#not just horses who don’t like labels

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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[itstheghostofmypast]

Never Enough

Idol AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: “Sannie boy, women…are a mystery…and as a man, you’ll just have to keep pretending like you’ve figured them out, just to keep your sanity intact.” He wouldn't be San if he didn't get to the bottom of this.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: insecurities, toxic relationships, low self-esteem issues

Word Count: 4.4k

Est.Read Time: 22 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Tossing his keys on the table, he walked into the apartment, peeking into the kitchen to find Mingi and Seonghwa standing above the stove, deciding the fate of what was supposed to be tonight’s dinner. Considering he had skipped lunch, he only settled for an iced-coffee he really was ready to eat a whole horse. Tapping on the door frame, he caught their attention, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards the stove, “What’s for dinner.”

The other two exchanged a look before Mingi smirked at the mountain of a man, “Don’t know about us, but I’m sure you’ll just skip to dessert.”

“...”

“What?”

With a heavy sigh, the unearthly gorgeous man next to Mingi shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling the upcoming headache, “Your girlfriend’s here, said she wanted to surprise you.”

His head tilted at the mention of his lover, lower lip jutting out in a pout as he tried to think about her, he had not spoken to her the entire day, or texted her, even her ‘good morning’ text seemed awfully dry. He had asked Wooyoung about it, who had ever so kindly responded with, “Sannie boy, women…are a mystery…and as a man, you’ll just have to keep pretending like you’ve figured them out, just to keep your sanity intact.”

“You sure?” the words left his mouth before he could stop, or even phrase them correctly, eyes darting to the face of his more observant flatmate, regretting it immediately when he met his curious boba eyes.

“Well…unless she has an evil twin, I’m pretty sure it’s her,” Seonghwa narrated, picking up the wooden ladle to taste the soup, only to grimace at the taste, then turn back to the man, “You seem surprised she’s here, did something happen?”

“N-no, no, nothing happened.” clearing his throat he quickly brushed him off, with a wave of his hand, bidding them goodnight as he marched towards his room, making sure to make minimal noise as he cracked open the door, peaking in to find all the lights had been turned off, even the side lamps were off- okay, so they were either playing a dirty trick on him, or something was up.

He flicked the lights on as soon as he entered the room, eyes scanning for the certain individual, only for him to let out a small gasp and turn them back off, scurrying over to a side to turn on the small lamp, before quickly glancing in her direction as he let out a small sigh in relief, glad he had not woken her up. A small smile replaced his pout as he leaned closer, her perfume enveloping his being as he sighed in relief, a hand brushing the hair off her face, before his knuckles gently caressed her warm cheek, taking in the tired expression she wore even though she was asleep. As much as he loved how independent and confident she was, it hurt him to see her like this, burdened and tired, and a part of him wished he could somehow help her- but every time he’d ask, she’d just smile at him and pinch his cheek, thanking him instead, it really did confuse him, especially when she’d add, “Thank you for being the only person who never wants anything in return, Sannie.”

Even though the two had been together for a while, there was much about her he still could not understand, possibly due to the fact that she would never talk about herself- that is unless it was something important, though he was glad that he was at least receiving this much.

More often, it would be about him, what he’d like to do, what he’d like to eat, where he’d like to go on Valentine’s day, if he’d ask her, she’d fire back with the ‘where you feel best.’ Initially, he didn’t like this at all, for him, your partner is supposed to put in the same amount of effort, she’d do any and everything he liked, which is why he had begun to feel as if this was only working out because she’d agree to everything he’d say- he was the one leading this relationship.

Due to this very reason, earlier on in their relationship, he had decided to break things off with her, like the gentleman he was, he had asked her if they could meet in person, and she had instantly said yes. Finding a quiet small diner wasn’t difficult, the difficult part was when he’d have to break the news to her, truth be told he really did like her, but her persistent ‘yes woman’ behaviour had led him to believe that this was unhealthy for both of them. Unfortunately, he was unable to do so, especially when he had seen her smile at him, skipping to his table that was way in the back corner, placing a gift bag in front of the man, urging him to open it.

“What is it?”

“You have to open it, silly, it’s a gift!”

“Why? It isn’t my birthday.” pushing the bag aside, he sighed before glancing up at her, only to notice how her smile had dropped, eyes wide, swirling with an emotion he couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he had spent a minute too long, trying to think of what to say or do, before she cleared her throat and gave him a tight lipped smile, sitting down on her seat across from him, nodding at him.

“You’re right…” she began, that faux smile of hers was present, something stirred within him that night, he’d never seen her smile like that, usually, whenever she’d smile at him, he’d notice how her eyes would twinkle, lips stretched to a beaming grin- that’s not what he saw at the moment. “I just saw this recently and thought…you’d like it…you don’t have to accept it and- I- I didn’t do this to receive anything in return.”

That was all it took for him to reach into the back and pull out a small box, opening it to find a keychain, holding it up to the light he glanced at her and then back at the shining plastic figure, a Tetsuro Kuroo keychain. He had mentioned once how he liked the anime, but he never mentioned his favourite character.

“I have a Kenma one…I just thought you’d like Kuroo…cat and all…you know.” she mumbled faintly, somewhat embarrassed now, “I- I know it’s stupid, it’s just-”

“I love it.”

She glanced up from her hands to meet his sharp eyes, flinching at the way he was staring right through her, before he gently placed the keychain back in the box, after making sure it was wrapping in the pale purple tissue to avoid any scratches. A small smile graced her lips, eyes falling back onto her lap as she nodded, mumbling, ‘That’s good to know.’

“I need you to be honest with me,” he began, somewhat conflicted if he really wanted to end things with her now, only continuing when she looked up at him and nodded, “Do you…chose not to disagree with me out of fear?” He was unsure if that was a rude question, but the way she bit her lower lip, avoiding his eyes, oh he loved how Wooyoung had convinced him this girl was only dating him because he was an idol, but that was not what he could see, leave it to Choi San to fall for someone who was trained to believe that love was a game of exchange, and for her to earn any form of liking, she must first prove herself worthy.

Picking at her nail she glanced up at him, trying not to let it slip, anything slip, instead of choosing to whisper, “I…I just don’t want you to be upset.”

“I think you trying to seek my approval is what upset me the most.” he sighed, leaning back against his seat, taking in her posture, shoulders slumped, hands in her lap, eyes lowered. For a moment, he really wondered if putting in the effort was worth it, trying to be with someone who was already not sure of herself.

“I’m sorry…I just…really like you, and I…didn’t want you to- I- what if you don’t like the same things I like?”

Shaking his head in defeat, he leaned closer, resting his forearms on the table, “Then wouldn’t that mean that I’m not the right guy for you, too? Right?” he watched her nod then lower her head, clenching her eyes shut, and from the way her shoulders had been shaking, he could tell she was trying to hold back. Maybe he was too kind for his own good, because he reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it in his, as he met her eyes, “I’m not saying let’s break up…All I’m asking for is honesty, I don’t care how bitter, how negative or rude, just…be honest with me, you know almost everything about me, but, I still know surface level stuff about you, yeah?”

For once in his life, he was glad to have talked it out, to have handled it maturely, because as the days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, he had learnt more and more about her. The way she had begun to open up to him, even if slowly, he loved it. The first time she had ever refused his suggestion had him smiling like a mad man, almost scaring her as well;

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Sure…”

“There’s a couple’s deal on mint choco-”

“I’d rather starve.”

Sighing, he smiled down at her, knowing that if she was here right now, tangled in his sheets, hugging his pillow, something was bothering her, and perhaps for some time, if she had to retreat to his place as a safe haven. With one more glance, he quickly tucked her in, making sure to press his lips against her temple, before deciding to take a shower.

.

He walked back into his room, humming to himself, his towel draped over his broad shoulders, his blank top clinging onto him like skin, hair curtained over his forehead as his eyes landed on her- “Oh?”

Somehow, the man found himself sitting on the bed, back against the headrest, arms around her waist, with her straddling him, her arms around his neck, foreheading pressing against his chest.

“So…I take it your day was bad?”

“Mhmm…” she mumbled before sitting up straight, her hands sliding off his neck, palms tracing his form before resting on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles, looking up at him dead in the eye, completely blank and serious, “Do you want to do the deed?”

He blinked at her, letting the words sink in before tilting his head, “Um…you mean have se-”

She covered his mouth with both hands, pink dusting her cheeks, the sound of the AC gently wafting in the room as he let her do as she pleased. His fingers that had been toying with the hem of her shirt stopped, moving to gently place both hands on her thighs, giving a light squeeze, wanting her to remove her hands.

Slowly she pulled back, placing her hands flat on his hands before nodding, “Yes…that.”

“So you want to ‘do the deed’, but don't want me to say the word?”

“No.” She let out a huff, peeling his hands off her and wrapping them around her waist, as she pressed herself against him, “Do YOU want to do it?”

“Well…I’m a man, not only that, I’m a man, who’s girl is literally pressing herself onto him,” he mumbled, bringing his hands to her shoulders and creating some distance as he raised an eyebrow, “Most of all, I’m the same man who agreed to your terms of the deed being done after marriage, so tell me, why are you suddenly changing your terms?”

Pouting at him she slipped her hands between them, placing them on his chest, “Are you sure? Do you not find me attrac-”

“I have good self-control, but it’s not perfect.” he hissed, as he gripped her cheeks, squeezing them gently before lowering his neck to glare at her, his sharp eyes trying to crack whatever the hell was happening in her head, “Now, tell me where all this is coming from.”

“Ish nuthin’ .’’ He blinked at her, taking in the way she let him squish her cheeks, her lips forming a pout as he sighed before leaning closer to press his lips against hers, but only for a moment, too afraid he'd lose composure. With a gentle pat to her cheek he pulled back, leaning against the headrest once more, hands folded on his belly, staring at her, instantly regretting the hold he had on her at the sight of her reddened cheeks, faint imprints of his fingers leaving a mark.

The two sat there in silence, nothing but the slight buzz of the air conditioner present in the room, he was quietly observing her, a small smile gracing his pleasant features, watching her sitting there on his thighs, looking at her hands, examining her freshly painted nails- purple. She really did amuse him sometimes, asking for something like ‘doing it after marriage’ but still choosing to sit in his lap without a care in the world. It brought him great pleasure, the feeling of her blind faith that she held towards him.

“You like?” Breaking the peaceful silence, she raised a hand, showing him her nails, smiling when he nodded in return, “Mhmm…”

“I wanted to get like a diamond on this one-”

“So, are we gonna talk about this…or?” His question cut her off, causing her to sigh, and shrug, “I…” reaching for his hands, still nestled on his belly, she turned them around, his larger hands in hers, turning them to face palm up, “Last week…at work…they were talking about who was still single- guess what, I am.” With the tip of her index finger, tracing random patterns on his stretched out palm, as if she were painting on a canvas, he tried to focus on what she was writing but her statement caused his eyes to lock on her face, pouting at her statement, “But..you aren't.” He knew this relationship was to be kept private, and she did too. Did she want to come public?

“S.A.N” he caught it quickly, looking down at her purple nail, caressing his skin. What was she thinking?

“I know, I just told them I'm waiting for the right person, but…then SHE said I don't have a love language which is why I'm this hopeless…”

Oh. So this wasn't about him, but just her. He knew whom she was referring to, a new recent hire. One she claimed was a two-faced no-good punk. Honestly, her words had caught him off guard, never seen her ‘hate on someone’ this quickly. That was exactly why he believed her. And if one were to speak about her love language, true for a while, San was unsure of how she'd express herself too but then-

“She was like there are five to six types of love languages and I- I don't have any!”

‘♡’ nodding he tilted his head, trying to suppress a smile at the feeling of her drawing a heart, he could easily tell what it was, ever the romantic. Honestly, he wanted to meet this lady, who had been bothering his little overthinker for the past few months, it was and enough she often felt she didn't deserve love, we didn't need a complete psycho adding fuel to the fire. He was about to reply but got distracted when she wrote something else,

‘us’

“I think yours is touch, physical affection! I can tell when you're with everyone, it's sweet.” She smiled up at him, lowering herself, moving closer to him, to make sure she met his eyes that were glued to their hands, his eyes meeting hers for a split second, widening as he realised the lack of response from his end. Glad his freshly washed fluff of hair was covering most of his eyes, obscuring the view of her face, any longer, and his lips would've been claiming what was his.

“Yeah…it is.” He breathed our, turning his head to look at something else. The wall was interesting enough. Maybe having her sitting on him wasn't the smartest idea-

“Do you not like me enough to show me the same way?”

His head snapped back in her direction, hands leaving hers to gently cup her face, making sure she wouldn't look away. The sombre look on her face already had his heart sink to his stomach, “I don't just like you…I love you…and…I'm touching you right now? Right? I just don't want to cross a line, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. That's all.” he gave her a small smile, trying to help her feel the sincerity of his words.

Taking a minute to process his word she just hummed, not saying a yes or no, which in return made him press his forehead against hers, wanting her to understand how he felt, “And she's wrong…you do have one…it's called acts of service.”

“Slavery?”

“No, I-” Letting out a sigh he pulled back and raised an eyebrow at her, “Seriously?”

“What! You said it!” arguing she leaned back, her hands resting on his knees as she frowned at him, “well explain then, ‘master Choi.”

He gulped at her outstretched form, eyes trailing from her face down to her neck, and that loose shirt she wore - definitely raided his closet- as finally stopping at her thighs, it truly amazed him, how she had no clue what she was doing to him, that and he was one strong willed man. Not to mention the little nickname had him squirming in place, he could feel the cold-sweat trickle down the back of his neck, “I…” Clearing his throat he looked back up at her, “It means, you do things that you know will keep me safe and healthy, you take care of all the little things and details usually people overlook, like how you make sure to stuff some oreos in my bag, or how you sometimes get food delivered to our apartment, enough for everyone but it's always my favourite and,” his breath hitched at the way she was looking at him, as if he was her whole world, as if he were the only reason she chose to wake up every morning, “You find enough time from your hectic nine to five to drop by and sleep in my bed, waiting for me, just so I have someone to hug at night.”

By now most of her insecurities were put to rest, the constantly replaying memory of her coworker embarrassing her in front of everyone at work seemed to become a distant memory, especially when he began to move, gently pushing her back, until she was laying on the mattress, looking up at him with a quizzical look, as he hovered above her, his forearms digging into the soft bedding on either side of her head.

“Sannie?”

“Did you…tell your mother about us?”

The way her face contorted into some form of discontentment gave it away, it did not go well. Perhaps she did not approve of him being an idol? Or maybe he just was not whom she pictured her daughter with. Maybe she was not comfortable with her daughter dating someone who had to travel a lot-

“She asked me how long till you realise I'm a waste of time.”

His eyebrows scrunched at the statement, widening his eyes as he looked at her, as if he hadn't heard her correctly the first time, causing her to sigh and repeat,

“I told you, and although she was glad, she was worried that I'd do something to push you away- well, in my case, not enough to have you stay.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I'm incapable of loving, San. There will be a time when you realise I can't match your expectations and you'll finally decide to move on because I'll never be enough.”

The words she had so carelessly slipped past her pretty lift hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to push himself off her, sitting on his knees instead as he blinked at his dull reflection on the blank TV screen. A part of him wondered what in God's name was that even, wanting to go outside to take a few deep breaths before coming to talk to her in a rational manner, the other part of him, the more immature one, was convincing him to yell at her for being like this.

Sitting on her forearms, she looked up at him, watching him lost in thought. Maybe she should just go now and not wait for the horrid heart break that would eventually conclude this relationship. It's not like she wanted to believe the words of her parent, but at the back of her mind she knew, she knew she'd never be enough, no matter how much she'd try- there just some people who could never meet expectations and she was one of them, which would explain why she felt it was justified if he walks away-

“Do you believe that?”

Her eyes met his, an unusual emotion swirling within his dark orbs, “Do you believe her?”

“Well, she is my mother, so I'm sure she's right-”

“That's not what I asked you,” he snapped at her, an edge to his tone causing her to flinch and lower her gaze, “ I asked if you believe you don’t deserve to be loved?”

“Yes…” she breathed out, licking her lips out of nervousness, “I-I do.”

“Because love is an exchange?” His frown deepened at her meek nod, “Then what do you think I want in exchange?”

“I'm…not…sure.”

“What do you want in exchange?” He flipped the question, borderline scared of her answer, but a part of him knew what it was, but the more dominant side was afraid of his guess being wrong.

“I want…I just…” her breath hitched, biting her lower lip to keep composure before flopping back down on the bed, pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes, whimpering, “... want you to love me.”

The man felt himself relax, expressions softening as he pouted at the way she was crying before him, unsure if he should use words or…honestly he knew he couldn't just pluck this insecurity out of her, especially when it was stitched into her being. She’down often tell him how even as a child, she'd only be able to get a toy if she got a good grade, got praied if she got a good grade or achieved something worth notice but at the end of the day, it was never enough, because after that came another obstacle she’d have to overcome to gain recognition-and till now, he had just discarded those things, thinking they had no real impact in shaping her, boy was he wrong.

The sudden weight pushed the air out of her lungs, feeling his fingers grip her wrists before her hands were pulled away from her face, only for her to stare at the ceiling. She looked down to find his head resting against her chest, a broken laugh causing his head to shake on her chest. He looked up at her with a pout, resting his chin on her, “It's so silly, how that's all I planned to give you anyway.”

“Huh?” she blinked at him, watching him rise up, pressing wrists into the mattress as he approached her, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, “You're so silly…you think if I didn't love you, I would have agreed to your terms?”

“I…I don't know…” honestly she wanted to respond, but this form of intimacy was new to her, sure, they would sleep together sometimes, but that would just be sharing a bed, he'd never really held her down, never pressed himself against her like this.

“I said yes to the ‘deed after marriage’, because,” he paused, ony to brush his lips over hers before kissing her properly, making sure to add enough pressure to leave her out of breath when he moved back, “I want to marry you one day, you think some silly little exchange policy is going to scare me away?”

Her eyes widened at his confession, about to burst into tears once more but he shook his head, “No! No more crying! No more silly sad thoughts!” He declared, yelling loud enough for her to shush him, “I WANT TO SEE YOU HAPPY!”

“I'm happy! I'm happy, Sannie, shhh!” She whispered, only for her to break out in a fit of giggles when he dug his fingers into her sides, smirking at the way she was wheezing and trying to fight him off.

“Are you sure!?” He hollered, following her as she tried to crawl away, grabbing her by her leg and pulling her back to him, giving her a crooked smile, “I don't think so-” his eyes fell to the shirt that had slid up when he pulled her back down, quickly skimming over the expanse of the bare skin, trailing lower to the purple lace, “Did you...where…I…no shorts!?” He asked, not really bothering to look away from a sight he had never witnessed before.

“Well I- I mean I randomly came by and,” she mumbled, pushing her shirt down to cover her naked legs, rolling it down till it reached her thighs, “I didn't wanna go through your underwear drawer…that's disrespectful.”

“You went fishing in my cupboard for this though,” he asked, frowning at the coverage, before gripping the hem of the cotton and flipping it over, causing her to shriek, “San!”

“Hmm” no longer registering anything he slowly got off her, climbing off the bed as he walked out the door, leaving her extremely confused, her only clue was, “Will be back in five.” Was he okay?

Honestly, she would've asked if everything was alright, but after this entire confession, she felt as if an anvil had been lifted off her chest. Feeling much better as she snuggled into his sheets, half awake as she waited for him, only for her to almost doze off till she felt his arm wrap around her waist, sliding her closer to him, till her back was pressed against his chest. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, only she had turned her head to meet his kiss, though she paused, eyes flickering to his went strands, glistening under the dim atmosphere light of the lamp.

“Did you take a shower again?”

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, pressing his cheek against hers, his hand giving her thigh a gentle squeeze trailing back to her waist.

“Why?” She yawned, too tired to really care.

“Doesn't matter,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into her warm cheek before leaving a sloppy kiss, enough for her to whine, which he ignored, only to respond with, “Better wear purple on our wedding night too.”

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[inbarfink]

So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way. 

So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations

So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.

That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically). 

And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…

Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.

And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction. 

The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.

Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)

Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly. 

Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue. 

The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons.  (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.

Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.

Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)

Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad. 

Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…

That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown. 

The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown. 

Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.

The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest. 

Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast. 

Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?

But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.

And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.

Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?

[rainbowpopeworld]

(So you don’t have to deal with all the annoying ads on The Mirror’s website, here’s the whole article interview)

EXCLUSIVE: David Tennant reveals his wife Georgia's role) in his 'huge' Rivals series decision

By Nicola Methven

“David Tennant says he jumped at the chance to star in Jilly Cooper’s 1980s bonkbuster Rivals - because his wife said it would be “sensational”.

The former Doctor Who star said she was thrilled when the first script arrived. “I told Georgia and she was convinced that this was something I had to be involved with,” he explains. “She said, ‘This series is going to be huge. This is going to be exactly what the country needs, exactly what the world needs.’

"She knew the books from her teenage years, as I understand, and knew that this was going to make sensational television.”

He duly accepted the role of Lord Tony Baddingham, one of the show’s main villains and was delighted when Georgia eventually got to watch the episodes, and loved them.

"Her reaction was so positive and so joyous," he says. "I know when she's being genuine."

Tony is a grammar school boy with a chip on his shoulder about not being a proper toff. His character runs a regional TV station facing franchise renewal and has a dependable upper-crust wife, played by Sherwood's Claire Rushbrook, but is also having a very steamy affair with the new TV executive he's lured over from New York (Nafessa Williams).

The actor, 53, argues that poor old Tony is just horribly misunderstood. "From the inside, no character believes they're a villain, do they? I think Tony's motivations are very clear. He's very easy to understand in many ways. Tony sees himself as hard done by and someone who's just struggling to survive and to win."

While he can remember the 80s quite clearly, Tenant says that filming Rivals felt very much like being on a period drama. "It's almost like being on the set of a Dickens novel," he muses.

"The 80s seems quite recent history to me, but once you start recreating that world, you realise it's actually very different. That's wonderful fun to film - to be on a time capsule of a set is glorious."

As the Doctor he got to time-travel all over the place in the TARDIS but Tenant says he loved spending time in the 80s, not least because of the music. When you're a teenager at the time, a lot of it, however good it is, is uncool, and therefore you're not really allowed to like it," he says. "Whereas now, as a jaded 53-year-old, I can just go, 'Oh, do you know what I loved? A-ha'."

And what else did he love? "I didn't have to ride a horse, which was a mercy, because I'm a little bit allergic."

Tenant admits that filming the incredibly saucy bedroom scenes was a bit awkward but he felt there was safety in numbers thanks to the huge number of them. Barely any of the cast don't end up getting involved in one way or another.

"| mean, sex scenes are never comfortable, you know? But again, because everyone was in the same boat, there was a lot of discussion about, 'When are you doing that scene?' and 'Have vou done that yet?'

He believes it's fine for Rivals to be labelled a “bonkbuster" - it's full of sex at the end of the day - but only if it's said with due respect for what Dame Jilly achieved with the Rutshire Chronicles. "There are a generation of readers who were so influenced by her, and for whom these novels meant so much, it means that that writing is obviously better than some would have you believe," he says. "The way she writes character is timeless, and people having sex is pretty timeless. So these books have been tenacious for a reason." The actor says an early scene where the pathologically competitive Tony leaps from his helicopter onto the croquet lawn is his favourite career moment so far.

"That hole-in-one, I would like you to know, was probably the greatest day of my professional life," he laughs. Instructed by the director to "whack it" from 30 feet away he was told the cameras would keep running until he managed it. "I thought the crew are gonna hate me by take 402," he remembers. "And I nailed it on take four. I've never felt more pleased with myself than that moment. I felt like a sporting God."”

[five-flavor-soup]

This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.

In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 

But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 

That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 

Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:

Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.

(Added emphasis for my point)

Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 

By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.

And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 

In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:

The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.

And: 

I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.

I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.

Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 

There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.

[mondayblues-s]

♡︎Alex Walter x Girly F!Reader♡︎

}ok so this is just some fun head canons about how Alex would be like if his gf was super girly!

TW: Some NSFW! Towards the bottom!

It will be labeled before anything happens! But overall really cute fluff!

NSFW:♥︎ it will be labeled with a heart!

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

• Alex would definitely not mind you being so girly. He loves it!

•He loves holding your hand when you guys are out! You’re so cute! So he has to make sure people know you’re taken.

•when you kiss his face. He loves when you’re lipgloss is all over his face. Sometimes he purposely leaves it on when he’s at his house. :)

• You love wearing such cute floral little skirts, and Alex goes absolutely feral for it. He loves how cute you look in them!

• he does get a little sad when you can’t ride his horse:( because you’re skirt just gets in the way:(

•He loves being in your room! It’s so cute and he loves that you have so many plushies on you’re bed (most of them are plushies he bought you!)

•your room smells so good and it’s definitely a change of scenery since he lives with so many brothers.

•Alex loves watching you do your makeup! He thinks you don’t need it, but he still loves how excited you get when you get to try a new lipgloss!

•He loves how sweet and caring you are. He definitely calls you Bunny as a cute nickname.

•This boy is so scared that someone will take you away. You’re so pretty and nice :( who wouldn’t want to be you’re bf.

•You always reassure him that he’s the one you want. Ends up with you two cuddling and kissing :)

•you love sitting on his lap :( it’s like you’re own personal chair.

•He always has his arm around you’re waist. He especially loves it when you wear a crop top. He loves touching you’re soft belly. :(

•he always gives you his flannel jacket when you’re cold. You don’t even care if it doesn’t go with you’re outfit. You just love his jacket. It’s warm and smells like him.

• He loves when you wear you’re cute brandy Melville pajamas. That cute set with shorts.

:♥︎ He’ll definitely eat you out when he sees you wearing them. He can’t hold back. You just look so cute :( he loves especially when you moan his name out “mm Alex-“ and him cutting you off by giving you’re clit more attention :(

•he definitely reads to you. He loves how relaxed you are when he reads to you <3

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

That’s all! I hope you enjoyed! <3

I accept requests!

For:

•Rafe Cameron

•Alex Walter

•Ajax Petrepolous (I hope I spelt that right!)

And that’s it for now!<3

[harrisonarchive]

Photo 1 by Mark Sullivan.

“When I got Dark Horse Records, I had a couple of artists come up with logos, and there was one guy who painted one that looked really nice, with a nice color scheme, but it was a Chinese horse. I wanted something kind of different, and I was in India early in 1974 and I just thought I’m bound to find something if I keep my eyes open. One day I was in this placed called Udaipur and I looked across the street in the market, and I thought I could see some little pictures of enamel. And I got across the street and it was tins of paint on this stall. And I looked at all the tins, and they all had different labels on them, and one of them had the horse. It was a white horse but it had seven heads, and I thought, there’s my logo! I bought the tin can, brought it back and gave it to the artist and got him to make it dark and turn it ‘round so it would run the right way around the label. That’s the drag now about CDs: you don’t get to have any nice logos you can see turning.” - George Harrison, Goldmine, November 27, 1992 “[Jan Steward] created the logo for George Harrison’s record label, Dark Horse. It features the seven-headed flying horse Uchchahishravas from Indian art and mythology.” - The Los Angeles Times, August 11, 2020 “‘George always considered himself to be a dark horse — under the radar,’ [Olivia] says. ‘It’s interesting considering he was so out there [in the public]. But he was very internalized. If you looked at him onstage, he didn’t physically jump around and express himself like that. In that dark-horse way, people wouldn’t expect you to be a songwriter or be spiritual or funny, because you’re a dark horse. Nobody really knows what’s going on with you.’ Harrison told [Jim] Keltner he was starting his own record company and even showed him an illustration of the Uchchaihshravas, a seven-headed horse common in Hindu mythology, which would serve as the company’s logo. ‘He was just the king of all horses, the prototype for all horses, the best horse ever,’ says Dhani of the symbol. ‘He turned the tide in the battle and just generally was seen as this powerful vehicle for protection and overcoming.’” - Rolling Stone, March 9, 2020

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Frances: So today I was thinking we could learn something simple. Maybe some chords that are frequently used. I brought some sheet music too if you want to start with that. 

Icarus: Or I could take a shot at Mozart again. 

-

Frances: STOP!

Icarus: Don’t get mad at me, I’m rusty! 

Frances: Well you should have practiced!

Icarus: I’m not the one who’s piano teacher ghosted him! Twice!

Frances: YOU BITCH-

Icarus: Pardon?!

Frances: I SAID WHAT I SAID!

-

Both: Maybe not. 

Frances: Simple it is. I would like you to label each note from what you remember so far. 

Icarus: Gotcha. 

Frances: Soo… How was work? Any horses kick you in the chest today?

Icarus: [ laughs ] What kind of question is that?

Frances: Just curious. Don’t let me distract you. I could totally imagine that happening and you flying out the window. Heh.

Icarus: Frances. 

Frances: Sorry.

Icarus: Do you want me to finish this? 

Frances: Ye. 

Icarus: It’s happened once. I didn’t fly out the window though. My chest was really bruised though.

Frances: HAHA!

Icarus: Wow, someone’s praying for my downfall.

Frances: If I was kicked in the chest by a horse, you would totally laugh!

Icarus: No! I’d ask if you were okay.

Frances: And then you’d laugh.

Icarus: I- You’re so peculiar. 

Frances: I just like knowing things!

Icarus: About my life?

Frances: A fascinating subject. 

Icarus: I didn’t think I was that interesting. 

Frances: You’d be surprised. 

Icarus: Speaking of fascinating lives, my grandma tells me you secured that internship. Congrats.

Frances: Ah. Yes. 

Icarus: You alright?

Frances: Mhm. It’s quite the commitment you know.

Icarus: A good one though.

Frances: Icarus, I need to talk to you about something. 

Icarus: Go ahead. 

Frances: So I have a roommate now.

Icarus: Ah! 

Frances: We’re having a party.

Icarus: Oh…?

Frances: You’re invited.

Icarus: I, uh. 

Frances: It’s a small, house-warming party. I promise, nothing crazy.

Icarus: Should I bring you like a lamp or something?

Frances: Out of all the house-warming gifts, a lamp?

Icarus: Ye.

Frances: Just bring yourself. That should be fine.

Icarus: It won’t be weird, right?

Frances: Eh, not at all.

Icarus: [ chuckles ] I’ll go. I finished by the way.

Frances: Not bad. Thanks for doing my homework.

Icarus: What?

Frances: I’m joking.

[corroded-hellfire]

OMG Wait for thé As You Wish baby Eliza idea fics I was thinking about something like this: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRTyDcC5/

All of the Munson family is on the floor lined up and cooing at baby Eliza to crawl/walk towards one of them to see who she favors more.

Eliza Munson is now an obsession of mine. I love her almost as much as Eddie does. @munson-blurbs and I had so much fun (as we always do together) writing this and having the little Munson family get weird and have fun 🩷

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Come on, Eliza,” Luke says with a sigh. He pulls out the chair next to her highchair and plops down in it. “Why won’t she just eat it?”

“Would you want to eat strained peas?” Ryan asks, brandishing the label on the baby food jar at his little brother. “It probably tastes worse than normal peas.”

Luke hops up and dips his pinky into the jar. He sticks it in his mouth and immediately pulls it right back out. His face scrunches up in repulsion and he makes a gagging sound. “Yep. Definitely worse.”

“Don’t make that face in front of her!” Ryan chides. “She’ll never want to eat it!”

But the little giggles from the highchair have both boys turning to look at their sister. Her big eyes are focused on Luke as he makes his face of disgust. 

“You think that’s funny, huh?” Luke says, leaning in towards the nine-month-old. “You like when I make silly faces?” He puckers his lips together like a fish, which has Eliza giggling even harder. “You love me so much, don’t you?” Luke swore he’d never cave in and use the baby-talk voice that everyone else uses with his sister, but that didn’t last very long. Now he uses it almost every time he talks to her. 

“All right, Eliza,” Ryan says, bringing a small spoonful of the unappetizing green baby food up towards her lips. “You gonna have some food now? Have some yummy lunch?”

“Don’t lie to her,” Luke says, making Ryan roll his eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Ryan tells the baby. “Gonna open up? Yeah, there you go.” Eliza holds her tiny mouth open long enough for Ryan to feed her the peas. Eliza makes a face at the unpleasant taste on her tongue and smacks her lips together a few times, but she doesn’t spit it out. 

“Yes!” Ryan cheers. “I did it! I got her to eat her vegetables.”

“Well, yeah,” Luke says with a scoff. “Because I made her laugh.”

“She laughs at anything. The other day, I unzipped my coat and she laughed so hard that she farted,” Ryan retorts, bringing another small spoonful of peas to his sister’s lips. 

Luke pouts, sticking his tongue out at Ryan. “You’re just jealous because I’m obviously her favorite.”

“Ha! In your dreams.”

“Wanna bet?”

That’s how you and Eddie find your three children sprawled out on the family room floor. Luke and Ryan are on one side, and Eliza’s on the other. 

“C’mon! Come over here!” Ryan calls out, motioning the baby towards him. “You can do it, Eliza!”

“Do I even wanna know what you two are up to?” Eddie asks, smirking at the boys. 

“Trying to see which one of us is her favorite,” Luke casually replies, as though this is a normal occurrence. 

“Ah, well, at least you’re not training her for some sort of horse racing thing with babies,” Eddie laughs, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Anyway, don’t worry about who her favorite is.”

“She loves us equally,” you remind them with a patient smile. 

But Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “Uh, no. I was gonna say that they don’t need to worry about it because I’m clearly the favorite.”

“Ha!” you bark out. “Remember whose body housed her for nine months and produced food for her. I literally gave her life. Therefore, I should be the favorite.”

“You should be,” Eddie says, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes, “however, you’ve neglected to account for the fact that she’s a total daddy’s girl.”

Ryan’s next to speak up. “Well, I’m the one who named her. If you left it up to Luke, we’d be calling her Squidward.”

“Only if she was a boy!” Luke protests. “Besides, I make her laugh the most. She knows I’m funny, so I’m her favorite.”

Eddie turns to you. “I think there’s only one way to settle this,” he says with a shrug. 

“I think so,” you agree. Turning towards the boys, you motion for them to scoot down so that you can get down on the floor next to them. Eddie scoops up Eliza from where she’d wandered over towards the toy box in the corner of the room. He straightens the tiny black Metallica shirt she’s wearing and sits her down in the middle of the room. 

“Here we go,” he says, pressing a kiss to her head before coming over to get on the ground next to you. “Okay, on the count of three, everyone start calling for her. Ready? One, two, three.”

“Come on, baby!” you call, making grabby hands for your daughter.

“Eliza! C’mere to Daddy, baby girl!”

“Hey, hey, Eliza!” Luke coos. “Over here!”

“You know you love your big brother Ryan! Come here!”

Eliza stays seated in her spot, her eyes roaming over her four family members, wondering what in the hell they are doing. She’s seen some weird things in her nine months, but never this. 

“Luke, stop making funny faces. You’re distracting her!” Ryan says.

“I’m trying to get her to come over here!” he responds. 

The baby finally pushes herself into a crawling position and starts to move. The four older family members practically hold their breath as they wait to see in what direction she’s headed. Eliza veers to the right, headed towards Eddie. Her father lets out an evil, triumphant laugh and grins as she gets closer. 

“That’s right, baby. Show them Daddy is your favorite.” But then her movements pause, and Eliza begins to head towards her mother.

“Yes!” you say, encouragingly. “That’s my sweet girl!” You shoot a smirk over your shoulder at Eddie. “You were saying?” 

Eliza starts crawling towards you, but Ryan starts drumming his hands against the carpet and that catches her attention. Her course once again changes, and she heads towards her brothers.

“No!” you say. “Don’t betray me! My only daughter!”

“Uh, mine too, ya know,” Eddie says from the other side of you. “Eliza, remember who always sings you to sleep.” He launches into the chorus of “Enter Sandman,” headbanging while the little girl giggles. 

Your heart sinks as Eliza starts towards him, but she immediately stops crawling when she hears the knock at the door and sits back on her diaper-padded bottom. 

“That must be Wayne,” Eddie says. He’d invited him over for dinner, and the older man never turns down an opportunity to see his grandkids. “Come in!” he calls out, not moving from his spot on the floor. 

The doorknob twists as Wayne enters, heavy-footed in steel-toed boots. His gaze is drawn immediately to the five of you on the floor. 

“What on God’s green Earth did I walk into?”

Luke’s the only one not remotely embarrassed. “Trying to see who Eliza loves the most,” he casually explains. 

Before Wayne can formulate a response, the baby does an about-face and crawls directly to him. She sits at his feet, making grabby hands and whining so he’ll pick her up. 

“Huh,” Wayne says with a grin. “Wouldja look at that.  Seems like Miss Eliza chose me!”

The rest of you groan and grumble, erupting into a chorus of not fairs. 

“Does this mean that Grampa Wayne is her favorite?” Luke asks, unable to hide his envy. 

Wayne laughs, tickling his granddaughter’s feet. “C’mon, you didn’t need a competition to know that!”

Eliza claps her hands together clumsily in agreement. 

“The princess has spoken,” Eddie begrudgingly agrees. A glint of mischief flickers across his deep brown eyes as he looks at his uncle. “Unfortunately, the prize is changing her diaper. And, uh, she’s really been into prunes lately, so…” he claps a hand on Wayne’s back. “Congrats!”

[hectorthedoggo]

i made a litte haruka t3 vd based off of an earlier convo w @kani-miso and @chairhahaha that one time (if you guys remember that)

Broken Wings

*The interrogation starts, and Haruka is breathing heavily, shifting around in his seat. It can be interpreted as a panic attack, or some sort of crying.

*The door opens, and the warden doesn’t speak for a bit.

E: Prisoner Number 1. We cannot begin the interrogation when you’re in such a state.

*Haruka’s voice sounds broken, like he’s cried a lot over the past few minutes.

H: Warden… hey, why did you vote Mu guilty? Even though I promised that…

E: You cannot influence our verdict in such a way. We found it fit to deem her guilty, therefore your opinion is invalid.

H: Huh? I don’t… but, i have to, I have to follow through on my promise. I couldn’t do it earlier, because of the guilty restraints.

E: No.

H: Huh? What do you mean?

E: Milgram won’t permit it, I’m sure. Fights between prisoners are prohibited as long as the warden is awake, so you’ve lost your window of opportunity.

H: I don’t… understand.

E: You aren’t allowed to kill yourself, idiot.

H: Hehe… hihihi! Well, you can’t push me around! I have…

*a rustling sound is heard, and the warden gasps

E: Scissors? Where…

H: The supply closet! I can kill myself, you can’t stop me!

E: No! You’re not allowed!

H: I’ll do it now! You’re too weak to stop me.

*Sounds of a struggle, and E keeps making pained noises. Eventually, a clattering noise is heard, and the sound of the barrier rings out.

*They sound physically in pain, speech occasionally interrupted by small gasps of pain.

E: Ow… hah. Haruka. You can’t take the scissors. We have them now. You’re not getting them back. Hm… I wonder if I could ask Milgram to take the supply closet… it’s such a bother.

*H sounds pained.

H: Warden! You have to understand! I made a promise, I have to follow through! Besides…

E: …

H: Besides, the voices tell me that I don’t deserve to live. That I’m too crazy for society, because I killed all of those animals. I was right, earlier. There’s no way that my true self will ever be forgiven.

I'm so tired of this constant talking, they’re right. And… Mahiru didn't deserve to die.. it should've been me.. i should join her, to fulfill my promise.

E: ! Ma…hiru…

* their voice sounds a little surprised, almost like they’ve been struck.

H: It’s hard, without her. She was so nice. I want to join her, and me being here doesn’t help anything. Everyone would be happier if I died.

E: Don’t… don’t…

H: Are you okay? I… I understand!

*A small rustling is heard

*their breathing is heavy

E: Get off… get off of me. Don’t hug me like that, it won’t work. I’m not going to-

H: It’s not for that! Hugs mean to make everything feel better! It’s a goodbye hug. Mahiru always said-

E: Shut up!

*They hit Haruka, but that’s not enough for them. They tackle him, in what is most definitely not a hug, and starts to pathetically beat him up.

H: Ow! Why are you-

E: I hate people like you! First, it was Shidou, now you, stupidly sacrificial, having no regard for the other’s emotions! Don’t you dare insult Mah- no, we’re not… we’re not supposed to… we just hate you. We, the warden, need no justification for beating up rowdy prisoners.

*Haruka makes little noises of pain, matching E’s.

*Suddenly, the door opens.

Kz: Hey! Hey! What’s going on here. Es, get off.

*A little struggle is heard, but Kazui quickly gets them off of their victim.

E: Kazui… why… no, you’re too much of a coward to go into the room yourself. Who sent you?

Kz: I’m not saying. Es, why were you-

E: It was Kotoko, wasn’t it? Guilty verdict wasn’t enough to get her off her high horse? Heh, i wonder why they decided to vote you innocent, if you keep interfering like this.

K: !

E: You stupid prisoners. Always interfering. What we do is not your business.

Haruka: Es…

E: We aren’t Es. K: ! What?!

H: W… what? Then, who are you?

E: The warden. Of MILGRAM. We don’t need a name, Es is simply a label.

K: like… amane-chan… but worse

E: What was that? (rhetorical)

H : He said you’re like Amane, but worse.

E: Shut up, the both of you ! Milgram is much nobler than a group of cartoon characters with a bunch of philosophies attached to them! What Milgram is doing, is fully, absolutely, right. Of course it would be! Otherwise, well…

It would be…

*they lose their spark

I wouldn’t be…

*awkward silence

No, no. what milgram is doing has to be right. Otherwise, I would…

*their voice breaks at the end. they slap themself.

Stop that. No. Anyways, Kazui, please get out of the room. I apologize for my earlier outburst. I will not resort to such violence, again. Haruka. Do not touch me.

K: As long as you promise to not attack Haruka.

E: As long as Haruka doesn’t touch me again.

H: I… I won’t?

E: Alright. Kazui. Leave.

K: If I hear more struggle-

E: Leave.

K: Okay.

* He leaves.

E: Ah… what are we supposed to do with you… 

*The bell rings

ack!

H: Are you alright?

E: Shut up… shut up… you all aren’t supposed to… I thought you-

H: ?

E: Shut up!

* They start to breathe heavily.

H: Is it… the…

E: That’s none of your business! I… we don’t have the same problems as you prisoners- ack!

H: … um… Warden?

E: Shut up!

H: Okay…

E: I- I- get it! Okay!

H: Um, sorry. Who are you talking to?

E: That’s… none of your business. Let’s just get this overwith, I- we can’t be doing this right now.

Now, prisoner number one, sing your sins!

[badaziraphaletakes]

It’s not necessarily a fully bad Aziraphale take but I feel like the ‘other who can’t admit their queer’ is pointed at him

Thanks for the submission @gretinternetllama

Well, they ain't talking about Crowley 💀 LMAO

This is the most privileged, out-of-touch Aziracrow take I have ever seen. If you think the most painful queer trope is “one of them’s scared to admit they’re queer”, then fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

The most painful queer “trope”, BY DEFINITION, is “one or both of them will be violently killed if they openly acknowledge their love”. Like Aziracrow. Like Castiel. (The tragedy of that isn’t that Dean didn’t love him that way. It’s that Castiel DIED for saying he loved him, lmao. It is so insulting to Castiel to suggest that the worst thing that happened to him is not having Dean’s love.) Like the overwhelming majority of queer people throughout human history. Because THAT IS THE DEFINITIVE TRAGEDY OF THE ENTIRE QUEER EXPERIENCE.

Fuck anyone who thinks that not being willing to openly acknowledge your love for your partner because you know it can never go anywhere BECAUSE YOU’LL BOTH BE KILLED FOR IT is internalized homophobia. (I can hear the gays in Russia laughing rn.)

Having said that, though, let’s take a look at the way OP analyzes “internalized homophobia”, because there is PLENTY to be concerned about there as well.

The “can’t *even* ‘bring themselves’ to admit they’re queer” is DISGUSTING. Fuck this person’s judgmental tone. God, the more I read this the angrier I get. (If they’d written a post saying “I feel so bad that Aziraphale is losing his chance at a relationship with Crowley because of his internalized homophobia; that must be so hard”, that would be one thing. They’d still be dead wrong, lol, but at least this take wouldn’t be bigoted crap. But that’s not, remotely, what they said. There is no sympathy or understanding on offer for Aziraphale whatsoever.) NO ONE has the right to judge someone for not being ready to accept that they’re queer. It is NEVER their fault. It is ALWAYS the fault of the disgusting homophobia and queer phobia of our society at large.

And also fuck anyone who judges someone for rejecting another person’s romantic advances. It’s literally never any of our business why they do that. (This is giving me flashbacks to the 2010’s Phantom of the Opera fandom. And that is NOT A GOOD THING, lmao.) Romantic rejection, even for a depressing reason like this, is not the tragedy people seem to think. No one needs to be with any one particular person in order to be happy. This whole thing is giving “oh, the poor person whose love interest won’t date them”.

Move on and find someone who will date you. Plenty more fish in the sea.

I'd say it's actually a lot more tragic for the closeted person, who has probably missed out on a lot of other relationships for the same reason and is hurting very deeply. But again, does OP have any compassion to spare for the characters they've labeled as closeted? Nah.

(Side note: If you can’t bear to date someone who’s in the closet, DON’T DATE THEM! It’s that simple. And for the love of GOD don’t pressure them to come out or blame them for not being willing to do so.)

Also. This whole thing is giving faint vibes of the putting-your-hands-over-your-ears, “la-la-la-if-I-ignore-your-problems-they’ll-just-go-away”, “if you come out, everything will be fine and everyone will magically accept you” trope, which is offensive, harmful, privileged, dangerous bullshit. Love does not always conquer all. Love does not always make everything magically okay.

(When it comes to Aziracrow in particular, it is also VERY MUCH reminiscent of the belief that once victims leave their ab*sers, their ab*sers will leave them alone, which is the POLAR OPPOSITE of what actually happens in those situations.)

The most ridiculous part out of all of this, though, has got to be mentioning Johnlock. 🤣🤣🤣 Um, which one of those two is supposed to be flamboyantly queer, exactly? Lol that’s just sad. We have better queer representation now. Come on.

Not to mention, Sherlock and John’s relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever the fuck we were supposed to think that was, was horrendously toxic. Nothing about the way they behave to each other is “loving”. Sherlock is a terrible person (and istg if I hear ONE SINGLE PERSON try to say it’s not his fault because of “mental illness” or some ableist bullshit like that, I will come after you with an axe) and not a suitable partner for anyone unless he does some seeeerious work on himself. Even supposing John is in love with Sherlcok, he has EVERY REASON IN THE WORLD not to want to date him - and it has fuck-all to do with shame (more flashbacks to the 2010’s Phantom of the Opera fandom lol).

Also... I thought we'd all collectively agreed to move on from Sherlock because it's horrendously anti-Autistic and queerbaity and Cummerbund Bumpersnatch is a vile ableist stain upon the face of humanity whose name I will not utter? Did I miss something lol?

To the next person to demean Good Omens and the precious, beautiful relationship between Aziracrow by lumping it in with crap like 'Sherlock' - we meet at the dueling grounds at dawn.

One final thing to add: Crowley doesn’t want to “scream their love from the rooftops”????? Because he also knows they’ll be killed or worse if they do that??? Canon Crowley is a FAR better person and a far more loving partner than willfully oblivious, damn-the-torpedos fanon Crowley. I wouldn't like this show if Crowley "wanted to scream their love from the rooftops".

There’s a LOT more that should probably be said about this, but my thumbs are tired and my heart is tireder still.

[igotanidea]

Riding lessons: Jason Todd x fem!reader

this one is for @jasontoddsthickbabe - I'm not sure if I should hate you or love you for all those pics on your site (of course I'm leaning towards the latter :D)

graphic found on Pinterest (as usual), all credits go to the author

Warnings: well, it's not about horse riding (duh), SMUT SO MINORS DNI

„Ah! Oh!” the pornographic sounds and moans echoed through an empty apartment. “More!”

“What are you doing?”

Holy shit! Jason was home and that really took her by surprise.

“Nothing!” she immediately shut the laptop, praying to whatever higher power there was that he did not see a thing “Hi.” She grinned wildly to cover for the embarrassment and extremely fast heart rate “why are you here? I thought you were supposed to meet with …”

“He cancelled. And so I came to you thinking maybe we can spend a nice day together” he crossed the floor and crouched next to her.

“Mhm. Sure.” She started babbling “that is a really good idea, how about I ….” Her gaze was everywhere but on him. How could she possibly face her boyfriend after what he just saw her doing.

“Princess….” He muttered, putting index finger under her chin and turning her head so she had to look him “were you watching porn?” at this point she wanted nothing more than to get out of his watchful gaze, that stupid smirk and those mocking attitude of his. Instead all she could do was blush like crazy and start to stutter.

“I….”

“Are you unsatisfied, baby? I need to know such things so I can please you more.”

“No.” she shook her head and he raised an eyebrow not sure if he understood her correctly “I mean, it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me. What is it, hmm?”

“It’s so embarrassing.” She closed her eyes “I don’t know how….”

“Come on, just say it.” He grabbed her hands and started caressing her soft skin “it’s me. I may laugh and mock you a bit, but I won’t judge.”

“You’re not making anything better for me.”

“Sorry, baby. But I’m your boyfriend. I care about you. If there’s something going on on the intimacy level I need to know, all right? Just so I can treat you right.”

“I….” she sighed deeply “I was trying to learn….”

“Learn? From porn….” His tone changed a bit towards and the right corner of his lips started lifting but he caught himself in time, before she noticed “I mean… ekhem…. What were you trying to learn?”

“Riding.”

“Oh.” His eyes grew wide “Why not come to me in the first place?” his hand traveled from her hand to her thigh “I can be your teacher, baby.”

“It’s just….  I’m this old and I don’t know how….”

“This old?” he scoffed “Dammit, Y/n. Do you think age matters?”

“Doesn’t it?” she squealed  “It’s seems like I should have more experience and ….”

“No! Hell no! Fuck the society who try to put an age label on people. I couldn’t care less about that. Shaming people for going in their own pace is just… sick.”

“you only say that….”

“I say that because I love you. And because I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself. Ever. And because of one more thing….” His eyes turned dark from the overwhelming lust for her “Because now  I can teach you.”

***

He sat on the bed with her legs around him, straddling his hips, kissing her gently, holding her tight to his chest, just trying to get her in the right mood. Not that he needed to do much since with every other caress she was just melting into him. So touch starved it was painful. So shy it was making his heart ache and be mindful of every move not to hurt her.

“Baby…” he muttered into the kiss “let’s get rid of that, all right?” he tucked on her shirt and she obediently lifted her hands up to dispose of the material, completely bare under it. As much as he wanted to just dive into her chest,  kiss her breast and tease her nipples endlessly just to get those high pitched sounds of her this was not about him. This was about her and showing her how she could be the one in control. Top, not bottom, and he did not mind being a bit submissive. Instead he just groaned resuming touching her, letting her go in her own pace, despite that pressing urgency to just tear all of her clothes and feel her.  “You’re good?”

“Mhm….” She muttered “I need this off as well.” Y/N reached towards his shirt. “Why the hell did you wear a buttoned one today?”

“Cause of the meeting.” He laughed “but don’t tell me that undressing me this slowly is not turning you on, cause I can feel this on my thigh, you know.”

“It does….” She panted, getting rid of each of those fucking annoying little clasps, slowly exposing his toned chest. “God!” she whined, finally sliding the shirt down his arms, her hands moving frantically over his body on their own accord. At this point she almost regretted being on top. She was so used to him hovering over her, pressing that toned pecks and abs into her, pressing her into the mattress. For a second he wanted to give him back all the control so he could do everything he wanted to her and ….

“Hey princess, I know you like what you see, but get back to me.”

“What? I ….”

“I know that look. I know what you were fantasizing about and I promise I fulfill your every wish, later, but now – you wanted to learn. So be a good student for me, huh?”

“Mhm, sure. What do I do?”

“Let me just…” he moved her up a bit, making her whine due to loss of contact. But it was only to slide her shorts and panties down her legs.

“Jay….” She whined, now being the only one completely undressed and inhibitions about her body and complexes started kicking in. He saw her naked so many times before and she was still self-conscious about her size.

“I love you Y/N. I love all of your little imperfections if you can even call them that. I love your breasts “ he pulled her closer, sensitive nipples brushing over his chest “you thick thighs” which were now wrapping around him again “and your pussy. All for me. Now, let’s move you.” he grabbed her hips and slowly helped her rock them, the friction making her moan more and more with every move.

At first it was slow and she was trying to pick the pace up, getting a bit frustrated for not being able to get herself off, but every time she did Jason was holding her down.

“Jace….” She whined “stop teasing me.

“Shh. Steady baby, steady. Let’s build some of that tension to get better release, all right?”

“I hate you!” she whined fighting against him

“We both know it’s not true.”

“Come on, I need you!” she fumbled with the zipper of his jeans “I’m ready now I swear! Please Jason.”

“Fuck, if you keep saying my name like this, I will get off before you and that would be embarrassing.”

“You’d better hurry up then.”

Oh he did. She only did as much as blink and he already managed to free himself, putting his cock on full display, covered with the pre-cum, ready for action and she was more than willing to participate. It was easier and far more pleasurable then she initially thought. His strong arms wrapped around her, securing her and slowly helped her move down onto it so he could get inside, when they both wanted.

“Jace!” she screamed, finally feeling this familiar stretch she craved so much for some time now. Her hands locked around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting him closer, needing him closer. Lips connected, kissing frantically, hands roaming each other’s body. But not moving. Why wasn’t he moving? “Why are you so still….?”

“It’s not my job now princess.” He smirked, leaning his forehead on hers “it’s yours.”

“Right….” She mumbled “just like before?”

“Just like before.” He smiled “Need a little reminder?

“Yes, please.” How could she ever refuse if that meant that he was touching her hips and ass, getting her back into the grove, showing her how to use him to reach her high. Fuck, the thought that she was doing it alone, herself made her hot. (and to be honest, him as well). Once the control kink creeped in her hips started moving faster and more intensely, feeling the heat inside her. Oh, she was going to catch the high.

“That’s it, baby” his grip was definitely going to leave bruises but she could not care less. “So good, you are doing so good.”

“Sure I am. Just stop talking and kiss me more.” His lips connected once more in a crazy dance of love, passion and desire. She was so damn close. Just needed a little bit more, just a little. Jason seemed to realize how she felt, when his fingers found its way towards her clit and added to the pressure and overstimulation.

“Fuck! Jason.” she screamed his name and squirted on his cock with all she had in her, falling limp into his arms. Completely spend, exhausted and fully satisfied. “I love you….” she muttered into his chest.

“I love you too, my little student. You did so well. A+ if I may say so” he responded, hugging her closer. “now that I said it, would you be opposed to some roleplay….?”

She pulled away and looked at him with lust and curiosity in her eyes.

“You promised to fulfill my fantasies, remember? All of them,  sir” The girl whispered seductively and he wasted no more time in throwing her onto her back and starting another round.

Fuck, she was gonna be the death of him.  

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 37

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

(Author Notes)

Panel 1: We see Imogen working at her job behind the counter of Faramore’s General Store. An elderly lady is attempting to describe what she wants without actually using any descriptive nouns. Frustrated, Imogen taps into her thoughts to get an idea of what she’s describing and finishes her sentences for her. A variety of things are on display: tools, bolts of fabric, barrels of apples and pickles, jars of candy, hanging horse tack, coils of rope, canned goods, lanterns. All during this conversation a family of several runny-nosed children is putting their hands all over everything, which makes Imogen wince.

Elderly Customer: Now, I need two yards of the red, you know, with the checks . . .

Imogen: Flannel?

Elderly Customer: And half a pound of the little round . . .

Imogen: Peppermints?

Elderly Customer: Yes, and three tins of the one . . . with the blue label . . .

Imogen: . . . Pomade?

Elderly Customer: No need to be so impatient, missy. I’m getting to it.

Panel 2: Next up is the mother of the several germy children, who slams down her shopping list. One of the children, last seen wiping their nose on the back of their hand, puts their hands into a jar of candy, which makes Imogen wince harder.

Karen: About time. I need two bottles of Zenotha’s Throat Elixir, a five-pound bag of rice, a braid of garlic, a jar of turmeric powder, a pound of coffee beans, and a dozen handkerchiefs.

Imogen: I’m afraid we’re out of throat elixir, ma’am, but I could place an order for you. What kind of handkerchiefs--

Karen: What do you mean, you’re out?? Why don’t you go on and check in the back?

Imogen: Sure, ma’am. Just a minute.

Panel 3: In the back. Laudna is there, taking inventory in a notebook.

Imogen: Hey, Laudna?

Laudna: Hmm?

Imogen: We got any more of that Zenotha’s Throat Elixir?

Laudna: Oh, no. We’ve been out of that for days.

Imogen: {sigh} That’s what I thought. Gonna get eaten alive out there.

Panel 4: Laudna absently pats a few sacks of dry beans on a shelf.

Imogen: You likin’ your new job?

Laudna: Oh, yes! Though it does get a bit lonely back here.

Imogen: Heh. Wanna trade? It is definitely not lonely out there.

Laudna: I think I could make a good shop girl! What do you think, Pâté?

Pâté: Got a face for customer service, you ‘ave.

Imogen: {sigh} I miss workin’ with the horses. They’re much easier to please. Panel 5: She goes back out, empty-handed, and starts compiling the rest of the order. The mother of the several germy children gets right up in her face as she yells at her across the counter.

Imogen: I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s out of stock. I can place an order for you and it’ll be here in about two weeks. In the meantime, would you like some lozenges, or --

Karen: Two weeks?? I can’t wait that long! My kids need it now!

Her Thoughts: worthless lazy girl I bet she didn’t even look what am I going to do now nowhere else has it useless useless useless

Imogen: I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s been in real high demand lately.

Karen: Hurry up! I can’t wait all day if I have to go huntin’ all over town for the things y’all don’t have here.

[darkdemeter]

Hi! Can I request the four horsemen reacting to an s/o who makes them hand Crafted Gifts (Like a lot of them!) Everything from protection charms,to mugs to portraits of them and their horses (prefferably a gender neutral s/o!)

Ty in advance and do take ur time!!

HANDICRAFT

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/War/Strife/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ This was a fun request to write for, I enjoyed it so much, thank you @screechinginthevoid and I hope you enjoy! WARNINGS! ↳ The slightest hint of spice? but mostly just fluffy, wholesome content

✎3.3k ──────────────── ◆

You always had a knack for creating things. Dabbling in this and that, you were raised on the ideology and principle that true gifts come from the heart. That the effort and love is what makes the present all the more special, sure, but it didn’t hurt knowing a thing or two about knitting a pretty snug scarf and hat during the whole apocalypse ordeal.

Losing your friends and loved ones did bring a dark cloud to loom high over your head constantly. Your love to create things for people had been robbed from you, leaving your set of skills as a means of survival. Until you incidentally bumped into the fabled Horsemen of the end times. From then on, and sticking to the four like a stray cat tagging along, they came to take care of you. 

And you found your loving spark to create gifts again. So…

DEATH

A gift. For him? 

“Why?” 

Poor, sweet… grouchy and sassy Death, like his other siblings as you come to find, doesn't exactly understand the concept of gifts that have no practical purpose other than sentimental value. The fact that every time he sees you, you’re nearly always making something for either him or his siblings. This occurs quite a bit, if not a lot. So in the beginning, Death was receiving a lot of gifts that you made, most of which he had little clue what to do with, so he’d cast them aside, muttering how humans were just as bad as the Makers.

The brand new scarf you made after having scoured the desolated Earth in search for the finest, softest fabric you could find, isn’t meant to help him ward off evil forces that seek imbalance? Well, if you don’t count warding off the age-old rag he was wearing around his shoulders for who knows how long. But hey, that’s just your opinion. 

You know deep down he appreciates the garb upgrade, very deep down, it’s one present that he hasn’t immediately disregarded, but he remains placid about showing any form of emotion that may be perceived as weakness. But the fact that he hasn’t tossed it aside makes your stomach flutter and your heart skip a few beats, seeing that Death can be fond of your hand crafted gifts. He’s just particular. Minimalistic, you could say. 

That doesn’t stop you from cracking the odd joke here and there, yeah you’ve seen him scowl and sigh in his dismay at the ever increasing numbers of little handmade bracelets on Harvester. 

Another example: mugs. 

Was not keen at all, but he slightly warmed – after some major prodding on your part – of having a special mug all his own whenever he and his siblings drifted through. The first mug you created was a hard effort won, since you were a little rusty with the pottery branch of your handicraft. With a finishing touch you painted the label: Bone Daddy. 

To this day he still doesn’t grasp the logic behind it, and with a scarlet blush, you brush off the subject entirely and invite him to sip from his brand new mug: Sass To The Bone.

When you first created a protection charm for him to wear as a pendent, this nephilim gave you the most critical and harshest lecture that you almost cried. He put teachers who demanded your overdue assignment to shame by a hundred levels. 

In the end, you sniff loudly with a pout and cry, “Just take it, okay?! I want you to be safe!”

Up until that point, you always approached him with a newly crafted gift with a bounce on the balls of your feet and a wide, bright grin. The sight ever so slowly wearing him down until he came to find it endearing how bubbly and excited you were to present a gift meant for him. To see you on the brink of tears with your confession sort of broke something inside him. Something he didn’t know he was capable of feeling and took the charm. 

It doesn’t bother you how he chooses to wear it, whether it be attached to the metallic limb of Harvester or threaded over to dangle alongside his wrist. All that matters to you is that he wears it somehow, assuring you that he knows how comforted you are in seeing it on his person. It makes you feel heard and that your love for him came from the heart when toying with potentially dangerous wells of magic just to ensure his safety. 

He’s risked himself to save you from danger many times. Whether that be because of his sworn duty to uphold the balance or some estranged level of love all his own; you find it only fitting that you return the favour – the want to protect him. And though unknown to you, he knows this. 

On the note of drawings, well uh… let’s just say you don’t want Death seeing those anytime soon, lest he questions your entire state of mind. Maybe you should draw a few tame ones sometime soon, so then he stops judging you everytime you hiss like a soaked cat and dive atop your sketchbook you left out the night before. 

But he’s mighty impressed with a painting you did recently of Despair, and you don’t know much about the rider’s steed, but you won’t put it past the beast taking a liking to it too. 

STRIFE

This nephilim has a treasure trove of your handmade gifts. Hands down. And he fucking loves it. So do you! Alright, at first, Strife was rather hesitant, but he warms to it quicker than his siblings, though it still takes a considerable amount of time, and dammit, this gunslinger soon begins a rule that each time you see each other, you either have a gift made or he gets to see the work in progress. No ifs, buts or look out there’s a demon behind you. 

Good news for you is that if you need a specific material or artefact to create something like a protective charm, he is on it. He will scour the known and unknown realms in search for what you need, and you’re more than happy to tinker away at the charm while he washes himself off in the shower, because whatever he had slain reeked a scent so foul you had to air out the entire house for hours. It did bother him at first when he discovered you were dabbling in magics so advanced, but you assure him you’re being careful and have been undergoing tutoring by the Makers. Though Strife would much rather you learn from either him, Fury or Death.

“Just be careful with that stuff, ok? I don’t want you getting hurt from it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief every time you see the little horse charm dangle on the leather cord attached to his scarf with a small, bone pin.

Overall, he is in awe that you make something to aid in protecting him when he’s away, and he adores the ever-living shit out of all your gifts and there is no force in all the universe that can alter that way of thinking. 

The first time you made a knitted beanie for him, he was reluctant to remove his helm, but after the amount of time you’ve known one another, through thick and thin, he trusts you. The way his golden eyes seemed to brighten even more made you realise in that moment how much you loved him. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from taking a polaroid of you both with him in his new hat and you make a copy of the photo so that he had a version that he can reflect on wherever he happens to be that’s away from you. 

Jealousy is a cute fit on Strife. From how he carries on and scowls childishly sure has its charm, and being envious of Death’s mug, Sass To The Bone, you once again try your hand at crafting a mug all his own. He finds it mighty impressive what you can do, despite the multitudes of failures, you’re determined. Strife’s pride skyrockets every time he sips from his printed cup, #1 Sharpshooter with two – dare you say terribly doodled variants – of his dual pistols. He gets a kick from his siblings reactions to his mug, but he just elbows you gently in the rib and mutters lowly, “They’re just jealous because it's true.”

Okay, so about those drawings. You drew a few of them, albeit you were very critical of these rare and few gifts, but Strife was intrigued and encouraged you to draw more. So you did, obviously, but still you mostly drew in secret… and he caught onto that. He’d first catch you scribbling away in your little sketchbook when either at home and he was relaxing, or if you both were out on some venture together. The way you’d poke your tongue out slightly and your brows come down in a concentrative manner. Oh, be still his beating heart. 

But then he caught sight of some rather tasteful, and less cladded poses of himself. The moment he whistled over your shoulder with a purred, “Oooh, what’re these?”

“Strife no—!”

He’d plucked the book from your hands before you could do much else, your pencil dropped to the floor with an echoing clatter that snaps the lead. 

You felt ready for Death to tuck you into a permanent sleep forever with Harvester. Because of the large and ever-world changing event known as the apocalypse, it put your school on persistent hold and you were in the midst of your visual arts major, studying nude figure art when havoc and calamity ensued. Ah yes, the fine artistry of studying the anatomy is a tricky one but also one of mystique and astounding beauty. 

“You know, if you need a model reference, you can always just ask,” he growls playfully with a fanged grin. All you can do is press the sketchbook to your flushed, burning face with a sigh. 

WAR

Maybe because he’s the youngest of his siblings, but you spoil this nephilim with gifts, though at first he was quick to brush them off with a cold turn of his shoulder or scoff, but over time you managed to worm your way under the thick hide of his stubbornness and the more he found it nye impossible to say no to you or your handmade gifts. 

It was an overwhelming occurrence for him to adjust to but now, he secretly finds himself almost excited to be given something new. You’re just a considerate human, always thinking about what you can make and give to others, he ponders to himself often if you stop and consider creating things for yourself.

“I make stuff for myself, don’t worry. Now, I made you these mittens!”

You may have a way of crafting, but you're still human. Making anything of considerate size to even fit this Horsemen’s pinky takes a good amount of time, so knitted wares only come around a rare few times a year. 

Despite being a volcanic mass of producing his own body heat, he accepts the mittens, the few scarves and other knitted accessories – and the very, very large sweater for Christmas. Making four of them had to be a major plan in the works a few years prior, it took that long. 

He finds comfort in the scarves mostly rather than actually any sort of functionality. Just dipping his nose to muzzle into the softness of wool reminds him of you and your scent that faintly lingers on it. It grounds him and gives him something to look forward to once his mission is done. 

He got defensive about it once when Strife dared to tease him. “You missing the human, little bro?” 

Geez, that’s the harshest glare that’s been inscribed across War’s features, and the witty gunslinger won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. 

He’s rather curious about your process and quite a bit, he will take a moment to study what you do, how you do it and will occasionally ask questions.

Every gift you make for War is precious to him and though he may not be able to carry them all with him, you ensure that they will be safely kept. Those that he does have on him, he will spare a moment when he can to look upon it, to feel it and to just bask in the knowledge that you hold him so near and dear to him. 

Humans and their traditions, War never really got his head around it, and his initial lack of knowing why you were presenting him with such offerings, only to be told that it’s just something humans do. You give each other things, especially those who you care about. 

“You care about me?”

“Of course I do, War,” you’d answer simply with a smile. 

Eventually making a mug for the red rider, you did get a bit too in your head about it. 

“It’s too small…,” became a mantra at this point as you morphed the pottery clay. Your so-called mug basically became a large bowl with a handle, let’s be honest. You at least had a bigger canvas to work with for the print and paint. 

And painting it was a beast! You decided to kill two birds with one stone, to really test your abilities and did a pattern of War astride his steed, Ruin around the mug’s perimeter. War’s fascination with the design never ceases to bring a smile to your face, sometimes you see him turning it over and over again just to watch the seemingly galloping images.

With your drawings, you just love doing portraits of War and Ruin. Out roaming together, you may catch a beautiful landscape and you call for War. “Stand right here with Ruin, I gotta draw this out!”

You save the largest sketchbooks for these two exclusively because there is no way you can contain so much detail into a sized down sketch. Nuh uh, you gotta go big or go home. Whether it’s a finished piece or just a quick sketch to have down for later, War is drawn to it, you notice the faintest blush dusting over his cheeks as he asks, “Could I keep it once you’re finished?”

For all that brawn, there is for certain a keen eye for detail. War notices all the finer points you seem to pick out, capturing just the right angle, the posing, he is definitely a fan of your artwork, especially when you give them to him. 

War has become quite the collector of your handmade treasures and he is honoured deeply by your affectionate gifts made from the heart, all for him. 

FURY

“Human— ugh, what is it you wish to give me this time?” 

Need more be said? In the beginning of this dynamic, approaching Fury was a very tricky gamble all its own. In fact, the first few handmade gifts you did make for her, you either would ask either one of her brothers to pass it off in your stead, or leave it in a spot which she occupied so that she knew it was for her.

Her face betrayed her obvious distaste for your human antics, often times she would sneer as she inspected whatever it was you made. 

Colourful, rainbow bands of friendship — perhaps your attempt of silently asking for her companionship — to knitted wares of a shawl to protect her from the elements. You believe she’s taken the latter gift well considering you’ve seen her on numerous occasions sporting it, and when you do point it out, her eyes thin slightly, narrowing in your direction.

“I-I just… mean to say, I’m glad you’re wearing it… it looks good on you.”

Over time, she’s become more comfortable about the concept, though at this point, you practically throw handmade bits and bobs at her and she’s forced to concede to it. Days where it’s just you and her lounging about your home, she may strip down from her armour and replace it with that sweater you knitted for her last Christmas, her reaction to it upon unwrapping it was priceless. A genuine, “You made this for me?” 

You could just hear the sheer surprise and dare you say it, amazement. She does appear to relax just the littlest bit when that soft wool wraps around her torso, and if you’re lucky, she will serve you with a compliment that brings a prideful hum to you and a smile.

With any sort of protective charms, Fury is wary, and she inquires exactly who, when, where and how. She wants all the details so she can make sure it’s safe, but she’s not opposed to taking over as your new teacher when it comes to the very advanced sort of magic. “Let me teach you, before you get yourself killed. Now what are you making for me this time?”

She knows that look in your eyes by now. That creative, human glint you get when your mind conjures up another idea. When explaining you want to make her a charm bracelet that will aid in protecting her, she doesn’t know what to say. For a powerful being such as herself, she doesn’t often take a moment to exactly assess the danger she’s about to pursue. 

The fact that from your perspective, you feel the need to somehow protect her, is… something of endearing to her. She’s still discovering herself but you two have known each other for some time now, she has become attached. Though she was nonchalant about it, she accepts and wears the bracelet always when out on a mission, and she is proud of your efforts and accomplishment to create a rather powerful artefact. 

Creating a mug for this nephilim was a bit of a challenge, but you settled on a more tea-esque style, a soft and round base and a bit of an intricate handle with a deep purple as it’s main colour, with accents of gold and white swirls in a marble design. She thinks it’s pretty cool what you’ve done and she enjoys sipping from it, flaring at Strife as he flaunts his own mug, she merely rolls her eyes. She knows she’s got the best cup, that’s just her opinion. 

“Um, Fury, I made this drawing for you.” With a tilt of her head and quirk of her brow, she took the handed piece of paper from your hands and… smiles? A genuine smile? She is rather critical of humans and their entire existence, how they plot along, seemingly living pointless lives; but she is mighty impressed with the rendition of her and Rampage overlooking the sunset on a cliff side you both had gone to about a month ago. 

“That is… quite talented, human. You drew this?” 

When telling her about your major arts degree before the entire world falling into a giant shithole of hell, you expected her not to fully understand or care, until you feel her hand rest on your shoulder. “You should keep at this art of yours. You have potential.” 

“Oh, er— thanks!” That was a boost of encouragement, no matter how lacking her tone was at the time, you know her better by now she isn’t the most forthcoming with her more intimate, softer side. At least not so readily. 

But you do. You continue pursuing your art and she does at times indulge you in being your model, as does Rampage, when he’s not trying to either run you over because he wants more pats and treats. 

Fury has amassed a private collection she will reflect on with fondness, her own little treasure trove of gifts that she’s come to adore; because they represent the kindness and love you put into them. 

———

Overall, your skills have expanded quite a bit, and these four may not admit it outright - might try and hide it - but they appreciate each and every single one of your gifts, and you: their little human. 

[cesarescabinet]

(this is spacekrakens lmao) dude idk anything about like 1950s Japanese cinema, do you have any recommendations? looking for stuff to toss on the watchlist now that I'm a bit burned out on horror (unless you have some horror recs)

Hey! If you’re curious about Japanese cinema (particularly 1950s), there’s a lot of avenues to explore! Musicals, crime, horror, historical—it all depends on what mood you’re in. (Putting this under a read more because I'm DEFINITELY going to be long posting about this!!!) Hope this is useful to you lol.

(Also noting if anybody wants to add to this list with their own recommendations feel free!!)

With old school Japanese cinema, I’ll always recommend Akira Kurosawa (obviously). He’s made some of the best Japanese movies (and arguably, the best movies of all time imo) and I feel like his work is a good gateway. It’s readily available on physical media/streaming too.

Specifically ‘50s stuff; Hidden Fortress (1958) is a good adventure flick whose structure was swiped for Star Wars, Throne of Blood (1957) is Japanese Macbeth if you like Shakespeare, and if you don’t mind a longer movie Seven Samurai (1954) includes Toshiro Mifune acting like this;

Gotta admit, though—my personal favorites from Kurosawa don’t come from the 1950s; Drunken Angel (1948) and Yojimbo (1961). One has a pathetic gangster as the main lead, the other is just a solid, breezy proto-action film (also has my beloved Unosuke but that's besides the point)

Some personal favorites of mine from the 1950s:

Life of a Horse Trader (1951) is a bittersweet story about a man trying to be a good single father to his son in the backdrop of Hokkaido. He tends not to be great at it. Stars Toshiro Mifune, the most famous face of Japanese cinema and for good reason!

Conflagration/Enjo (1958) is a single Buddhist acolyte’s fall into quiet insanity. Raizo Ichikawa is another amazing actor who I love! Also includes Tatsuya Nakadai who is the GOAT (in my heart).

Godzilla (1954) is AMAZING! If you liked Gozilla Minus One, it took a lot of familiar cues from this movie. It also technically counts as horror, depending on your definition.

Japanese horror from the 1950s:

Ugetsu (1951) (Not one I’ve seen personally, but it’s on Criterion)

The Beast Shall Die (1958) (American Psycho, but in Showa Japan. Tatsuya Nakadai is terrifying in this and absolutely despicable—stylish movie tho!)

Ghost of Yotsuya (1959) (Old-school Japanese ghost story. Honestly, there are so many different versions of this story on film that you can pick which version to watch and go from there—I’m partial to the 1965 version myself, because of the rubber rats and Tatsuya Nakadai playing a crazy person).

The Lady Vampire (1959) is the OG western-style vampire movie from Japan. Plays around with the mythos a lot, but hey our Dracula looks like this;

Misc movies that I think are neat or good gateway movies:

The Samurai Trilogy by Hiroshi Inagaki, which stars Toshiro Mifune as Miyamoto Musashi. Found that people otherwise uninterested in Japanese cinema really enjoyed this!

You Can Succeed, Too (1964) is one of my favorites from the ‘60s, also directed by Eizō Sugawa. A fun satire on the corporate world that's super colorful with catchy songs.

The Sword of Doom (1966) is also another favorite of mine, starring my beloved Tatsuya Nakadai as another bastard man (seriously though Ryunosuke is FASCINATING to me--). Fun gore effects and action scenes!

Kwaidan (1964) is an anthology of Japanese folk tales, labeled a horror film but in that kinda sorta old-school way. Beautifully shot by my favorite Japanese director Masaki Kobayashi (who, if you like this you should seriously check out his other work!)