. I decided that I wanted to be able to write completely transparently about it- fears, mistakes, flaws and all- without it reflecting majorly on my main blog/my professionalism as a tarot reader who's just starting out.

So expect it all; the funny, the cool as fuck, the ranty posts, everything. This is just as much a tumblr blog as it is a journal, for me. I heavily value transparency, and that's something I can't be in public as an otherkin.

So I'll do it here instead. ^-^

Important posts:

A post I plan to update continuously of everything I know about my kintype:

The current closest reference I have for what I look like as a dragon, although admittedly not fully accurate:

[isabelopaque]

okay well. training was NOT short id qualify that as long. expectations not what i was planning for but i am quite pleased if not nervous. theyre putting me as the techie running sound alone instead of on deck which [gets scared] but i have experience running cue lab before so it should be okay ? i wasnt expecting to do a full non tech run through of th show tonight but it was really nice to get to see it as an audience member. had one of those God i love my craft i love the human experience moments when you see a good live theatre performance which is always a good sign for a work. very tired but feeling

[allbluedepths]

save point

(Gen | One Piece | Benn/Mihawk; Benn/Mihawk/Shanks | 1.3k words)

Summary: Observing how things often devolved as the night went on aboard the Red Force was always a good time, one that Benn had become very acquainted with over the years. His keen eyes caught details often missed by others — such as noticing a particular swordsman appearing, coming into view as he deftly traversed the crowd of increasingly drunken pirates.

(Or: Mihawk comes back to the Red Force after a few weeks away, to the two people he can let his guard down around.)

Read here on AO3 or below!

Observing how things often devolved as the night went on aboard the Red Force was always a good time, one that Benn had become very acquainted with over the years. It certainly wasn't that he never joined in, but sometimes, there was just as much amusement to be had in watching the chaos unfold instead of being at the center of it. His keen eyes caught details often missed by others — such as noticing a particular swordsman appearing, coming into view as he deftly traversed the crowd of increasingly drunken pirates.

Mihawk had boarded the Red Force once more earlier that evening, his raft appearing on the horizon after multiple weeks of being away, just as the crew began to settle across the deck after dinner. Benn had half-expected him to simply disappear into the privacy of Shanks', or his own, cabin, regardless if either of them were there. He certainly joined — or at least, joined in as much as he ever would — in the near nightly festivities more than he would have years ago, but rarely so after long journeys.

Despite that, he was approaching Benn at his place on the edges of the gathering. While he still donned his hat and coat, Yoru wasn't attached to his back, a once rare sight that had become slowly more common over the years. With a tilt of his head, he perched himself atop the other half of the crate Benn was sitting upon.

It was odd seeing Mihawk without a wine glass in his hand at such a gathering, something it seemed he had made no move to grab. They had long since kept some of his preferred wines available — some, because it'd destroy Benn's carefully crafted budget if they got the rarer of his favorite vintages — and even some half-decent glassware.

“Don’t want anything?” Benn asked, gesturing toward the open crates of various bottles stacked off to the side of the deck.

“Mm.”

Mihawk's curt response pushed Benn to take a closer look at the other man. The faint bags under his eyes and the odd set to his shoulders were undeniable. Those who didn’t know him well wouldn’t see anything but a menacing figure staring down the deck. To Benn, though, it was obvious how far exhaustion had seeped into the swordsman. Mihawk never slept that soundly when he was off sailing alone. Few people sailed alone for so long for a reason; keeping up navigation, watch, and every other duty left room for barely more than catnaps. Mihawk's observation haki and strength combined certainly left him in a more secure position than most, but wear on the mind and body was inevitable.

That wasn't even accounting for Mihawk's naturally odd sleep patterns. They was outright baffling at the best of times, even aboard their ship, and the rumors of him being a vampire were only fanned by his insomniac tendencies. More than once, Benn had ran into him in the middle of the night, more awake and alert than even the crew on night watch.

Shanks’ presence at least did something good in getting Mihawk to sleep more regularly. Really, they were both much more manageable the next day if they had snuck off to curl up in Shanks' cabin the night before.

But it had been weeks since they had even had the opportunity to do so, and it showed.

"Surprised you're willing to put up with this on your first night back."

Mihawk huffed, a dry, exasperated noise that spoke volumes on its own. “The noise would be as inescapable as always, a deck between or not."

Benn snorted at that. Indeed, there was nothing stopping a party aboard the Red Force. Even an attack would be nothing more than a brief interruption — hell, if it wasn’t really a threat, he doubted most of the boys would even put down their drinks.

Benn let any further response drift away in favor of a comfortable quiet, one that Benn was content to sit in. Their time together was often quiet in the first place, and quiet company was good company. Company that not just Shanks had missed over the last few weeks.

It wasn't long before Benn felt the lightest of pressures pressing against his side, warmth spreading across his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, the brim of the swordsman’s hat tipped down ever so slightly, shading his face from view. Something warm and bright stirred in his chest as he realized that Mihawk had found somewhere to sleep after all.

His arm snaked out from its pinned position between them, coming to rest at the exposed strip of skin on Mihawk’s hip. It was barely a hold, much looser than Shanks’ own were, but it kept him snug against his side all the same. A nearly imperceptible sigh slipped from the other man’s lips, and Beck felt the last tendrils of tension leave the other man’s form as he sunk into the contact. (If Mihawk was willing to allow physical contact — in initiating it, even in front of the crew — he could meet him in the middle.)

“Wasn’t planning on getting up anyways,” he murmured, lighthearted, fondness openly seeping beneath his low tones. "Glad to have you back."

The raucous sounds of the deck carried to his ears, and he let them wash over him, lazily smiling at their antics. Whatever drinking game they had been playing had devolved beyond comprehension while he wasn’t looking — not that it was anything more than a flimsy excuse in the first place. It was easy to spot his captain, even right in the midst of the crowd, between the shock of red hair and the familiar laughter and shouts echoing across the deck. It didn't take long for his captain to turn back towards him, no doubt having felt his eyes on him with his usual keen sensing.

What he hadn’t felt, evidently, was the relaxing of Mihawk’s haki as he had fallen asleep. Benn saw the half-formed call on his lips fail to make a sound, the man frozen as he stared blatantly at the sight before him.

It was nearly comical at how transfixed Shanks was. One would have thought Shanks had never seen the other man before; it was a miracle his beer bottle was still intact in his hand and not spilled or dropped. The other pirates around him paid him no mind, too drunk to notice his sudden pause — or too used to his antics to care.

Shanks would make his way over before the night was through, Benn was sure. Keeping him away from his swordsman was an impossibility, but for the time being, he was getting more than his fair share of amusement from where he was. His smile, both fond and impish, said enough by itself as he stared intently at them and raised an eyebrow teasingly.

Even though a vehement, crude gesture would have been warranted in return, Benn didn’t dare move beyond a scowl and a rolling of his eyes back at his captain as he turned away. Mihawk’s breathing had just begun to even out, and between the man’s observation haki and his near-constant raised guard, it'd take even less than a jostle to awaken him. Considering the man’s… temperamental reactions to being awoken too early, even when well-rested, he had no interest in facing that.

(And if Mihawk's slumbering presence at his side meant sleeping sitting up on the deck for the night... some things were worth indulging, no matter the aches and pains that were sure follow by morning.)

So, carefully, Benn relaxed into the solid wood of the ship's exterior behind him, idly rubbing his thumb against Mihawk's hip as he settled back in to watch the night's antics unfold once more.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 13/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

He knocks again, then stands back to wait. What the hell are they doing in there? he wonders, shifting the six pack of beer he brought to the other arm. Poker night is every Thursday—it’s not like they aren’t expecting him. 

The night is cool and crisp, the clear indigo sky speckled with pinpricks of starlight. Trillions of miles traveled across the universe over thousands of years, just to be overpowered by skyscrapers and streetlights and the haze of the industrial revolution. He tips his face up and locates the Big Dipper, the North Star, Cassiopeia. It makes him at once feel insignificant—a speck on a rock in a pile in a quarry—and extraordinary. How many events throughout the history of time had to happen in precisely the way they did in order to bring him to this moment? It feels like destiny, which is both a comfort and a burden. 

Finally, the door pops open and he’s greeted by a tall blond man with thick glasses. 

“The party has arrived!” the man says jovially, standing aside to allow him entry. “Jeff’s here!” he hollers, and voices of the other two call out greetings from a nearby room. 

“I’ve been standing out there for ten minutes,” Jeff chides gently. “I thought you’d kicked me out of the coven.”

They enter a small dining room with a circular table surrounded by four chairs, two of them occupied.

“We were out back smoking a cigar,” the blond man explains as he takes his seat. “Cuban, the real deal.”

“And you didn’t wait for me?” Jeff asks, exaggerating his level of offense as he sits in the remaining chair. 

“Come on, man, we know Diana would have your balls if she smelled cigar smoke on you,” one of the other men says. He’s older than the other two, with wiry salt and pepper hair. 

“You’re not wrong,” Jeff agrees, cracking open a bottle of beer. “Let’s get this show on the road; who’s dealing?”

The third man, mahogany-skinned and handsome, shuffles the cards artfully, making a show of bridges and cascades as he smirks to himself. 

“Mike thinks he’s hot shit with his little card tricks,” the blond man says bitingly. “Just deal the things already, Mike. Jeff has a curfew.”

“Fuck off, Simon,” Mike shoots back. “I’m perfecting my craft.”

“Women are attracted to money, not junior high magic tricks,” Simon says, nudging the third man with his elbow. 

“I like magic tricks,” the third man comments self-consciously, and the other three laugh. 

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Mike says, shaking his head. “You always gotta be the weird one, don’t you, Frank?”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when I clean house,” Frank grumbles, and Mike finally deals out the deck. 

Frank does, in fact, clean house. They don’t play with real money, just chips, but that doesn’t hamper each man’s desire to win, nor his disappointment when Frank scoops up the lion’s share of the pile and begins stacking them enthusiastically. 

Simon checks his watch, then sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I gotta head out in a half hour or so,” he says. “Marcy didn’t want me to stay too late.”

“Well, I guess Jeff isn’t the only one with a curfew,” Mike teases, and Simon shakes his head with a smile. 

“It’s not that, it’s just hard for her to get up with the baby at night right now, so I’ve been taking all that on.”

“Is she okay?” Jeff asks, his mind immediately going to the kinds of things that can cost you a sister. 

“Yeah, she’s fine, just tired. She’s, uh—she’s pregnant again, actually,” Simon offers, and all the eyebrows at the table shoot up to their hairlines. 

“No shit,” Frank says carefully. “Is that good news or bad news?”

“Surprising news,” Simon says. “But ultimately good. We didn’t really plan to have two this close together, but I guess fate had other ideas.”

“Congratulations,” Jeff offers, extending his hand. “That’s great.”

“Can’t say I miss those days,” Frank remarks, still stacking his chips. “Up at 3:00 am trying to get a baby back to sleep when you have to be up for work at 6:00? No thank you. I’m glad mine are all grown.”

“Thanks, Frank, that’s really kind of you to say,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. 

“I always miss my kids when they’re at Jenny’s,” Mike says sadly. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Hey now, I love my kids,” Frank defends. “I’m just saying, waking up in the middle of the night fucking sucks.”

Jeff watches the exchange, unable to take part. He can relate to overbearing spouses and the perils of the working world, but he has nothing to offer on the subject of fatherhood. 

“I actually need to head out too,” he says as he stands and retrieves what remains of his beer. “Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to my balls.”

“Send our best to the warden,” Frank quips, earning him a warning look. 

He leaves them, a peel of laughter fading as he pulls the door closed behind himself and makes his way to his car. 

It does bother him a little, the way they talk about Diana. At the same time, what they say about her isn’t untrue. She is a little bit controlling, but not without due cause. He’s made mistakes in the past, ones he can never fully set right, and ones that justify Diana’s desire to know where he is and with whom. He promised her that he would do whatever it takes to make it up to her, and that has included checking in regularly and being home by midnight. Of course, his friends don’t know that, because he’s never told them. He’s too ashamed. So he accepts their cheap shots at his wife, and then drives home to her so he can prove again and again that she is the only one he wants to come home to. 

He slinks into the house quietly, shushing Frenchie’s barks as he enters through the laundry room. He walks towards the back of the house to let her outside, and is startled by Diana’s voice as he passes through the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

He jumps a little, bringing his hand to his chest as he pulls the sliding glass door open and Frenchie slips out. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” he admits, though that was fairly obvious by his reaction. 

Diana is perched at the kitchen island wearing a silk nightgown, a glass of water on the counter before her. He looks at the time on the microwave display and then back to her pinched expression. 

“By four minutes, Diana,” he defends, indignant. 

She pulls in a deep breath, straightening her posture. 

“Where were you?” she asks. 

“At Frank’s, for poker night. Same as every Thursday. There was an accident on the turnpike,” he tells her, and his gut twists at the disbelieving look on her face. He steps closer, laying his hand over the top of hers on the countertop. “Diana—”

She pulls her hand out from under his and stands, walking to the sliding glass door to let Frenchie back in. 

“I believe you, Jeff. But call next time, okay?” she says tersely, and he nods. 

He lies awake in bed, and by Diana’s breathing, he can tell she is awake too. He feels guilty, but also angry that he feels guilty when he didn’t do anything wrong. He knows that he deserves this, knows he’s lying in a bed of his own making, but he still hates knowing that it will never go away. Six years later and she’s still watching him like a hawk. He thought it would get better over time, but it hasn’t. 

And then there’s Simon and his new baby. He was surprised by the pang of jealousy that lit up in his chest upon hearing the news, a sensation he’s never experienced before. He’s always considered he and Diana to be childfree by choice, but looking back, he doesn’t really recall weighing in on that decision. Diana never wanted to be a mother, and he wanted to be with Diana, and so it was simply part of the deal. Now, at nearly 39 years old, he suddenly wonders if being a father would suit him.

“Did you always know that you didn’t want children?” he asks out loud, and Diana’s breathing pauses briefly. 

“Where did that come from?” she questions.

“Marcy is pregnant again, and I was just thinking—”

A blustering sigh. 

“Jeff, are we really going to do this right now?” she asks, annoyed. 

“Do what?” he counters, equally irritated by her dismissiveness. 

Diana rolls to her side to face him, propping her head up on a fist. 

“Can you really see yourself giving up poker night, and sleeping in, and playing basketball on the weekend?” she asks, her tone shifting to something lighter. 

“I mean…I don’t think I’d have to give up all those things. Not forever, anyway,” he says. 

“Imagine walking into the office to find your rare book collection in tatters on the floor, covered in drool,” she teases, and he smiles. 

“That would be less than ideal,” he agrees. 

“Imagine having to stay quiet when we make love,” she continues, sliding her hand across his belly. 

“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” he says, now grinning. 

She hitches her leg up over his hip, straddling him, then peels the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. 

“These are, and always will be, exclusively for you,” she says in a syrupy voice, then leans forward and brushes her lips over his. “Help me fall asleep, Jeff,” she whispers. 

Her nightgown finds its way to the floor, as do his boxers. She sits astride him, grinding with her eyes locked on his. She’s possessive, maybe a little desperate, though he’s not sure why. 

“That’s it,” she encourages him, her hands planted on his chest. Her eyes slide closed, her mouth falling open. “Yes, Fox,” she murmurs. 

When she collapses against his chest he rubs wide circles over her back, and his mind instantly returns to its wandering state. 

“What did you say about a fox?” he asks, and she stiffens. 

“What?” she asks breathlessly, her face tucked against his neck. 

“You said something about a fox, during—”

“I’m relatively certain I said ‘fuck.’ Sorry to offend your delicate senses,” she says somewhat defensively, rolling off of him. 

He turns toward her, laying a reassuring hand on her bare hip. 

“I’m not offended, Diana, I was just wondering—”

“Goodnight, Jeff. I have work in the morning, I need to get to sleep, if you don’t mind,” she says in a clipped tone. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Goodnight.”

He waits for her to turn her face towards his so he can kiss her goodnight, but she keeps her back to him. He presses his lips to the curve of her shoulder, lingering there as a confusing mix of emotions swirl around in his chest. 

The life he has. The life he sometimes thinks he might want. The discrepancy between the two. He wonders why now, all of a sudden, he’s peeking over the fence at possibly greener grasses. Why the life he’s been content with for years suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. 

The rush of the waves fills his ears, calming him. A gull calls out, its shriek carried away on the wind as his toes sink into the sun-warm sand. He spies a child further down the shore, a boy with dirty blond hair building something with a shovel and a bucket. There is a feeling of recognition, a sense of knowing, though he cannot recall the child’s name, nor their relationship to one another. 

A strong wave pushes up beyond the waterline, sweeping across the child’s half-finished project and washing it into an indecipherable mound. The child’s shoulders slump, defeated, so he approaches and calls out to him.

“Oh, hey, buddy. That’s okay, you can build it again.”

He kneels down beside the boy and touches the child’s cheek, brushing an errant grain of sand from his downy skin. There’s something in the child’s eyes, something familiar that makes him feel a swell of affection and protectiveness. 

“Just start again,” he tells the child, reassuringly. 

He jolts awake, his heart racing. Frenchie stands from her bed on the floor, alerted by his sudden movement, and watches him for an indication of what’s next. 

“It’s okay, Frenchie,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands over his face. 

The night is still in full swing, only inky darkness peeking in around the blinds. He looks over at Diana’s sleeping form, her back still turned to him and her breathing even. It feels like only minutes have passed since he fell asleep. 

Wired from adrenaline, he stares at the ceiling and waits for the potential of sleep to return to him. His dream has mostly faded, and he grasps at snippets. The beach, he remembers the beach. 

Just start again.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[ltwilliammowett]

Hello -- I really really love your blog! :) my question is, how many people were necessary to man the largest sailing ships (and what would those ships be)? What, roughly, needed to be done to get the ship sailing? Did every sailor have a fixed role on the ship, or was everybody expected to be able to do everything, if necessary?

Hi, well i assume you mean the Royal Navy in the late 18th -early 19th century ?! in that case there were around 200 men on the frigates (the Royal Navy always sailed with less men than necessary as they valued training) and around 900 on the largest the first rates (like HMS Victory).

Now not all Sailors were trained as such from childhood and so there were three different levels on the ships, the Able Sailors the fully trained, the Ordinary Sailors and the Common Sailors the untrained who still had to be trained.

Then there were also the ship boys who were either born on board or orphaned to learn the trade so young.

The Sailors were the ones who handled the sails and the rudder, but the navigation, the organization of the men and the general control, like the execution of the orders of the admiralty, had the officers.

In case of need, they could also do all the work on board, as well as the trained sailors who were perhaps even so good that they were trained as masters and thus learned the craft of navigation and sail and ship adjustment.

So I think that's it in a nutshell - I've included links for you to read on, as you've probably already noticed, and if you have any more questions, please feel free to ask.

[huntingteeth]

hello, i’m huntingteeth, also known as deerie on ao3, and you can call me claire! i’ve gotten a fair amount of followers here so i thought it was about time to do another intro post.

i write strictly for fun, and my main stomping ground in fandom right now is sleep token. the goal is to write so much sleep token fic that it eclipses the 33 fics that i wrote for teen wolf lmao. sometimes i even mention the original stories i’m working on uh but don’t get too excited i’m much more tender and precious about it than i am with fic

a fun fact about me is that my masters degree is in literacy! that probably answers a few questions and raises some as well

i like crafting! i’m currently in the process of teaching myself to crochet, but i like to knit and cross stitch as well.

my fave genre of book is nonfiction. i like science nonfiction and micro-histories through the lens of food. i read fewer fiction stories lol but i like spooky ones.

here i made you a playlist, it’s still growing put it on shuffle i guess

i have an extensive tarot deck collection. i also have an extensive crystal collection lmao. another thing i collect is teapots, the real round boys.

my birthday is soon-ish (sept 1, the best day in september) and i’ll be 35 which does mean i’m an actual adult so please temper your expectations accordingly

my toxic trait is that i don’t watch movies ahahaha. i do watch movie recaps on youtube though so please infer from that whatever you want. i also like to watch ttrpgs, anything that has to do with high strangeness, and compilation videos lol

as of may 2025, i’ll have been vegetarian for 10 years which is another wild concept. i also have extensive food allergies so sometimes you’ll catch me bemoaning that fact. despite that, i’m definitely into food and cooking, so i post about that often too.

i’m not scary, come talk to me. ask box is generally open and i love being tagged in things 😌

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Eight

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 5091

Harry kept my hand in his as we exited the hotel to find a car waiting for us.

“Well, hello again,” I smiled when I saw him holding the door.

“Hello, Miss,” said Drew with a nod.

I slid into the leather seat, Harry following. Raising our joined hands to his lips, he kissed the back of mine as Drew pulled out of the parking lot and headed out into the night. Harry remained silent as I watched the scenery go by, once again mesmerized by the city.

“First time to New York?”

I turned and gave him a smile.

“Yes,” I nodded. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Because my book is set here. You would think I’d at least been here before. To do some research or something.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I pursed my lips. “No time. Or money. I just relied on Lorelei’s knowledge, movies and Wikipedia.”

Harry smirked. “I don’t reckon you really needed to know much anyway. The story really could have been set in any city.”

I stared out the window again. “I suppose so.”

The ride was quiet once more as I continued to watch the city lights and sky-high buildings go by. I wondered where Harry was taking me, but I decided to keep the mystery brewing and not ask.

“Are you nervous?”

I widened my eyes and turned my head with a jerk. “About what?”

“Tomorrow. The book signing.”

“Oh,” I sighed. “A little, I guess? But not really. Just...excited. You know, that feeling you get like there’s butterflies in your tummy, but you’re not worried or anxious because you know everything’s gonna turn out like you’d hoped.”

Harry gave me a slow smile, his eyes dancing as though we both knew neither of us were just talking about the book signing. I felt him squeeze my hand as my stomach flipped. Before I knew it, the car came to a stop.

The chill of the evening air hit me harder than before as I stepped out of the car, and I quickly realized we were near the water. Eyeing the marina, the lights bouncing off the surface of the water, I pulled my coat tighter around me.

“Harry, what is this?”

I felt his breath in my ear, his hand on my back before he whispered. “My surprise.”

I looked up at him then, a slight smirk threatening to show his dimple as he gestured to the dock. I hesitantly let him guide me until we stopped in front of a massive yet conservative nautical craft.

“We’re going on a yacht?” I gasped.

Before Harry could respond, another man seemingly came out of nowhere, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Good evening!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand. Harry shook it and greeted him as though they’d met before. I just watched in awe, still incredulous about what was happening.

We stepped onto the yacht, and the man, who had introduced himself as Ethan, showed us to an area on the deck with an amazing view of the skyline and had then quickly disappeared somewhere. As soon as Harry and I were alone, it finally dawned on me, and I officially got the jitters. Harry noticed and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Was that a nervous shake or a cold chill?” he asked.

I chuckled. “I told you I’m not nervous.”

“Then why are you gripping the handrail like that?”

I looked down at my hands, my fingers white from holding on so tightly. I blushed as I released my grip.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t apologize,” he laughed, taking my hands and turning me towards him. “You’re not afraid of boats are you?”

“No.”

“Good. Because we’re moving now and that would make this date really awkward.”

I threw my head back laughing, the nerves and tension easing from my body. Harry echoed my laugh, pulling me closer. I hugged him tight as the wind blew my hair behind me. I watched the city move by slowly, taking in a deep breath.

“‘m so glad you’re here,” Harry murmured.

“You know,” I began to tease, “most guys just take a woman out to eat, maybe to a movie.”

“Hmm. I’m not most guys.”

“Apparently.”

“First time on a yacht?”

I bit my lip as I ran my fingers up and down his back. “Lots of firsts tonight. Not sure what to expect next.”

I felt Harry’s chest shake before he cleared his throat. I raised my head to look at him. When he lifted his hand to graze my cheek, I anticipated his next move. We were interrupted, however, when another voice boomed behind him.

“Excuse me, Miss, Sir.”

Harry turned his head to acknowledge the man, nodding at him.

“Be right there,” he said. Then turning back to me, he held out his hand. “This way.”

The man, wearing a white shirt and black tie, stood next to a sliding glass door which Harry and I entered, then shut it behind us. The room, which looked large enough to house several tables, and probably did on occasion, now only held one off to the side next to the windows. The space was aglow with candlelight, the table adorned with a white tablecloth and a small vase of roses in the center. Harry took my coat as I stared with my mouth open, quickly shutting it. I watched him as he held my chair out for me, my stomach doing acrobatics at a most inopportune time.

Harry sat across from me after passing our coats to the man (waiter? Maitre d?) who then left through another door, only to arrive back seconds later with water and a bottle of wine. He uncorked it, pouring the crystal liquid into two glasses. I smiled when the waiter left once more, and Harry raised his glass.

“I know I already made a toast,” he grinned, “to gorgeous redheads. But I’d like to make another.”

“Yeah?”

Harry nodded. “To one in particular. Who’s sat across from me right now. That I haven’t been able to get out of my head since the day we met. And is absolutely taking my breath away.”

“Wha-” I stumbled, swallowing hard. “Wow.”

His grin widening, Harry clinked his glass against mine and took a slow sip. I remained cemented in my spot, unable to move. The candlelight danced in his eyes as I continued to stare at him, no doubt gawking. I felt a warmth surge throughout my body as he reached across the table for my other hand.

“What do you think of my surprise so far?” he asked.

I couldn’t hide my sigh. “So romantic.”

The waiter returned then with food and despite the fact that my stomach was still doing somersaults, the dinner was delicious. Harry said he wasn’t sure if I was a steak or fish person, so he’d opted for chicken. I laughed, telling him it was a good choice, but for future reference, I liked everything.

Flirting with Harry was easy. The chemistry between us was apparent and undeniable. My nerves had dissipated after two glasses of wine, and I was feeling good and confident. By the end of dinner, I was in need of fresh air, so we returned to the deck just in time to reach Ellis Island.

Harry stood behind me, his chest pressed against my back and his arms around my waist as I stared up at Lady Liberty. Though the only sound was the whipping of the wind in my ears, I could swear Harry had to be able to detect the beating of my heart.

“Did you say something?” I asked with a jump.

“No, love,” he replied, his breath on my neck. “But I want to.”

“Wh-what is it?”

As I turned my head slightly, I felt his lips graze my skin behind my ear, and then my earlobe. His eyes looked at me with intensity as I rotated my entire body in his arms until we were face to face. Suddenly, I did hear something. It started so low that I thought I was imagining it, but as it grew I realized it was indeed music.

“Dance with me,” Harry requested.

A smile spread across my face, and I nodded as Harry pulled me to the center of the deck. We danced to classic Sinatra, my arms around his neck.

“How are the girls?” asked Harry.

I burst out a laugh and rolled my eyes. “You’re gonna ask me about my kids right now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because we’re on a date.”

“So? Everything about you is a topic of interest for me, Stacey. And your kids are a pretty big deal.”

I grinned and nodded. “They’re fine. At home with their dad.”

“Good.”

“What about you? How is promo and everything going?”

“Really good, actually,” he beamed.

“I saw the Ellen interview. That was hilarious.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks.”

“You’re really enjoyable to watch, I must say. And it helps that you’re obviously enjoying it too.”

“I appreciate that.”

The song changed to one by Michael Buble as we continued to sway. I started to sing along since it was one of my favorites.

“The melody haunts my reverie…”

Harry hummed with me, his cheek pressed against mine. I shut my eyes and breathed in his intoxicating scent. I was drunk on him, on his mere existence. I laid my head on his shoulder, and I felt a shiver as his fingers tickled my back.

“You cold?” I heard him whisper.

“No, I’m okay,” I lied.

Though his body temperature kept me fairly warm, the chill had picked back up and I was still without my coat. But there was no way I was letting go of him.

As the song neared the end, I played with the curls on the back of Harry’s head.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“When were you planning on kissing me?” I lifted my head to catch him smirking.

“What do you mean?” he asked slyly.

“Well…” I said, playing with the edge of his collar, “I seem to recall you saying you were taking me out and that you planned on kissing me again. So, I was just wondering when I could expect that second part.”

Harry chuckled, pressing his mouth to my forehead. “It’s all in the timing, my love.”

“Sorry, I ruined it, didn’t I? I’m so bad at this,” I blushed.

“At what?”

“This...dating...or whatever it is.”

“No, you’re not. You’re pretty incredible, actually. I like your eagerness.”

“Oh great,” I said sarcastically. “I’m easy.”

Harry laughed harder. “You’re adorable.”

I focused on his chest again as the next song began. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, I could taste it, but I’d embarrassed myself and couldn’t look at him. Harry continued to rub my back as he sang softly in my ear.

“That’s when you need someone… Someone that you, you can call…”

I allowed myself to get lost in the sound of his voice, his warm breath on my cheek. My heart was racing a mile a minute, my knees weak and jelly-like.

“If it’s a friend that you need… Let it be me…”

Harry continued to woo me with his singing, his tone low as he caressed my back, my shoulders, my arms. I kept my face in the crook of his neck, feeling the vibration of his voice against my mouth. I let my lips brush his skin, daring the both of us. That was when Harry whispered my name, urging me to look at him. When I didn’t, he lifted my chin with his finger.

“Beautiful Stacey,” he cooed.

He kissed me gently on the cheek, then again at the corner of my mouth. Finally, I looked him in the eye right before he closed his and kissed my lips.

We were no longer dancing, at least not like we had been, in time with the music. I felt a chill, but also completely warm at the same time. He held me tighter, one arm around my waist, the other hand cupping the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. I wasn’t even sure where my hands were, but I didn’t care. He had a hold of me and that was all that mattered. Though his lips were soft, his kisses were hard and hungry, shamelessly passionate. I tasted the wine on his tongue as it filled my mouth, silently and desperately telling me all the things words couldn’t.

A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. It seemed to have a positive effect on Harry though, and he mimicked it, pulling me closer and slipping his hand down my backside. I suddenly experienced an overwhelming sensation and had to back away, my hand on his chest.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy, his eyelids heavy.

I stared at him a moment, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

“Wow.” That was all I could manage.

He gave me a tiny smile. “Yeah.”

I knew my face had to be matching my hair at that moment. I felt flushed, excited, and completely turned on. I blinked several times to get my bearings, and I suddenly remembered there was music playing.

I heard Harry chuckle, a sexy low chuckle that is enough to make any woman willingly give up all inhibitions. As he lightly brushed the wild strands of hair from my face, his fingertips caused goosebumps across my skin. Finally, the temperature was apparent, and I crossed my arms.

“Let’s get you warm, baby,” Harry murmured, pulling me to him once more.

My teeth chattering, I nodded against his chest. He walked me to the room where we had eaten, and I sat at the table, watching the glitter on the waves. I hadn’t noticed he’d gone until he stood with my coat. I smiled up at him and rose from my chair to put it on.

“We’re almost to the dock now. So it won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

Harry ran his hands up and down my arms, a concerned look on his face.

“Did you have a good time?”

I gave him the brightest smile possible. “Are you kidding?”

I giggled when I caught him blushing, his head bowed. I wanted to scream that he was so fucking cute, and he needed to stop, but I didn’t.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“This has been the best date I’ve ever been on in my life.”

He smiled his signature dimpled smile before pulling me into another kiss.

“I hope that doesn’t mean it’s over,” he whispered, his forehead against mine.

“What?”

“Come back with me to my hotel?”

It was a question. The inflection rose at the end. It wasn’t a demand, but a request. An invitation. I lifted my hand to his face as I looked into his amazing green eyes.

“Yes,” I said.

There was something about Harry that’s hard to explain in words. Although my heart was jumping, my palms were sweaty, and my throat was dry, he somehow managed to make me feel at ease. He had this aura about him that glowed with confidence, and I could feel it radiate.

I knew what we were doing. It’s no secret what the intent is when one goes to another’s hotel. But I didn’t feel hesitant about it at all. My nerves were only built from anticipation and excitement. I wanted him to make love to me.

I should have known he’d have a suite. It wasn’t over-the-top or anything, but big nonetheless. Harry invited me to sit on the couch while he poured us some more wine. I half expected some high-tech stereo system to start playing soft jazz or perhaps some Barry White or Marvin Gaye, but instead, Harry crossed the room and returned with an acoustic guitar. He smiled as he moved his wine glass on the coffee table and sat down on it, strumming lightly.

Had it been anyone else, I might’ve been offended. But I was willing to make this evening last as long as possible. Taking a sip of wine, I crossed my legs and grinned at him over my glass.

“Wanna sing something?” Harry asked.

“No way, it’s your turn. You promised.”

“Did I?” he raised a brow.

I licked my lips and took another drink. That was all the response he got from me, but it seemed to work. Carefully strumming the chords, Harry began to play a song I recognized from his album. I sat quietly as he sang, mesmerized by his vocals and facial expressions. He was full of passion and soul. I loved every second.

“That was beautiful,” I commented softly when the song ended.

“You’re beautiful.”

I felt a little bubble rise from my belly up to my throat and I tried my best to hold it down. Harry barely peeled his eyes away from me for a second to set his guitar on the floor. Then he scooted closer to me, his knees on either side of mine as he took my wine glass from me and sat it next to his on the table.

Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me. Boy, did he kiss me. I was completely intoxicated, and it wasn’t just from the wine. I ran my hands up his thighs, eager to get closer to him, to feel him. He groaned against my mouth, igniting a deeper fire within me.

“Harry…” I breathed as he dragged his lips down my neck.

“Baby…”

He nipped at my skin, his hands lowering to my waist. He tried to pull me onto his lap, but I resisted.

“Wait.”

He stared at me incredulously for a moment. Gulping, he nodded. “Am I moving too fast?”

I smiled. “No. I need to use the ladies room.”

“Oh.”

I winked at him as I rose from the sofa and grabbed my bag. Once inside the restroom, I pulled out my phone, prepared to send a quick text to Lorelei, even though she knew where I was and with whom. I frowned, however, when I saw I had a voicemail from Tod.

“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know Emery has a fever. It’s pretty high right now, like a hundred and one. She was complaining about her stomach, but she hasn’t thrown up yet. I’ll keep an eye on her, but call me when you get this message.”

“Shit,” I muttered. I noticed the call had come through nearly an hour ago. I called him back.

“How is she?” I asked as soon as he answered the phone.

“She’s been throwing up now. A couple times. She’s been asking for you.”

“She’s still awake?”

“Yeah. Her fever hasn’t gone down much. I’ve put a cool washcloth on her forehead.”

“Did you strip her down? Let the fan blow on her.”

“She’s got the fan. She’s just in her nightgown.”

I sighed. “Okay. Put her on the phone.”

I heard muffled voices until Emery’s helpless one came on.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“You’re sick, sweetheart?” I asked.

“Yeah. I miss you. Can you come get me?”

“I’m in New York, baby.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You’ll get better,” I assured her. “Daddy will take care of you.”

“Okay.”

“Drink lots of liquids.”

“Makes me throw up,” she argued.

“I know, but it’ll flush you out. Help you get well.”

“Okay.”

“Let me talk to Daddy again. You’ll be alright soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Once again I heard the muffled voices and Tod returned to the phone.

“I’ll let you know if she gets worse,” he promised.

“Please. Or if she’s refusing to drink or go potty.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll check back later.”

When I hung up the call, I cursed to myself again. Then I quickly used the toilet and washed my hands, knowing Harry had to be wondering what happened to me.

When I returned to the couch, he was sitting on it, strumming his guitar. He looked up at me questioningly, setting the guitar down again.

“Everything alright?”

“I um...had a call from Tod,” I replied.

“Jasmine?”

“No. Emery this time. She’s sick with a fever and she’s throwing up.”

“Oh no,” he frowned.

A tear escaped my eye just as he pulled me down on the sofa beside him.

“I’ve never been this far away from them before,” I cried. “And now one of them’s sick and needs me.”

“Hey, shhh,” Harry cooed, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay.”

I shook against his shoulder for a few minutes as he rubbed my back. I knew he was right, it would be okay. I just felt overwhelmed.

“Did you get to talk to her?”

I sniffled and wiped away a tear. “Yeah. She was awake.”

“Then I bet she’s feeling better already. She got to hear your voice.”

“Why are you so sweet?” I asked, looking at his face in wonder.

He blinked slowly before taking my chin in his hand. Then he gently placed a kiss on my lips, the most tender of kisses.

“I’ve ruined the moment again, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t ruined anything.”

“We were having such a lovely evening,” I pouted.

“Still are.”

Harry kissed me again, this time closer to the way he’d been kissing me before. I reveled in the sensation of his lips, his tongue, his stubble. The spark ignited once more, and I slipped my hand inside his shirt.

“Is this where we were?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

Harry reached behind me, finding the zipper to my dress. He opened it slightly, sliding the strap down. My breath caught in my throat as he began to lick and suck on the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck and left a trail across my shoulder.

“Baby…” he groaned.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go to the bed, yeah?”

I merely nodded as I stared at his kiss-swollen lips. As I took his outstretched hand, I heard a familiar sound behind me. My ringtone.

“Fuck,” I cursed, grabbing my purse.

“It’s your ex?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, take the call, love.”

“Stacey, her fever’s gone back up,” explained Tod when I answered. “I stripped her down, but she’s still burning up.”

“I thought you said her fever was going down,” I argued.

“Well I hadn’t checked it lately. The last time was over twenty minutes ago. So apparently it’s gone back up since then.”

“Dammit. Run her a cool bath. Call my mom, see if she can stay with Jaz while you take Em to the emergency room.”

“I don’t think she needs the E/R, Stacey.”

“If her fever is over a hundred and two, she needs the E/R, Tod.”

I knew then was not the time to make condescending remarks and stress each other’s names, but I couldn’t believe he’d be so obtuse. I heard him sigh just before the sound of running water.

“I’m gonna try the bath. I’ll let you know if it helps.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

This time when I hung up, Harry didn’t wait for the tears. He pulled me into his embrace without a word or a sound because he knew. He knew what I needed.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured against his chest.

“Shhh. Stop apologizing. I’m here. Whatever you need.”

“Maybe I should go back to my hotel.”

“Is that would you want to do?”

I looked up at him then, concern, sincerity and a bit of confusion in his expression. I shook my head.

“No. I wanna be here with you.”

Harry smiled. “I want you here, too.”

I swallowed hard. I knew the night was ruined. There was no way I could make love to him with so much worry on my mind.

“Will you hold me?” I whispered.

Harry released his arms from me and took my hand.

“C’mon,” he beckoned.

I followed him to the bed where he sat on the end to take off his shoes. Then he patted the space next to him. Kicking off my heels, I placed my phone on the nightstand to await Tod’s next call, and climbed onto the bed beside Harry where he quickly enveloped me.

I didn’t cry anymore, though I constantly felt the tears behind my eyes. Instead, I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to his heartbeat which soothed me. I was just about asleep when my phone rang again.

“The bath seemed to help,” confirmed Tod. “Her fever’s at a hundred now.”

“Oh thank God!” I breathed.

“Yeah, she’ll be okay. She’s in bed now, all clean and relaxed.”

“Okay. Thanks. I was so worried.”

“I know. She’ll be fine. Are you at your hotel?”

“Um…” I looked at the clock on the nightstand. At that hour, I most definitely should be at my hotel. “Yes.”

“I’ll let you know if her fever comes back, but I don’t think it will. Get some sleep.”

“Alright. You too.”

I laid my phone back on the table and turned to Harry.

“All clear,” I said with a nervous grin.

“Wonderful.”

“Thank you, Harry,” I cried, wrapping my arms around him again.

“Baby,” he whispered, brushing a stray hair from my face, “I did nothing.”

“Wrong. You did everything.”

The room was dark. I slid my hand up and down the wall trying to find the light switch. Once I did, the eruption of cheers made me jump.

“Surprise!”

“Oh my God!” I squealed, my eyes perusing the area until they met the ones I’d been searching for.

“Happy Birthday,” he grinned, taking my hands and pulling me to the center of the room.

“It’s not my birthday,” I laughed.

“Well, not technically, but it’s coming soon.”

“In two weeks!”

“Will you just sit and enjoy it? Stop arguing, jeesh.”

I shook my head, knowing I had to go along with it, or he would never let me live it down.

Slinging his guitar over his head, he gave me his cheeky grin, his guitar pick between his teeth. I buried my face in my hands as he began to play and sing a song he’d written for me on my last birthday, a cheesy little number where he’d insisted on rhyming my name with lacey, spacey and facey.

When he’d finished, the crowd cheered once again. My breath caught when he knelt in front of me on one knee and shoved his hand in his pocket.

“Harry…” I gasped.

I missed the part where he’d proposed. I missed my reaction, too. I missed our kiss, our embrace, our official announcement. Because then all that was left was blackness once more.

“Happy Birthday, Stacey.”

I turned around in a complete circle, but I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. Suddenly a door opened to my left, a beam of light shining through. I saw his shadow, but not his face. Still, I knew it was him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

I didn’t have to look down at my dress to know what day it was. A very special day.

“You look beautiful,” he said, avoiding my question.

“You’re not supposed to be here anymore,” I nearly shouted.

“Why not?”

“Because I found someone else finally. Who cares about me. Who won’t hurt me.”

“You really think he’ll never hurt you, Stacey?” he asked. I could tell he was closer to me, next to my ear. “Never?”

“I…”

“You’re never really gonna be happy, just so you know…”

I sat up, my breaths uneven as I tried to recall where I was.

“Baby? You okay?”

I felt his hand on my back like a warm iron. My body was trembling like it always did when I had a nightmare.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” Harry said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“I’m sorry,” I croaked.

“Stop with that.”

He held me in his arms again, pulling me back down to the bed. Then he ran his fingers through my hair as he lightly kissed my cheek. I realized then that he had removed his shirt.

“Just a bad dream.”

I sucked in my lips and nodded. I laid there for several minutes, waiting for the tears to return but they never did.

“I should probably go,” I finally announced.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “It’s nearly three and I have to be at the bookstore at nine.”

“You can still stay here...if you’d like.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve worn out my welcome.”

“Hey.” Instead of taking it as the joke I’d intended, Harry hovered his body over mine, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. “Maybe I don’t wanna let you go,” he said.

“Harry.”

He groaned as he pressed his forehead to mine. He lowered his hips so they hit my inner thighs, his weight alone adding friction. A small sound escaped my lips when he began to grind against me.

“Please tell me…” I gasped, “that we’ll get more time together soon.”

“We will if you stay the night.”

“I...I can’t, Harry,” I gently pushed his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s okay,” he sighed. He rolled off of me to lay beside me again.

“It’s just...it’s so late and…”

“I know, it’s fine.”

I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I knew disappointment when I heard it.

“I just have so much on my mind right now and I’m still worried about Em and-”

“Stacey,” said Harry. “I said it’s okay. I mean it.”

I bit my lip and nodded. I had to hand it to him. He was a good liar.

I was going to take a cab to my hotel, but Harry insisted I get Drew to drive me. I thought it was unnecessary for surely even Drew had to get some sleep.

He’d kissed me by the door. He’d walked me to the elevator where he’d kissed me again. I should have taken it all as reassurance, but I still felt that sour feeling in my gut that I’d made him mad. This had been our chance, after all. I had a flight to catch the next evening, and who knew when we’d cross paths again.

I crawled into bed without waking Lorelei. She’d always been a sound sleeper anyway, but I was grateful I didn’t have to divulge any information just yet. I had a little over three hours to sleep before we had to get ready for our book signing.

But I knew it was going to be a restless night.

Dammit, what had I done?

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