#this got long which is because my writing sentiments are out of practice

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun��s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[ddejavvu]

Would you write dumbification with Hangman?

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Jake is absolutely enamored by the way your cunt stretches tight around his cock. He takes his time getting you wet, pressing hot and heavy kisses to your thighs, to the hood of your clit, licking stripes of spit through your folds until your own wetness greets him. Then when you're ready, when you're tugging at his hair, pulling him up to grip at his muscled biceps, begging for his cock that hangs thick and heavy between his legs, he pushes in.

Your stretched cunt is the perfect size for his cock. He's thick and long; after all, the jokes he makes about his callsign aren't just that. Your cunt stretches deliciously around his length, encasing him in wet warmth that he can't help but pound into.

"God, baby," He pants, hips relentlessly pistoning into your pussy, "That's- ah, you feel so good, so wet and tight, nngh!"

You whine at his breathy praises, practically writhing in pleasure at the feeling of finally being full. Jake's magnificent with his tongue, but nothing beats his cock. You want to tell him how fantastic he feels, how big and thick his cock is, how much you love it when it's stuffing you stupid, but the words won't come out, your voice only able to flow freely and unshapely from your throat in moans and groans each time Jake thrusts forwards.

You're not usually this soft-spoken. You love telling Jake how amazing he feels, you're both suckers for praise. So when you don't return his sentiments, Jake kisses up the side of your neck, nipping gently at your collarbone.

"Does it feel good, baby? Tell me, tell me- ah!" Jake breaks off as your cunt clenches unexpectedly around his cock, "Tell me how it is."

"I- It's-" You babble desperately, clinging to your memory of his own words to help you form the sentence that your own brain can't. You cleave to his biceps like a lifeline, dragging him impossibly closer and deepening the angle of your hips so that he pounds deeper into you. "It's- hnnghohmygod!"

"You-" Jake breaks off with an incredulous laugh, trying not to cum already; he's caught off guard by how attractive your speechlessness is. He has the libido of ten men, he's got energy to burn and he's never had trouble lasting long, but all of a sudden he's about to bust his nut in barely a minute like a depraved teen, all because you can't form the words to tell him how good you feel.

"You can't even say it," Jake marvels, his cocky, pleasure-hazed expression hovering over your face, "You go all stupid on my cock, huh darlin'?"

You try scolding him, your lips forming a weak "Ja-" until his tongue hits your neck, and, combined with his thick cock pounding into you, it shorts out your circuits. The sound transforms into a cry of sorts, a pathetic, "Aah!" That Jake revels in.

"You can't even say my name? Did you forget it, darlin'? Say it," He instructs, "Say my name, sweetheart."

He doesn't let up in his steady, forceful thrusts, slamming the head of his leaking cock into a spot so sensitive it has you seeing stars. The more you struggle to speak, the more turned on he gets, and the faster he jackhammers into you, which only makes you less capable of speech. It's a vicious cycle, and you've lost control ages ago.

"Come on," He teases, nudging his nose against yours, "Come on, angel baby. What's m'name? Say it, fuckin'- scream it, baby, come on."

"J- Ja-" You try, and he takes a hand, gripping your chin and tilting your head back, opening your throat even more. It tears a broken whimper from your throat as you start feeling the crest of your orgasm, and you get sidetracked from your mission.

"That's it. Keep goin', honey. You're halfway there. Don't stop now."

He doesn't really want you to say his name, though. He'd love it if you did, your sweet voice screaming his name always has his floodgates bursting, but what he's really after now is more stuttering, more delicious speechless babbling that let him know he's worked you up more than he ever has before.

When he dips down to suck hard at your neck, surely leaving you with a hickey for tomorrow, you give up. You know you won’t be able to say his name, not as your thighs tremble and a wave of pleasure washes over you. It tingles from your head to your toes, starting at your core and blossoming out from there. You can't control your volume anymore, and you scream, but it's not Jake's name. It's just a piercing wail, lustful and oozing with pleasure as Jake fucks hard through your orgasm. He fucks you right into his own, pushing his lips onto yours in a forceful kiss when they prove useless in uttering his name.

"Fuck," Jake breathes against your mouth, hips slowing gradually as his dick twitches. He's not sure he's ever cum this much, and some of it oozes out from where you're still joined. He watches it spurt from your cunt with a guttural groan in his throat, kissing hot and wet at your spit-soaked lips.

"That was fast, baby," He pants, feeling your thighs shaking as he carefully pulls out, resting on his hip to take his weight off of you, "Just can't control myself when you get all dumb on my cock."

[endlessthxxghts]

Tell Me More

no outbreak!neighbor!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.4k

Summary: Your house is finally empty for the first time in a long time, so you decide to get back in the groove of your witchy practices. Joel stumbles in during your meditation session, and he's intrigued to know more.

Warnings: Religious (Christianity/Catholicism) undertones/religious trauma - brief mention, but does affect reader. Talk of crystals, talk of Tarot cards. Mental health talk, my babies: depression mentions, allusions to wanting to give up in life. EXPLICIT/MATURE CONTENT, 18+ MDNI. Dom/sub dynamics - talks of being collared...getting collared (stfu I’m sobbing)🥲!! These knuckleheads are legit IN LOVE. Age gap. Established relationship. P in V sex. Use of daddy. Allusions to other sexual activity. Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm gonna preface this with the fact that this is entirely something I wrote because I was needing comfort. I do witchcraft. I love crystals, I do tarot readings, and all that jazz. Within the last year, I haven’t done much because I’ve been in a living situation in which I have to hide who I truly am. A few nights ago, I got to spend a few hours with someone who partakes in these practices, and I’ve never felt more alive in those two hours than I have in the last year. And I’ve been craving to feel that way again, but again, my living situation prevents me to do so. So, here I am, healing a part of myself through my writing. Even if you guys are unfamiliar in the whole aspect of witchcraft, I hope you guys can enjoy this from the aspect of finding a person who finally accepts you for all that you are. If this isn’t your cup of tea, no hate! Please just scroll away. All my love. Xoxo💚

ONESHOT COLLECTION || MAIN MASTERLIST

Part of What You Need universe! CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE!

You told Joel a few hours ago that when he got off work to just let himself inside because you weren’t sure if you’d be having a nap or not. He knew the garage code and knew where the spare key was, anyway. 

So when he was greeted to an empty home at the end of his work day, he didn’t think anything of it. That is, until he entered your room and saw you, legs criss-crossed in the center of your bed, eyes closed, with rocks and playing cards scattered all around your bed, enveloping you in a makeshift circle. 

“Uh, baby?” immediately leaves his mouth as he stares, absolutely confused at the situation before him. 

Your eyes shoot open, not expecting to be in the presence of another human being right now, and a little squeak escapes you. “Oh! Baby! Almost gave me a heart attack,” you say with a light giggle. 

“What are you-” he gestures towards your bed as he walks closer to you, leaning over your bed to give you a chaste kiss, “-up to, darlin’?”

You’re absolutely radiating sunshine right now, and even though his confusion is still getting the best of him, he can’t help but feel giddy in your presence. “Oh, well,” you smile up at him, a hint of shyness in your voice, “I thought I’d take advantage of my family being out on their little vacation, so I wanted to take some time to meditate.” 

“Oh, okay,” he offers you a smile back, one like he understands exactly what you’re talking about even though the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. Usually you’d be shying away and scrambling to put your stuff away. But this is Joel you’re talking about here, and he just looks utterly confused. 

You raise your eyebrows slightly, prompting him to ask his question you know he’s dying to ask.

“And this meditatin’,” he says a little hesitantly, “you do it with, um.. with rocks?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth, a slapping sound echoing in the room, in an attempt to stifle your disbelief at his words. “Rocks?” you say perplexed. 

His cheeks heat up at your passionate reaction. “I-”

You scooch your bum over, gather everything on your bed and make some room over for Joel. You pat the space next to you, signaling for him to come over. He sits next to you, tucking one leg under him as the other hangs off the bed. 

You take his hand and hold it palm up, sliding one of the clusters in his palm. “These, my honey, are crystals,” you pause to think for a second. “Well, okay, yes, they’re rocks, BUT-”

His cheekbones raise in amusement. You’re caressing the crystal in his palm, eyes fixated on it as you speak. You think he’s looking at the crystal, but really he’s watching and loving just how passionate you are about this.

You continue on for a good fifteen minutes or so about what crystals are, what meanings they have, and you also mention what powerful properties they carry—whatever that means, he thinks to himself. In all his years of life, he has never heard of anything like this, nor would he ever get into something like this. 

“So, this ro-” you physically cringe at the word. He corrects himself. “This crystal,” he says, “it makes you sleepy?” 

He’s trying. And it makes you want to swallow him whole and never let him go. You think for a second, pondering the implications behind the crystals properties of the Amethyst crystal sitting in his palm. Inner peace. Rest. Relaxation. You smile to yourself at how Joel processes the information. Looking up into his eyes for the first time since your little tangent, “Yeah, baby, you’re getting it,” you say with a gentleness in your voice, the brightest of smiles on your face. 

Since he’s been with you, he has never seen you interact with any of this stuff before. It must be something you do on the down low, or something you rarely have a chance to indulge in. Whatever the case may be, the genuine light and happiness radiating off of you is addicting, and if it’s because of these things, he’ll gladly learn everything there is to know. 

He gently places the Amethyst down beside you, and picks up a light blue one, tower shaped. “This one magic, too?” 

Your eyes positively brighten, more than they are now. His heart beats stronger at the sight. You tell him the crystal he’s holding is called Celestite, and it helps with inner peace and is supposed to help guide you to a more divine consciousness when you meditate. He smiles with you, offering the occasional nod and grunt to signify he’s listening to you even though everything coming out of your mouth sounds like a foreign language to him. 

After the fifth round of him picking a crystal for you to explain, he opts for the cards sprawled all over your bed. “This… magic involves… card games?” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, silently cursing himself for the insensitivity of his vocabulary. You stifle a laugh, knowing he didn’t mean it that way though, which is why you can’t help but pull him into a sweet kiss before you go on and explain. 

“What was that for?” He asks, cheeks reddened slightly. 

“Nothing, baby, I just love you.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl. Now, tell me more about these not playing cards, please.”

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiles he’s been pulling from you. “Mhmm, so these are called tarot cards, my love.”

The next hour is spent with you explaining the cards, what they do, and what kind of things people use them for. Joel seems confused, weirded out, and impressed all in one. 

“Ain’t no way this lil thing answers my life questions,” he deadpans. 

“Okay, no it doesn’t give definite answers- these aren’t fortune tellers,” you say. He sees the gears turning in your head, trying to find a better way to explain to him. “They give advice or feedback…” you start. “They give guidance for the situation your current self is in. They aren’t meant to be taken like law or religion, but more so like if your friend was a therapist. They can give you advice, but not too much without crossing the patient-therapist threshold. Just tiny nudges in a potentially better direction.” 

Now it’s your turn to see the gears turning in his head. His smile slowly spreads the moment it actually clicks for him. “Oh, wait, that actually is makin’ sense to me,” he says a little more excited than usual. He places kisses on your forehead, cheek, and lips, trying to place his excitement somewhere. You laugh in his embrace. You’re beyond excited that the most important person in your life is open to something so unconventional, so taboo. 

For years, you’ve had to hide this little part of you for fear of your family shunning you. They’d kick you out without a second thought if they found out about this. They would be unwilling to hear your explanations and would deduce your actions down to the work of the Devil. 

They wouldn’t care that immersing yourself in the craft—whether this stuff is actually real or not—is what saved your life, time and time again. They wouldn’t care that when you had the worst depression episode, it was meditating, learning the meanings of different crystals, and connecting with the Earth and the divine that taught you the meaning of life again. None of them would ever be willing enough to even try to understand. 

“Thank you,” you say in a mere whisper, eyes glossing over slightly. 

He sees your eyes. His hand snakes up to your jaw, bringing your face closer to his, noses ghosting against one another. “For what, darlin’?” 

“For trying to understand. For acting like you want to.” Your eyes falter from his. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, trying to spark your attention back up to his gaze. It does. 

“No, baby. I want to. No actin’ here.” His lips meet yours, warming you from the inside out.

“You swear?” you ask him as he pulls away. 

His eyebrow quirks up at your antics. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Swear?” you repeat. 

“On my life,” he says. 

You place one more kiss to his lips before you’re pulling away and sliding off the bed. “Come, I’ll cook. You haven’t eaten since this afternoon, huh?” 

“Guilty,” he tells you, face warm at how well you know him. “Mhmm. Do you mind just putting the cards back in that box over there for me real quick?” 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

“Thank you, baby,” and with that, you’re out in the kitchen, whipping up a small meal for the both of you.  

As he grabs all the cards, putting them in a stack before he slides them in the box, a singular card jumps out of his hands. He remembers what you said earlier. 

The way that I like to do it is by shuffling the deck and letting the card itself jump out at you! There are many ways to do it, but I don’t know. I like the pure chance of doing it that way.

He picks up the card, softly speaking to it. “Jumpin’ out for me?” He has to pull the card to and from his eyes a few times before his vision becomes clear. Love, the card reads. He smiles to himself, his heart giving him all the explanation he needs for the meaning of it. He places the card into his flannel pocket to show you after you dinner.  

With both your tummies satiated, you begin to gather the dishes when Joel throws you a stern look. Whether you two are actively in your dynamic or not, you know not to test that look. You settle back down in your seat, hands held up defensively with the smallest of airy giggles. 

“Ya know better than that, darlin’, especially if you cooked.”

“I know, I know,” you say to him apologetically. “I’ll take care of it,” he breathes, “but first,” he stands up, leaning over your shoulder so you both can look at the card from a good angle when he pulls it out. “Remember what you were sayin’ earlier ‘bout your cards jumpin’ out at ya and whatnot?” 

“Yeeaahh,” you drag out, turning your head and looking up at him curiously. 

“Well,” he reaches for the card tucked safely in his pocket. “As I was puttin’ them back in the box, this one just came out at me.” He sets it down softly in front of you. 

“Oh?” You’re eager to see which card. Love, your eyes read. Your heart beats five times stronger, and your smile grows ten times cheesier. 

“Does it mean anythin’?” He asks. “For our..current situation?” He has a silliness in his voice, but you can tell he’s genuinely curious. 

“It means…” you start, your eyes slowly leading back to meet his own. You stare into his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth, the safety, the love that he always gives you so willingly. A moment extra passes, and you’re still in a trance. He sees your stare fade from adoration into something more deep, needy. His stare changes, too. The pretty brown of his eyes nearly erased with arousal in your sudden change of energy. He quirks his eyebrow, reminding you to speak.

“It means.. Daddy needs to take me to bed,” you say, voice soft and shaky with arousal. 

“Is that right?” he asks, his deep voice vibrating you from the outside in.

His mere tone has you slipping already, your voice automatically pushing out a reply, knowing he requires a response after every question. “Y-yes,” you say. 

He leans in to give you a slow, heated kiss, his hand finding its way to your jaw. He pulls away, much too soon to your liking, but you don’t protest. “Bed. Now,” he says, standing himself to full height. “Yes, sir,” you say as you shoot up from your seat, making a bee line to your bedroom. “And in position,” he yells to you. 

You don’t respond to him then, but that’s okay. He knows his sweet girl heard him; he knows how good of a listener you are. Which is why he refrains from his original idea of teasing you—of clearing the dining table and washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen—before he gives you what you need. 

Instead, he only clears the dining table, saving everything else for later and coming to you. He finds you, completely stripped of your clothes, centered at the middle of your bed, sitting on your haunches, palms face up on your thighs, eyes casted downward. Eager yet patient. Aching with need yet satiated knowing that you will be taken care of. His sweet girl. So good.

His shirt is the first to go, left somewhere at the doorway of your room. He’ll grab it later. For now, even though no one else is in this house, he shuts your door, wanting both of you to be completely consumed with one another and nothing else. He pulls the rest of his clothes off as he makes his way to the edge of your bed, leaning over. Your eyes are still downcast until his fingers are on your chin, bringing your attention to him. 

He can’t help but melt into a puddle with the way you’re looking at him. It’s almost as if he created the entire Universe for you. “Mi alma (my soul),” he says. “You’re always so good for me. Always.” He brings your lips together in a soft embrace. You chase his touch as best as his grip allows you to when he pulls away. 

Even softer than the kiss, he asks “How do you want me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you respond, “I just need to feel you. Every single part of you, Daddy, I-”

He cuts your babbling off with a kiss, and this time, he doesn’t break it as he pushes you to lay on your back. He doesn’t break it as he lines himself up with you. He doesn’t break it as your legs go to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He foregos all forms of prep or foreplay, knowing you need him just as desperately as he needs you. 

The rest of your guys’ night is filled with exactly this. Feeling—and filling—each other in the deepest ways possible. He makes you cum on his cock several times before he fills you to the brim with his spend, kissing and licking into your mouth, all over your neck, and any other areas he can reach without straying too far from your face. He sees his entire existence in your eyes; he needs to be there as he gives himself to you. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away, lowering himself down your body and settling into the space between your thighs. He marvels at what a pretty mess both of you made, your shine all over as his cum begins to leak its way out of you. He leans forward, flat tongue licking up a slow, wet path across your entire sex. He stays there for hours, pulling climax and climax out of you, his belly feeling full at how much he’s taken from you. 

Even as you reach the territory of overstimulation, you don’t care. You want more. You need more. 

Joel makes his way back up to you, missing the feel of your mouth on his. As he looks up though, he sees tears pooling in your eyes. His hands immediately go to your face, thumbs catching the runaway tear. “Talk to me, baby,” his voice quivers, his feelings heightened at the emotional intensity of the last several hours. 

“I-” you choke back a sob. “Please don’t ever leave me, baby. I don’t think-” you take a shaky breath, more tears escaping your eyes. “I can’t live without you, baby, I need you, I love you, please don’t ever leave-”

His lips are back on yours, soft and all-consuming, stealing your anxieties and stowing them far away where they will never poison your mind ever again. 

“Never,” he says. “I’m yours, my sweet girl. Always. I’m not goin’ anywhere that’s not with you. I love you more than anythin’ in this fuckin’ world. You’re never gettin’ rid of me, ya hear, mi flor? (my flower),” he says as he gives your head a small shake, making sure his words are etching themselves into every groove of your brain so you never forget it. 

It’s been a week since that night you and Joel had your house to yourselves, and he still can’t shake the burst of insecurity that infiltrated your mind. Which is why he finds himself at a local (witch)craft store—way out of his depth but still set on finding the perfect thing to seal his love for you. 

You two have discussed the concept of a collar before, and you showed a genuine interest. It was a tangible reminder of who you belonged to, and it definitely made your heart skip a beat. However, you weren’t so attuned to the idea of the actual image of a traditional collar, and neither was Joel. The conversation was cut short because you got pulled into another task that had to be taken care of, and the topic was never brought about again. But Joel thinks about it more often than you think. 

In some dynamics, collars are accessories that a Dominant and submissive work their way up to. In a way, the collar symbolized a promise. It symbolized forever. For some, it was their wedding ring equivalent. That was what intrigued Joel so much. So, after last week, the idea has been eating away at him. 

And that’s when he saw it. A beautiful necklace, the chain, a mix of green crystals—your favorite color—all various shades, with a beautiful, metal pendant sitting at the heart of the necklace. It was a short chain, slightly longer than how a collar would wrap around your neck, but still mimicked the effect of one. You talk often about how much you love the moon and that night you talked about the amazing energy the moon provides. The pendant was a moon with a star hanging from the top of the moon’s crescent figure. It was perfect. It was you. 

He finds the worker and goes through the motions of purchasing the necklace for you. Of course, Joel wanted a tangible thing to symbolize his promise to you, and that’s when another idea struck him. He turned back around into the store. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have any rings, would ya? Preferably one with a moon?”

The lady gives a knowing smile. “Right this way,” she says. She may not understand the dynamic between the two of you, but she definitely can recognize a lovestruck man when she sees one. 

He calls you on his way home from the store. 

“Hi, mi luna (my moon),” he says. “What are you up to right now?”

“Hi, baby,” you respond giddily, his mere presence, whether on the phone or in person, always makes your mood one hundred times better. Hearing his little nickname for you though throws you off guard, forcing you to ignore his question. “Luna?”

He smiles. “It means moon.”

“No, yeah, I know that, baby,” you softly chuckle, “I meant, what inspired it?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Was that okay though?”

“I like anything that comes outta your mouth, baby,” your voice laced with a filth he knows all too well. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his cock from stirring. “Darlin’,” he says, voice strained. 

You stifle a laugh, knowing how easy it is to get him going. “Hmmmm?”

“You better choose your next words very wisely, girl.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you offer quickly as you fill his ears with your addicting laughter, “I’m done, I promise.”

He grumbles something incoherent, ever your handsome grump, then reminds you about his question. 

“Oh, right, sorry! I just got done cooking lunch for everyone. I’m in my room now, though.”

“Can you come over for a bit?”

“Always. You home now?” 

“Just parkin’, baby.”

“On my way, Sir,” you say, holding in another little giggle. 

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you hear him say before he ends the call. 

You meet him as he gets out his car, him pulling you in for a bruising kiss that immediately has your core pulsing. “Well, hello to you too, cowboy,” you smirk as he pulls away. He smacks your ass as he turns you around and starts guiding you inside, one hand on your hip, the other holding the bag with your new necklace inside. 

Not wanting him to let go of you, you spin in his arm and reach for his keys, turning back to unlock his front door. 

“So,” he starts as you break away from him, making your way to his couch. He immediately goes to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, placing it in your hands rather than the table because he knows you probably haven’t had a moment to hydrate yourself, having just finished taking care of your family as he called you. 

You drink half the glass gratefully, bringing the rest to his mouth as he sits next to you, knowing he probably hasn’t hydrated himself either. He finishes it then sets the glass down on the coffee table. 

“I got you somethin’.” He tries to sound mysterious, but really he’s sounding like an excited schoolboy ready to share his treasure with the class. 

“Oh yeah?” you say. “May I ask why? It wasn’t expensive, right?” You soften at your last question.

He knows you get a little apprehensive at the idea of money being spent on you. But he abides by your wishes too much to his liking, so this, he allows himself. “The number don’t matter, baby. Close your eyes and turn around.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting yourself to be between his legs, his one stretched across the couch as the other hangs off the side. 

Once you settle in front of him, he leans over to grab the bag from the table and pull the necklace out. “Eyes closed, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“You remember a while back our conversation on collars?”

“Yes?” you say, a questioning inflection present. 

 “Well…” Joel trails off. Right as you jump to speak at his weird behavior, you feel cold metal grace the skin of your neck. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, fighting for your life to keep your eyes closed until he tells you to do otherwise. 

“I know neither of us wanted the traditional look. Something more sly has always been our style, huh? I hope I chose okay,” he says softly.

“I’m gonna cry, can I please open my eyes now?”

“Yeah, bab- no, actually, wait,” he says, pulling you to stand up, his hands on your hips, guiding you to the mirror in his en suite bathroom. “Okay, yeah. Open.”

The second your eyes open and land onto the ethereal necklace resting on your chest, you can’t help the flood that falls from your eyes. “Joel,” you breathe out. “Baby, oh my god.”

“Is it alright?”

You turn in his arms, your eyes now directly on his instead of through your reflection. “Baby, really? Is it alright? This is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” your voice cracking through each word. 

His cheeks are a little blushed, slightly bashful at your praise. “I just- I wasn’t sure what to choose or what crystal had what magic, but what really sold me was the moon,” he says as his hand comes up to caress the pendant. 

You respond to him by pulling him in for a kiss. One in which you hope tells him everything he needs to know about how grateful and how truly, deeply in love with him you are. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he kisses into you, replicating the same feeling back to you. You begin to smile through the kiss as something else clicks for you. You pull away from him. 

“Is this why you called me luna earlier?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, baby, I actually really love it,” you smile up at him, butterflies erupting in his belly at the sight. “Coming from only you though.” His hand snakes up to grab your jaw, pulling you into his mouth as he whispers mi luna before crashing himself onto you for another kiss. 

You pull away from him, breathless, and turn to face the mirror again. You’re too entranced by the beautiful jewelry to keep your eyes off of it for too long. His hands snake around your waist, and it’s then that you notice it. 

You freeze. You grab his left hand, an antique looking moon, identical to the one on your neck, wrapped around his ring finger, staring back at you. Your eyes flick back up to your guys’ reflection, meeting his eyes. “Was waitin’ for you to notice,” he says. 

If you thought you were sobbing before, then you’re an absolute wailing mess now, hiccuping like a little child who is yet to learn how to control their emotions. “I love you so fucking much,” you say as best as you can in between each hiccupped breath you take.

He turns you back to face him, cupping your face with both hands, peppering your face with kisses everywhere he can manage. Soft I love you’s leave his mouth in a chant, praying to his one and only Goddess. 

He lets you cry it out, he knows you need to. As soon as you're less of a blubbering mess, he’ll remind you that he is forever yours until you choose otherwise. He’ll remind you that although he takes charge ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s because you let him. 

He’ll remind you just how much he’s irrevocably in love with you, verbally, physically, and every other way he can. From now until forever. 

End Note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc. — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @survivingandenduring @getitoutofmymind @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[spacesapphi]

HES Trio Headcanon Time! (HCs below the cut, this is a long one)

TW for mentions of bullying, death, parental death, car accident, drinking, and neglect

Elliot

- he's 30yrs old and 6'0, very lanky and tall and covered in freckles. His hair is curly too!

- HC for his voice has to be Raoul from Phantom of the Opera, just has that romantic voice that fits him so well

- his family is of Irish descent and his last name is Lillis, which he finds sounds VERY romantic!

- growing up he was so obsessed with classical literature that he would often pretend his life was a novel, narrating his daily life in his head

- LOVESSSS pride & prejudice, Phantom of the Opera, and Les Mis, he'll talk your ear off about them if you let him

- was unfortunately bullied a lot for his interests growing up, even at home. He tried not to let it dampen his spirit, but it was difficult. He channels a lot of that pain into his writing

- his parents never really respected his hobbies, and his brothers weren't that kind in general. Elliot often felt alone in his house, like he was a misunderstood outcast that didnt have anyone. One of his favorite book series as a kid was Anne of Green Gables, as he connected to her feeling out of place and different from everyone around her

- pretty much canon, but he's a lightweight. One drink and he's GONE. Hes gets silly and giggly when he's drunk too

- he's autistic (I feel like everyone in the HES trio is) and his special interest is around literature, specifically romance literature. Anytime he sees something notable happen in town, or a couple do anything he goes "Oh this is just like x character in x book!" And he'll infodump about the story to anyone who will listen (usually Leah or Penny)

- he gets along well with Penny and shes actually been his test reader and editor for many of his published pieces! He always puts her name in the "special thanks" section

- takes much pride in his appearance, especially his hair. Before the farmer arrived he was the one practically keeping Pierre in business for self care products because he REFUSED to go to Joja bc "Do you know how many CHEMICALS are in those things?!"

- maladaptive daydreamer for sure. He gets frustrated with the way he cant stop daydreaming, and how music always seems to intensify it. On one hand, it gives him ideas for his writing, on the other it makes it hard for him to interact with others. When he's home alone in his cabin, Finding him pacing around, listening to his favorite CDs and records is common

- his love language is sentimental gifts. They don't need to be elaborate or expensive grand gestures. If you mention loving a certain food he'll make it for you, he'll get you things in your favorite color just to make you smile. Hes a very sweet man!

- he has a beautiful laugh!

- wears dangly earrings all the time. He likes very sparkly ones with jewels, ones that make him feel like he's in a romantic period piece. He has a killer collection of them!

Harvey

- he's 35yrs old and 6'2, though you can't tell because he's often slouched over (bad habit, he knows. His back hurts all the time). He's a chubby guy too, which makes him feel self conscious, but he learns to love himself :)

- My HC for his voice is Simon Petrikov, specifically the way he speaks in Fiona and Cake, I cannot imagine it any differently LMAO

- Harveys family is of Italian descent and his last name is Russo!

- grew up with just his mom and grandpa. His mom was a doctor and his grandpa was a retired pilot who helped spark his love for flying. He died when Harvey was 12, leaving some model planes and that radio he keeps in his office to him with a note telling him to always reach for the skies.

- Harvey has a bit of a lisp, and spent a lot of time in speech therapy as a kid. Words with lots of "s" sounds are tricky for him

- he actively went through so much testing to be a pilot, but when he got to the actual flight test where he had to get into a plane he got so anxious he threw up and ran away

- he realized then and there that he couldnt do it, and it was a hard reality to face. A lot of crying, and a lot of struggling to accept his dream wasn't attainable. He felt like he was letting his grandpa down, but his mom promised he wasn't

- when he decided to go to medical school, he couldn't decide what his focus was going to be to save his life, he changed it constantly. It took about two years to land on primary care physician and even then he still kept researching other tracks. This would come in hand once he got to pelican town and became the only doctor

- often too exhausted to cook for himself, which is why he buys so much processed food. Shane gives him a lot of shit for it every time he sees him at JojaMart ("don't say SHIT to me at my next checkup if you're going to buy that")

- his eyesight is so bad. He can't see a foot in front of him without his glasses. He's also incredibly clumsy and falls and breaks them often (I mean where did you THINK all those broken glasses you were fishing up were from?)

- like Elliot, was a victim of bullying in school, especially highschool :( Nerdy guy with a plane interest that stuck to himself was unfortunately a prime target, and he found himself in a rough situation. It actually got so bad that he took a special test to be able to graduate early so he didn't have to deal with it anymore. He passed it in tenth grade, and put all his energy into studying to be a pilot until he was old enough to join courses for it

- his mom was his biggest advocate, and was regularly down at his school to yell at administration for letting the bullying get that bad. She loved her son more than anything and would do anything for him. She was the one to suggest testing out of school, not wanting him to go through all of that for years.

- hes still close with his mom, and they regularly call and write letters to each other to keep up. Since Harvey lives so far now, they mostly meet up on important days like birthdays, holidays, and to go visit his grandfather's grave every once in a while

Shane

- he's 30yrs old and 5'7, and he hates both of those facts. Being the shortest man in town and one of the oldest single ones is a bit of a blow to his self esteem. He's pretty bulky too, a combination of muscle from working on the ranch and as a stocker, and fat from drinking and diet

- I go back and forth on his voice HC constantly, but I like the common fan interp of him sounding kinda like Nick Miller from new girl, it fits too well

- Shane is Pennsylvania Dutch on his mothers side and his last name (along with Marnies) is Yoder!

- that being said he knows very little of the PA Dutch language, though Marnie speaks it fluently. He has a bit of an accent from growing up with her

- croc wearer, don't tell me otherwise. He has a few everyday pairs, a fur lined pair for when it gets cold, and what he calls his "formal Crocs" (literally just black Crocs with bowtie jibbits this man is so fucking corny). He has normal shoes too, like sneakers and boots for the winter and work, but nothing beats his Crocs

- Jas has tried to call him dad a few times, but it makes him sad. He doesn't feel good enough to deserve that title, and he feels like he'd be disrespecting his friends by trying to take it over.

- Was in the accident that killed her parents. They took him out to celebrate his 25th birthday, going to a Tunnelers game. They were hit by a reckless driver going far above the speed limit on the way back home, and he was the only one who made it. One moment Shane was having the time of his life with his best friends in the world, the next he's waking up in the hospital finding out they're gone. As a result, his birthday has become a bit of a sore subject, hence why he "was hoping he'd forget" anytime he gets a birthday gift

- his leg got really hurt in the accident, and though its healed, he still often needs compression braces to deal with chronic pain from it. Working at Joja and on the ranch aren't exactly low impact after all

- Marnie is his only bio family thats alive and on speaking terms with him. She practically raised him for the most part, with his dad gone and mother having passed when he was little. His mother was Mona, the same Mona from the cemetery. She was Marnies twin sister, and the photo in secret note 11 is her and baby shane.

- He and Emily were childhood bestfriends growing up, and dated in highschool. They realized after about a year that they just worked better as friends though, and remain besties to this day

- he's transgender he told me himself

- Marnie was also incredibly supportive of his transition and she's fiercely protective of him. He may technically be her nephew but she sees him more as a son and thus goes full mama bear when it comes to him

- even though he doesn't take great care of himself, he makes sure jas is well taken care of, especially after he starts recovery. His clothes may be threadbare and worn, and he may look like he hasn't slept in a year, but Jas will *always* have everything she could ever need... and want. Ngl he kinda spoils her a little, especially after he cuts back and can afford it more. He feels bad saying no to her given all that she's gone through. She has a doll collection that could make the most avid collectors jealous

- he makes sure he spends time with her too, taking days off for festivals because she wants him there, taking the day off for her birthday, and trying his best to be there for her. It's an upward struggle for him to get better so he can be there for her, but he's trying

- after Joja closes down, Marnie offers him a full time job at the ranch, including pay and board. He takes the offer IMMEDIATELY, and does an amazing job at it. She's certain she'll be leaving the ranch to him once she's retired

- if you want to get him to do anything, tell him him it involves chickens in some way. Chickens are his special interest for SURE. Chicken print socks, corny puns, joke tshirts, he has it all. He practically becomes the organizer of the Egg Festival yearly once he's started recovery, putting a crazy amount of work into it to make sure it goes well. Same with the Valley Fair's petting zoo. The amount of pride he gets talking about the animals to tourists is unmatched, and it's one of the few times Marnie gets to see him look as happy as he did before the accident. Those moments are fleeting, but everytime she can see that light in his eyes she feels like everything will be ok.

[tenkobitch]

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Neuvillette x Immortal! G/N Reader

Genre: Fluff, immortals/long living characters, eternal lovers, married couple, established relationship

A/N: I was scrolling through Tumblr and got inspired to write this from ONLY seeing Neuvillette's name. Anyways, I wrote this while listening to Malice Mizer (Gardenia, Au Revoir, and Baroque are my current favorites), so I hope y'all enjoy <3

You and Neuvillette have always loved each other, but you both often had doubts on if you'd be together forever. Especially given the fact that your husband is a dragon and you were cursed with immortality. And these doubts weren't because you didn't love each other or because you both didn't think the other person didn't love you. No, the doubts were because you both thought you'd get bored of each other.

You practically knew Neuvillette from inside and out, and you assumed that your husband knew the same about you. If you knew someone that well, you'd probably get tired of them after a while. Especially after being with them for 300 years.

You were cursed with immortality 100 years before you met your equally immortal lover, at the lovely age of 20. It wasn't because you did something wrong like break a contract, or even sell your soul to a witch and they gave you immortality. You were cursed because your homegrown garden had grown over to your neighbor's side of the fence.

Your neighbor happened to be a mage, or wizard, or whatever, and had a tendency to hold grudges. So, they sent you a letter that passed on the curse of immortality to anyone who read it. As soon as you were told this by said mage, wizard, or whatever they were, you burned the note to completion, and you never looked back.

You met Neuvillette when you first moved to Fontaine. You would hear all sorts of rumors about the man at court, and you often found everyone's words to be true. The rumors couldn't be more wrong, because you were confronted by a man that was nothing like what the whispered words said.

Neuvillette treated you as his equal, and when you became closer, a confidant. He never spoke badly about anyone, even the criminals he would sentence to a life in prison. He was always curious about how humans acted, and he couldn't be further from the image that you conjured in your head.

He was kind to anyone or anything he passed by, and even when he was faced with the public in court, he would make the trials as fair as he could. He never wanted to declare someone guilty unless he really believed they deserved it, and he was always consistent with his judgments. It did not matter how much he loved you, because if you ever did something that was against the law, he would make his conclusions based on facts. Never on emotions.

And as you saw the way he grew before your eyes, you couldn't help but feel entranced. Every time he spoke to you, you always wondered if he felt the exact same. He never alluded to his feelings for anyone unless he said how he felt, which wasn't often. You didn't notice your love for him until he finally spoke to you about his feelings.

"Dear, I do not know how to confess this to you, but I was told by the Melusines that my feelings for you were known as 'love'. Do you, perhaps, 'love' me as well?"

To say that you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless, you both explored the meaning of "love" with one another, and you both fell hard. Neuvillette couldn't be away from you for even a second, and he always whispered his desires to protect and love you forever in his sleep. You couldn't help but share the sentiment with him.

Now, the only things that had changed were Neuvillette's clinginess, and he seemed more sure and determined to make Fontaine a better place. For you, you finally stopped getting distracted at the thought of coming home to your husband and spending every waking second with him, and you decided that finding new hobbies to try wouldn't hurt you. Despite the changes, you both were still in love with each other. It was just more subtle, and not as needy.

Neuvillette was busy studying cases from the last couple of years, so you took it upon yourself to make a list of things you needed to buy from the market. You made a list of what to get, and you were on your merry way to the center of Fontaine.

When you finally arrived, you noticed all of the things that they had exclusively had at the markets. They had mini sculptures of the Hydro Archon, Furina, who you knew well. There were other knick knacks across the tables as well, but you only bought the things you intended to.

That was until you came across the cutest thing: a mini dragon sculpture. It was a beautiful sea blue, and it looked very similar to your husband's dragon form. You immediately picked it up and bought it. You quickly made your way back home and swiftly found the appropriate materials to wrap the tiny dragon in. You intended to gift it to Neuvillette as soon as he got home, and knowing him, he'd probably love anything you gave him.

You patiently waited for him to get home, and he did not disappoint you. As he walked through the door, undressing himself from his court robes, you stood in front of him with your gift waiting in your hands. He turned to give you a small smile as he leaned down to softly kiss you. As he pulled away, he noticed your hands moving the object in your hands impatiently, and he continued to smile at your antics.

You practically shoved the gift into his chest when he finally gestured for the item. He looked to you for guidance, and you only nodded, gesturing that he unwrapped your gift. He did so, and his smile turned into confusion. You laughed before giving him an explanation.

"I saw this at the market today... It reminded me of you." Neuvillette's eyes softened as he pulled you into his chest. You inhaled his scent and pulled him into you for a while longer. You both gladly stood there with one another, and you only broke apart when your husband had to continue getting changed.

And as you retired for the night, you felt a sense of calm wash over you both. When it didn't seem to go away, you spoke up.

"Neuvi, do you ever wonder if we'll drift apart?" You asked out of curiosity, but you regretted it when you heard his response.

"Well, of course I wonder. It is hard not to think about things like that." Even though you've always felt the same, you felt your heart crack the tiniest bit. It was one thing to assume that your partner felt that way, but it was another to actually hear them say it. But what happened next didn't surprise you in the least.

"But, if we've been with each other for this long, it seems that fate has destined us to be together for as long as possible." This eased your heart and it pulled you back into reality. Every couple, no matter how long they've been together, has thought about the possibility of breaking off, and it shouldn't be different for you both. You leaned back against the headboard as your husband leaned his head on top of yours. You stayed like that for a while, and without any warning, you kissed Neuvillette on the lips gently. He smiled.

"Well, I guess you are right. Even when we should be bored of each other, we're always together. You are the love of my life, and I'm glad I had a chance to meet you." You smiled up at the man in front of you, trying not to completely fall apart in tears. The long haired man nudged his forehead against yours, causing you to look into his eyes with the same intensity as his.

"I am glad that I make you as happy as you make me. Let us always be here. Let us continue to be here in this moment, in this decade, in this century, and hopefully for eternity. I love you so." You couldn't hold back anymore tears as you hid yourself in Neuvillette's chest. He stroked your hair as you continued to cry your eyes out in his (now) soiled night shirt.

When you finally managed to lift your eyes from your husband's chest, you heard the calmest noise ever. The one thing that could lull you to sleep if you weren't with Neuvillette:

Rain.

It was raining outside, and despite how calming it was, you knew what it really meant. You gazed up at your lover's face, but his eyes never looked sad or upset. He looked calm, and you could see a flicker of happiness beneath the sea of his dark blue eyes. You concluded that these were his happy tears, showing you every part of his love for you.

And you would get to experience every ounce of his love for the rest of your days.

*Bonus*

Neuvillette arrives at the Palais Mermonia with a small smile on his face, and the Melusines take notice.

Sedene (Melusine): "What are you smiling about~"

Neuvillette: "I don't know if I should tell you."

Sedene: "Come on! It's rare for anyone other than the Melusines to see you smile!"

Neuvillette lets out a relaxing sigh, turning to the Melusine.

Neuvillette: "I didn't think that I would feel this happy since I confessed my love to my partner, but I have been proven wrong."

He sighs once more before giving into Sedene's demands.

Neuvillette: "I am smiling because my lover for eternity has told me that they loved me, and that they are glad to have met me."

Before the curious Melusine could question Neuvillette more, he walked into his office, feeling the weight of the world fall off his shoulders. He would continue to fall in love with you over and over again, until fate had decided to take you both away.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

[kierstins-astrology3]

Solar Return Results from 2023-2024💟💟💟

This is a post about my past Solar return (last years) to compare events with the astrological placements from when I turned 19 to when I was about to turn 20!

Sun in 10h 5°: Focused on my career a lot and figuring out what kind of career I want to passionately pursue.

Moon in 2h 8°: Worried about my finances last year because I did not have a job but I still wanted money.

Mercury in 11h 29° : Communicated and was online a lot through tumblr, Instagram, TikTok.

Venus in 11h 27° : Also started being on dating apps more and all talking stages last year were online and met them online. Also started this astrology blog which I love doing.

Mars in 11h 11° : Created this blog again and having ambitions about possibly pursuing a career on social media or marketing. Also the planet of sex and was talking to other people this way on socials.

Jupiter in 8h 13°: Expanding my knowledge about spirituality, astrology, even getting an astrology book for my birthday and continuously writing my own astrology observations.

Saturn in 5h 5° : Had short term romances that did not work out but also got back into my creative side for example getting a sketch book for Christmas and getting back into drawing and painting.

Uranus in 8h 22°: Posted on socials with this blog on spirituality and astrology and became more serious about astrology more then ever.

Neptune in 6h 27°: Putting more creativity in my everyday routine but also having delusions about what a perfect routine for someone my age looks like.

Pluto in 4h 28°: Becoming more sentimental about my home and family also being more emotional when thinking about my family members getting older.

North Node in 7h 28° : Did not get into a serious relationship this year but I did get some college related work opportunities presented to me. Was emotional this year about not experiencing teenage and young adult love.

Chiron in 7h 19°: Heartbreaks throughout a couple of months of last year. Definitely healed me and made me a better person & realize that I cannot change anyone and if someone puts the time and effort that they will without a doubt no matter the circumstances.

Part of Fortune in 4h 14°: Luck with home and family and being more appreciative of my home and family and my family was more stable.

Vertex in 7h 29°: Didn’t get into a relationship but had some long talking stages and some school related opportunities and also with the degree being a long term fame degree probably represented the three months talking stage and the ending of a year long situationship.

Juno in 10h 20°: Was more focused on my school work as well as thinking about my future career. Definitely last year realized that I want a hardworking partner in the future and I want to be more hardworking in all areas of life.

Groom in 5h 9°: Guys that I talked to last year had been more short term and fun based. They definitely were not looking for something serious.

Ascendant: Libra 11°: Definitely felt more beautiful and even got some compliments on my appearance saying that I looked beautiful/ younger.

Descendant: Aries 11°: In terms of a relationship I wanted one so bad and passionately but I was also not feeling the connections I was in and was being cold / detached. I also realized that I am attracted to more Martian qualities in men but not women.

MC: Cancer 12°: Definitely wanted a career where I can help others open up emotionally and also practice spirituality. Also my reputation to others that I was more sensitive and focusing on astrology.

Mercury Conjunct Venus in Leo 11h: Being online and also loving being online. Loved communicating with people online and was open to having a long distance relationship.

Saturn Conjunct Asteroid Groom Pisces 5h: Some obstacles creatively when talking to potential partners and I would go back and forth because I didn’t want to lose myself and my new found creativity.

[ash5monster01]

Could you pretty please do Marty Mcfly x reader? One where they're friends and they're hanging out in the Doc's garage and marty is showing her everything and idk where to go from there.

I'm so glad you write for him. I feel like he gets no attention!

Thank you!

All of You

Pairing: Marty McFly x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, unreciprocated feelings, self doubt, cheesy lovesick teenagers, soft intimacy. 

Summary: When your lifelong friend and short time crush invites you to spend an evening in Doc’s garage, you don’t expect the outcome it actually brings. 

word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

When you had agreed to join Marty during practice tonight, that is what you had expected him to do. Especially since he was dead set on landing the school dance gig. Yet the second you walk through the doors of Doc's garage that entire plan is thrown to the wind. Marty takes one look at your curious eyes and next you know he's showing you everything the large garage witheld. Every trinket, experiment, odd and end. It started with the clocks, him explaining Doc’s incessant need to collect so many. Then it spiraled from there, a prideful look on his face as he explained all the mystical things the garage held. 

“You know, I’d think you’d be more into science then you actually are based on how much you know about this stuff” you tell him while he’s showing you a particularly weird trinket, not even beginning to understand what it does or at least what Doc says it does. 

“I don’t know, I find it interesting, but science has never really come to me. Not like it does for Doc” Marty shrugs, hands reaching to set down one of Doc’s inventions. You knew he really cared for his relationship with the older man, most likely because he wasn’t all that close with his father. 

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’re smart Marty, I’ve known that my whole life” you tell him, hand reaching to squeeze his shoulder and you miss the way he tenses at your touch. The longing in his eyes as he lets the compliment settle into his bloodstream. 

“Don’t you hear Mr. Strickland? You’re a slacker Marty” the boy mocks the teachers voice, flopping onto the couch and closing his eyes. You sigh and move closer to him, taking a seat in the spot beside him before setting a comforting hand on his thigh. 

“You’re not a slacker Marty, in fact you’re one of the most dedicated guys I know. You need to stop being so hard on yourself” you say a touch annoyed. It was exhausting how often you had to remind the boy how amazing he was. His attitude was a direct response from years of watching his Dad think he wasn’t good enough. To you he was one of the most caring and genuine people you knew. 

“I know, but why should I if you’ve got all the confidence I need” he says, a teasing tone and smirk on his face. You roll your eyes and give him a slight shove, trying not to smile when he laughs loudly at the action. 

“It’s exhausting carrying around mine and you’re own confidence. Besides, you need yours to land this band gig. Which brings me to my next point which is you haven’t even attempted to practice yet” you tell him, a pointed but unserious look on your face. If you were being honest he didn’t really need the practice. He was already amazing at what he did. Sometimes he got carried away but that was rock n’ roll, it’s how to was supposed to be. 

“I don’t want to practice. I just want to sit here with you” and he instantly blushes at how whiny and needy he sounds, especially towards his own best friend. You don’t even notice though, trying to mask your own heart stuttering in your chest at the sentiment. 

“If that’s all you want, who am I to complain” you say before readjusting and leaning into him. You try not to focus on how warm he is or the way your palms begin to sweat from nervousness. This was Marty after all, you’re eldest friend and the one person in the world you should be the most comfortable with. Yet the thing about crushes is you couldn’t control the things they will do to you. No matter who it’s on. 

Marty doesn’t expect the closeness but allows it anyway, lifting his arm so you can tuck up underneath his side, lowering it around you the second you’re comfortable. He prays you can’t feel his heart racing in his chest, the way you settle against him so naturally, it made him wish you were his. The one person in this world to love and to keep. Not be held back from kissing you or telling you how he feels every time he fears he will lose you as a friend. 

“You ever wonder what it would be like to be more than friends?” You blurt out, a mix of confidence and desperation causing you to ask the blunt question. Maybe it was easier because he couldn’t see your face. Or maybe it was the annoyance over how you could be so close to him like this and not gain anything from it. You were tired of tip toeing around the fact that he was the one person in this world you truly loved and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

“What?” Marty asks, a bit shocked and thrown off guard and you can’t help the way you stiffen beside him. 

“It’s just, we spend so much time together and I’ve never been uncomfortable. It just seems weird that two people who know each other so intimately haven’t been, well, intimate” you blush a deep red, even the tips of your ears fading into a soft pink, thankful he still couldn’t see your face head on. Yet you thought to soon because Martys hand is grasping your chin, turning to look him in the eye where you can see his own face is a soft shade of pink as well. 

“I’m not really sure what to say” and suddenly you’re embarrassed, that confidence long gone as you begin to shake your head, and fight of the burning feeling at the back of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m being stupid, I shouldn’t of said anything” you start to move away from him, feeling like an idiot and ashamed you would even bring it up. Yet his hand on your arm stops you, your eyes glancing at his grip and then up to meet his own, a desperation and something else entirely bubbling underneath the surface. 

“It’s not stupid, in fact I think about it all the time myself if I’m being honest” he admits sheepishly, eye glancing anywhere but your own and you swear your heart freezes in your chest. Trying to understand what this could really truly mean and if it would mean what you hope it does. 

“Really? And it doesn’t weird you out?” You ask and the boy snorts, trying not to laugh too loudly because you had amused him with such a silly question. 

“Why would it weird me out? Just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I don’t notice how gorgeous you are. In fact it’s kinda hard not to notice especially since your my favorite person in this world” he says like it’s the most obvious thing and now you’re sure your entire body is fire truck red because the boy you loved just called you gorgeous. 

“Yeah well if you weren’t so damn cute all the time neither of us would be in this predicament” you agree and finally Marty smiles because he knows you. He knows this is your way of joking about your feelings to soften the blow if it doesn’t go your way. That if right now he said he didn’t want you it could be a cushion to protect you from the punch. 

“Hey, I like you more than friends. I never had to wonder because it’s how I always look at you” and you gulp nervously, not expecting the forthcoming honesty, considering this whole conversation had been you both tip toeing around each other. 

“Really?” You ask, voice slightly shaky and mostly hopeful and Marty smiles, pulling you close. When he doesn’t provide an answer you feel the panic begin to swell but then suddenly his nose is nudging against your own, hot breath fanning across you lips, and just like that you’re puddy in the boys hands. His answer comes when his lips press softly against your own, not to desperate but just enough to get the point ocross. It takes a moment to even process what was happening, how you were locking lips with your best friend, but when reality sets in you can’t help how desperately you kiss him back. Needing to feel closer to him in this moment than you ever have. After was feels like hours he finally pulls away, pecking one soft kiss into your lips before his eyes focus into your own.

“Believe me now?” He says, oozing the confidence you had tried to pull out of him when you had first gotten here and you can’t help the way you giggle as you hug him close.

“Yeah, I believe you” 

[dinkbear]

my honest review/analysis kinda of the new camp camp special (MEGA SPOILERS!)

okay i’ll start this out by saying i really liked it! when i watched it at first, i wasn’t crazy about it, then i rewatched (almost) the entire series and it gave me a new perspective. i didn’t realize how much of the series i had forgotten about considering i haven’t watched it in 2+ years. so i got to see the characters develop all over again.

i thought the story was very much something kids would go through and i thought their reactions and behavior was very believable. but, throughout the entire thing, i felt like some of the dialogue was very forced and some of it kinda fan-servicey?? like the “somebody fucking has to” throwback felt forced to me, but that brings me to another point. i think the new voice actors are pretty good, max sounds practically the exactly the same (which is good because i thought his old voice was perfect for his character) but his new VA definitely needs to find his spunk, which is completely fair, i’m an actor i know how long it can take to completely get into character. but i think that made some of the dialogue from him feel forced. and not just him, some of the characters who’s VAs didn’t change still had some dialogue that felt forced. and i get why they did it but it was like a drastic change from regular goofy david in the first half to soft and sentimental david in the second where he had his serious, soft voice on the entire time. 

i really liked how they had the two stories/fakeout ending thing! the only thing is i wish we would’ve had more time to expand on max’s emotions to the camp closing. i really liked seeing his facial expressions and how he reverted back to his yelling and snapping because he was upset. granted i understand why they couldn’t- they only had 30 minutes not 1 hour+. but i did something i don’t normally do and i watched the credits and listened to the song at the end:

“I hope this letter finds you well. Thought this shit was over, but I didn’t hear no bell. Put my life in every sentence written like it’s jail. The summer’s done, but I got hella stories I could tell. The doctor telling me my flow is sick at every check-up. Rap is my profession cause I went viral on Meta. Whipped the GTR like I’m piloting a Mecca. They talk behind my back, but it’s okay I keep my head up. I don’t give it weight unless they tell it to my face. I’m flashy like I’m in the mob, but I don’t stay in place. I cannot be phased ‘Campe Diem’ everyday. The memories we making they stay with us to the grave. I’m just being honest, every moment has to cease. Oh, this opportunity, the money, rest in peace. I write all these songs because he believe in me, so when the Winter comes I’m gonna still release the heat. (Richie, I said a lot of goodbyes, I said a lot of ‘so longs’).” and then it cuts to someone turning on a lamp on their desk to reveal this

and then it fades out with nothing else

given the lyrics to the song and this ending bit, i don’t know who’s speaking or who’s desk we’re at- max’s or gwen’s. now for the song i think it could be both, i think it could be two different letters written to david- lines like “Put my life in every sentence written like it’s jail,” “Rap is my profession cause I went viral on Meta,” and “Oh, this opportunity, the money, rest in peace” screams that its gwen to me, but then there’s lines like “The summer’s done, but I got hella stories I could tell,” “They talk behind my back, but it’s okay I keep my head up. I don’t give it weight unless they tell it to my face,” “I’m flashy like I’m in the mob, but I don’t stay in place,” and “I write all these songs because he believe in me.” which lead me to believe it’s max speaking. (KEEP IN MIND I HAVE NEVER LISTENED TO THE CREDITS SONGS BEFORE SO FOR ALL I KNOW THEY COULD MEAN NOTHING) so, i think it’s david reading two letters, one from max and one from gwen. to me thats the most logical explanation. now for the desk, i think its max’s. its not david because the walls are blue while in the counselor’s cabin they’re wood. and, max is the one who took the picture. granted, maybe he gave the picture to gwen, but seeing as max wears a blue hoodie, that might be his favorite color so his walls are blue too. i think this is max reminiscing over camp. and i think that’s how the new season is gonna start, with max reminiscing at home.

honestly, i have no clue what the next season will be, this special was set up like it was a finale with all the kids going home. but im very excited! 

all in all, i really liked the special and i’m excited for new episodes in 2024! but the special didn’t have jasper in it so 0/10

[oh-saints]

gift

when your boyfriend is manchester city’s infamous number 3, it’s a bit hard to find a suitable gift for someone who practically has the world in his hands.

rúben dias x engineer!OC

word count: 3.7k

note: due to popular demand on my askbox (of which i can no longer reply 1-by-1) and as a thank you for the enthusiasm you showed in there, this is the 2nd part to this but can be read as a standalone for those who haven’t read the 1st part. this is also mildly inspired by this ask AND THE GIF (asfghjhjhj i'm still not over it tbh). however, as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

tags: @thatonesexycancerian <3

it didn’t take valentine’s day to know that rúben dias’ dominant love language is giving gifts.

hell, it didn’t even take a week for adrianna to know that. it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea to curate a spotify playlist specifically for someone, inspired by the way they met and the current long-distance relationship they were holding on, and kept expanding whenever the boyfriend was missing the girlfriend—which was a lot.

the listing parade continued with a letterboxd list of movies to watch so adrianna wouldn’t run out of things to watch and a goodreads list of books so adrianna wouldn’t feel bored when the mood to watch had deserted her. the latter touched a part of her she didn’t know existed because she knew he wasn’t that much of a fan to books, but he’d vouched he’d read them before he recommended it to her.

maybe the sentiment behind them got her more than she’d liked because let’s be realistic, rúben dias is a busy man with a very demanding job, physically and mentally. not to mention he spent more time on the jet plane than on ground. yet, he spared some time—obviously more than he’d admitted over the phone when she confronted him—to create something so personal like that.

but what started small became something else entirely.

the lists, at least those she could take on. however, when adrianna told her boyfriend she was heading for the shore for the first time in a while, the portugese decided by himself that it was a good idea to upgrade her ordinary deluxe hotel room into a suite. while the luxury that was entitled to the hefty price tag was an absolute pleasure to be indulged in after months of being in a rig, adrianna vowed to repay him one way or another, despite rúben’s insistence that he wouldn’t take on the repayment because he'd “be more than happy to give his girl nothing but the best.”

and he lived up to his words. by the time they stepped into the 3-month mark, adrianna shook up the entire rig from having a 100-piece fresh flower bouquet delivered to the facility right before the day started for the engineers. the flowers surely was a rare sight to see, even more unheard of than the legendary blood moon, hence her male counterparts were genuinely elated for her. for her excellent catch, and for the hope it sparked to their love life—be it single-ready-to-mingle-but-distance-sucks or the helpless long-distance relationship.

6 months in and her royal boyfriend treated the entire rig for a banquet with food they rarely had the chance to devour unless they went back on-shore. he slipped in a little gratitude note for always looking out his girl when I’m not around, albeit anonymously because both rúben and adrianna agreed on not telling anyone until they were fully ready to share the relationship with the rest of the world, just like how adrianna had to share rúben.

there was also time when he missed adrianna so much he sent random gifts to the rig. today was a bouquet of lego flowers that rúben had constructed himself and framed in a box, complete with a little note to show how much he longed to have her in his arms once more and a polaroid of him and his dog, sporting all black fashion because they were mourning. she was astounded that (i) he remembered adrianna said the water the rig was using was actually filtered from the surrounding sea and it unfortunately wilted the flowers sooner than expected, (ii) he asked her if she also missed him they way he did her. the last part made her heart skipped a dozen notes.

it wasn’t like she never reciprocated how rúben expressed his profound love towards her—telling him how much she loves him, despite their short time together physically—but she’d never had to show how much she loved someone with gifts. sure, she wasn’t a plain jane or some sort towards that kind of lifestyle but she was more familiar in the tradition of gifting someone else a practical gift. at least something she knew they needed it so she bought it, none gone wasted.

and now… she wasn’t sure at all. because it wasn’t only about what he liked, but it was about how to blow his waters off the pool, too. at the same time, it should also be something that was equivalent as to saying i love you without spelling the 8 letters. she didn’t want rúben to think he was dating someone no good for him, someone who couldn’t match his level. someone not worthy of him. if there was one thing adrianna hated the most was to disappoint people she deeply cared about.

what do you give to someone who’s already had everything best in this world?

while she was now past the privilege of looking at her bank account every pay check day to ensure she could live off safely for the next month, she didn’t hold a single candle—not even the gigantic bath & body works 3-wicks candle—against what could possibly run down deep in rúben’s pocket. she didn’t need to look up his weekly salary—weekly, mind you!—on search bar to know so. take a look at the wall of rúben dias’ corner in her room and you’d get a good guess.

whoever implanted the idea that petroleum chemical engineering would bring abundance of fortune to adrianna’s pocket, surely never had the misfortune of dating someone in the same calibre as rúben dias of manchester city. she certainly had a hard time figuring out what kind of gift could be deemed acceptable for the rúben dias.

good lord, please help. or maybe rúben’s brother if lord was too busy taking another call.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

adrianna, at this point, didn’t know whether her heart was beating rapidly to match the drums played at the background or due to the nerves jumping up and down under her consciousness. all she knew was that whatever it is she was doing now was definitely on the scale of something she’d never done before, and the desire to give rúben only the best of her—in her capability, that is—was her only drive to play this crazy card.

crazy because she thought of all the things that’d need help arranging when she was so far away from where her boyfriend now and had no prior experience conducting this whole charade; not crazy because ivan thought his brother would want nothing else but what she had up in her sleeve. “crazy? this is probably the best gift he’ll have,” was ivan’s response when she confided her plan.

no matter how much ivan reassured her that her decision was brilliant—to the point he was very willing orchestrating everything else that was out of adrianna’s reach, in order for her plan to be perfectly executed—adrianna couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting her fingers on her lap. what if it still wasn’t enough for rúben?

what if she wasn’t enough for rúben?

if her sister whined once more about wanting to get married someone rich instead of finishing her study, she’d cut off her allowance for the rest of her life. it should serve her the reminder that it wasn’t easy to date someone that seemed… so larger than life. at least, her life.

yes, she’d seen a glimpse of what life next would bring to her back when they met for the first time at the airport. people started to made a sizable crowd around them, with their phone cameras pointed at rúben and her. the photos made the internet go berserk briefly and netizens tried to figure out who rúben’s newest, mystery girl was. but she could take that on, she’d thought. as long as they didn’t step over the boundaries, she understood that much. she was a fan of the jonas brothers herself a long time ago.

but now, as she stepped inside the packed etihad stadium for the last game of the season, she realised what dating rúben dias entailed. the cameras had been set up around the stadium, and it dawned on her that the crowd she went in together with today was only a miniscule part of city fans all over the world. what she did would affect rúben, and what if she took a wrong step? what if that wrong step was a sufficient reason to break their newly-embarked relationship?

adrianna felt like puking this very minute.

“you okay?”

ivan’s voice was enough to cancel her initial reaction of vomiting but not enough to conceal the shaky breath she took as she looked up to the man resembling rúben by the eyes. like his brother, this man harboured some sort of invisible power that unabled her to tell lies. but her mental breakdown was beyond comprehensive words at this point, and there was no way to summarize what she was feeling right now. so she swallowed every last bit of her sanity down the throat and took the seat beside the older man.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben played excellently as usual, but it was nothing but expected of the backline captain. still, manchester city conceded two easy goals for the opponent. absolute shambles, especially when they were in tight positions to secure another premier league trophy. they lose and the trophy goes elsewhere.

having watched her boyfriend’s matches now, adrianna recognised the look of frustrations rúben sported. frustrated that his team could’ve done better, frustrated that his team were on the verge of giving up, frustrated that he couldn’t contribute better on the other goal end. they needed two more goals to make an epic comeback.

they were running so well for the whole season that adrianna couldn’t help but blame herself, should they lose in her presence. she was halfway believing it was because of her that the team was behind because it was supposed to be an easy team win. it was the day she decided to come to manchester to finally catch her boyfriend in action after all.

“you should text him,” ivan said when the referee blew the halftime whistle and adrianna watched as her boyfriend was walking towards the tunnel, shaking his head, obviously disgruntled at the result so far. “it’ll cheer him up.”

why bother on placing another jinx of misfortune towards rúben and his teammates?

maybe her idea of coming here was bound to doom.

“i don’t want to distract him, ivan.”

“contrary to your belief, you’re the reason he’s so focused, adrianna,” ivan clicked his tongue in disbelief. “you make him better than every day before. it never happens to my brother.”

maybe ivan was only saying it was a good one out of pity towards her, seeing that her plan was failing.

“whatever,” ivan continued, his voice matching his gruff exterior. “i sent him one picture of you already, thought that might fuel his spirit even more.”

should she? what if her text wasn’t enough to lift rúben up?

just as about adrianna was on the verge of giving in, she felt something running down her spine. that familiar shiver when you know someone was watching you from behind. but instead of fear, she felt warmth. the kind of warmth that only rúben could emit. be it his voice, his presence—him. she turned her line of sight to the direction of the grass pitch and there he was, standing tall and proud and unbothered like his reputation of wall of china while looking at her with eyes smeared with a little bit of disbelief, but zeroed on her nonetheless. contrasting the traditional centre back posture was his mega-watt smile, the one he never failed to show her whenever she picked up his video calls before greeting her with, “minha vida, meu amor, how are you today?”

the one she knew he reserved it only for her. because it never failed to make her feel like the only girl in the world at that moment, like she was the centre of his universe and nothing else mattered to him the most.

and at that moment, she knew rúben chose her because she was enough for him.

it was easy for them the first time they met, and it was easy now for her to feel the affection rúben loved to shower her unconditionally with.

and before her brain could take over the last piece of logic inside her, adrianna flashed him a grin that stretched from ear to ear at the view that reminded her of a chesire cat eager to play with alice in wonderland. her version of the smile that was only intended for rúben dias and only at rúben dias, no matter the time and place.

she waved at him involuntarily, the part of her body that had been missing him to bits since their airport encounter stole the start from her rationale, unable to contain the lingering that had been gnawing her heart for months now. fuck distance makes heart grow fonder, it softened the hell out of the organ she could combust if she didn’t get to touch her boyfriend when they were now this close to being together, physically and mentally.

she didn’t think his smile could grow any bigger but it did, as she waved at him. and the disbelief in his eyes turned into something else entirely. fierce, but elated. like he was so happy she was here that it was enough to fire again the determination and desire to grab the win from the back. like he’d finally found his reasoning and awakening altogether at the same time.

and it was enough for him to light up the spirit. of him, of his fellow defenders, of his team. of the stadium and the fans everywhere else in the world when he slotted another well-executed header into the opponent’s goal to level the score. it looked effortless; perfectly timed and executed by kevin.

and for rúben, effortless was something he grew accustomed to lately, despite some people calling him crazy for his “rash” decision. but he couldn’t blame people when they don’t exactly know the real meaning of the word, not when he knew they didn’t have adrianna to show him everything he needed to know about falling in love effortlessly. like his goal, his encounter with adrianna was perfectly timed. so for him, there was nothing else more suitable than a celebration to match the theme.

the portugese didn’t think twice when he ran to the other end from where the goal just went in, so fast his mates were screaming his name to slow down, and then he simply stood there with the same smile he knew she loved and knew only came out when he was with her. no grandiose gesture, he just straight on looked up at his girlfriend, now wearing the blue shirt he’d always dream to see her on. erupting crowd and back hugs from his teammates paled to the pride and proud she wore in her face as she looked down at him.

ilkay shook the stadium once more when his strike went past the goalie the last 3 minutes of the game, pretty much sealing the most coveted trophy in the football industry for the 4th time to manchester city. when the whistle finally blew, literally and figuratively, the crowd went wild to the point the players had to be rescued from the pitch towards the tunnel. rúben didn’t think twice to call ivan immediately as he reached the locker room to ask if they were safe and sound.

(well, the implied question was if adrianna was safe and sound.)

the roaring stadium couldn’t even conceal the palpitating beats inside his ribcage, the blood rushed to his ears faster than his regular pace that his phone had to alerted him to calm down. but how could he calm down when he just contributed the most important goal of his career, in the presence of the woman he loved? in the presence of the woman whom he knew must’ve taken half of her precious annual leave so bravely just to see him?

how could he calm down when he knew she was so close yet so far? when he knew he could’ve run upstairs just to have her in his arms for a minute before returning back in time for the trophy lift?

should he just forego this whole thing and be with her instead? he’d won 3 epl trophies before, the thrilling feeling shouldn’t be new anymore, right?

unfortunately, however, before he could execute his crazy escapade, the staff ushered the first team out to the field again for the one thing the entire building had been working on.

rúben waited in line for his turn to earn his silver medal with “4-time champion” inscribed on it and while doing so, he couldn’t help himself to look up to the tribune where adrianna was at. as soon as he saw the grin she was sporting, jumping up and down beside his brother ivan, looking as real and as regal as the first time he saw her, he smiled so wide john stones had to elbow him on the belly. “where’s the missus at? she here?”

rúben only answered the barnsley native with a nod towards his girlfriend, the grin on his face never perished. she waved again at him, her excitement so infectious that rúben couldn’t stop himself from blowing a kiss at her. john laughed at how corny that was but couldn’t bring himself to blame the portugese from being lovesick. being deserted by your ex just when you popped the question wasn’t something easy to comeback from. john was only glad he’d found a better match in all aspect for rúben, despite the distance the couple had to endure together.

the trophy lifted and paraded to every corner of the pitch, photos taken at every sequence, and now it was time for the family to congratulate their loved ones for the hard work they’d committed this past year. adrianna, included, although she only had the privilege recently.

despite the ardent crave to jump into rúben’s strong arms as soon as the portugese was in her sight, adrianna gave some space to the dias brothers to celebrate first. rúben had several times mentioned ivan and his cousin were two people that inspired him the most in regards to his professional career so she wouldn’t want to try to break the bond and respect that were shared between the two, and rúben swore he fell in love again once more when he realised the meaning behind her action.

as soon as rúben’s eyes diverted from ivan to her, adrianna didn’t hesitate to cut off the last remaining distance between them. and as soon as her head fitted under his palm and her legs hung around the back of his waist, rúben released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. at last, he muttered against her hair. who knew the smell of a shampoo could be so comforting?

at that moment, reality hit him. rúben dias had been too focused on chasing something—anything; trophies, titles, awards—that he forgot the meaning of home. and adrianna just handed it back on his plate.

it was so soothing how small she was in his arms, yet it felt like he had come back home. like he was holding his entire world in his embrace, and he couldn’t ask for anything else better, even if it meant that he had to undergo the whole failed proposal all over again.

“you’re here.”

“i am,”and there was the sound he’d been missing the most, clear as crystal. not the one he’d been hearing over the phone, through the endless video calls when he was about to sleep and she just woke up. “parabens, querido.”

“i must be dreaming,” rúbenhad to pull her closer to him—as if it was possible—to make sure she was here, in flesh and blood. “you can’t be real, you know? but i keep seeing you.”

adrianna pulled away from rúben’s lock around her, mirth glinted her eyes. “should i just go back to—”

“no,” rúben didn’t hold back as he kissed her. finally. her lips felt like the sweetest victory; for winning the title again, for waiting for her no matter how long it takes. and he devoured every last bit of it, slowly but sure, not wanting to miss any more detail. “you don’t know how long i’ve been praying to hold you like this again.”

“well, you got your wish,” rúben’s dropping bass tone to his voice sent shudders all over her body, both from the voice and the desperation that lingered behind his words. she kissed him once more to show she felt exactly the same and he hummed, as he felt her nipping his bottom lip. “happy birthday, benzinho. i hope you like your present because i don’t know what else to give you if you don’t like it.”

this time, rúben was the one who pulled away first, confusion written all over his face. “what, you think i’m not going to like it?”

“well, look around you, rúben,” adrianna casted a glance everywhere else but him, awkward and so unlike of her. “i can’t possibly compare to—”

“you’re the best thing i could ever ask for, gatinha,” rúben moved up his hands from her waist to cup her face, the sharp jawline contrasted the soft glimmer in the beautiful eyes he loved. “doesn’t matter if it happens on my birthday this year, next year, next decade—i want you and i will always ask for you until the day comes. you’re the reason i start looking forward for tomorrow, knowing you’re awake already when i wake up, and you’re the reason i want to be better everyday so that one day, when the day comes, i can be the man that deserves you entirely.”

“rúben—”

before adrianna could say anything else that described the way his words swayed her world, rúben closed the vacant space between their lips, effectively shutting her up. “i don’t know what’s that pretty mind of yours have been thinking but te amo, meu amor. you’re my love and my life, meu anjo, and i don’t want it any other way.”

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Beverley Nichols and the Bensons

E. F. (Fred) Benson, Beverley Nichols and A. C. (Arthur) Benson

Beverley Nichols dined with Fred and went into raptures about [Fred's] house, saying in his usual whimsical way that the furniture seemed to have been put in its place by the gentle hands of Time; the pictures had almost grown into the walls; and the carpets had sprung naturally from the floors like some gracious form of grass. According to Nichols, Fred's face glowed with happiness as he showed his guest round the house. He was described as ‘a smallish (Fred was five feet ten), pinkish, twinkling, urbane, grey-flannel-trousered man’ who had finally come to rest in a quiet London square, having retained the sparkle of his eyes, his taste for Italian wine and, above all, his love of a sheet of white paper in the stillness of the night. Fred, who had not ‘come to rest’ at all, noted with amusement the slight cattiness behind Nichols's gush. [Geoffrey Palmer and Noel Lloyd, E. F. Benson: As He Was]

Beverley Nichols was a lunch guest and on one occasion he came with his nephew. This must have been the time he was contemplating his piece “E. F. Benson, or Very Much at Home” (from Are they the same at home? 1927), because Mr Benson asked him if he was going to show it to him before he published and he said yes. But apparently he didn't, as Mr Benson was pretty peeved at a reference in the article to his novels "growing more and more dusty on the shelves of the subscription libraries. He doesn't care, I'm sure." In fact he did. "Mr Benson didn't like that at all," said Charlie [Tomlin]. Mr Benson had a mild dig at him in retaliation in some review of a publication where Beverley Nichols is in Italy or somewhere abroad and suddenly at the end realises it is April and the daffodils are blooming in England. So he has to rush home, of which Mr Benson wrote "I hope to God he got back in time." (Beverley Nichols was to retain a certain animosity towards Mr Benson until his own death in 1983.) [Cynthia and Tony Reavell, E. F. Benson: Remembered, and the World of Tilling]

Despite this shared animosity between him and Fred, Nichols previously maintained a long friendship with the older Benson brother, Arthur:

In the space of two minutes my war — my very special war — seemed much less unpleasant, because my new friend was none other than the Master of Magdalene, A. C. Benson, whose father had been one of Queen Victoria's favourite Archbishops. There were three Benson brothers, all distinguished in their separate ways, though the only one who is nowadays remembered is E. F. Benson, who is currently enjoying a belated revival as a writer of Edwardian comedy. A. C. Benson, whom I came to know very well indeed, was a true scholar and an admirable administrator, with a knack of coaxing large sums out of American philanthropists for the benefit of Magdalene, which was his chief love. A beautiful little college it was, with a library of exceptional distinction, founded on the original bequest from Samuel Pepys. Benson was a mixed-up man, who had a habit of developing sentimental attachments at a moment's notice, and no doubt this was what had occurred when he met me in the porch, though I did not at first realise the full implications of the encounter.

[…] Ever since my departure [A. C. Benson] had kept in touch through a constant stream of correspondence. No young man ever had a kindlier mentor; he wrote as an equal, drawing me out, seeking my opinions. He was not only kindly but practical. Realising that I had no means apart from my meagre Second Lieutenant's pay, he took some of my letters and sent them to an American magazine called The Outlook with the suggestion that they should be published anonymously. They were accepted, and the editors asked for more. Altogether I made five hundred dollars from The Outlook, which was a small fortune in those days. For the first time I knew the excitement of writing words on paper and selling them, of twisting my pen into symbols that could be exchanged for gold. Which is all that authorship has ever been about, or ever will be. I do not know whether The Outlook still survives and Benson's letters to me have long since disappeared, with the exception of one, which I kept and cherished because I had a feeling that it was a landmark in my life.

"My Dear Beverley, We do not know each other as we might have done, but if you have come to know me at all you will have realised that one of my ‘complexes’ — I believe that is the fashionable expression — is a hatred of waste. Perhaps that is why I can claim some success as the Master of Magdalene. I keep a very strict watch on the outgoings of the Bursary! But it is not only a matter of accountancy. It goes deeper than that. I am bewildered and alarmed by the profligacy of Nature, and even more bewildered and alarmed by the wastage of this hideous war. I think that you are being wasted. You have many talents and none of them is being used. With your precarious state of health your sphere of activities must be limited, but that does not mean that you can be of no use at all. As soon as I see an opportunity I propose to do something about this. Once you suggested to me — with that never-failing impertinence which I find so engaging — that I was an ‘intri- guant.’ (I had been telling you the story of the ingenious manner in which I had persuaded a Chicago millionaire to give us ten thousand dollars for our beloved Library.) You could not have paid me a higher compliment. Intrigue, to me, is the spice of life. I am an ancient spider, sitting in the centre of an ancient web, weaving ancient spells. And some of them will shortly be speeding in your direction. My affectionate greetings, A.C.B."

The ink of the letter has dimmed to a sickly sepia, and the address on the envelope, with its faded penny stamp, is almost illegible. But I still feel a glow of warmth as I read it, with half a century of disillusionment behind me. [Beverley Nichols, The Unforgiving Minute: Some Confessions from Childhood to the Outbreak of the Second World War]

[vampstel]

Out of your favorite designs you’ve redrawn or has drawn who do you enjoyed working on the most?

As a character designer myself, I can’t help but love all my ocs equally, and learning from you actually helps me expand upon my stories. You’ve helped me so much writing a story for Victoria (She’s a princess vampire who is generations after Dracula (Temporary name because some details are being worked on) in my universe I don’t think this made sense but hopefully it does?) and I actually took some inspiration from your video in order to fully develop her.

I also love it when you diversity your work. It makes me really happy seeing all sorts of characters with real life details? If that made any sense. I like learning from you and I wanna try to understand more about details. Mainly because I suck at drawing details and idk how you do most of your stuff by hand. (I usually try to find brushes on IbisPaint on Pinterest for my work)

What kind of advice do you have for any upcoming artists who’s struggling with character designing?

Do you start with the character and then work on the story or is it the other way around?

This is going to be a VERY long response so it’s all gonna be under the cut…

I don’t really have a favorite design honestly... It’s hard to pick favorites when your characters have different aesthetics to them. It feels unfair to me to compare them because of that LOL so I try my best to avoid that.

That being said though, I can definitely say I had so much fun redesigning Elliot and making her her own person rather than a character who’s meant to represent me. She doesn’t have a full body render yet but… I think she’s neat :3

She’s just got all the things I love in one design and since she’s so personal to me, I guess you could technically say she’s my current favorite design out of all my OCs so far. Minus Rei, of course…

But yeah I can definitely relate to loving all your characters equally!! Victoria sounds cool and I’m glad my content helps you out ^_^

As for the last few questions… Details are really hard to draw especially if your art style is more on the cartoony side. There’s nothing wrong with using brushes or patterns online to help out the process but if you want to practice without them, it’s good to try out how to simplify details!!

Not everything has to be crazy complicated. So long as you get the general idea or silhouette of something in your art, it translates pretty well in the end results. Lots of artists simplify things to make it easier for the eye and it’s a hard skill to master but as you get used to it, you’ll become way better at it. Try and be fluid with your line work. That’ll help a ton!!

For advice on character design: I’d say the most important part to designing a character is making them feel alive by having meaning to their physical appearance and attire. A lot of beginner artists tend to forget that which results in a boring or un-relatable character.

We all have some sort of history with our appearances and it’s good to try and figure that out with your OCs. I usually do that during the design process but it’s fine if you do it after or before it. Before it is more ideal in a professional setting though!!

Go insane with designs. Mix and match aesthetics if you want and use LOTS of references and inspiration. That’s the second most important part. It’s why I have tons of pins saved on Pinterest and tons of reels saved on Instagram. But remember to always ask yourself questions like:

Would this character dress like this? What do they think about their clothes? Do they dress traditional, medieval, or modern?

Would they like this sort of thing? What sorts of fabrics and textures do they prefer to feel on their skin? Are they comfortable with revealing attire or do they prefer something more formal?

What sort of history does their clothes have? Was it a gift from someone, did they buy it from a thrift store or did they make it themself?

Do their accessories have sentimentality or are they completely irrelevant and something they use just for aesthetics?

Is there a way to incorporate things from their backstory or their current story to their appearance? Like scars/marks on their body? Maybe even accessories from a loved one or no?

Can you explain why they have specific physical features? Why are they skinny? Or muscular? Do they work out and eat healthy or do they barely take care of themselves?

It’s a lot to consider but when you can answer these questions, your character becomes much more lively and unique.

I personally tend to start the design of the character first but as I go through the drawing process, that’s when I flesh things out like their story and such. I don’t recommend this process to beginners since it’s SUPER messy but do what makes you feel comfortable! Hope this was helpful and thank you once again for the sweet compliments <33

[moonlight-prose]

♱ PRETTY BOY ♱

a/n: not going to lie this was going to be a fic idea a few months ago, but then i decided to throw it in with my kinktober prompts. i've been deep in my moon knight feels lately and writing for steven was a must. enjoy!

day three - face sitting | kinktober 2022

summary: date night with steven gives you all that you could have wanted and more.

word count: 2.5k+

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: MINORS DNI, cussing, pussy drunk steven, praise (m receiving), oral (f receiving), cum eating.

Date night was an annual thing Steven started. With him and Marc out being a superhero at all hours of the night, you rarely got to see your boyfriend if you weren’t helping him patch something up. Sure, he healed quickly, but with Steven he somehow managed to injure himself outside of fighting. An odd bruise here and there, a cut on his nose. All things that went away the next day.

Yet still he continued to ask for your help in patching him up. You teased him about it, telling him that he just wanted you to worry over him, but you didn’t even mind doing that.

Which led to the idea of date night. Every Saturday night he would take you wherever you wanted to go, giving you a whole night of just you and him with no interruptions. Marc played along with it. He gave you this, because he loved you just as much as Steven did—your happiness was always his top priority—and if spending the night with Steven meant you were content with them, then he let it happen. Some nights you yearned for Marc, wanting to know everything and anything he would tell you.

Except Saturdays solely belonged to Steven. The man who held your heart in his hand, who bought you flowers just because, and gifted you books that reminded him of you.

Walking down the street, you felt Steven’s hand slip into yours, a tipsy smile gracing his lips. After one whole bottle of wine and a filling dinner, the both of you were high on the endorphins of alcohol and lust. It started off innocent enough. He told you about the things you weren’t yet caught up on and you told him how things at your job were going. But then the touching set in. His thigh brushed against yours, his hand holding yours and purposely tracing the pulse point on your wrist.

Eventually you had to get out of the restaurant to get some fresh air or you’d wind up dragging him to the bathroom. Getting banned from one of your go to spots wasn’t a part of the plans for the night. So, you left. Leaving you here, walking hand in hand beside him as he led you back to his flat for the night.

You knew the second you were inside the both of you would revert back to your lustful nature. Both desperate for one another after so much time apart. But for now…you relished in this. A simple act of romance that would have seemed minor to anyone else, but to you it was everything. He wrapped an arm around your waist, brushing against the fabric of the maroon dress you chose for the night.

“I’ve missed you love.” Five days away from you was far too long in Steven’s opinion and he knew you shared the same sentiment.

Grinning, you leaned further into his hold, resting your head on his shoulder as you walked a bit unsteady in your heels. “Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

His building was just down the street, yet you didn’t want to go inside just yet. The night air was crisp and lovely against the bare skin of your legs—the sky practically sparkling with the sight of the half moon. You found it funny how often you looked up to the moon on the days Steven and Marc were gone. As if that was your way to connect to them—as if they’d hear you call out to them simply by looking at it too.

“I had a nice time,” you murmured, leaning against the wall of his building, taking in a deep breath.

Steven’s lips twitched, his eyes raking down your body with a look you knew you wore as well. The streetlamp cast a glow on the side of his face, sharpening his jaw and turning his brown eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. You knew what he looked like as Mr. Knight, knew that the suit he wore and the powers he possessed truly made him an ethereal being. But tonight…he was merely Steven Grant. The man you’d met by practically falling on top of him—the man you loved.

“Come here,” you whispered, watching entranced as he stepped closer, his hand coming to press against the wall beside your head. “You’re so pretty.”

He flushed red, eyes darting down to your parted lips. “I should be the one saying that to you love.”

“How about…” Trailing a hand up his button down shirt, you traced his bottom lip. “You kiss me instead.”

Steven didn’t need to be told twice. Surging forward he captured your lips in a kiss that practically seared through your body. You sighed, leaning into his body as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. Kissing him always felt like this. Soft, tender, and passionate enough to leave you wanting more than what he gave you. He kissed you like he knew in the back of his mind that you were breakable when held in his hands—you were his precious piece of art, something he had to protect.

It drove you wild with need.

You slid your hands into his hair, tugging sharply at his curls to hopefully elicit some sort of response. 

“Steven,” you gasped, your knees buckling when his tongue delved into your mouth, sliding against yours. His other hand gripped your thigh, hiking it up around his waist in order for him to press even closer against you. 

The space between you was nonexistent, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. This was the Steven that you knew as your lover. The Steven that fucked you hard and fast into the mattress until you were incoherent. The Steven that licked, kissed, and nipped his way up and down every crack and crevice of your body. The one who wasn’t afraid of breaking you.

“I want you.” The words were tenderly pressed to his jaw and you smiled at the shuddered moan he let out—his hips bucking into yours.

“Out here?” he asked incredulously.

While that thought alone was appealing, you knew that he wouldn’t take you against the wall of a building. No, he favored comfort over the neediness of pleasure. He wanted to have you in a place where he could take his time with you. In a way that only made your heart ache for him even more, because no one had treasured you this much before. No one cared for your pleasure above their own before Steven and Marc.

“No.” You smiled, dragging your lips along his lightly. “There’s not enough room out here for that.”

He hummed in agreement against your lips, cupping your cheek lightly and brushing his thumb along the top of it. Hooking your leg even more around his hip, you dragged the evident bulge in his jeans closer, grinding against it to bring out the needy whine from him that you craved. He knew you held as much power over him as he did you and maybe that’s where the core of your pleasure stemmed from. The understanding you held with one another.

He wanted to give into you—wholeheartedly.

“Take me upstairs,” you whispered, moaning softly when his lips dragged along your throat. “Please.”

You threw in the please for your own benefit, feeling particularly needy tonight. Steven however was yanking himself away from you at the word upstairs, grabbing your hand in his and dragging you with him. The alcohol had worn off, leaving a burning desire in your chest to warm your body. Watching as he pushed a hand through his curls, heaving in a deep breath, certainly didn’t help the throbbing between your legs. If anything it made it worse.

Five minutes—and several dirty looks in the elevator—later, you were stumbling through the door of his flat. He locked the door, dropped his jacket on the chair, and was on you within seconds. Tender Steven, loving Steven, began to dissipate to the very back of his mind with every step closer you took towards the bed.

He bit down hard at the top of your right breast, sucking the skin into his mouth and smiling at the cry you let out. Meanwhile you were trying to unbuckle his jeans with shaky hands. The job was harder than you anticipated. Especially when his hand slipped beneath the hem of your dress, his fingers pressing right against your covered clit. Your head fell back as you moaned his name. The underwear you wore was practically soaked through—nothing but thoughts of tonight going through your head all dinner.

“Is all this for me love?” he asked, a slight hint of disbelief tinging the edges of his voice. Steven was always surprised when he found you wet and desperate for him. Almost as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real, let alone that you wanted him to be the one inside of you.

“Yes,” you gasped. Stumbling back, you nearly fell into his chair but his arm wrapping tightly around your waist kept you balanced.

“I want—” He paused, raising his head up to see your glazed eyes and swollen lips. His brain short circuited at the sight of you so willing to do what he wanted. If only he could get the words out.

“What do you want?” Your voice was dazed and heady with lust—just like the rest of you.

Steven took in a breath. “I want to taste you. I want you to use me.” He took your hand, leading it up to his jaw, tracing the angular curve of it until you eventually reached his lips.

Your eyes went wide with the realization, the breath catching in your throat, and very briefly Steven came to the conclusion that he made a mistake. That you wouldn’t want to do this with him. So, he tried to backtrack. Wracking his brain for anything to say that would fix this situation.

However, you dragging him to you by the collar of his shirt and roughly pressing your lips against his stopped his panic.

“Yes,” you said, the thought of riding Steven’s mouth, his jaw, all too enticing. “Fuck, I want that too.”

Somehow amidst all the kissing, you found yourself straddling him as he lay back on the bed. You still wore your heels, even your dress, but your underwear had been tossed off to the floor along with his shirt. Steven’s hands gripped your waist, his lips trailing along your shoulder with every roll of your hips onto his. If he hadn’t already told you what he wanted, you’d be sinking down onto his cock, but his request still rang loudly in your mind.

He wanted you to use him. To take your pleasure by sitting on that perfectly sculpted face of his.

You could feel yourself grow wet, your slick spreading on the tops of your inner thighs. Pulling away, you allowed yourself a moment to admire him. To imagine what seeing him between your thighs this way would look like. Steven and you had done your fair share of experimenting with one another, but this…this was new. Something you didn’t know you wanted until he said it out loud.

Climbing up his body, you hiked the skirt of your dress up until it was around your hips. His hands fell to your hips, eyes fixated on your dripping cunt as you pressed your knees on either side of his head. You’d never been so turned on in your life, but this…him, it caused an almost unbearable throbbing between your legs.

“You look…” he trailed off, running his hands around your hips, thumbs spreading you open for him to admire. “Delicious.”

Heat spread rapidly up the back of your neck at just his words alone. How were you ever going to survive him doing this?

“You look pretty,” you replied, pushing a hand into the curls that sat on his forehead. “My pretty boy.”

Steven simpered, his eyes lighting up at the compliment. You wanted to keep admiring him like this—continue to watch transfixed as his tongue ran along his bottom lip. But he wrapped his arms around your thighs, dragging your hips down and sealing his mouth over your cunt. Falling forward with a cry, your hands slapped against the wall behind his bed. It made him smile, his tongue running along your slit and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck Steven,” you gasped, grinding your hips down into his mouth even further. “You’re so good at this. You look so pretty like this.”

His moan was muffled, his eyes falling shut as he sucked on your clit fervently. So much so that your eyes rolled back in your head, your hand shooting down to tug on his hair—hips rolling in short stunted thrusts. You knew you wouldn’t last long, knew that Steven was certainly capable of breaking you apart with just his tongue. Except you willed yourself to last.

Panting his name, you tried to get a hold of the control that quickly slipped away with each stroke of his tongue. Maybe if you pulled away, gave yourself some reprieve, then you’d last longer. But he didn’t like that. His arms became an unbreakable vice that kept your cunt pressed so tight against his mouth you worried you’d suffocate him. Grinding down, you let out an incoherent cry as the final strands in your control began to fray—your release building up in your stomach so tight you were afraid it would break you in two.

“Steven!” His brown eyes fluttered open to meet yours, a moan vibrating against your cunt, and that did you in.

You pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady yourself while shocks ran up your spine and your thighs shook. The feeling was visceral. It tore through you, roaring like a tidal wave until you were unable to think of anything other than him. He kept going, licking up everything you had to give him and moaning for more. If you hadn’t stopped him with a shaky call of his name he would have certainly driven you to the very brink of insanity.

Funny thing was…you didn’t mind if he did.

On shaky legs you managed to collapse to the side of him, your chest heaving with every breath. But then you looked at him. Saw the dazed look in his eyes and how the bottom half of his face was shiny and wet with your cum. Your cunt clenched around nothing, a whimper leaving your lips.

“I want to do that again,” he said, wiping a thumb along his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth.

How this man didn’t know he was beautiful was beyond you. This sight alone made you want to learn how to paint just to embed his image to the permanency of history.

“Baby,” you breathed, drawing his eyes back to you. “I need you to fuck me.”

He paused, eyes wide with lust and thumb still pressed to his lip. “Anything you want love.”

Reaching out your arms, Steven didn’t need to be told twice before he was laying himself over your. Kissing him, you moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. The night hours were just beginning, the moon barely reaching its highest point in the sky, and you…you were at peace with the man you loved. There was nothing more you could have wanted than simply this.

[stardustshelb]

"Orange Juice" Part One

TW: Language. Your name (female) + Danny. 3,157 words.

The song "Orange Juice" by Noah Kahan inspired me to write this story; each part of the story is inspired by a different part of the song. Also, I'm in my sad girl era so you all must suffer with me.

“Feels like I've been ready for you to come home for so long.

That I didn't think to ask you where you'd gone.

Why'd you go?” - NK

I should have known when my dad texted me to check my email that there’d be something interesting waiting for me in my inbox. The organizers of my high school reunion had no idea how to get in touch with me, so they went through him. Part of me wished he would have just deleted the email and never said anything. How has it already been 10 years since I graduated? I swear it was only yesterday that Sam and I were daydreaming about record deals and tours while sitting in class. My parents were never too hard on me about school because I still made time for both my studies and my band. But I think they always knew that I was never going to need to know chemistry or calculus because I was going to have a career in music. Though, none of us would have ever dreamed I’d be where I am today.

Josh and Jake skipped out on their high school reunion a couple years ago, and Sam was planning to do the same for ours. It would probably cause more trouble than it’s worth if we showed up. Truth be told, I wasn’t dying to go but I was curious to know if you’d be there. We haven’t spoken since I left Frankenmuth. Hell, we stopped talking while I was still there. I’ve heard stories about you from my mom. “The girl who got away is in rehab again,” she’d say casually over the phone. Something about the way she’d say again angered me, but I knew she meant well. 

Judging by the date on the invitation, I still had a few months to decide whether I was going to attend or not. Maybe I could find out if you were planning on going while I’m home later this week for Christmas. I wondered if you’d even be around town or if you’d even want to see me. Our friendship didn’t end on the best of terms and that still bothered me nearly a decade later. I wonder if you’ve ever forgiven me for that night. It took a while for me to forgive myself.

…

“Let me help,” Dad said as he grabbed my guitar case out of the back of the SUV I rented for the week. I tried to pack light for the quick trip but between my suitcase, guitar, and the presents I bought for my family, I ended up checking more luggage than I expected. I could smell Mom’s cooking from the driveway, and I had to swallow the lump of nostalgia that formed in my throat. I rolled my suitcases up the walkway and before Dad could even turn the knob, Josie ran through the front door and practically tackled me. 

“Easy, easy,” I said as I tried to keep from falling backward on top of my luggage.

“I’m so happy you’re home!” she squealed as she let go of our hug. She grabbed the larger suitcase from my hand and followed our dad inside. Christmas music was lightly playing throughout the house which told me that Mom was in charge of the stereo. I was home for Christmas but I didn’t quite feel like I was home. I almost felt like a stranger walking through the house I was raised in. Maybe I was tired from traveling, maybe I just wasn’t in the Christmas spirit this year, or maybe thoughts of you crept in as soon as the plane’s wheels touched down in Michigan.

“Daniel, did you hear me?” my mom’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.

“Do you want to put your things away and then come to the kitchen to help me finish dinner?” she repeated.

“Sure, yes, be right there,” I said as I dragged my belongings to my childhood bedroom. When I walked through the door, I was glad to see nothing had been moved. Mom and Dad were always sentimental; therefore, I come by it naturally. I glanced around the room and tried to balance the surreal feeling of being back home. It was just as I left it the last time I visited. Unmade bed and all. “It’s not going to make itself,” I could hear my dad say like he did my entire life. I never understood the point in making a bed if I was just going to sleep in it every night anyways. I moved closer to the disheveled comforter and lifted the mattress. I pushed my hand between the mattress and the box springs searching for my secret stash of notes you had written me many lifetimes ago. Worn and faded folded notes brushed against my fingertips and I gently pulled them out. 

“Daniel?” I heard my mom call from the kitchen. Suddenly, I opened the top drawer to my nightstand and threw the notes inside. I would have to read them at another time. I got up and made my way into the kitchen where Mom was mixing something on the stove.

“Hey, Mom,” I said as I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hello, hun,” she said as she placed her hand against the side of my face. The unfamiliar feeling I had earlier was slowly going away. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, turning away from me and back to her cooking. 

“What about?” I said as I began slicing the carrots she laid out on the cutting board.

“I saw y/n the other day. And… we spoke,” she said, still keeping her back to me. I remained focused on my task of cutting the carrots.

“About?” I asked.

“You mostly,” she said. I winced.

“What about me?” I asked.

“She looks great,” my mom answered, obviously avoiding my question.

“What about me?” I repeated.

“Your music, your success, you coming home for Christmas,” she said as her tone changed.

“Did she seem interested in any of that information?” I asked.

“I think so, but then again, she could have been playing nice,” Mom said as she came over to take the knife that I was just holding. I realized I had stopped cutting the carrots since I was fixated on this conversation. You were back in town and you knew I was here too. 

“I can do it,” I said as I held the knife firmly. Mom patted my shoulder and walked back to the stove.

“I think she’s staying sober this time,” my mom added.

“I hope so,” I said quietly. 

…

“Not one nick on your finger, you just asked me to hold you.

But it made you a stranger and filled you with anger.” - NK

I’ve spent two days at home, yet I still feel like an outsider. I don’t think anyone has noticed because I am able to wear a figurative mask well. That ability comes in handy for shows and interviews when I’m feeling sick or tired. I offered to help my mom finish her grocery shopping for Christmas dinner, so I put on my baseball hat backwards and grabbed my keys. She texted me a list of things she still needed which I was grateful for. She even included pictures of the items as if I were an idiot, but in her defense, I haven’t shopped for my own groceries in years. Our staff knows what I like and it just appears in our green rooms. Maybe this trip home will humble me a bit. 

I decided to drive a little further outside of Frankenmuth to go to a less crowded grocery store. I don’t normally draw much attention when I’m alone in public, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I wasn’t feeling like myself and I didn’t want to project negative feelings on my fans. I pulled into the parking spot furthest away from the entrance and reviewed the list on my phone as I walked through the automatic doors. I grabbed a basket and made my way toward the spices/seasonings aisle. I scanned the shelves looking for Mom’s specific brand of garlic powder. When I spotted it, I threw one container in my basket and turned to make my way down the rest of the aisle. As I began to walk, I noticed an employee abruptly turned the opposite direction and left. Strange. I continued my quest of finding my mom’s requirements with my basket getting heavier by the minute. 

When I had finally acquired everything she needed, I made my way to the front of the store to check out. With it being only two days until Christmas, the store was crowded despite it being in such a small town. There looked to be only two cashiers working, so I stood in line behind what I thought would be the quickest one. Of course, I chose wrong. I tried to hide my impatience by scrolling on my phone when I heard your name.

“Y/n, come to register three, please. Y/n, come to register three,” was announced over the intercom. 

Suddenly, the employee who eluded me earlier now made her appearance. It was you. Avoiding my gaze (and probably open mouth), you snuck behind an empty cash register. I hesitated on whether to go to your line or not. It was obvious you tried to avoid me at all costs, but I felt a pull to see you. Talk to you. Listen to your voice. Against my better judgment, I made my way to join your line. As I got closer to needing to check out, I could see your cheeks getting more red. I held my breath in anticipation until it was my turn.

“Did you find everything ok?” you asked without looking up from the groceries you were scanning out of my basket.

“I did, yes,” I muttered. You stopped scanning and stared down at the bag of brown sugar in your hands for a brief moment until you carried on with your task. I watched you continue to take my groceries and scan them without ever looking to meet my eyes. You were flustered; I could tell. I tried not to stare but I was almost in disbelief that you were right in front of me. Even though it has been a decade, you haven’t aged. Your face has changed but you still look like you always did to me.

“Your total is $98.44. Will you be using cash or credit today?” you asked again without looking at me. You were trying so hard to focus on the screen in front of you.

“Uh, cash,” I said as I reached for my wallet in my jean pocket. Suddenly, I couldn’t find it. I reached into the other pocket and still couldn’t find it. I began to panic. Did I lose my damn wallet in this store? Was it stolen? Then I realized, I never grabbed it off the nightstand when I grabbed my keys before I left. 

“Shit,” I said as I hung my head. “I don’t have my wallet. Do you know if your system takes ApplePay? I have my card on my phone,” I explained.

“No, we don’t. Our technology isn’t updated, but don’t worry about it,” you said as you bent down to get into your purse beneath the register.

“No, I can’t have you pay for this. I’ll just come back with my wallet if you can set it to the side,” I pleaded.

I watched you grab the card reader and stick your own credit card in the chip reader. I was bewildered.

“Y/n,” I spoke so quietly I wasn’t sure if you heard me.

“Merry Christmas,” you said as you handed me the receipt. And for the first time, you met my eyes. They had a sadness to them that I couldn’t quite place. A sadness that matched mine. 

“What time do you get off? I am going to come back to pay you back,” I said.

“Have a great day, sir,” you answered, avoiding my question. I watched you direct your attention to the customer behind me. “Ahem,” he said as a sign for me to move.

I grabbed my bags of groceries and made my way to the rental SUV. I needed to get home quickly to grab my wallet and make it back to pay you. But I knew I didn’t need to go over the speed limit since I was now illegally driving without my license. I fought the urge to speed but remained as level-headed as I could be. 

 …

After putting the refrigerated bags of groceries away, I quickly ran up stairs to grab my wallet. I checked to make sure I had enough cash to pay you back and then some. I shoved it in my back pocket and raced down the hallway.

“Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry?” Josie asked as I tried to avoid running into her.

“I have to go back to the store. I forgot something,” I said in practically one breath.

“Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?” she asked as her brows furrowed.

“I’m not. I just need to get back there,” I explained.

“I can come with you,” she offered.

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine,” I said. I didn’t really want company but maybe you’d be more apt to talk to me if my sister was there. You two always got along so well. Sometimes I wondered if you were more her best friend rather than mine.

“So what did you forget?” Josie asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“My wallet,” I said.

“So how did you make it home with all of the groceries?” she asked.

“The cashier paid for my stuff, so now I’m on my way to pay her back,” I said. I left out the detail that you were the cashier. 

“Well that was awfully nice of her,” Josie said with a suspicious tone in her voice.

I pulled into the parking lot and nearly forgot to turn off the ignition before jumping out of the car. I ran through the automatic doors and made my way to your line. As if you could sense I was watching you, you kept your gaze locked on your task again. 

“Thanks for waiting on me,” I heard Josie sarcastically say as she came up beside me. 

“Sorry,” I said. 

“Wait,” she said. I looked down to see her staring at you. “Oh, ok, now I get it.”

“I’m just paying her back,” I said.

“I’m going to go look at… that display over there,” Josie said as she turned on her heel.

“Josie…” I said.

“I won’t be far,” she said as she began to walk away. When it came my turn, you kept your eyes locked on the screen in front of you. I stood there waiting for you to acknowledge me for what felt like eternity.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I found everything ok?” I asked.

“Don’t mock me,” you said with a sense of anger in your voice.

“I wasn’t!” I exclaimed. Suddenly I felt my cheeks getting warm. “I would never.” You continued not to look at me, but I could see what I thought may have been tears forming in your eyes. My heart swelled.

“I came to pay you back,” I said as I held out two $100 bills. You glanced at the money in my hand.

“That’s significantly more than what your total was,” you said.

“I know. Just consider the rest a thank-you gift,” I said.

“I’m not a damn charity case,” you said with a bite in your voice.

“Y/n, I don’t think that. I just wanted to–” I began.

You interrupted, “If I take the money, will you leave?” 

“If that’s what you want, then yes. I will leave,” I said solemnly. Suddenly, you reached out and quickly grabbed the money from my hand. I felt my heart break as I noticed you were fighting back tears.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see, but–” I started.

“You are,” you interrupted.

“But if you could find the time, I’d really like the chance to visit with you,” I finished.

“You told me you would leave if I took the money,” you said looking past me and at the line forming behind me. 

“Good bye, y/n,” I said sullenly before turning to walk away. And all of the guilt and pain that I thought I left behind when I abandoned this town suddenly came rushing back.

 …

I sat on the edge of my childhood bed and stared at my feet on the floor for what felt like eternity. I had the urge to read our notes that I hid in my nightstand, but seeing you today might be all that I can take. You are still angry with me, and I figured you always will be. I don’t know why I expected that anger to go away after 10 years. Maybe it’s because it did for me. I felt the need to talk to you even more now than I did before. I opened the drawer to my nightstand and started to sift through our notes. There were dozens of faded, folded notes. I gently unwrapped the one where you drew a middle finger on the front of. I smiled as I read through the lines of teenage angst. Oh how our problems back then seemed to be so much more important. I remember you were mad at me because I let Sam ride shotgun in my car even though you claimed it before school that morning. I told you to take it up with Sam, but clearly you thought I should have been on your side. You didn’t talk to me until lunch that day when you handed me this note and told me you hoped I choked on my breadstick. Then you laughed hysterically when I immediately grabbed the breadstick off my plate and choked myself with it. Doing something stupid like that was all it took to make you smile and forgive me. I made sure Sam stayed in the backseat the rest of the school year.

I opened another note and scanned it until I found my holy grail: Your phone number. This was one of the first notes you ever wrote me. I wondered if you still had the same number all of these years later. I know mine has changed several times, but my circumstances were different. I decided to take a leap and dialed the ten digits written in a glittery blue gel pen. I held my breath as I heard it ring.

"Hello?" I heard your voice answer.

[asteracaea]

Concerning ITTG, these are just my first thoughts when I heard these lyrics [from a newbie Kaylor perspective] I'm not sure if this has already been suggested before but I thought I'd offer this alternate interpretation.  🫣

On the surface level it sounds damning, but looking deeper... maybe it isn't.

When the dinner is cold and the chatter gets old

You ask for the tab

This is just screaming gossip to me. She has to sit around and listen to all the theories, the speculation, the hearsay.... like people chattering at other dinner tables about what may have happened. 

Or that moment again, he's insisting that friends Look at each other like that

Soooo in my mind I immediately thought of how maybe some people would look at the way Karlie and Taylor would uh... gaze intently at one another... 🙊 and suggest or identify with that being attraction, but only be met with "oh friends can look at each other like that, it's so just platonic" and are so adamant that there is absolutely no possibility that it could be more. They think they know the story but they don't necessarily.

… When the words of a sister come back in whispers

That prove she was not

In fact what she seemed, not a twin from your dreams

She's a crook who was caught

What I feel like could be being said here is that she knows people will gossip, she hears the whispers of speculation about her falling out with Karlie. They're saying she betrayed Taylor. To them, Karlie was that "friend" who stabbed her in the back. They're putting words into Karlie's mouth, writing their version of the story. So it's not actually clear that it's Taylor that thinks this, it's the overall sentiment of the whispers coming from other people. She's allowing this rumor to spread for whatever personal reasons she has, but it does not necessarily mean that this is her truth. It's almost similar to How did it End. She's letting the public conduct the post mortem of the relationship, whether or not it's true.

  … That old familiar body ache

The snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

You know when it's time to go

It's breaking her because she knows the truth, whatever that may be. Maybe she wants to say something, maybe she wants to scream it in their faces 🤷🏻‍♀️ but she can't, so she just has to stay silent, ignore the chatter, ask for the tab, and leave. This is the decision that she made, to let the public believe this narrative, and she has to be okay with that.

I could be way off base and it got super long but I just thought I'd put it out there! 🌼🩷

oh i love this very much, anon!! that's brilliant!

someone (@9w1ft was it you?) made a great analysis of the "crook who was caught" line in terms of something like being found out (...kissgate?) and the definition of crook as a person who engages in fraudulent or criminal practices - which we could totally apply to, let's say, hiding a forbidden love from the public?

again, i know all this is a stretch to try to make this line fit our personal view of things, but if nothing else it's a fun mental exercise! working our analytical muscles

[gorbalsvampire]

The Answer May Surprise You

We’ve done this quite a few times, since we met Dominique and Sylvester. The four of us meet up on the Quay and start walking, out of town and around the headland and then down to the beach once we’re safely out of sight. We build a fire, and once it’s going we sit close enough to stay warm and far enough to feel safe (and look spooky, if I’m honest), and we talk about what it’s like.

There’s something on my mind tonight. I curl my toes up in the sand, on instinct, bracing for the revelation or something, and I ask “have you… how many people have y’all killed?”

Dominique blinks, deadpan, then laughs. Throws back her head and practically roars with laughter. I’d be offended, but I’m too busy thinking how incredibly hot she is. I’d never admit it, but the reason I suggested these little meetups was at least eighty per cent to spend more time talking with, and looking at, and thinking about Dominique. She glows in the firelight, shimmering dark and sleek across from me, and the next breath I take as I’m about to apologise for being such a weapons-grade dumbass is rough and unready because what I’m actually thinking about is jumping across the fire and burying myself in her giant hair and covering that long throat of hers in bites and kisses and —

I was gonna say something, but that’s Dominique for you.

“It’s not the sort of thing I count,‘Titia,” she says when she’s finally come back to Earth. “One thing to let it happen now and then, by accident, or to do in need when the damn fool’s decided you’re a monster and you gotta burn. But you don’t sit there, brooding and preening over what a monster you are. No pride, but no shame either. And never trust anyone who says you have to keep score.”

She leaves us no choice but to stan, says a stan who has no choice.

Dorian follows my eyes and coughs. I know they’re nervous about this. They’re not stupid, they have eyes and a bunch of brain cells, and they know — because we had the talk about this around the time we had the talk about that and the other, and what I’m saying here is that babe, I’m a vampire led in good time to babe, I love you and I don’t want to see you die one day and because we’d reached that point we had to negotiate with ‘til death us do part is a lovely sentiment but I’m poly and I have to know — will you get jealous?

D doesn’t get jealous, or at least they never admit to it, but they are a one-at-a-time kind of lover, and I think something buried deep in their psyche still worries about competing with Dominique. I keep telling them a) it’s not a competition and b) I have more than enough love to give and c) I don’t even know if Dominique swings my way and d) I live with Dorian and I let Dorian turn me into this and dear God I love you Dorian, you stupid sweet sexy jazz dork. I don���t tell them e) which is that nobody could compete with Dominique anyway, and I would hate to ever have to choose between them because if Dominique said yes, but it’s me and only me I might not immediately want to say no.

Anyway, Dorian coughs again and pokes up the fire to hide it and says, huskily as they can manage, “It’s not about keeping score, Dominique. If you reach a point where they’re just numbers, you’ve already gone off the deep end. But I think if you’ve happened to kill someone — if you’ve had to kill someone — you owe them something for the life they might have led. I keep diaries, and I write down every single name, every time for eighty years, just in case. Someone ought to remember them, and I’ll be here a bloody long time.”

Dear God, I love them. That’s what surprised me most about them. Not that they were a vampire, not even that they’d left the whole concept of ‘gender’ down the back of a sofa when Prohibition was still a thing and sort of got along without it ever since, but the sheer decency of them. The same petty, prissy, fussy little things that make them such a good teacher make them such a good vampire — according to my extremely limited ‘is it like a horror movie in here?’ sense of what makes a ‘good vampire’, anyway. Of course they keep notes in case they forget what happened last time. Of course they never throw away a diary in case they need it forty years later to remember some obscure fact about someone who might well be dead by now. Of course they care.

Sylvester. We all look at Sylvester. Dominique smirks, feline, and I crush the obvious joke as it bubbles up in my head even as I think about stroking her (stop it) and whether she purrs (stop it). Dorian’s lips are thin and tight, their eyes owlish behind their glasses, turning the firelight back. There’s some history there, and I’m afraid to ask.

“What are you all waiting for?” Sylvester grumbles. He’s kicked off his worn old man shoes and his worn old man feet are closer to the fire than any of ours. Words flit around my head — weatherbeaten, salt-stained, tanned — and as Sylvester shuffles himself a bit closer I catch a glimpse of scars and tattoos on his legs and the glimmer of heavy gold rings in the dark. If Sylvester the vampire pirate didn’t exist, someone would have had to invent him. He’s just too good to be true.

“C’mon, Sylv,” I say. “How many?”

“None.”

The word falls out of him grudgingly, a single penny in a slot machine, no lights or sounds blarting out at you, just the smallest kind of victory.

“You?” The word’s out of my mouth before I can cram it back in there, and “I don’t believe you,” says Dorian, and Dominique doesn’t say anything, she just sits there and smiles.

“Not for this. Not to eat. That’s what you’re aksing, in’t it? You live a kind of life where you kill a man and go to gaol, ‘less you’re in the army or the navy or what-have-you. So you’re aksing me a question as makes sense to you.”

Dorian’s mouth is open and they’re saying words — “You know very little about the life Laetita’s led” — and I put my hand up.

Sylvester nods to me and he says: “I don’t know how many men I killed at sea. Don’t know how many I knifed or hit in dock as died later. One or two women, I do know, and I amn’t proud of it now, but…” He rubs his beard, tugs at it like he does when he’s thinking, and points at Dominique. “Since that ‘un brought me over? Not one for eating, and I never tried to kill none either, after we ‘scaped Haiti and came to shore. Believe it or don’t; still God’s honest truth.”

It’s always the ones you least expect.

Bloodspell is a PWYW indie vampire TTRPG it's a little bit pretentious but it's my baby and i love it