#this is going to be a memory for a lifetime I know it 😭

[dayseternal-blog]

I got tickets to see Travis Japan’s “Road to A” inaugural international tour in Seattle, Washington 🥹🐯💖 !!!!!!

My friends and I are so excited, and I’m the most excited as the biggest Toraja fan in the group 😅, but we’ve all been Starto (not used to that and probably honestly won’t get used to that name for awhile) fans for like…. Well for myself, since intermediate school!!!! Yeah. That was almost 20 years ago. And back then, it would be just So Unbelievable for one of these jpop boy bands to be touring in the US. Back when they weren’t allowed to even have YouTube accounts, every pv was removed for copyright, we were limewiring their music and dramas, buying magazines at specific Japanese stationary stores we couldn’t even read just to stare at pretty pictures 😭.

Toraja is accomplishing what we thought was impossible!!!!! I never thought that while I’m still passably young looking that I’d get to just be able to go see a Starto concert without being in one of the official fanclubs 😭. Yes, this Neptune Theatre venue is small and not at all what a professional performance group like Toraja needs or deserves, but our hopes are that this is just the start (omg I get the new agency name now) to bigger and better 景色, as the Toraja members are always saying. So I’m going to live up every teen dream I had 🥹✨ and enjoy this!!!!

It’s so good to be a Toraja fan 🙏🏼. Debuting in California, the best dancing skills Starto has ever produced, amazing concerts, courage to face the unknown of a foreign audience, competing on international stages, releasing Japanese and English albums… they’re paving the way for the next generation, setting the bar higher while showing that it’s achievable 🥹💗

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 3)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

taglist: @fcknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams

notes: thank you for the love in the last chapter 😭😭😭 I WAS SO OVERWHELMED OMG though I can't reply one by one, i read them all and thoroughly enjoyed and basked in them ❤️ hope you enjoy this.

Series Masterlist

Sweet Evil Trap

Pepper walnut tart, rosemary gelato, pomegranate jelly, red wine marshmallow, and 10.5 grams of soul.

Description:

I'm waiting for you

You're pathetic.

That's what you tell yourself as your hands tremble at Elysium's menu. The one that is always unavailable whenever you go there and rumors say that it was never available at all.

Now you understand why.

After reading everything in Sylus's journal, you started investigating the things that don't make sense to you. You already know that they spent past lives together and their souls are tied with each other. Everything makes sense except this one.

There was no context about Sweet Evil Trap in his notebook but your memory took you back to countless night outs here in Elysium to recall the name of this dessert.

10.5 grams of soul.

You chuckled bitterly. Half of his soul is hers. Always for her. In every goddamn lifetime.

Where were you in this narrative? What piece of him do you have? Certainly not his heart if there are still traces of Miss Hunter in every corner of N109 Zone.

I'm waiting for you.

Yeah right. He's been waiting for years, lifetime even. So what were you doing here? What's your role in this?

A past time?

Someone to warm his bed?

Did he truly love you in the span of your relationship? You tried to keep your tears at bay, but they fell one after the other.

You and Miss Hunter are entirely different. She's fun, bright, and full of sunshine. She can even hold herself in a fight.

You?

You're just you. A jack of all trades. Can do everything but not the best at anything. You can fight, but surely after two or three wanderers you're gone. You're funny at best, but even that you're not that sure because she can make Sylus laugh more than you did.

In short, she's everything you're not. She's everything Sylus wanted and it really really pisses you off because you fucking loved him and yet …

yet …

Even if you gave it your all, he doesn't really see you. He's with you but he's yearning for someone else. And you're so so stupid because you're still staying. You're still hoping that even if she has returned, Sylus will see your worth. That he will change his mind.

That maybe he will choose you.

Maybe he realized you're the one he loved, not her. That maybe, he's willing to defy fate just to be with you.

It was a small hope. But it's there. Because you wanted to hold on for as long as you can. You wanted to love him until it hurts. You want to stay for as long as he doesn't let you go.

And even if you will scold yourself in the future when you remember what you're doing now, you will still try.

You can feel that he sensed that something is off with you; he is perceptive after all. Because after that night, no matter how much you try to hold yourself together, the cracks in your soul still manifest.

If it were before, you're sure that as soon as he woke up you will be all over him taking care of him and making sure that he is well-fed. But after that incident, you just can't seem to stay close to him. Not for now, at least because you're sure that you will just cry and break.

“What's wrong Little fox?" He asked you one night. You tried to avoid him and planned to hide in the guest room and sleep there, but he looked for you and now he's right there looking at your soul.

“Nothing." You avoided eye contact. You can't. It physically hurts whenever you and he meet gazes. It's as if your mind kept replaying all the things you read in his journal.

He reached out for your hand but you flinched and avoided his touch. His hand paused midair because of it. You don't know what he's thinking now. You don't want to know. You're afraid that what you'll see is insincerity.

“Tell me, sweetie. What's wrong? What happened? You're worrying me," he persisted.

"It's nothing, Sylus. I'm gonna head to bed later. You go ahead first and rest." you turned your back at him and pretended to do something.

You wanted to ask him. You wanted to know.

But you're afraid.

Because what if he tells you the truth and leaves you? Can you bear that?

No. Not yet. Never.

So you kept silent. You won't ask questions that you're not ready to face the answers of.

“My sweet little fox, tell me anything and I will listen. I will do anything for you. Just ask." He kissed your temple before leaving.

His words are so sweet but is there really anything behind it? Is there love? Is there anything real with what you two have?

You kept avoiding and hiding from him. He got enough after two weeks. He backed you in a corner, his large frame making it hard for you to escape.

“Something is definitely wrong and I don't know what it is. It's killing me to see you like this, darling. If you're not gonna talk, then let me take your mind off of things. Go out to dinner with me." He held your chin to make you look at him.

You're trying to avoid his gaze. The fear is consuming you at every second that he is staring you down. Your insecurity and jealousy is winning and your mind can't process that this is real and that this is for you.

“Sy—"

“Shhh," he gave you a quick peck to shut you up. “It's not a request. That's an order. Dinner later. I miss my little fox,"

And thus, here you are at Elysium waiting for him with tears in your eyes. You decided to go ahead. You're sure you can't bear the car ride alone with him and even if he won't press you to open up, you can sense that he wants you to.

Your phone blows up. It's surely him inquiring why you went without him. You can't find it in yourself to even read his messages. It's all too much. Everything is too much.

10.5 grams of soul.

Those words kept ringing in your head. Half of his soul. Half that is not yours. You wiped your tears. You need to calm down. He might be here in a few minutes. You need to at least look presentable.

“Sweetie, why did you leave me?" You heard his voice from your back before his lips were on your cheeks already. “I want to spend some time with you during dinner, yes, but also before and after it."

“Sorry," that's all you can say afraid that he might hear the hoarseness of your voice.

He sighed, “Fine, but you're going home with me."

You didn't reply and he took that as a cue to get your orders ready. The food is good but every bite you chew, you can sense his eyes on you.

“I will melt if you keep staring at me,” you commented. He just smirked.

"Let me enjoy the view.”

You just shook your head. You can't form a reply because the fear and insecurity is kicking in again.

The two of you are silent for a while until Sylus's phone rang. You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time tonight.

There's that glint in his eyes again so you immediately knew who it was.

Miss Hunter.

Your suspicions are proven right when he answered the call. “Hello, Miss Hunter, what can I do for you?"

You bit your lip. You were expecting it but damn it hurts. Not even an apology towards you for interrupting your dinner by answering that call.

"What!? Where are you!?”

Your heart breaks every second. There he is again. Choosing her. That's for sure. You know what will happen next. He will leave, say sorry, and run to her side.

"I'm coming, wait for me! Don't you dare move a muscle.” he ended the call in a haste he was getting ready to leave if he didn't see you across the table.

“Darling, I-I need to leave, she needs me. She's in danger. I will make it up to you, I promise. I'm so sorry,”

But no amount of “sorry" can make up for everything that you're feeling now. Of course, he will go to her. He will always run to her.

His 10.5 grams of soul.

You sighed. You have made up your mind. You will free both of you from the burden of this relationship.

You stood, pulled him for a hug. You hugged him as tightly as you can. “Go, Sylus. I'll be fine."

He hugged you back, and oh god how you will miss that warmth. You can feel your breath getting caught in your lungs, but you have to hold back. Until he turns around at least.

“I'll make it up to you, darling. Wait for me okay? I love you. Luke and Kieran will be here in fifteen minutes. Wait for them. Don't go home alone." That's the last thing you heard from him before he stormed out.

You finally let your tears fall.

It's enough. You had enough.

You will leave his life calmly, quietly. You moved and walked away fast hoping Luke and Kieran won't see you on the streets of N109 Zone.

Part 4

comments and reaction are welcomeee 🤤

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

[lexdelioncourt]

Devil's Minion Dialogue That Will Send Me Into the Stratosphere if it is Uttered in the Show

"I love you. If I hadn't grown to love you, I would have killed you before now, of course." LOVE NOT SPITE TRUTHERS UNITE!

"You are mine, beautiful boy." Obviously. But I REALLY want it said to old Daniel.

"Daniel, you are a gift to me from Louis. What would I do without you?" Don't even care whether this is young or old Daniel, it just needs to be said omgggg

"Don't you realize that any one of us would give it up for one human lifetime?" This one would hurt so good with young Daniel because then old Daniel goes and lives his one human lifetime 😭 SEND HELP!

"But I don't want it to end now... I don't want you to die." Please have Armand say this to Old Daniel so we know it's LOVE NOT SPITE!

"I am a coward. And I love you too much to let you go." Ditto

"Say the word, my love. I'll do it. We'll be in hell together after all." Ditto again

"I want to live forever with you." Extra pain points if young Daniel says this right before a memory wipe owie owie owie

"I love it well enough the way you turned out." Old Daniel and then they kiss

"I love you." "Are you certain?" Bonus points if this is with old Daniel and the lines are reversed

Armand calling Daniel "Beloved". Duh

Daniel calling Armand "Boss". Also duh (plus bonus points if it's sexual)

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Lesbian (canon)

- Heavy metal is her favorite genre of music.

- Doesn’t have a hand towel in her bathroom. She shakes her hands to dry them and wipes them on her pants.

- Keeps her nails short and hates keeping them painted. She sees it as a waste of time since it chips so frequently.

- Has horrible long term memory but can remember the most random, specific memories or facts.

- Got hit by a motorcycle once and got into a fight with the driver.

- Would have had an emo phase when she was younger without knowing what being emo meant.

- Secretly not so secretly the biggest hater. Does gossip just in her own way of posing things as a fact.

- Hated any type of schooling with a burning passion. Did not do well with the structure it demanded and most likely did not do any schooling after the required amount.

- Snores so loud like a dad and will wake herself up with her own snoring at times.

- Ungodly high tolerance for alcohol…we all see how frequently she drinks.

- Also has an amazing spice tolerance and can eat basically anything. Human vaccum!

- Loves reptiles

- Hates clowns

- Tries to shower often and hates when she’s working for long days without being able to go home to clean.

- She has never done taxes

- When Sevika was younger if she caused something to go wrong she would flee the scene and let someone else take the blame. She isn’t above doing it now.

- Likes being alone. Give her a cigar and some whiskey and she’s set to be alone for the rest of her life. She’s had enough human interaction for one lifetime.

- Honestly bad at handling criticism and tries to rationalize everything she does in her head.

- Gets offended when people incorrectly assume things about her.

- She is completely oblivious to anyone liking her romantically or showing interest in her. She isn’t very conscious of being romantic so it goes over her head if she isn’t actively deciphering if someone is flirting.

SFW (serious)

- Hates hugs but will reluctantly give side hugs to someone very close to her.

- Sevika finds herself blaming Silco some nights and other nights she wants him to come back so she doesn’t have to deal with the chaos Zaun has fallen into.

- She has a love-hate relationship with her parents and ultimately wishes her childhood was better.

- Raised stray dogs on the streets as a kid because she thought of them like her.

- Has insane troubles trying to fall sleep.

- When she does eventually get to sleep she keeps a knife under her pillow. Do not wake her up unless you want to get hurt 😭

- Doesn’t verbally say i love you much. She prefers relationships where you both silently know how much you love each other.

- She can like physical touch at times and seek it out, but she doesn’t like it all the time. Sevika can love deeply, but she doesn’t do well with clingy people.

- She gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Though she doesn’t show it much on her face, it’s easy for her to feel suffocated by lots of things happening.

- She has to get used to cuddling and only cuddles with people she highly trusts where she doesn’t feel as if she is physically trapped.

- Would not be into toxic relationships. She hates situationships where she isn’t secure and/or doesn’t exactly know what she is with someone. Sevika needs something stable or she will not open up.

- Views her childhood self as a completely different person than herself. She mourns the kid who lost their happiness.

- Doesn’t fall in love easily because of the walls she has built up for years.

- Hates receiving help. Hates asking for it even more.

- Was called scrappy when younger and grew up to become ‘a scary lady’. When she’s able to settle down more she realizes how much she hates being stereotyped as this always angry and violent person.

- After becoming a councilor and being alone again years of pain came back. It took her a long time to work through all of it. She could be doing the most random thing and would burst into tears.

- When she hangs out around people she prefers to be in silence.

- Is hard of hearing after the amount of head trauma she has had. By the time she was in her late 50’s she lost complete hearing in one of her ears.

- Works really hard to teach herself how to act in a committed relationship and expects the same from her partner.

NSFW

- Likes using her strap but prefers feeling you on her skin.

- Loves scissoring, but only does it on special occasions because hit makes her hips ache.

- Likes being bit (are we surprised?)

- Manhandler.

- Loves seeing you drip over her fingers, stretching you out is her favorite part because she always takes her time.

- Is a masochist, not so much a sadist. She sees enough people getting hurt every day by late season two she wouldn’t inflict pain on you in bed.

- Bush!!!! Loves bush, has a bush, wants a jungle.

- Prefers you dressed down. Never complains when you dress up but seeing you in every day clothes, her clothes, or pajamas is her favorite thing.

- It turns her on when you are at equal positions in your relationship instead of one being over the other, but doesn’t mind your subbing or domming more. switch sevika is real.

- PRAISES! Comes up compliments in bed that you didn’t even know she appreciated.

- Loves you dominating her. Giving up all the power she has to constantly hold it turns her brain to mush.

- Every time she is buried between your thighs she will massage them as she gives you head.

- Wears boy shorts underwear and briefs. Keeps them low cut to show her happy trail.

[kakiastro]

Astrology Observations and notes of all things Cancer related

This how cancers act when they’re home alone😅, just vibes and music😅

In honor of Cancer season, If you have Cancer, 4h, dominate Moon aspects placements, this post is for you !

-besides Crabs, other animals such as Elephants, Wolves and Bears are also ruled by the moon

-cancers are known as the nurturing sign and they most definitely can be, however, they struggle with being feeling vulnerable. Due to their sweet aura, they attract all kinds of people but it takes a lot for them to come out their shell.

-Cancer energy can also be very cold when they get angry. I know they are known as being “cry babies” but from what I’ve researched and seen, they can turn cold like sub zero, they turn into their sister sign capricorns(dark side of cap) 😭🤚🏽 they have the memory of an elephant, they’ll remember what you did to them forever in this lifetime and the next 50😭

- people who have Mars Cancer do NOT play when it comes to protecting their family members. Their anger is down right terrifying because how sweet and naive they appear. Oh no, they turn full on gangsta if you hurt anyone they love. 🤺

- I noticed you all are named after someone in your family or you get told that you act like a certain family member. You may be named after a women in your family or get told you act like her in someway

-motherhood may be a big theme in your life. This can include your own mother, friends who are mothers, working with mothers. Even if you don’t want or have kids, motherhood is still apart of your life somehow. Maybe being a mother to your own mother, the mom friend, the cool auntie that gives off mom vibes, mom to your siblings.

-Moon/Neptune aspects may struggle with fog memory. They can remember the big things in their life but have trouble with the small events. Taking pictures or journaling can help with this. I also notice they have these random moments where they remember the most random things at random times😅

-Moon/Sun aspects have such a powerful energy about them. You really light the room

-Cancer rising either have a face shaped like 🌝 or like🌛

- speaking of Cancer risings, them dimples! They deep like the moon craters

- acne problems, it’s even worse during adolescence but it does get better as you get older but you may occasionally break out. I also notice you guys have oily skin.

- Venus Cancer loves them a home cooked meal. They’re the type to go home to their mom or grandma for dinner. They may have a family recipe that’s passed down to them or they create one and pass it down to there kids

-they have a hard time with letting material things go especially if it’s sentimental to them. To the outside world it’s junk but to them it’s treasure. I get it tall I do lol

- Moon 11h attract a lot women as friend groups. Strangers may feel too comfortable with telling their personal business unprovoked

- leader of the family, it doesn’t matter what your role is, you are the one that holds the family together, people may be heavily dependent on you especially emotionally. You may be the first person in your family to accomplish something big.

-Cancer Suns may be the firstborn or firstborn daughter or son(not always). They are born during a time when their parents were especially father was ready to settle down and start a family. They could be born during a time where the family was going through some sort of emotional event and you were the fresh start. Will either feel more emotionally connected or feel disconnected due to trying to live up to his efforts and family ideals.

-Cancer moon feel a deep connection to their mothers theses are the type of children that will live with their mom into adulthood. Even if they move out, they calling they momma lol. Maybe very dependent emotionally on mom. If they don’t have a good relationship with mom, they will get will partners who can feel that void. It’s a lot harder for men with this placement.

-Moon/Jupiter comes from families with such strong belief systems and ideals. They carry these ideals into adulthood, it may be hard to break away from them. They may have a belief that they family viewpoint is everyone’s. They have to leave there nest and see the world for themselves and realize their family viewpoint may be short sighted. This can be triggering because you wonder what else were you not accurately taught.

-if you have 28°, that’s matriarch energy

-have you noticed Cancer starts in June which is the 6th month. 6 in astrology is ruled by Virgo. Summer months are chaotic because your starting a new routine for the season lol

-it’s also interesting that Cancer is the start of Summer season. All the kids is out of school and at home. This is one of the rare times of the year where families are vacationing and spending time together. Visiting other cities and countries. Cancer literally rules home countries and cities y’all lol

I’ll stop here but happy Cancer season and birthday Cancers

[theywereafairy]

party 4 u

⋆˚࿔ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 6.1k Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (you’re here!) Had to give these two a happy ending, didn’t I? Inspired by “party 4 u” by Charli XCX, always and forever

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You knew the garden party was risky. Sunshine, wine, your dad, and the man you've been secretly seeing for weeks all in one backyard. But what you didn’t expect was to get caught. Now, with everything out in the open, it’s been weeks since you last saw your father. You’ve been staying with Joel, wrapped in quiet intimacy that almost feels like a real life together. But family isn’t that easy to walk away from. And love, the kind that sticks, doesn’t stay hidden forever.

⋆˚࿔ Warnings: Age gap (reader mid-late 20s / Joel late 40s) • established relationship (finally!) • secret relationship fallout • dad gets angry and punches Joel • emotional vulnerability • reconciliation themes • possessive/protective!Joel • sexual tension • suggestive + explicit sexual content: shower sex, soft dom/sub dynamics, light dirty talk, creampie mention• fluff + healing • “I love you” tenderness • full-circle ending 😭

⋆˚࿔ Author’s Note: Okay. Okay. I just really wanted them to be happy 🥹 So this one’s softer, a little more quite and little less spicy. Thank you for following this messy, chaotic little fic series from beginning to end. I didn’t expect it to become a full story, but now I don’t want to let them go. Your tags, comments, reblogs, and messages mean more than I can say. Hope this ending gives you all the feels. Love u. 💕🧚‍♀️ (Btw. I'm already writing some stories with more spice again haha, so be prepared)

It hadn’t really ever occurred to you to be called someone’s girlfriend.

Not that you were against the idea,  it just never felt close enough to touch. Growing up, you’d watched other girls fold into the role like it was stitched into them: picture-perfect dates, forehead kisses, flowers from gas stations. You didn’t know how to be that. Didn’t know if you wanted to. And still, here you were.

Lying on your bed the next morning, sun crawling up your sheets, your fingers tangled in the necklace Joel made for you, the one he fastened around your throat before he kissed you like he’d waited a lifetime to. The stone still rested warm against your skin, like it hadn’t cooled since his hands last touched it.

Girlfriend.

You had screamed into your pillow after he asked. Not that he really asked, per se,  just stumbled through it in that shy, rugged way of his, rubbing the back of his neck and calling you his girl like it was the only name you ever had.

There wasn’t a manual on how to do this part. How to go from stolen glances and backseat moans to real. Were you supposed to bring him snacks when he came over? Feed him? Give him a back rub? Ask him if he liked dogs, kids, if you can have a drawer at his place?

The only thing you did know: You loved the way it felt to be wanted like this. Not hidden. Not denied. Claimed.

And now it was real. You had a boyfriend. And your boyfriend just happened to be… Joel Miller. Your dad’s friend. The man whose hands had been on your body not twelve hours ago, and who now,  at your father’s invitation, would be attending the garden party happening in exactly two hours.

You exhaled into your pillow. “Fuck.”

—-

The sun had come early and bold, the first real scorcher of summer. A sheen of heat clung to everything: the edges of the house, the baked wooden deck, your flushed chest under the soft dress you threw on. 

The backyard was half-set by the time you stepped out to help, your dad knee-deep in folding chairs and tablecloths. You took your place in the kitchen, prepping snacks and fiddling with the old lemonade dispenser. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the counter. The one he’d had you on, just last night. That memory buzzed under your skin, warm and dizzying.

“You seem chipper today,” your dad said, wiping his brow. “You meet someone or something?”

The question knocked your heart a little sideways. You looked up, unsure what to do with your face.

Your fingers reached for the necklace at your throat before you could stop them, thumb rubbing over the smooth silver curve. “Sort of.”

Your dad raised a brow, amused. “Sort of? That ain’t an answer.”

You shrugged, lips tugging at the corners. “It’s new.”

There was a pause. He leaned against the counter, grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Well. If he’s smart, he’ll know what he’s got. And if he doesn’t treat you right, well, you let me know.”

You laughed, swallowing the emotion in your throat. “You’ll beat him up?”

“Damn right I will.”

He gave you a wink and reached for the cooler. “Alright. I’m headed out to grab more beer. You good here?”

“Yup. All good.”

You watched him walk out, screen door swinging, truck groaning as it rolled away.

Which left just you. And the lingering question you didn’t dare speak: What if he doesn’t approve? What if he never will?

—-

The party started slow. A slow trickle of neighbors, extended family, coworkers of your dad’s. You floated, passing out drinks, setting things up, dodging polite aunts asking when you were finally bringing a boy around. If only they knew.

The first time you saw Joel, your pulse tripped. He wore a dark button-down with the sleeves pushed up and the top few undone, chest glinting slightly in the sun, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed but still unruly. He carried a pie dish and looked wholly unbothered by the thousand things you suddenly felt in your bloodstream. You walked past him toward the drinks table and he brushed a hand against your waist, just enough to know it was on purpose. Not enough for anyone to see.

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Afternoon,” you breathed, not even looking back.

You knew the game. And he knew you were playing it better.

—-

You were deep in conversation with your neighbour Lisa, letting the buzz of white wine smooth your nerves, when someone came up behind you.

Tyler. Of fucking course.

An old summer fling, from the year you had just moved here. The kind of guy who always thought he had another shot. Tan and grinning and just drunk enough to be overconfident.

“Didn’t expect to see you back in town,” he said, giving you a once-over. “You look…well. I’d say better than ever but I think that would be underselling it.”

You blinked, mouth twitching. “Hey, Tyler.”

He leaned in closer than he should’ve. “So…you seeing anyone these days?”

You didn’t answer, not with words at least. Just a smile.  From the corner of your eye, you saw Joel watching. Standing with a glass in his hand, unmoving.

Tyler kept talking, clearly thinking he still had your attention. “We should catch up sometime. Like… properly.”

That was when Joel stepped in. Silently. Stood right beside you, broad shoulders a wall of authority. Tyler looked between you, confused.

Joel spoke evenly. “Everything alright here?”

You smiled up at him. “Peachy.”

Tyler laughed nervously. “Didn’t realize you were…friends.”

“We’re friends,” you said coolly, “and I actually have some catching up with him to do.”

Tyler’s face soured slightly. “Right. Of course.”

Then, smugness returning: “Isn’t he a little too old for you though? Can he even keep up?”

Joel’s jaw ticked. He stepped forward.

“Listen, kid…”

You caught his arm before he could say more, tugged him toward the house, hand firm at his wrist. “We’re not doing this here.”

Inside, the air was cooler. You turned on him the second the door clicked shut.

“What were you gonna do, Joel? Break his nose in front of everyone?”

His brow was still furrowed, chest rising. “He was all over you.”

“I had it handled.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“I could tell,” you shot back, stepping closer. “Didn’t realize you were the jealous type.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

You smirked. “Bet you liked it, though. Me being yours. Didn’t say it, but you liked him knowing.”

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You took another step, hands grazing his belt, your voice dipped to a whisper. “You’re mine too, you know. You might not say it out loud, but I see it every time you look at me.”

Your hand grazed even lower. He shuddered.

“Do you want me to remind you?”

You kissed his neck once, soft, then pulled back just enough to see the glassiness in his eyes. He nodded eagerly, a slight moan escaping his throat.

“Good,” you whispered. “Then behave.”

You turned and walked out, your dress swinging, leaving him behind.

—-

The garden was glowing in the kind of soft, breathless way that only came after too much wine and too much sun. Fairy lights blinked like stars strung across the hedges, laughter rising and falling in lazy waves as neighbors and old friends melted into their seats around the bonfire. Smoke curled into the dusky air, scented faintly with mesquite and charred sausages, mixing with the low hum of music slipping from someone’s old Bluetooth speaker.

You had been doing so well. Spending the whole damn evening not staring. Not drifting toward him like a moth with no self-respect. He had been doing the same, smiling politely, laughing at your dad’s jokes, talking baseball with someone’s uncle, playing the part of a man who wasn’t staring at the curve of your legs every time you crossed them.

But now you were circling back from the kitchen with two drinks in your hands, and your eyes snagged on him like a hook. Half-sprawled in a low chair, legs spread, beer bottle loose in one hand. Face flushed from the heat. That same goddamn flannel from last week. The one you always wanted to unbutton. His eyes caught yours like he’d been waiting.

There were no seats left.  Your steps slowed. You pretended to scan the fire pit for another option, but you already knew, there wasn’t one.

He didn’t gesture. Didn’t say a word. Just held your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Barely a shift in his expression, but it sent heat down your spine. You stood there, heart pounding in your throat, heat licking behind your ears.

Your dad, sitting a few spots over, saw your hesitation and nodded toward Joel without blinking.

“There’s room there,” he said casually, voice thick with beer and smoke. “We used to pile on top of each other all the time at parties. You’re fine.”

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t look at your dad. Just kept his eyes on you, unreadable. You took the empty space slowly, carefully, easing yourself down on his thigh, balancing your drink as if the act was casual. As if you weren’t climbing onto the lap of the man who had his mouth between your legs just last night.

He barely shifted, just enough to make room. His arm slid around the small of your back, hidden beneath the hem of your sundress. It was subtle. Innocent-looking. To anyone else, it could’ve been nothing.

But his thumb brushed slow, lazy circles against your hip. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. The fire crackled. Someone passed around a fresh round of s’mores. Conversations rose and blurred. You stayed quiet. Sipped your drink. Felt the hard line of his thigh between yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear. Barely there. A breath, not a whisper.

“You’ve been makin’ me crazy all night,” he murmured.

You shifted on his lap, just slightly. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to feel it. The tension in his legs. The heat coiled low between your own.

“I’ve been good,” you said, voice steady. “So good. You should give me a fucking medal.”

He huffed, quiet and dark. “I’d give you more than a medal, baby. If you’d let me.”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your knuckles tightened around your glass.

“Don’t start this here.”

“Too late,” he murmured, fingers tracing the seam of your dress, just where your thigh met the edge of his jeans.

And still, no one noticed. No one blinked. Just two people, sharing a seat, laughing softly with the rest of the crowd.

But you were burning. And he was going to pay for this. Later. 

—-

You’d been circling the thought all evening, how you could possibly get him alone.

Your body was humming, overstimulated from sitting on his lap for what felt like hours, his hand drawing invisible circles against your back like he didn’t know what he was doing. The way he’d looked at you over the rim of his glass, lazy and knowing, like you were already undone under him, like he didn’t need to touch you to wreck you. Not again. Not tonight.

You were going to combust.

So when your dad strolled by, beer in hand, and muttered something about the broken chair in your room, the one you’d been meaning to ask Joel to look at for weeks—something inside you clicked.

“I’ll get Joel to look at it,” you said casually, too casually, turning toward where he was leaning against the fence, sun casting gold into the lines on his face.

Your dad waved you off. “Don’t bug him now, honey, he’s off duty.”

Joel, of course, had already straightened. “It’s no trouble,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Happy to help.”

And just like that, the spark caught flame. You led the way up the stairs, trying not to move too fast, but you could feel him behind you, close, too close. His eyes on your legs. The hem of your dress. 

Your bedroom door clicked shut behind you.  The second it latched, he was on you. Mouth on yours, hands rough and searching. You gasped against his lips, dropping the act of composure you’d clung to all evening. He lifted you slightly, hands gripping your waist, spinning you until your back met the edge of your dresser.

“This what you meant by broken chair?” he murmured, voice gravel-soft, lips brushing your cheek.

You laughed breathlessly, tugging at his shirt. “I meant an excuse.”

He paused just long enough to glance around the room, your books stacked on the nightstand, photos pinned with tape to the wall, a sweatshirt draped over your chair like you’d tossed it this morning. He was quiet, just for a second.

His eyes softened. “This is yours,” he said. Not a question. Just quiet wonder. “Your space.”

You nodded, suddenly flushed for a different reason. The room had barely settled around you before his hands were back on your waist.

Joel had you pressed to him, lips trailing from your jaw to the corner of your mouth like he was memorizing your face with each kiss. The way you smiled against him, the quiet little sigh you gave when his fingertips slid up your spine , it was dangerous, heady. Your back hit the edge of the bed and he followed, pinning you there gently, his mouth hungry but slow. You were still breathless from the hallway, flushed from the secret thrill of sneaking him up the stairs like some lovesick teenager.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he’d said, somewhere between kisses, like it had just occurred to him,  like he couldn’t believe it was true until he said it out loud.

And maybe that was the moment your heart nearly gave out. The kiss that followed was all yes. All I’m yours.

So you didn’t hear the creak of footsteps on the stairs. You didn’t hear the soft shuffle of your dad walking toward the room with a screwdriver in hand, still intending to fix the damn chair you’d mentioned earlier.

What you did hear? The sharp click of the doorknob. The hollow sound of it opening.

And then… silence.

Not the silence of pause. Not even the silence of being caught. This was the kind of silence that shattered something. Your spine went stiff. Joel froze above you, one hand still braced on your leg, the other curled around your hip. Your father stood in the doorway. Tools in hand. Eyes not quite meeting yours. Like his brain was still buffering.

Joel jolted back like he’d touched fire, immediately trying to give you space, but it was already too late. His hand slipped from your thigh and landed in his lap, where it absolutely did not help matters. He grunted, shifting, face flushed with something between shame and sheer physical discomfort.

Your dad’s gaze moved between you both. No words came. Not a sound. Not even a breath.

Then, slowly, carefully, he turned. Walked away.

Didn’t slam the door. Didn’t yell. Just… walked off. And somehow that was worse.

You scrambled upright, heart galloping, yanking your dress down with one hand and shoving your hair behind your ears with the other. “Dad—wait, please—Dad—!”

You bolted down the hall, chasing him, forgetting your shoes, forgetting the ache in your throat. The house felt unbearably still, even with the distant hum of music from outside.

Upstairs, Joel sat perfectly still on the edge of your bed. His palms dragged down his thighs like he could erase the mortification clinging to him.

“Fuck me,” he muttered to the floor, voice thick. “Fuck. Me.”

He leaned back on his hands, exhaled hard through his nose, and very pointedly did not stand up. Because right now? There was no way in hell he was walking down those stairs with this hard-on from hell.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the sun bleeding through the curtains downstairs. The muffled clinking of glasses and quiet laughter from the garden felt a hundred miles away now, like it belonged to someone else’s life. Your father had stopped halfway down the hall, spine rigid, hands clenched at his sides.

He didn’t turn.

“Dad.” You barely breathed it.

He didn’t move.

You reached for his shoulder. “We were going to tell you…”

His voice cracked the air like a whip. “Tell me what?”

He turned then. Slowly. Controlled. Like the weight of his anger was holding every bone in his body steady. His face was unreadable, lips drawn tight, jaw set, eyes hard and glassy. You’d never seen him look at you like that.

Your throat closed. “We didn’t mean for it to happen…”

“Didn’t mean what?” he hissed. “Didn’t mean for my daughter to end up in her bedroom with my friend on top of her?”

You flinched.

“I saw you,” he said, voice low now, quieter, somehow worse. “Jesus Christ. I saw the way he…” He cut himself off, shaking his head like it might rattle the image loose. “I trusted that man.”

You tried to breathe, tried to pull the words from the wreckage of your chest. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?” He barked a laugh, bitter and disbelieving. “Not like he’s almost twice your goddamn age?”

“He didn’t pursue me,” you shot back, voice shaking now too. “It wasn’t like that. I—I kissed him first. I started it.”

“Do you think that makes it better?” he snapped, eyes glinting. “You think that makes him less responsible?”

“No,” you whispered. “But I love him.”

He blinked. Just once. Like the words physically hit him.

“You what?”

“I love him,” you repeated, steadier now, even as your heart kicked wildly in your chest. “And he loves me. We’ve tried to stay away, we really did. But we…” You swallowed hard. “We’re good together. I’m happy.”

“You’re twenty-something,” he growled. “You don’t know what the fuck you want.”

“I know I’ve never felt this way before.”

Silence.

A long, jagged silence that stretched until it snapped.

He looked away from you then, like it was too much, like it hurt his chest to even look at you. His jaw flexed again. “He knew better. He should have known better.”

“He does know better,” you said softly. ��But he still chose me.”

“And I’m supposed to what, be okay with that?”

“No,” you said. “Not right away. I get it. I do. But I’m asking you to try.”

His shoulders rose and fell with a long, slow breath. “He’s my friend.”

“And I’m your daughter,” you whispered. “And this is the first time in years I’ve felt like someone sees me. Really sees me.”

He looked at you again.

And there it was, that flicker of something beneath the anger. Not forgiveness, but heartbreak. Grief. Like he was mourning the image of you he’d held in his head all these years. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Your father was still staring at you like he didn’t recognize you at all, breathing hard, fists clenched like he had to keep them at his sides just to stop himself from shaking. 

Joel’s boots creaked on the floorboards behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there. You felt it, the heat of him, the tension, the way the air changed. And so did your father.

His eyes slid past your shoulder and locked onto Joel like he’d been waiting for this, like this was the final nail in the coffin, and now it was time to bury someone.

“Get out.”

The words were quiet. Dangerous.

Joel stood still. “Can we tal-”

“I said get the fuck out.” Your dad’s voice broke at the edges, raw and furious, barely human. “You knew. You knew she was my daughter and you still…”

Joel didn’t flinch. He didn’t defend himself. Just stood there like a man already sentenced. Your dad surged forward. The punch came so fast it made a sound, flesh on bone, a crack of violence that echoed through the hallway. Joel’s head snapped to the side, and you gasped, hand flying to your mouth.

“Dad—”

Joel didn’t fall. He staggered, jaw clenched, cheek already blooming red, but he didn’t lift a hand to fight back.

He just looked up at him. Blood on his lip. Eyes soft.

“I deserved that,” he said, breathless. “I know I do.”

Your father was breathing like he’d just run ten miles. His eyes glassed over, fury mixing with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” he choked out. “She’s a kid.”

“She’s not a kid,” Joel said quietly. “She’s a woman. The best woman I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not the fucking point!”

Your dad pushed at him again, harder this time. Joel stumbled back a step but didn’t break eye contact.

“You think this is love?” your father growled. “This is sick. This is…this is betrayal.”

Joel nodded slowly. His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t get enough air.

“I know,” he said. “I know it’s selfish. I know how it looks. But I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m not bout to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your dad stared at him like he wanted to hit him again. Maybe he still would.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Joel added, voice lower now, but firmer. “But I love her. And I don’t wanna hide it anymore.”

The hallway went quiet. Only the sound of breathing, their breathing, yours. Everything else had fallen away.

Your dad’s mouth opened, closed. Like he wanted to scream, like he didn’t even know where to aim the rest of his rage. And then, wordless, he stormed past you both, shoulder slamming into Joel’s as he passed.

You caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared into the stairwell, wet-eyed and red, broken with grief.

Joel just stood there, lip bleeding, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides.

—-

It had been four weeks since that night.

Four weeks since the hallway. Since the shouting. Since the punch. Since your dad turned around and didn’t look back. He hadn’t texted. Not once. No missed calls. No checking in. Not even a forwarded meme or an accidental pocket dial. Silence. And still, every morning, you opened your messages just to be sure. Still, every time your phone buzzed, your breath caught in your throat for a second. Just a second. Just long enough to hope.

You stared at the cracked ceiling above Joel’s bed, warm morning light slipping through the half-closed blinds. Joel’s chest rose and fell under your cheek, the steady rhythm of his breath grounding you, even as your thoughts refused to settle.

His hand came up, slow and sure, and he began to stroke your back, fingers splayed, palm warm. He knew the signs by now. When your body stiffened ever so slightly. When you blinked too long at the light. When you went quiet in your head before your voice even caught up.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and guilt. “I brought you into this.”

You blinked. Swallowed.

Then sat up slightly, pressing your palm to the side of his face, his stubble coarse beneath your fingers. “No,” you said, firmly, gently. “You didn’t bring me anywhere. I ran into this.”

Joel’s eyes found yours. Something unspoken flickered in the quiet space between you.

“I chose you,” you continued, voice shaking just slightly. “And I’d choose you again. And again. Even if it broke my heart. Even if I lost everything else. I’d still pick you.”

His throat worked around your words, the way they hit him like a warm knife. He grabbed your wrist, kissed your palm like it was a prayer.

You’d had sex in nearly every room of this place by now, feral, clingy, joyful. On the couch, in the kitchen, even in the cramped laundry room where Joel had you up against the wall and whispered that he wanted to make you his wife one day, like he didn’t even mean to say it out loud.

You curled into his chest, and he held you tighter than usual, like he could shield you from the ache. Like he knew what it was like to be unwanted by the one person who was supposed to love you the most. His chin rested on your head, his hand carded through your hair, and neither of you said anything else.

—-

It started with a knock.

Not the hesitant kind, not someone timid or unsure. A knock that belonged to someone who didn’t care if they were welcome, only that they had something to say. You froze, hand still damp from washing the breakfast dishes. Joel looked up from the sink, coffee halfway to his lips.

You opened the door a crack, just enough to confirm what you already knew. Your father.

Then, instinctively, stupidly, you slammed it shut again.

Leaned your back against the wood like you could somehow hold the memory of that hallway at bay with just your body weight. Joel raised an eyebrow from the kitchen.

“He’s here?”

You nodded, still staring at the door. Then inhaled sharply and opened it again.

Your dad stood exactly where you’d left him, raking a hand over his face. He looked older than he had a month ago. More tired. Unshaven. Like the anger had finally burned itself out and left nothing but the smoke. Neither of you said anything at first.

Then, haltingly, he muttered, “I—I wanted to come by. To apologize.”

Your brows rose. Your hands stayed tight around the doorknob. He cleared his throat.

“To you,” he added quickly, pointing past you like he had to clarify. “Not him.”

You opened the door wider. Joel was in the kitchen, back straightening the second he saw him. The tension in his shoulders returned like a reflex. He stood immediately, stepping forward as if to put himself in front of you.

“Don’t,” your dad said flatly, lifting a hand. “I came to talk to my daughter.”

Joel didn’t move. You gently laid your hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

The three of you sat at the kitchen table. You at the head. Your dad on one side. Joel on the other. It felt like the setup to a bad joke. No one quite knew what to say.

Finally, your dad let out a long breath. “I was… wrong. About a lot of things. That night, I was angry. I felt blindsided. Betrayed.”

You nodded.

He stared at the table. “But at the end of the day, none of that matters. If you’re happy…” He shook his head. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your throat tightened.

“I love you, kiddo. Even when I’m the world’s biggest idiot.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s great. But you’re not done.”

He blinked. “I’m not?”

You nodded toward Joel. “You also owe him an apology.”

Two heads turned to you in unison, identical expressions of confusion and disbelief.

“Are you serious?” they said at the same time.

You just looked at them. Unmoving. Judgmental. Patient.

Your dad groaned. “Fine. I’m sorry. For punching you. Even if you deserved it.”

Joel smirked. “You don’t have to mean it.”

“I don’t.”

A pause. Then Joel lifted his mug. “You know I could’ve knocked you out, right?”

Your dad didn’t laugh. But he did huff. “Yeah, well. I was running hot. I’d have broken your nose first.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just please, for the love of god,” your dad muttered, pushing up from the chair, “don’t procreate with this brainless man.”

“Ew, gross!” you yelped.

Joel tilted his head, pretending to look wounded. “What do you mean gross? You sure like tryin’ sweetheart.”

“Fucking hell. Please wait until I’m out the driveway,” your dad barked, already halfway to the door.

He stopped in the frame, turned over his shoulder. “You’re invited to dinner tomorrow. Seven sharp.”

Then he left. Door swinging shut behind him.

Joel waited two beats before saying, under his breath, “Think he’ll have wine? Or just a side of awkward tension?”

You snorted. Then let your head fall onto his shoulder with a relieved exhale.

—-

The moment he stepped into the shower behind you, you knew he was already hard.

The heat of his body, the weight of his gaze, the slow way he dragged his palms over your waist like he was still convincing himself you were real.

“You gonna keep starin’,” you teased, water cascading down your back, “or actually do something about it?”

Joel’s laugh was quiet, dark. He stepped closer, chest brushing your back, hand slipping around your front to cup your breast with a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve done plenty,” he murmured, voice low and slow like syrup, lips grazing your neck. “Still ain’t even scratched the surface.”

You turned around in his arms, hands resting on his chest. He was already soaked, hair curling around his ears, beard glistening. You looked down. Yeah. Very ready.

“You’re insatiable,” you smirked.

His hand slid between your legs without hesitation. “Says the girl who came twice last night and still had her hand on my zipper this morning.”

You gasped, more from his fingers than his mouth. “That’s because you’re…”

“What, baby?” His voice was velvet, pupils blown, mouth at your jaw. “Say it.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Because you’re so fucking good to me.”

That earned a low growl from his throat. He pressed you against the tiled wall, one large hand braced beside your head while the other teased, circled, stroked between your legs.

“God, I love it when you talk like that,” he said. “Love how you feel. Always so soft, always so ready for me.”

He kissed you hard then, open-mouthed, wet, tongue deep and possessive. You moaned into him, hips grinding into his palm.

He pulled back just long enough to say, “Tell me what you want.”

“You. Now.”

That made him smile. He lined himself up and teased, rubbing the tip against you, watching your face the whole time.

“Use your words, baby.”

You whimpered. “Please.”

He kissed your cheek, then your temple. “Say it right.”

“Please, Daddy.”

He groaned like you’d just knocked the breath out of him. “That’s my girl.”

He slid into you slow, inch by inch, eyes locked on yours like he was memorizing the way you fell apart around him. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck—Joel—”

“You take me so good,” he panted, moving deeper, grinding against your sweet spot. “Every time. Can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever want to.”

His hands grabbed your ass, lifting you easily, pressing you harder into the wall as he fucked up into you, deep and rough and slow. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, letting him carry the rhythm, letting him wreck you.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “So fucked out already. My perfect girl.”

You clenched around him and he nearly lost it. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nodded helplessly. “Only for you. Only ever you.”

That did it. He held you tighter, drove into you faster, grunting through his teeth as your climax rolled through you, head thrown back, walls pulsing around him. He followed moments later, stuttering into your neck with a curse, hands gripping so tight it almost hurt. Then everything was still. The water. The steam. His body wrapped around yours like armor.

He nuzzled into your hair.

“Goddamn,” he whispered.

You smiled, dazed. “We still going to dinner tonight?” He chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer.

“If I can still walk.” You huffed back.

—-

The knock on your father’s door came with a knot in your stomach so tight it might’ve held up a suspension bridge.

Joel looked… good. Better than good. Crisp shirt, freshly trimmed beard, a calmness about him that was clearly manufactured just for tonight. Like he’d carefully put on his good-guy mask, ironed every edge of it, and smoothed it down with a breathless prayer. He even wore the belt you once said made him look “distressingly responsible.” Which, for Joel Miller, was about the highest level of effort he could achieve.

You, on the other hand, had dragged a couple reinforcements along, Riley and Nico already waiting inside, giggling as they peeked out the window and waved like excited children.

“Oh my god,” Riley whispered as she opened the door, hugging you first, then Joel. “You look so… boyfriend-coded.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Joel said, awkwardly hugging her back.

“You should.” Nico nodded, pulling him into a quick side-hug. “We’re here to protect your girl from weird questions, dry meatloaf, and emotional damage.”

“Appreciated,” Joel muttered, but he smiled. He really smiled.

Your dad entered the room like a storm cloud trying to pretend it was just passing through. He stopped when he saw everyone standing there, eyes flicking from your face to Joel’s. For a moment, you could almost see the conflict written across his shoulders, stiff, uncertain, still a little hurt. Then he stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug. A long one.

“I missed you, kid,” he said roughly, clearing his throat right after like it had betrayed him. You didn’t answer, just held him tighter, let your eyes water, then stepped back.

He looked Joel up and down, expression unreadable. Then, with a grunt, he lifted one hand and slapped it once, firmly,  on Joel’s shoulder.

“You look like an idiot,” he said flatly.

Joel coughed, half a laugh, half a confused sound.

The dinner table was set. Nothing fancy, your dad still used the same plates you grew up with, but there was real effort in the roast and potatoes, in the salad your dad probably got from the store and pretended to chop himself.

Everyone settled in. Riley and Nico helped serve. The tension started butter-knife thick,  but softened slowly, melted around the edges with each glass of wine, each shared story, each sarcastic comment from your dad that didn’t quite bite like it used to.

Joel pulled your chair out. Touched the small of your back as you passed. Got up to refill your glass when he saw it empty. And somewhere between your dad talking about the time Joel broke his toe fixing a sink and him dramatically reenacting it, the room started to hum again. Laughter, small talk and soft smiles.

Joel reached for your hand under the table, threading his fingers through yours, squeezing gently like a pulse. You squeezed back. The roast was good. The wine better. And Joel’s leg was warm beside yours, touching from thigh to knee, grounding you.

At some point, your dad started asking about work. About life. Not about your relationship, not directly, but the wall had cracked. His eyes flicked toward Joel when you said you were doing great.

After a lull in the conversation, Joel leaned in close, so close you felt his breath on your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You turned toward him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Your heart flipped like a coin in midair.

You smiled. Pressed your lips to his cheek, soft, secret, and said, “I know.”

Riley saw it. Nico smirked. Your dad looked down at his plate, but didn’t comment.

Later, after dessert, your dad stood from the table with a stretch and muttered, “I guess he’s not that much of an asshole.”

You grinned. Joel just blinked, speechless for once in his life. And as everyone stood to leave, your dad paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame.

“Dinner again next week. You’re both invited. Don’t be late.”

Joel nodded laughing. “Yes, sir” with a theatrical salute, that made you laugh, before your dad shut the door, shaking his head. 

Joel turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think he likes me again?”

You laughed. “Let’s just say… you’ve been upgraded from mortal enemy to mild nuisance.”

He pulled you into his arms, lips brushing your forehead.

“I can live with that.”

Taglist: @fallout-girl219 @glitterspark @thegirlthatsfalling @ashleyfilm @diagonazguly

[shanxing-wu]

spoilers for hsr 3.2 story below the cut

my thoughts on some screenshots i saved while playing at 3am

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

phainon, i think everyone was expecting you to be the one to study his body........

mister "that immortal body soaks up damage like a sponge. trust me, i've tested it myself".

mister i was the first to sign up for mydei's keeping up w/ star rail.

ok but his angry face is so cute i forgive him 🥰

if phainon is the one who EVERYONE is relying on to recreate/reincarnate the people of the new world according to his "perfect memories"... would there just be a sudden increase of people who look suspiciously like a certain kremnoan crown prince? who might share similar features or demeanors? and the aforementioned crown prince's reincarnation is a perfect, exact, MIRROR IMAGE replica of the previous cycle. i know this guy does not stop thinking about mydei for a SECOND. we're all doomed.

dan heng's mission log.... "they will be just fine. i sincerely pray so."

thinking about dan heng carrying trailblazer in his arms, desperately doing everything he can to save them. and to think that he inherited all of dan feng's gifts for cloudhymn magic, prowess with a spear– everything. except for healing.

i'm so curious about the full story of the previous cycle and who all those chrysos heirs were! and it's so interesting to me that they left the death coreflame for last, whereas it seems like in our present cycle we're leaving kephale coreflame for last? (or aquila, but i honestly think it will be kephale since it's kind of just... marinating idk...)

also curious about the chrysos heirs that became cerces and mnestia. were they lovers before they became titans? was this a love that transcended lifetimes, broke the chains of the cycle? after learning the story of polyxia saving her sister's life, it wouldn't be the first instance of love being that powerful.

(now i want to write fic about that happening with phainon and mydei. the voices...)

so what if i cried

i like to think, with this extreme close-up framing on his eyes and the way he stares longingly into the distance... the phaidei shipper in me thinks he's talking about phainon when he says "til the miracle descends." that here, at the border of life and death, fighting with everything he has not to give into death, he still trusts that phainon will be the one to deliver the miracle to him and release him from this cycle of endless fighting and deaths.

my first thought was that he's asking if aglaea is dtf here. and i thought: in front of all the dead gods? 😭 i honestly believed we were about to get another "competition in the hot baths" scene.

as a child of divorced parents myself.... this felt like two divorced parents talking about their son 😭

miscellaneous thoughts:

do NOT ask me how many times i had to replay the dialogue when cipher was on screen. i could not stop staring respectfully at her thigh strap. (i was actually really not interested in her design at all until i met her in 3.2. and discovered that i'm weak. so incredibly weak. and gay.)

phainon giving epic, emotional, dramatic speech in front of the entire population of okhema: mem mememem memem mem MYDEI memem mememememem

the casual lore drop that hysilens is dead?? are we not going to talk more about that, castorice??

i loved this story so much. it confirmed so many of my theories but left me with so many questions still???

so many great cameos. mydei and trianne. ACHERON.

THE ENDING WAS INSANE??? CONFIRMATION THAT DESTRUCTION IS THE THIRD PATH? LORD RAVAGER??? WHAT?

in my opinion 3.1 is still my favorite story update (i'm incredibly biased for mydei), but 3.2 was still incredibly fun and jaw-dropping and beautiful. i'm already counting down the days til 3.3.

[sylus-shivanika]

Context of MC's short wedding dress from some fans.

😭 Okay, so I’ve heard so many interpretations from fans about MC's short wedding dress for Sylus, and I’m emotional. As we know, they’re going to exchange vows in the same chapel from his dragon myth. MC’s wedding dress resembles the one she wore as the Sorceress MC in that story. Back then, she wore a short dress when she lost Sylus, and now she’s wearing a short white dress to honour that unhealed version of herself. 🥺

Some may think it’s not exactly like the Sorceress MC’s dress, but I heard a perfect interpretation regarding this. A fan said that "They were very purposeful in making an obvious reference to the sorceress dress without making it a 1:1 remake. If it were an exact copy, it could come off like Sylus is chasing their past. While MC and the Sorceress are one and the same, he loves MC as she is now, no matter the lifetime. I think the dress represents that. She’s the same at her core, but this is a new chapter in their story."

Sylus’s wedding card already feels like the saddest one, and by choosing this dress, MC is not only honouring that painful past but also gently healing it by creating a new memory with him through their vow exchange. Another interpretation is that the short dress symbolizes breaking traditional norms and embracing her freedom.

After hearing all these perspectives, I’m starting to love this dress. It’s the most unique one, it carries so much depth and meaning, and I’m honestly crying.

[two-white-butterflies]

she's poison | m33

Description: Your relationship is leaked to the public. No one believes that you're dating Max.

Pairing: max verstappen/it-girl!reader

There was only one reason that a woman would fall in love willingly - and it was because the man was enchanting. The first time that you met him - he ignored everything that you did. He ignored your existence - because there was no fucking way that a goddess like you would choose to come down to earth and be with him.

He held his head high - holding his ego close to his chest. He'd be perfectly content in going back to his apartment, knowing that he blowed off the chance of a lifetime. He figured that you'd fade - and be one of the girls that he could've loved.

He'd be happy with your memory, but Lando had to open his mouth: "No damn way that Max is bagging that hottie." his friend muttered in his thick British accent. The entire table erupted into drunken laughter - and he could feel his ego shatter into a million pieces.

Without another word - he sashays towards you. Smiling with those innocent eyes of his. "Hey, I couldn't help but see that you're alone. Do you have friends here?" Max asked with a smile, trying to keep the conversation long enough for his friends to realize that you were 'somewhat' interested.

You turned to look at him - shock flooding through your features. He wasn't like the guys that you spoke to - nothing like Earl Westfort or that Taiwanese tycoon that your parents force you to tolerate. Shit, this man who you've known for only 3 seconds was a breath of fresh air. He was the calm after a storm.

"Sadly, I'm alone - my friends ditched me." you chuckled, dancing along to the tune of the music. "Do you want to get out of here?" he offered - unable to hear you clearly because of the noise.

And you couldn't believe it - because you agreed.

That was the beginning of your love story - the guy who was shooting his shot, and the girl who let him.

glitterparty23: privacy sign on the door 🔒

1283 comments 1,348,345 likes

bentashakers: that's literally liam hemsworth 😭 - lovingitcoma: No, it's obviously Chris Evans

BELONGmeee34: Chris Evans and Y/N L/N??? WTF

celebrityupdates: Y/N L/N, Chris Evans and Margot Robbie on the movie premiere of 'The Last Days of Santa Elena'

392 comments 24,283 likes

chrisandyn2: They think that they're slick for this 😭

uwuwu123: NO PICS OF THEM TOGETHER??

ilovemetoo9: this is so foul

comments

lestappenduo: is that max verstappen?? 😀

glitterparty23: omg !! - keithurban: Sorry?

ynandchris: We've been saying Y/N and Chris but it's actually Max and Y/N hahahahahahahahahahah

landonricciardo: MAX AND Y/N?

maxverstappen1: Winning on and off the tracks 💪🏽🧡

239 comments 243,345 likes

lestappenduo: max's normal posts: 🤬💪🏽🏅 max when it's yn: 🤤🧡

glitterparty23: 💗

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[mattslolita]

happy one year, CHRIS'S MAIN HOES. 💌

HAPPY ONE YEAR MY LOVERS! never did i ever think that i would find a group of girls who understand me like no other. not only did i find my wives, i found my sisters. i cannot even begin to express my love that i have for you guys ( no seriously i'm in tears just writing this ... )

💌. @luverboymatt : i'm so glad i forced you on this app!😏 technically we've almost known each other TWO years, and i can count on both hands and more on how many great memories we've shared. you're so beautiful and funny, and i'm so grateful to have you on this ride with me. i love the way you immediately know how to cheer me up, and i love your windex bottle laugh with my entire heart. remember my crush on you? LMFAO JUST REMEMBERING IT MAKES ME LAUGH SO HARD😭☠️- anyways thank you so much denny for hitting me up on my wattpad message board back in december 2022, i've been the happiest ever since.

💌. @muwapsturniolo : MY PEACH😭🍑 goodness where do i even start...my big sister quite literally. your confidence and bold nature has inspired me to adapt to your mindset, and i can't thank you enough for it. you put out nothing but such positive energy and good vibes, and even though not everyone may see you for the beautiful soul you are, i will ALWAYS see it. thank you for sticking up for me when i couldn't, thank you for giving me a reality check when i need it. you are the big sister i never had ( well i have one and just don't know her☠️ ) but you've filled that spot more than she ever has and i'm gonna cry just thinking about it. i love the sound of your voice and your wheeze, it cheers me up and makes me laugh so badly. you're such a sexy badass, and i can't believe i bagged you as one of my best friends.

💌. @thenickgirl my twin flame quite LITERALLY like down to our birthday okay...the nick to my chris in every lifetime. it doesn't matter what you say, i just KNOW im going to end up laughing cuz of the way you always know how to cheer me up. i love the way you ride for everybody, and how you aren't afraid to speak your mind. i love hearing your accent cuz it makes everything you say hilarious. i'm glad we forced you to start writing because i absolutely love it. you're so beautiful, so funny, so understanding... it's crazy how much of the same person we are cuz wdym we're birthday twins who listen to t swift and melanie martinez😭💓? thank you for having such a kind soul and being a light in my life. you are genuinely one of my favorite people on earth.

💌. @guccifrog2 zay my bitch! i miss you so freaking bad, you're one of the funniest people i've EVER met. you are so unapologetically you and it's such a fun thing to witness. whenever you randomly pop into the chat, i just can't help myself from smiling. you're so gorgeous, i can't wait for us to save up enough money to fly you out👅. it's always such a fun time with you girl, i adore your voice and just about everything about you. the 🦭 to my 🐢 FOR REAL.

i'm telling y'all we're all gonna meetup and have a fivesome😭. i love these girls forever more than life. all the laughs, and the cries, all the crashouts, im forever grateful that i've got to experience them with you guys. thank you for constantly putting up with my random BS and voice notes. my ride or dies in every lifetime. i wouldn't trade you for a ten piece combo at wingstop half bbq half parmesan with rootbeer on the side...i love you girls. forever and always. 💌

okay brb im sobbing now👅👅👅👅👅

[wannabepoeticischiya]

as long as I exist, you will always be loved

ao3: as long as I exist, you will always be loved pairing: gojo satoru x f! reader genre: fluff wc: 0.4k status: one shot

Satoru wasn’t embarrassed, he could have declared it to the world, and he would find no shame in doing so. But there was something about him when he would look her in the eye, laugh, and poke her face—tell her that he loves her, like there was no surer thing in the world other than the sentiments he held in his heart.

Ever since they were little, she would notice how Satoru offered her all the extra desserts on the table. It didn't matter if it was the last candy in the bowl, the lone chocolate bar, or the cupcake sitting peacefully just waiting to be eaten.

He offered it all to her.

So, she deduced that he must have not liked sweet things.

But even when it came to two different drinks, he always let her choose first, always. And if she decides that she didn't like her initial choice, he'd take it and give her his. Always.

Perhaps it began on that fateful day when she magically agreed to eat together for the first time. Perhaps Satoru saw that she took the little mochi sitting on the edge of his plate before anything else. Perhaps he picked up on that small thing and never let it go. A cherished memory to last a lifetime so it seems.

The seasons changed, and eventually, she caught on to what he was doing and thought that perhaps he had grown out of his sweet avoidance. So, as they were dining together nearly twenty years into the future, she jokingly offered him the last mont blanc—most certain that he would deny.

But he didn't.

He ate the dessert in two bites flat.

A little startled, she voiced the questions lingering in her head, 'You like sweet things?' and he only smiled (albeit with a little glaze decorating the side of his lips) and said, 'Yeah!' An answer far too riddled with love and contentment to be mistaken as anything else.

So, she asked him, if he liked sweet things so much why was it that he always gave them to her in a heartbeat?

And he said, Because I know you love them, and seeing you happy is worth all the sugar in the world.

Satoru wasn’t embarrassed, he could have declared it to the world, and he would find no shame in doing so.

But there was something about him when he would look her in the eye, laugh, and poke her face—tell her that he loves her, like there was no surer thing in the world other than the sentiments he held in his heart.

All her life she wholeheartedly believed he disliked anything that had sugar in it.

But no.

Turns out he really loved sweet things, chocolates, candies, cakes... you name it.

He just loved her more.

thank you for your support ❤ here's a little nice thing (I sure hope it's nice) for you guys before I inevitably post another soul-crushing one shot

I might laugh at that mongrel Satoru and say that he's a pain but I love him sm 😭

[sethsclearwater]

Hey girl,, you've been going OFF on the smut lately and I honestly love it but imma be honest,I miss the fluff images😭 so I was wondering if you could write one where Paul is just being EXTRA protective and all with the reader after she gave birth? Just a lot of fluff and a super protective Paul,, love ya ❤️❤️

"princess," paul let out a heavy sigh, quickly stepping over to you and gently pushing your shoulders back down onto the bed so you'd lay back down.

you let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at your imprinter, "sue said you should be resting for at least a week," he explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you and gently stroking his hand up and down your arm soothingly as he watched your disgruntled expression.

you sucked in a breath before responding, "i think i can go grab our baby paul," you said with a soft laugh, watching as he rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile at your comment nonetheless.

"i'll go grab him, yea? you should stay here," he suggested and you rolled your eyes again, already knowing there was no way he was letting you get up unless it was absolutely necessary.

you huffed but conceded, giving him a small nod which had him smiling as he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before he was getting up to go grab your baby from his nursery.

within a few moments, paul returned carrying your baby who was quietly cooing up at his dad. you smiled as you saw the two of them, allowing paul to gently hand you your baby so you could cradle him while he came to sit down next to you in bed, "hi baby," you cooed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, "i missed you," you added with a giggle, smiling when your baby just continued watching you in complete wonder.

"did such a good job," paul murmured after a moment when you curled into his side, referencing your labor the day prior. you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head.

"doesn't feel like it," you responded, voice barely above a whisper but paul could easily hear the playful tone in your voice.

he rolled his eyes, pressing his lips to your hair, "promise you did such a good job," he reiterated, wrapping his arm around you so he could gently squeeze your hip, "even though you said you weren't gonna let me anywhere near you ever again," he added, both of you letting out laughs at the memory of you completely losing it on paul when you started pushing.

"did you take some more tylenol yet?" he asked softly after a moment of silence passed between the two of you. you hummed and nodded in response to him, "is it helping?" he asked, patiently waiting for you to respond as he watched you take in your baby who had quickly fallen asleep in your arms.

"not really," you murmured before peeking up at him, "still feel like i got hit by a bus," you added, both you and paul letting out quiet laughs at your comparison.

"'m sorry princess," paul murmured, pressing his lips to your temple for a moment, "you've got a lifetime supply of those padsicles in the freezer if you want another one," he added and you giggled, shaking your head.

"maybe in a little bit," you whispered, leaning up a bit to press a soft kiss to his lips, "thanks for taking care of me," you added and paul smiled a bit, cupping your jaw with his free hand as you two took in each other for a moment.

"nothing i'd rather be doing," he responded and you beamed up at him, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, happy to know you now had both your boys with you.

[madamejay-85]

Hello again Tumblr! I have to you all with a Jizzie headcanon. *ahem*

Soo, I watched Lizzie's new misadventures episode and an idea popped into my head when Lizzie and Joel were having their date.

Lizzie is eating axolotls this time around in the SMP (I'm still shocked 😭) and Joel sees and says "the ocean queen could never" where Lizzie dismisses the it and ask him if that was his ex and Joel just rolling with it.

I raise you all Immortal Lizzie who loses her memories any time she's 'completed' a life but remembers her name and the people important to her; like Joel being her husband, and Reincarnated Joel, who every time he reincarnates, remembers all his lives before and seeks out Lizzie in all of them.

When Lizzie first forget her memories of her first 'completed' life, she was already married to Joel and they both didn't know of this 'curse' we'll call for now and Joel is DEVASTATED. Lizzie says goodbye to him as she's off onto a new adventure, but promises she'll be home soon.

Soon after Joel dies due to an accident and is reincarnated with all his memories intact, but he's different now. He goes and seeks out Lizzie and realizes more years than he thought has passed.

He finds Lizzie and it's like nothing ever happened at all. She just tells him that she was worried cause she couldn't find him and he's going through it.

Then it happens again. And again. And again. And again. And in every lifetime that Joel experiences, he goes and seeks out Lizzie, cause although she forgets most of their moments together, that's still his wife, and they still love each other.

[jymwahuwu]

GIRL I JUST HAD THE MOST DAN HENG SHAMING BRAINROT 😭 Again, inspired by your writing of Dan Feng finding us in another lifetime. Darling's immortal bc you can't meet the reincarnated version of your yandere if you're short-lived.

We all know that Dan Feng's outfit is ✨conservative✨ while Dan Heng's IL outfit gives your grandparents a heart attack. So imagine him gaining memories of you, the darling he kidnapped in his past and also regaining the old obsession. And the first thing you do when you met Dan Heng IL is judge his outfit bc why is he dressed like...that?? Where's the honor and pride of the high elder?? He's trying to kidnap you again, in THAT outfit??

CW: hsr spoilers (dan heng companion mission), yandere, kidnapping, conservative attitude (maybe seems a bit sexist), (implied but not described) non-con

😂Love Dragon boys’ different attitudes towards clothes!! Dan Feng’s conservative attitude towards you and his clothes is something I definitely won’t shut up about 🤭

In order to answer, I studied Dan Feng and Dan Heng's clothes-

Dan Feng's clothes are darker in color, the collars on both sides are higher, and there is a gemstone in the middle of the chest. And there is a picture of a crane on the clothes, which symbolizes nobility, elegance, longevity, luck and other positive meanings, suggesting his background and personality. In the animation trailer, Dan Feng sat quietly, even though he was locked by all the chains (implying the reincarnation fate of High Elder/that sin), he still closed his eyes quietly, without any sorrow, anger, or sadness on his face, like he doesn't care at all. And refer to the few clues now:

1) Dan Feng is described by Jing Yuan as "powerful", "beyond control".

2) When he communicated with Yingxing in the past, he had a strong and calm tone here.

At least it can be deduced that his character is a confident, powerful, charismatic, and even a bit tough dragon. As for Dan Feng who appears in the "Ichor of Two Dragons" animation, that "him" is the version Dan Heng understands. This may be much tougher than himself. As you can imagine, Dan Feng’s current fashion style is relatively conservative💕

As for Dan Heng, we all know what kind of character he is 😚 Let’s talk about clothes. In contrast, the colors of his clothes are brighter, showing that he is breaking away from the cycle of inheritance. Moreover, Dan Heng's clothes are much more revealing- his shoulders are exposed, and then his back and the middle of his chest are also exposed. The theme of his clothes is lotus, not Dan Feng's crane. The lotus is equally beautiful and elegant, but rises from the mud without stains (still looking at the light in the darkness). This is their different style.

In the past life, Dan Feng bound you to his side. No matter what style of clothing you like, the High Elder has ordered you to change into this style- like this Vidyadhara Lady NPC. Traditional Xianzhou style clothes. If you expose a little bit, like these Xianzhou girls (Sushang, Yukong, Tingyun, Qingque etc), exposing shoulders, thighs, calves, Yandere! Dan Feng is not happy with this kind of dress. In his eyes, it is immoral - why most people in Xianzhou dress appropriately, you have to learn from those few people who dress like this.

Not to mention you plan to wear clothes from other planets/space civilizations💀💔What? Are you going to expose some skin on your chest? You don't even have any fabric on your waist! Those clothes disappear from your closet (um, they appear every time you act sad, but Dan Feng said it has nothing to do with him). Don't you notice that people are looking at you? Some people want to flirt with you.

Over the long centuries, the few exceptions were in private. For example, that time you bought a dragon tail and a cute revealing outfit and wore them to please your angry dragon husband. Dan Feng gently stroked your tail and pursed his lips.

After Dan Feng's reincarnation, you escaped from Luofu, took a spaceship, and traveled around various planets. Dan Feng has always forced you to stay with him. Now that you are free, you should be happy, but loss and sorrow haunt your heart.

The dragon who once said that no matter which reincarnation will find you...is it really gone?

Until you meet the boy. Those eyes that are as bright as the ocean, and similar dragon horns and tail.

"Found you."

It's been a long time since you've felt that fear of being captured. In panic, you pushed his chest and noticed his clothes, which turned into another kind of shock. Wait, where's the honor and pride of the High Elder?? Indecent?? The middle of his chest is even exposed.

This might be an odd focus for you about to be kidnapped, but you really haven't seen Dan Feng like this in hundreds of years. Dan Heng puts you on the Astral Express and selects a room for you. He will stick to your side at night, curl up with his tail and sleep with you. You realize the difference between him and Dan Feng, especially in your clothing attitude. He allows you to keep wearing whatever you like, March and Stelle discuss fashion trends with you, have a slumber party, laughing.

Sometimes, you miss Dan Feng and recall what they brought to you. You know they are two people. The changes they bring to you are etched deeply in your heart.