#very grateful to the circle of people who helped me out in doing so

[gamchawizzy]

lately i've been looking back a lot on how college was a traumatising time in my life, but there were some genuinely wonderful people there who inspired me constantly and taught me newer perspectives and ideas i would have never been able to discover outside of my bubble

i never had the chance to learn enough or hang out much with them due to my unfortunate situation at the time. isolation made me distrustful and paranoid, not to mention how i turned easily exhausted in social situations. i see these people in better places now and i'm so incredibly happy for them, but it also gave me reflection on the things that were stolen from me during those formative years.

i can only hope to move forward in better ways and remind myself it's never too late to build something out of myself. one day i'll catch up.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 3

In which sexy construction worker!rafe who spends his days lifting heavy stuff and building shit (his words) and driving shy!reader home has tense shoulders and she offers to help and he's very grateful...

cw: construction worker!rafe in a desperate need of a massage, fluff, some heavy making out, slight dry-humping, suggestive

wc: 1.4k

this is a part three to this meant to write something cutesy but knowing them it turned into something filthy (who's surprised) hope you enjoy xx

part 4 part 5

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Rafe has had a tedious workday on the construction site. The ardent sun making him melt like ice under the searing yellow rays and the clock ticking as if it was an ancient turtle not helping one bit. Even after he’s washed the sweat and the dirt off and changed into a clean pair of clothes, his shoulders are strained; muscles aching and legs hurting.   

Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch his face scrunches up into a pained expression. It makes her furrow her brows, asking what’s wrong with worry painting over her features.  

“Nothing, just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the soreness that’s tormenting him; disturbing him from the movie they’re trying to watch as they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” She suggests, wanting to make him feel better.  

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the television.  

“No, but Rafe you’re hurting…I wanna help,” there’s a slight pout forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film.  

He turns the sapphires of his eyes to face her. The look she’s giving him tugs at his heartstrings and for a moment he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him.  

“Yeah? Wanna help me?”  

She nods. 

Then he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa; presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her.  

“Also, I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says as she scoots closer, raising on her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame. 

“You give massages to a lot of people?” He asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her. 

“No, I just meant when I was little me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns. But now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains.  

“Good,” is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter.  

She then settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t shirt, digging into his skin; feeling the sturdy muscle under her fingertips.  

“You want me to take my shirt off? So it’s easier?” He casually suggests and her cheeks heat up. 

“Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl up as he plucks at the collar of his shirt, exposing solid back muscles and soft skin to stare back at her.  

She blinks.  

Hesitantly, she rests her hands on top of his shoulders once again and begins kneading her fingers into his brawny structure.  

A heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, making her swallow at the lewd sound as she continues to press into the parts that feel the most strained.  

“Just tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him beginning to unspool under her ministrations.  

He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone.  

However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a low-pitched noise from the back of his throat, sounding almost obscene to her ears; reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago.  

It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter.  

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts out, closing his eyes in ecstasy. He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow.  

He’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. He feels so relaxed he could almost fall asleep. 

She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh for some time until her fingers begin to feel so sore, she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop.  

“Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes and he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his grateful countenance.  

“It’s all good, feels so much better now. Thanks, Sweetheart,” he says while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis; no hint of any sort of agony in sight.  

“Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?”  

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue is peering down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.  

“That was nothing. I mean, it was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.” 

“I’m serious, you just spent almost an hour turning my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs.  

“What— what do you mean?” Her breath hitches.  

“What I’m saying is, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you grinding yourself on top of me, you know?” He says as he lifts his left arm in order to tuck a loose strand of her behind her ear; fingers lingering on her jawline. 

She freezes, not sure how to respond as his thumb strokes along her cheekbone and he tips her face up with an index finger tucked under her chin.  

“Was so caught up in it all, forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?” 

“You mean…right now?” Her eyes round out, barely managing to shove the words out from the gaps of her teeth.  

“Unless, you have somewhere else to be?” The edges of his mouth tilt and when she shakes her head, he leans closer, pressing his lips on hers in a tender kiss.  

However, when a faint noise of surprise escapes her, he deepens it; warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open.  

When she eventually does, he slips his tongue in, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing.  

Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as she holds his face in her palms. He paws at her waist, bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap with a steady grip on her hips.  

She’s straddling his thighs as his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth as he continues to swallow her up.  

“There we go, Sweetheart. That’s a lot better, yeah?” He murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.  

Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her thighs becoming sticky and mind wandering in a hazy vapor.  

“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin.  

The slight pain makes her whine and then he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer, pillowy lips smearing on hers all wet and messy; turning her into a moaning jumble, trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth.  

All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins ringing. It makes her jump in surprise; nearly falling off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright, not missing a beat.  

He lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips and presses a few sweetened pecks on them, reluctantly pulling away. His heavy panting fills her ears for a few seconds as she tries to even out her own rickety respiration.  

Then he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing up on his feet; a disconcerted pout following his movements.  

“Shit, better go check on the food so it doesn’t burn, yeah?” He’s sporting a lazy, taunting smile as he offers his right palm to her; lifting her up on unsteady legs that try their best to follow him like a needy kitten as he disappears into the kitchen that bathes under the burnt orange of the setting sun.  

[princessmisery666]

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending. 

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own. 

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day. 

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again. 

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him. 

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.” 

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours. 

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will. 

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise? 

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later. 

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.  

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.” 

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?” 

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.” 

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension. 

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.” 

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first. 

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both. 

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play. 

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.” 

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests. 

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks. 

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.” 

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.” 

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh. 

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.” 

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.  

“That hurt?” he asks. 

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.” 

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile. 

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial. 

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s. 

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him. 

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Hey, hi,” you answer. 

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” 

“You okay?” 

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.” 

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine. 

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.” 

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.” 

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.” 

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.” 

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.” 

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?” 

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better. 

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair. 

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.” 

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes. 

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard. 

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.” 

“They seem like a good bunch.” 

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you. 

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them. 

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you. 

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction. 

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls. 

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?” 

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.” 

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer. 

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.  

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?” 

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own. 

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you. 

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you. 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.” 

“Good for them.” 

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards. 

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong. 

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you. 

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…” 

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.” 

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly. 

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away. 

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again. 

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. 

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop. 

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door. 

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

[floridaboiler]

Richard, (my husband), never really talked a lot about his time in Vietnam, other than he had been shot by a sniper. However, he had a rather grainy, 8 x 10 black and white photo he had taken at a USO show of Ann Margret with Bob Hope in the background that was one of his treasures.

A few years ago, Ann Margaret was doing a book signing at a local bookstore. Richard wanted to see if he could get her to Sign the treasured photo so he arrived at the bookstore at 12 o'clock for the 7:30 signing.

When I got there after work, the line went all the way around the bookstore, circled the parking lot, and disappeared behind a parking garage. Before her appearance, bookstore employees announced that she would sign only her book and no memorabilia would be permitted.

Richard was disappointed, but wanted to show her the photo and let her know how much those shows meant to lonely GI's so far from home. Ann Margaret came out looking as beautiful as ever and, as second in line, it was soon Richard's turn.

He presented the book for her signature and then took out the photo. When he did, there were many shouts from the employees that she would not sign it. Richard said,

“I understand. I just wanted her to see it."

She took one look at the photo, tears welled up in her eyes and she said,

"This is one of my gentlemen from Vietnam and I most certainly will sign his photo. I know what these men did for their country and I always have time for 'my gentlemen.''

With that, she pulled Richard across the table and planted a big kiss on him. She then made quite a to-do about the bravery of the young men she met over the years, how much she admired them, and how much she appreciated them. There weren't too many dry eyes among those close enough to hear. She then posed for pictures and acted as if he were the only one there.

That night was a turning point for him. He walked a little straighter and, for the first time in years, was proud to have been a Vet. I'll never forget Ann Margaret for her graciousness and how much that small act of kindness meant to my husband.

Later at dinner, Richard was very quiet. When I asked if he'd like to talk about it, my big, strong husband broke down in tears.

“That's the first time anyone ever thanked me for my time in the Army,'' he said.

I now make it a point to say 'Thank you' to every person I come across who served in our Armed Forces. Freedom does not come cheap and I am grateful for all those who have served their country.

If you'd like to pass on this story, feel free to do so. Perhaps it will help others to become aware of how important it is to acknowledge the contribution our service people make.

~ Original Author Unknown .

[whillywisp]

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

[raitonsfw]

Can I request Gojo with a gn/fem!s/o who secretly has a dom side, and tries to very subtly body worship him? 😂 They like, stroke his hand with their thumb, gently squeeze his thigh, rest their hand on his lower back, etc, and gojo picks up on it at some point. This man is just too beautiful to not be body worshipped imo. 😍

𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞

synopsis: the tales of clueless Gojo Satoru, blinded by the stereotypical roles of a relationship until he just... gets it. ft; your dominance.

warnings: 18+ mdni, extremely suggestive, gn!reader, dom!reader, clueless!gojo, allusion to smut, hand holding, sweet treats, protective!reader, gojo and reader are dating, body worship (gojo's).

a/n: tis a teeny tiny drabble but i swear i have loads more gojo content coming! i do hope you like it regardless! i spent half of this just fangirling over the damn man i swear, he makes me feel things frfr. 🧡🧡 wc: 900ish. m.list

now playing: i am my own muse by fall out boy

divider credit: @benkeibear

You make damn sure you take good care of Gojo Satoru, but it tends to go unnoticed by his overly animated personality. But the instances where he looks at you with a smile plastered on his face, you could push it aside. There was something about him that made you want to keel over and worship the ground he walked on. But, he didn’t need to know. 

He didn’t need to know the way your heart does backflips when his back stiffens as you place your slim hand against the small of his back, pushing him further along the path you two strided along. You’d continue talking nonchalantly and he’d peered down at you through the side of his sunglasses, a clean smile cutting through the lustful tension that wafted between you two. And your hand wouldn’t leave his lower back until you two made it safely up the stairs you had climbed upon, rubbing circles into the divet right above the swell of his ass. He thought nothing of it of course, just an intimate gesture between two lovers. 

You knew not to go too far, after all, it was for your pleasure. The indulgence of knowing only you could make him feel like this, the wanting of something more he had no idea of. He would’ve never guessed you to be such a dominant person, your demeanor only showing the basic people pleaser that highlighted their days with a marker to pass the time. You’re so grateful to just be around him, the light enraptured his best features on even the darkest of days and you have to hold back the compliments that showered your mind as you two had been in the presence of other Jujutsu High staff. 

But, in private you had no filter with the compliments that came pouring from your mouth. ‘Oh, Satoru, you look so nice today,’ paired with a slight nuzzle within his hair as he sat on the sofa watching a show. He doesn’t think anything of it, as per usual, because he’s so wrapped up in the show that he barely registered you behind him. Or when he’s off to bed and the fucker goes to sleep in only his boxers and you’re cooing at him ‘all for me, -toru?’ like you just couldn’t help yourself, he’s got you wrapped around his finger. 

He’ll respond with a snort as he slips into the sheets, his figure prominent underneath and you really can’t help yourself now as you climb on top of him. Your hands go straight to his face, holding his cheeks in your hands as you stare into his eyes, the dizzying blue staring back with slyness as his own hands grab you by your waist. You wanted to see him quiver underneath you, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth practically drooling pleas as you devote yourself to him. You wanted his pretty voice hitched up an octave as you slide your hand down his broad chest, tracing every single muscle with the tip of your finger with a dip into the crevices of his pelvic bone. And when you reach the waistband of his boxers, the fantasy’s over as he rolls you over to pin you underneath him. What a pity.

The next day you’d be standing next to a pastry stall with Gojo, licking at the sweet tooth he had. You’d buy him his sweets and he’d happily accept them from you, unaware of the reason why you even bought them for him in the first place. You watched as he would nibble at either macaroons or a small candy piece and his entire body would loosen from the taste of the treat, you loved seeing him relax from the smallest of things. He was quite easy to please. 

On the way back to the school, he’d take your hand and your tummy would fill with butterflies. You sought to protect him from anything that came his way and you stroked his hand with the pad of your thumb whilst nothing but loving thoughts filled the spaces within your mind. You’re not sure if Gojo noticed because you did it so subconsciously, but he did; he also noticed as you gripped his hand tighter amongst the crowd you two pushed your way through. 

And then when you’re both seated in front of Itadori later on in the day, his brain would short circuit as your hand reached underneath the table to rest on his thigh. In the smack dab middle of talking to the pink haired boy too, your fingers dug their way into his inner thigh and you squeezed it tenderly; you honestly didn’t expect his voice to become so high as he gripped the table to collect himself. He coughed out an apology and Itadori just tilted his head, unaware of what had happened. Gojo’s cheeks had flushed and it was so obvious with his complexion, the redness had seeped its way to his neck and all you did was cross your legs with poise, humming in satisfaction. 

You watched as the gears eventually locked into place, as the light bulbs flickered on one by one, as the missing piece of the puzzle that he so desperately wanted to finish found its way into the picture. He figured it out, the subtleness of your control and it was game over.

Or more like game on as he kneeled in front of you with his tongue out that night, begging, practically gagging for you to press up against his mouth. 

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[hallahart]

here's 2000 words of self-indulgent solavellan veilguard reunion fic that is wildly noncanonical, apropos of nothing~

-

The Lighthouse, for all its depressing divorcée energy, is gorgeous—lots of magic lights, frescoes and paintings, high ceilings. Definitely nicer than the mud hovel Rook used to sleep in. But one mural (in what Rook is generously calling the living room—it has more of a tomb-like feel at the moment) is particularly eye-catching, seeing as how it’s about a story high: a woman reaching skyward, rising from the jaws of a snapping wolf with some kind of weird green geometric patterns surrounding her. 

“Who’s she?”

Rook doesn’t know Solas well enough to read him—the man is as impenetrable as Nevarran poetry—but they can hear his teeth grind from across the room. For a thousand year old god (or whatever), he sure is touchy.

“Must you pry into every nook and cranny?”

Rook ignores him, peers closer. “Oh, wait, I see it now. Green glowy hand, pointy ears. You know the Inquisitor?”

“I am surprised that Varric—“ he stops himself, starts over. “Yes. I knew her.”

He’s so obviously annoyed and uncomfortable that Rook has no choice but to wiggle their eyebrows. 

“Knew her, knew her?”

“The Inquisitor is of no concern to you.” Most people would probably backpedal when Fen’Harel looks at them like that, but Rook isn’t most people. They never really had a knack for survival instincts.

“Oh wow, you did, didn’t you?” Rook can’t quite imagine the standoffish man in front of them being romantic with anyone. He’s pretty…severe. They’re pretty sure he’s never smiled in their presence. “You know, I’ve never seen her in person, but those recruitment posters they put up back home—was she really so, you know…” Rook mimes some unlikely curves. 

Solas pinches his nose, and Rook is delighted to see a blush spread across his cheeks. “This conversation is over.”

Rook almost takes mercy on him. But apart from the sad silverware situation, this is the first glimpse of Solas they’ve gotten as a person and not some freaky wolf god with great taste in real estate. 

“So did she break up with you before or after she learned you were an evil trickster god?” They wiggle their fingers in mock menace.

Solas’ eyes flash and Rook knows they’ve gone too far. Whoops. Solas can’t kill them, not without possibly frying his own brain (or spirit, or whatever, Rook’s fuzzy on the details), but they’re sure he can make their life pretty damn unpleasant.

But all he does is sigh, the dark circles under his eyes deepening by the second, and holds up a hand. “Let us please focus on stopping the evanuris. Anything else is a…distraction.”

His voice is hoarse, and Rook immediately feels bad. Clearly this wasn't some meaningless fling (the twenty foot mural should have probably clued them in)—Solas is in it. Present tense. The sad empty rooms start to make a whole lot more sense.

You are the loneliest asshole I’ve ever met, they want to say.

“Yeah,” they say instead. “No problem. Plenty else to discuss. Ancient blighted gods freed from their eternal prisons, etcetera. Say no more.”

Rook can’t be certain, but they’re pretty sure the look on Solas’ face is grateful relief. 

What the hell happened between this guy and the Inquisitor that makes thinking about the gods that want him dead a relief?

___

Rook is lying on the couch pining over Taash and her stupid sexy crystal horn when Varric and Solas enter, already deep in furtive conversation.

The polite thing to do would be to let out a discreet cough to announce their presence. Rook burrows deeper into the pillows and holds their breath.

“Absolutely not, Varric,” Solas hisses. Sometimes he reminds Rook of a sad stray cat they used to feed. Very similar auras.

They come to a stop behind Rook’s couch. “Listen. I get it. Trust me. But if there’s anyone who can help us—“

“No. It is simply out of the question.”

“You’re going to have to face her eventually, you know.”

“There is no reason for the Inquisitor to involve herself. These are my mistakes to fix. Not hers.”

Rook can picture the pitying expression on Varric’s face. “Look around, Chuckles. Your Lighthouse isn’t empty anymore. Like it or not, you have to rely on the rest of us. And Ellana is already involved, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“The Inquisitor is not—“

Varric scoffs in exasperation. “Took her arm off and can’t even say her name?”

Took her arm off? Whoa. Rook’s heard rumors, but…

There’s a brief pause. Rook can imagine the seething look Solas is giving Varric—it’s been pointed at them often enough. 

“Perhaps I should find a crossbow to name after her. Would that please you?”

Varric lets out a breath that’s half sigh, half chuckle. “Too soon. Way too soon.” 

Rook’s tried to pry into this whole romantic situation, of course, but Varric always deflects, saying something like Don’t even get me started or You’ll just have to pre-order my next book.

Another silence. Then Solas speaks again, his tone softening. “I have caused her enough grief.”

Varric sounds unmoved. “Yeah, by avoiding her for ten years. Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossible?”

“On occasion, yes.”

“Seriously, if you think she’s going to sit this one out now that she knows you’re here—“

Any gentleness is gone. “Excuse me?”

Varric’s nervous laugh makes Rook cringe deeper into the couch. “Yeah, about that… listen, you know it’s impossible for Sparkler to keep secrets from her. It was going to come out eventually, what with the whole ancient evil gods thing. I think she could put two and two together.”

Rook can practically feel the frost radiating from Solas’ voice. “You will tell her you were mistaken.”

“A little late for that,” Varric says sheepishly. “She’s, uh, arriving tomorrow.”

Rook winces at the slammed door that follows in the wake of this new information, and the movement is enough to give away their hiding spot. 

Varric peers down at them, his eyebrows raised. “You heard all that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rook says, sitting up. “That was, uh…”

“Tell me about it.”Varric sighs, rubs a hand down his face. “Tomorrow is going to be a shitshow.”

___

Inquisitor Lavellan is very short in person. And she looks almost as tired as Solas. And she’s pretty–dark hair and skin, bright green eyes and a wry set to her mouth that looks out of place on the person who was supposed to be Andraste’s prophet. Rook was expecting someone a lot more dour and…Chantry-y. 

She’s also really obviously out of Fen’Harel’s league. No wonder he’s been pining for a decade.

She shakes their hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Varric,” she says.

“It’s an honor, your Worsh—uh, your Inquisitorial—“

“Ellana is fine,” she says—kindly, but impersonally, and Rook supposes she’s had this same interaction about ten billion times.

“Ellana, then,” Rook says, and she rewards them with a small smile.

“So you’re the one who interrupted the ritual,” she says. “With some rather interesting side effects, I hear.”

“You mean being magically linked to the grumpiest elf in Thedas? Yeah, interesting is one word for it.”

They’re arrested by the Inquisitor’s hand on their arm. “You could have been cruel to him, and few people would have blamed you. I must thank you for that.”

Her eyes are piercingly kind, and Rook suddenly understands how this woman had entire nations bowing to her will. They have no idea what to say, mouth dry.

“Still, I can’t imagine it’s been easy,” she continues, the wry smile back.

Rook shrugs, hoping their blush isn’t as red as it feels. “In terms of difficult personalities, he ranks a little below my Aunt Beryl, though Aunt Beryl couldn’t turn people to stone with—“

Then they spot Solas over the Inquisitor’s shoulder, hovering in the doorway like a ghost. He’s about as white as one, too.

“Inquisitor,” says Solas, his voice so void of emotion that it gapes like an open wound. 

Rook has a front row seat to the expression that plays across Inquisitor Lavellan’s face. Shock — she grabs the shoulder of her missing arm. Then something Rook can’t quite name—a deep well of some dark thing that makes them shiver, something they hope they never have to feel. 

And then her mouth settles into a grim line, eyes closing for a moment before she turns, back ramrod straight.  

“Solas,” she says, voice steady as she releases her shoulder. Solas’ eyes track the movement with his jaw set.

“You look well.”

It’s like he’s commenting on the weather. 

Rook, frankly, wants to throttle him. The woman you’ve painted onto every other surface of your house is right here, you idiot! Say something better than you look well! They try to communicate this through a series of glares, but Solas seems to have forgotten anyone but the Inquisitor exists. Fair enough.

“You look terrible,” she replies, stepping closer. Her voice is thick. Solas takes a step back.

“I think it best if we—“

“Solas,” she says, stepping forward again, and there is nowhere left for him to retreat. She has the Dread Wolf cornered. Slowly, as though taming a wild animal, she raises her hand to him, coming up to touch his face, the line of his jaw. “You’re really here.”

Rook backs away, knowing this is very much not for their eyes and ears, but—well, they’re nosy, and so they pause in the doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping. Luckily the two elves seem to have forgotten Rook’s even there.

Solas exhales roughly at her touch, ten years of tension rushing out of him in a moment. “Inquisitor—Ellana, I—“

“Hush,” she says, and drops her forehead to his.

Solas’ face crumples. “How can you—I do not deserve—” Rook can barely hear him.

“We have plenty to catch up on,” the Inquisitor murmurs, her voice gentle. “But you are alive, and safe. For now that is enough.”

Like a dam breaking, Solas reaches out, his arms wrapping around her like a drowning man, tight as a sieve. Rook is pretty sure he starts to cry, a sob coming from deep in his chest and shaking his entire frame.

Okay. Enough. Rook’s pretty sure Solas would actually murder them if he remembered they were still there. So they make their exit and ease the door closed without a sound.

They’re happy for him, despite everything. And they really hope they don’t fuck on Rook’s favorite couch.

[twst-drabbles]

Soulmates AU: Idia

Summary: You were born with a run-on sentence for a soulmate mark on your arm, from wrist to shoulder. Now you finally met the man that utters these words by a trashcan.

(I was requested and wrote this long number. Over 4000 words all written within the span of four days. I wrote this for @twst-charity. Not gonna lie, pretty proud that I wrote this much in that span of time. Been a while since I could do that, though I did end up pulling a muscle in my neck. I hope this is a fun read. It's also on ao3 as well. Right here.)

The writings you were born with were practically illegible at birth. The font was rather fancy, overly so, and the words circled around from your wrist to your shoulder so tightly that your family was convinced it was a giant birth mark and not the words of your soulmate.

But you grew and so did the spaces in those words. It was a pretty spiral, but as age continued to feed you wisdom, you felt that this position was deliberate. Because, as far as you knew, this first sentence could very well be the ramblings of someone going mad or already is. But first words are hardly something to build assumptions on, especially when it comes to the subject of your soulmate.

These words covering your arm are about a fictional character named Alexius von Tuveria en Ris. Well, at least you hope it’s fictional. It’s kind of a silly name to give to a kid. And also you’re not exactly up for having a soulmate that’s this, uh, verbose and opinionated about an actual person. You’ve been exposed to the deeper parts of the celebrity fan culture and you’re good with staying far away from it.

…Alexius von Tuveria en Ris doesn’t deserve any of this, though not as if he’d do anything about it if he saw since that prince is just too kind-hearted and honestly kind of cheesy, though cheesy doesn’t mean cringe and cringe is something normies are so immune to it almost makes me sick…

That was only part of the sentence on your arm. Your soulmate, where ever they are, they sure do talk a lot. Like, a whole lot. You tried repeating the sentence on your arm in just one breath and you had to practice a few years just to get it right. Strong lungs on that one, probably.

And a whole lot of unique factors to help narrow down the pool of who is and who isn’t your soulmate. Alexius von Tuveria en Ris is a pretty unique name by itself. But, the uniqueness of it did return disappointment, since searching online for a character with such a name yielded no results. You made it a habit to search at least once a week or so, just in case it was a series that has yet to exist.

You were also sort of relieved to find out that there was no royal family with a similar name. Though, that still didn’t rule out the possibility. For all you know, this could be a fake name someone chose for themselves.

Either way, this name will come to exist at some point, someone or something will be Alexius von Tuveria en Ris, and you’d have to make sure to be on top of that.

But, then you couldn’t, because suddenly you found yourself in a place called Night Raven College. One minute you were living your regular life, and the next you found duty after duty from your “oh so kind” headmage with a cat that doesn’t learn to listen when he should.

It was… an adjustment certainly. The grating egos of everyone here, the casual and not so casual use of magic that can and will kill you if it hits you in just the right way, and large restrictions on your finances rarely left you with more than a few complaints, but all you could do was grit your teeth and trudge on.

At least, despite all of these annoyances and difficulties, there are some silver linings to the found here. Magic itself was something of a marvel to witness, you won’t lie to yourself about that. You will never say it out loud for anyone to head though, because you know the minute you do, people like Grim will gloat and unintentionally belittle you with a, “Well, something as simple as that would look amazing to you, huh?”

And out of a need to never hear those words uttered by anyone, you decided to use one of your privileges to lock yourself in the computer lab. It’s after curfew, so most of the students not in remedial classes are at their dorms by now.

Next to you were a couple of spiral notebooks, the blue one opened and already filled to the brim with notes about basic magic mechanics. Sure, you can’t do a single lick of magic as far as you can tell, but you don’t want to make the blunder of relying on your preconceived notions of it.

Though, as with all studying, even on a subject as interesting as this, your brain starts to fuzz up and suddenly you can’t even retain the current paragraph. Your eyes kept skimming over the same words over and over. Finally, you huffed and slumped back in your chair, setting your pencil aside.

Though, before you decide to call it quits and rest for the night, you felt one more search would be interesting. You pushed up your sleeve until you found the name of Alexius von Tuveria en Ris on your forearm, and typed that into the blinking bar.

Hehe, the name looked a little funny in this cutesy font this search engine uses. You weren’t expecting anything honestly. You’ve already cut your losses with meeting your soulmate young. You’ve had cousins and other distant relatives that haven’t met their soulmates until they were in their seventies. Knowing how that bird-brained Crowley works, you’ll probably return back home when you’re at least in your forties. Or fifties.

He’s really taking his sweet-ass time, huh?

Either way, you pressed enter and stretched. Nothing to come of it and nothing to lose with this simple search, right? You’ve already been through the phase of obsessively searching every day back when you were younger and had too much time. At this point, it does no harm to search at least once. You mean, why not?

But, it was a hit. Several pages of hits. At the top of the pastel blue search engine was Alexius von Tuveria en Ris in all bold. In fact, from the title of the website, you’d say it was an entire site dedicated to this character.

Here it was. The very thing you’ve searching for, waiting for, was right in front of your eyes.

You didn’t say anything, you just clicked. Paragraphs and paragraphs of detailed information about this person–a fictional character–laid before you. You nearly ripped your sleeve up your arm as you scrolled down the page, looking between the screen and your skin as you confirmed that what you’re reading is correct and not just a huge coincidence that’s made to make fun of you for having hope.

The name matches, the background of isolating himself in his castle matches, the huge blow out after attempting to revive his Kingdom of Paradise matches. All of it matches your arm.

You let go of the mouse, eyes burning from staring at a white screen with black text for too long, and just sat. You stared up at the ceiling…

…and quietly seethed.

For months you’ve been wanting to go back home, and often in the middle of the night, you’d find yourself wishing you never got transported here in the first place. Some part of you buried deep was starting to believe that you would never go home, and if you knew that the option of exploring a magical place came with the consequence of never going home, you never would have taken it.

But now your arm and this screen was telling you that you had no choice but to come here. That it was destined, preordained. No matter how hard you fought, you were going to be whisked away.

It… it sucked, you will admit that.

But you sighed out all the doubts and breathed in realistic optimism. You came here one way, there has to be a way out. It happened once, so it’s logical that it would happen again.

And so, with a light stretching of your sore fingers and wrists, you clicked and read as much information you can. Absorbing the series that’s apparently been running for a good twenty years with a handful of remakes and one live action that flopped on its face.

Before you know it, it was way past the dead of night and encroaching on morning. You took a minute to stretched and rub at your strained eyes before packing everything up. You’re going to regret doing all this in the morning, when classes start, but what can you say? You like living in the moment.

You walked out, locked everything up with the keys Crowley entrusted you with, and started down the path towards your dorm. Sure, you do have permission to use the mirrors on campus, but you’re pretty sure you need someone with magic to be able to use the thing. Or you probably don’t, for all you know, but you’re not in the mood to test the theory.

You found yourself on a cross section at the road that served as a nice resting spot before heading to Sam’s shop. It had a couple of fancy black benches with gaudy gold legs, a fountain so large you’re glad you don’t have to clean it, and a lot of foliage for that beautiful view and clean air.

With all these sights nicely lit by the evenly spaced lamps to take in, instead your eyes settled on someone that chose to huddle by a trashcan. You heard crinkling and, at first, you thought this person was riffling through the trash. You got closer, and while you can’t say you were wrong, the only thing in this man’s hands was a poster.

Then, finally, you were within earshot.

“And just when I found the perfect poster, I find it in a trash can of all things, wrinkled up and thrown away because some ignorant idiot thought this was only worth as much as a piece of paper,”

Kind a rambler huh? Sounds like he’s having a bad day. Or night. Should probably just leave him alone.

…

Hold on a moment.

You pulled up your sleeve.

“Couldn’t have the decency to give this limited edition poster back for people like me, who truly appreciate the series, to own, but no of course not, it would be inconvenient, horrible that they would wrinkle the main character’s Kingdom of Paradise that he’s always dreamed of, Alexius von Tuveria en Ris doesn’t deserve any of this, though not as if he’d do anything about it if he saw since that prince is just too kind-hearted and honestly kind of cheesy, though cheesy doesn’t mean cringe and cringe is something normies are so immune to it almost makes me sick–AH there’s a tear because of course,”

You were twisting your arm this way and that, making very sure that this random man’s rant actually matched your words. You almost pulled a muscle as he continued, eyes and neck straining to read the words on your shoulders.

You lost your balance and caught yourself just as the man before you stopped his rant with a huff.

Before he could possibly start again, you walked right behind him and said, “So you’re the dude that inked up my arm.”

Ah, you didn’t really have any special words in mind, like a lot of your classmates back in your younger days. Yes, you’re buzzing a little with excitement, but you’re so tired and drained from another emotional high that you’re in a fog. Besides, you already confirmed that this person’s your soulmate, whatever pops out of your mouth will be just as unique.

“Eep!” A high little squeak of a yelp. The student–his jacket held Ignihyde designs on it–retreated his arms to his chest, like he’s ready to either lash out or curl into a ball.

He would’ve fell backwards if your legs didn’t stop his fall.

“Whoops,” you pushed him to his feet with a hand to his shoulder, “sorry about that. You okay?��

Only then did he finally turn. His hood fell from his face and unleashed an absolute bonfire of hair. A luminous bright blue that almost blinded you.

And suddenly, his hair turned an almost violent mix of pink and purple.

He blinked, then his eyes flickered from your face to his wrist, where your words are. The man opened his mouth but his voice didn’t scream so much as it whistled before dashed to the left. He sped crawled on all fours for a moment before finding his footing.

This man, whom you would eventually find out to be called Idia, ran away upon first meeting you, his soulmate.

You weren’t offended in the least. You can understand that being seen mumbling like a maniac by a trashcan isn’t the best way to be seen by your fated soulmate. So, with that in mind, you didn’t search out for him for about three days.

By day four, you got impatient and decided to hunt down for Idia since he has not even left a hint hint about wanting to meet you. A week would’ve been the original waiting time, but this college really takes a toll on you and you just want this done before you get dragged into another magical situation.

The first day, you waited by a classroom you knew Idia attended. Well, Idia’s tablet. Being a housewarden and not a regular student, it’s rather easy to stumble upon information about him. Egocentric students love to gossip when it’s framed to either make their dorm or themselves look better.

You saw a peek of a magical tablet and grabbed without hesitation.

“Ha?” You heard clicking and felt the tablet attempt to leave your hands. You turned it around and faced the built in camera.

“Hey,” you greeted as causally as you could, “Idia, right? Met you a few nights before–”

Another click, and suddenly your entire vision went white with a flash of light. You dropped the tablet.

By the time your eyes went back to normal, the tablet was gone and you were alone again.

“So, that’s how it going to be, huh?” You’ve had your fair share of runaways. In fact, your little group was mostly made of them, running away for one reason or another, like not wanting to go to class, or avoiding cleaning duties for a mess they’ve made. This was not a new situation for you.

If Idia thinks he can run away from you forever, he has another thing coming.

The next day, you found the tablet floating in the library. You got a ladder to grab it from the bottom, but you weren’t quiet enough when you climbed it. The tablet floated right past your fingertips and dashed out the door with a “Sorry!”

Well, at least he apologized. But you still want to talk!

Another day passes and you found the man physically just as you were about to walk out the classroom. He had a stack of papers in his hands, late assignments he had to turn in physically if he wanted a chance at passing apparently. He didn’t see you, so you retreated behind the door.

When you saw Idia’s figure pass by the door, you popped out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Idia,” you firmly said with a tightening grip on his frozen shoulder, “we need to talk.”

And you were meet with a tower of papers to the face and he was gone before you dug through the pile.

By that point, you were ready and willing to start dragging your other friends into the mix. You let this skittish soulmate of yours to run off the first few times because you didn’t want to stress him out too much. But, by this point in time, it would be better to throw caution to the wind if only so you two can actually sit down and have a talk.

But, by the next morning, before you could meet up with everyone, a robot kid you recognize as Ortho shot out of the sky and landed with surprising grace. At the price of leaves and dirt flooding your mouth.

“There you are!” His voice was loud but it wasn’t grating. It was a cute kind of loud, like he was happy to see you.

You spat on the ground and leaned against a tree, still groggy from waking up. “Ortho, right? Hello. You need something? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“To make a plan to catch my big brother right?”

His accuracy left you stunned.

“Uh.”

“Then, please come with me!” Ortho grabbed your arm and enthusiastically, “I keep telling my brother to suck it up and meet you, but he just won’t!”

“I know that,” you gritted your teeth, feeling like your shoulder will pop out of its socket, “Mind telling me where you’re taking me though.”

“I’m taking you to–” Ortho paused, floated behind you and grabbed your shoulder, “Hold on, this will be faster. We’re going to Ignihyde!”

“Wha–?” But you were forced to eat your words, just when it was finally free of all dirt and leaves.

And before you know it, you were gently placed on your feet in front of the Ignihyde dorm.

“Huh.” If you delete the last few minutes from your mind, you’d say it was a pretty enjoyable ride. Quick, at least.

“So, future soulmate of my big brother,” You’re pretty sure he knows who you are, you’re not exactly a quiet presence with that monster fire cat always around, “I have to do other things, so you just have to go down these paths and you’ll be in front of his room! Just make sure he doesn’t run away, okay?”

Ortho even gave you a little note that straight up looked printed. A clear map of where Idia’s room is.

“Well, thanks,” you turned around to properly face him but Ortho was already blasting off into the sky with a wave.

You huffed out a laugh, just because the whole interaction was ridiculous, and went on your way. You don’t really have early morning classes to be late to, anyway. You just came early to prepare for chasing after Idia.

As much as you would like to take the time to admire the hallways of the Ignihyde dorm, you’re too eager to get this meeting over with.

And then you’re finally in front of Idia’s room. You reach out to knock but the door pulls open, as though avoiding your knuckles. Idia was there, hood over his head like he was going to sneak around again like the first time you’ve met him. He spotted you in a second and slammed the door right in your face.

You waited a few minutes just to see if some miracle would happen and Idia opens the door on his own.

He didn’t.

“I’m not moving from here, if you’re wondering.”

You heard a sharp gasp and then a heavy, shaky, defeated sigh.

“…of course you’re not…” And then heard the slide of fabric against the door before a soft thud at the bottom.

He sat down, and so you got yourself comfortable as well.

“So,” you leaned back on your hands, “you’ve been running away from me.”

“I have…” and then under his breath like he thought you wouldn’t hear, “…any normal person would give up but of course my soulmate would be more stubborn than that…”

You whistled and that caught his attention with a gasp.

“Hey, focus on me,” you knocked on the door for good measure, “Why were you running? That first meeting could not have been that embarrassing.”

“Says you,” his next words came out muffled, like he’s shrinking into his hoodie, “Of all the days to meet you, you just had to see me right next to a trash can like I was some kind of degenerate rat. Anyone would think I was a loser of a freak, stroking that wrinkled poster like that. Well, I’m not! Only true fans would love this series as much as I do. So if anything, you were probably seeing me at my best moment!”

“Huh.”

You can practically hear Idia deflate from behind the door. “��Huh?’ You say… Yeah yeah, think what you want, I can’t even begin to change it.”

You… have a doozy of a soulmate huh?

“Certainly didn’t help that you were flash banged me, almost made me fall down a ladder and threw papers in my face.”

Idia shrank further. “…sorry…”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Sorry!” It was a burst of a yell and you had to back up a bit, “I was terrified alright?! I mean, I played all sorts of scenarios and even made a game to prepare for this moment. I had all these scripts in my head and I thought I was ready to trigger the romance flag alright?! But instead, I was stuck in my own head and completely missed it! I messed up and I panicked! You have any idea how scary that is?! You weren’t supposed to see me like that! I was supposed to be at max level by the time I met you but instead, I’m just this unevolved mess!”

You opened your mouth but Idia cut in.

“Fate is inevitable, just as death is… I was going to met you regardless and I guess, I thought, that maybe I had more time. But I didn’t. So I just, wanted you to stay away until I thought I was going to be ready… Ha, either way, it’s my fault…”

…alright, how are you going to handle this? You’re not exactly the best when it comes to emotional comfort.

Well, may as well just use what you already have on hand. Or on arm.

“Didn’t Alexius von Tuveria en Ris think he was ready to rule his kingdom when he brought it back from the ashes?”

You heard a sputter. You continued.

“I mean, the dude was kind of young wasn’t he? Well, not like it matters, he brought it back and someone had to rule it whether he liked it or not.”

Then, you heard Idia actually honk. “No, that’s not what happened! Alexius von Tuveria en Ris wanted to bring back the Kingdom of Paradise not because he thought he was fit to rule it but because he thought it didn’t deserve that fate. It’s not his fault that he was put in that position when he brought it to life!”

Ah, there we go. Switching the subject, your best skill!

You egged him on. “But shouldn’t he have been prepared for that, then? The series did say that he likes to prepare for every thing imaginable because it was a kingdom he was reviving.”

“What the–that’s stupid! He can’t see the future! No matter how much he reads or writes, there’s no way he could’ve predicted that! And even if he did, it wouldn’t have mattered! He couldn’t have stopped the tragedy anyway!”

“Oh that’s right!” you clapped your hands, “Thanks for reminding me. Totally slipped my mind.”

“As long as you know. I hate it when people don’t pay attention.”

Huh, he sounds huffy. That’s cute.

“Sorry, it’s kind of hard to remember with all the stuff that happens in the latest Red Sky Arc, where Alexius just–”

You heard a hard slam against the door. “No spoilers! I haven’t gotten to that arc yet!”

You closed your mouth, almost biting your tongue in the process.

A few seconds, then a minute, and then you burst out laughing.

Idia, meanwhile, was stunned. “W-what? What did I do?”

“No no,” you relaxed, “that’s just the loudest you’ve been.”

“I… I guess that was a bit too loud.” The tone in his voice made him seem bashful. “But I’m seriously not at that part yet. I don’t want to get a head start just yet.”

“Alright, I’ll keep my mouth shut then.” You pushed yourself up and dusted your pants. “I think I’ll be taking my leave here. Don’t want to bother you too much. I just needed to hear an apology and an excuse.”

“Wait, what?”

You turned around, stuffing the map Ortho gave you into your pocket. “See you later, Idia.”

“Wait!” The door slammed open. You turned around.

Idia’s hair was pink at the tips, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to explode. He did look like he was going to collapse though. Poor man looked out of breath.

“I-I,” the pink began to climb upwards the longer he looked at you, “I, uh, I happen to have that season downloaded… on my PC… so if you want to, you know, update your out of date stuff then, maybe you could, you know… watch it with me?”

His head practically disappeared in his hoodie and hair, but you heard him clear enough.

You could tease him, but you don’t know each other well enough so…

You nodded, “Sure, I have time. A lot of time actually.”

That one is a bit of a lie, but you just want to spend time with Idia. You have a number of excuses on hand anyway. You’ll send one off right before settling down.

“Huh? Oh, uh” Idia moved to the side, holding the door like it’ll protect him from his feelings, “C-come in then.”

You stepped inside.

[dreamofmetoday]

PICK A CARD #5: RANDOM THINGS ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

this is to tell you some random things about your future spouse (mostly their personality) 💖

how to participate:

decide on who you’re asking about, is it: your next spouse (which may or may not be your only), a random spouse, your most fulfilling relationship, your final spouse, the last person you date etc.

after you have decided on which person to focus on, ask yourself, “what are some details about my future spouse that would be helpful for me to know?” or “what are some random things about my future spouse that will help me recognise them?”

choose the photo feel the most drawn to.

take as long as you need to choose, you can check more than one if you feel drawn to do so. however, if you are having trouble feeling called to any then this pick a card is not for you. these readings will be honest.

tip jar

1.

conventionally attractive - especially body wise.

hard to access socially - they don’t surround themselves with a lot of people but a lot of people want to be in their presence, so you need to impress them to get deep into their circle.

not very homey - they don’t like cooking or cleaning and might not even know how to.

complex emotions - can cause problems with day-to-day living since their emotions can feel unpredictable to other people, but they are good at extending emotional understanding to others (this person is more emotional over logical).

they choose fun over responsibility, not necessarily extreme but they have poor time management for example (they can run late to things or forget chores because they were too busy playing video games, talking on the phone or even scrolling through tiktok etc).

they are daydreamy and bit unrealistic but they can also be good at solving problems - they are someone good to talk to.

2.

cutthroat and harsh at times, doesn’t easily back down and they can be quite cutting when they want to.

they don’t like to live with regrets - even if they have them they still try to focus on the future, they are very forward-moving.

they can be easily angered or irritated.

they know how to get their way, aren’t easily bullied or taken advantage of (e.g if your landlord is trying to get one over you, they will make sure this sorted out, even if they have to get mean or aggressive).

they are not timid or passive and will be quite clear with you about what they expect from you, their goals, how they feel about you etc.

they can be good with words and explain things well, but sometimes they can undermine others or give the impression they are.

they have an overall belief that everything will turn out okay.

3.

this person has trouble voicing their feelings. you will likely find them cold at first until you get to know them better.

small circle - they’re exclusive with their time and don’t give it out easily.

they have a sad, difficult past or have experienced a heartbreaking event that changed them. this made them learn to be more grateful in life (for things maybe others don't appreciate) but they are also pessimistic. they will not have fully overcome this when you meet, they will be independent but closed off.

you might be long distance, break up and get back together, or the beginning of your relationship will be on and off.

as you get closer you will begin to feel as if you two share a telepathic bond sometimes.

they will be giving without expectation.

4.

they will want to spend a lot time with you. or in general, they just want to know where you are and what you’re doing at all times (they might want you to keep your location on for them and want to hear all the details about what you did that day when you share stories over dinner etc).

they will likely confess to you first but it will be obvious you both feel something before.

they like eating out, going to local events (and maybe travel).

they want a simple life, to a certain extent a “boring” life. they value stability and think fulfilment comes from your hobbies and loves ones, not wild stories and drama. they don’t want an up and down romance especially (this can also extend to being not very kinky or disliking “weird” sex).

they have a fear of losing what they have and need reassurance (about material things and loved ones).

5.

this relationship is a destined one. you are meant to meet this person and experience a relationship with them, but both of you have lessons to learn first. you will experience some negative things that will teach you be grateful for what you have with this person so instead of running away when problems arise, you actually try and solve them instead. you will learn lessons together too (past life connection).

they are humble and have empathy.

they will be someone who worries or thinks about money a lot.

they enjoy learning and educating themselves.

they are good at finding silver linings.

they are sensitive and their feelings can be easily hurt at times, but they don't take life too seriously and can find humour in what's happening around them.

6.

this person will be distant at first, they won’t rush into things and may take a while to text back or contact you or confirm plans. this will make you feel frustrated but they are just more slow-moving and a bit aloof.

they will be different from other people, they’re not caught up in social media and what’s cool and what isn’t etc. they do their own thing. they are not egotistical.

they prefer one-on-one time, or spending time with people they’re close to. they don’t want to go to big gatherings with lots of strangers too often.

they want to give a lot to their loved ones.

they can be quite disciplined or you will just admire they way they handle things, especially when it comes to difficult situations.

they can be destructive with their words, sometimes taking it too far. they can be a funny person but their jokes can hurt feelings too at times.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi Lena hope you've been well! Just wanted to say I've been loving the alpha and Patreon goodies (can't wait to jump Red's bones 🥰)! I had a question that I'm not sure has been answered before: For the inner circle members with their own squad of recruits to train, what is their leadership style like? (ie. if someone were to be a fly on the wall during trainings, what would they see? (the Chase scene with our squad had me SCREAMING 😳))

Hi anon, thanks for your great question! I hope you've been well too, and thank you so much for your lovely words! I'm so glad you're enjoying the alpha build and Patreon goodies, that's so motivating to hear! 🥹💖

Blade: Blade basically hand-picked his squad to create clones of himself, so he essentially has a death-squad of elite assassins who have a similar personality to him, whether due to nature or his training LOL. He's naturally pretty strict and has those rigid Ket standards of what's acceptable behavior and what's not, but because they were already so terrified of him and so intimidated and honored to have been picked by Day 1, his squad was so eager to gain his approval that they've never really had any true issues, lol. You hardly ever see him interacting with them, but he could turn his head and speak a quiet word and one of them would materialize out of thin air like a royal guard shadowing his king, lmao! The other recruits are scared of them 😭

Trouble: he's in turns quite strict with his squad and also quite friendly and jocular with them! He's just as prone to be found drinking with them as he is scaring them witless by bawling orders at them like an army commando and forcing them to sprint through mud obstacles while he's pelting them with rubber bullets. He has a surprisingly soldierly demeanor when it comes to training and field discipline, which I find hypocritical, given what a pain he is about authority and taking orders from other people and his general rebellious spirit... 😒 strangely, this hot-and-cold demeanor does not prevent his squad from being obsessed with him, lol

Tallys: Tallys has the kind of presence where she never acts any differently, no matter what situation she's in, which really makes people pay attention to her! It's kind of like those people who say something in such calm, even tones that you find yourself really leaning forward to hear them and find yourself intent and hanging on every word they say? She hardly ever raises her voice or shouts at her squad, but she doesn't really have to... her coolness makes them crave her approval so much that it's kind of a "yes mommy 🥺" energy with them lol, she only needs to communicate what she wants with a glance and they're running to do it!

Shery: she doesn't really have her own squad, she has a team of staffers who work under her! They mostly get along great, though sometimes some of them can accidentally take advantage of Shery when they're being thoughtless--it's not really malicious or on purpose, it's just that they don't really hesitate to ask her for a longer break or a day off, and sometimes that workload ends up falling on her! But overall things between them all run fairly smoothly, especially because she has other people (including Caine) who keep an eye out for that!

Riel: Riel also doesn't have his own 'squad,' per se, but a team of staffers... he basically just treats them like they're the hired help lol, he knows their names and whatnot, but he's basically the extremely busy CEO and they're just like the administrative assistants scampering after him as he strides into the office and starts rapping out orders lol!

Beyond the necessities of work, he hardly acknowledges or exchanges a word with them, but they learn so much just from watching him maneuver and think and politick lol, so they're very grateful to just be in his proximity!

Chase: Chase is extremely slack with his recruits... He teaches them the skills they need to know, and they're quite good at what they do, but the team discipline on that squad is like a 0, lol. He's done a lot of his own "teaching" and leading in Thieves Guild, taking younger or more inexperienced thieves under his wing to show them the ropes, so he's sort of not into doing the whole thing all over again, lol. To be completely honest, he basically lets his squad do whatever they want and only interacts with them during mandatory training and missions. Like a really chill TA or substitute teacher who shows up because they have to but lets you watch a movie or go hang out in the hall or something, go nuts kids, he's not really the boss of you!! As a result, his squad adores him, but they're also really chaotic partiers lol. Once in a blue moon they'll try to wrangle him like "CAPTAIN!! You promised you would be here to train us at dawn, why are you two hours late?!" "sorry guys, I got lost on the road of life~~"

Red: I feel like his entire squad is hopelessly in love with him, lol. He basically teaches them like they're his interns or teacher assistants and he's a professor; he's fairly mild-mannered and hands-off, but they do learn a lot from him and respect him immensely (to the point of practically hanging on his every word). Having his own squad is extremely low-priority for him (he prefers deploying on his own missions and focusing on his research, plus he still teaches some classes at the Circle now and then), so he often lumps them in with his classes or is on hand to advise them as they run their own missions, but he's more of an advisor or "teacher who sponsors your extracurricular club" rather than being "club president," if that makes any sense?? Like you typically go to him for help, which he's always willing to provide, rather than he's the one really pushing for more time together!

Ayla: at first she hated the idea of having her own squad of dweeby little recruits, but now that she's used to it, she relishes having someone to boss around! She trains them like a drill sergeant, barking orders and subjecting them to Mr. Miyagi-style domestic chores with a sadistic kind of relish, but they're still extremely proficient at what they do. They're also terrified of her. She does abuse her power slightly sometimes by like making them pull the weeds outside her window, but it's typically as punishment for some legitimate misdeed... typically.

Briony: her squad didn't initially take her very seriously because she came off as a bit nervous and burbly and not really an authoritative figure, and her amnesia puts her at a real disadvantage, so initially they would be like, "oh the high lord of Lancastre is in town today, I wonder if there will be trouble" Briony: "who is that :D"

So for a little while, her squad were sort of bewildered by her, and it started to become a dynamic where they were on the surface nice but somewhat condescending, like, "hey guys, could you go do so-and-so?" "...sure captain 😏 we'll get right on that!" They'd eventually do it, but they'd take their damn time, which is something Ayla, Trouble, or Blade would never tolerate, but Briony would pretend not to notice!

But then they saw her pulverize a tree with her fist for the first time (._.), and now they're very meek and obedient! Nowadays they get along well, and she treats them warmly like they're all friends, and they're pretty tight-knit, though Briony still has some trouble outright ordering them to do things rather than requesting it nicely like they're equals/comrades-in-arms... she's not fully comfortable with having command over anyone yet!

Lavinet: Lavinet, as a late-comer, actually got to pick her own squad rather than being assigned one, so she was able to avoid the inevitable resentment and defiance of a random team who probably would have doubted her skills due to her being a noble and thought she was some kind of nepo baby who bought her way in! The people she ended up picking tended to be people who appreciated and understood who she was and wanted to work with her. As a result, she's quite polite and amiable with them and doesn't have to get strict, though she secretly longs for the ability to just let loose one day and start barking orders like one of the others... That wouldn't be seemly, though! Even as an instructor and a captain, she still has to maintain her courtly composure and just delivers her orders in a calm tone (which sounds more icy and deadly when she's displeased).

Halek: squad? what squad? He already had the Black Shield Hunters, the elders, and Naolin dogging him around everywhere, now he has to babysit some snotty recruits? he can't even teach them anything, he basically just joined! 😩 he spends a lot of time dodging them and hiding places to nap, but either they or someone like Blade or Tallys go and drag him back by the ear. Eventually he had to be like, "...you really want me to train you?" "yes!" "the way I was trained to hunt demons?" "YES!" "...okay... if that's really want you want..."

*cue the most grueling, back-breaking military regiment you've ever seen* The White Order doesn't play around with how it trains its younglings, so he just applies the same techniques to his squad! If he has to be awake and suffering, so do you :') He doesn't yell at them or anything, you just look into the slight malice in his courteous smile as he asks you to get on your knees and crawl into a mysterious hole and you suddenly feel a deep, existential terror...

[sylveon-official]

Huskerdust mpreg wip 3

Part 2 here!

Lucifer chews on the finger of his glove as he mumbles, looking back and forth between Angel perched on the bed and the ultrasound pictures in his hand. Charlie sits beside him in an unwavering show of support, but the nervous shake of her hand clasped in his isn’t really helping.

“Ohhh. Mmm, okay, I see. Oh boy… again?” 

“Again?” Angel and Charlie cry out, shooting worried looks at one another.

“What the fuck do you mean again? This happen often? Isn’t not being able to get knocked up supposed to be, like, divine punishment around here?!”

Of course, Angel had always considered that logic a bit backwards, especially with his profession. He had no idea how demon biology really worked, but he’d seen enough visibly pregnant Hellborns of myriad genders in his time in Hell to be secretly grateful he’d never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

“Well, yes…” Lucifer scratches the side of his cheek, gaze nervously flitting from side to side. “But, you see, from time to time we have experienced… let’s call them… little miracles, here in the Pride Circle!”

Angel scoffs, about to reply with scathing comment about the contradiction when Charlie places a steady hand on his shoulder and gently cuts in, “When is the last time this happened, Dad?”

Lucifer blows out a breath, and tuts his tongue as he counts on his fingers. “Oh, maybe 1000 years ago? Give or take. Doesn’t happen so often, could probably count the amount of times it has on two hands, but —?”

Angel groans. Lucifer or not, this guy has a way of beating around the bush that Angel sure doesn’t appreciate. 

“Come on, cut to the chase shortstack - Why?” Angel asks, exasperated. 

Charlie reprimands him lightly with a gasp of his name while Lucifer zeroes in on him with a narrow glare.

“I’m going to chalk that one up to hormones, and let that one slide.” 

When Angel simply shoots him a dull look, Lucifer quickly gathers up his broken ego and carries on, this time in a more serious tone, “Listen, I wish I had an answer for you kid, but… I’ve never really been able to figure it out myself.”

Angel quickly deflates, sudden heat building up behind his eyes again. Great. Not only is he the first pregnant Sinner Demon in a Millenia, but he doesn’t even get an explanation?

Apparently sensing his downturn in mood, Charlie squeezes Angel’s hand and pries further, “Dad, if this has happened more than once, there has to be something you know. Even a just a theory?”

Lucifer hesitates, fiddling with his cane. “Well… there is one I’ve considered, but… don’t put too much stock into it,” he explains defensively, and Angel looks back up at him, tentatively intrigued.

“So, you know how conception happens… up there, right?” Lucifer cups his hand around his mouth and whispers conspiratorially.

Angel furrows his brows. “No, how the fuck should I-”

“Oh, um!” Charlie cuts in, her own brow furrowed in thought. “Something about ‘built-in’ birth control, right? You and your partner will only conceive if it’s something you both long for. So romantic!” She swoons, pressing her cheek against Angel’s shoulder. She quickly rights herself to add to her father’s assessment, “So if that’s how it works with Redeemed Souls, then maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter whether you’re in Heaven or Hell, since now we know that’s a total crapshoot… maybe it has to do with the goodness inside of the soul itself!”

Angel’s eyes narrow as he parses the words in his head, refusing to acknowledge the latter half of Charlie’s rambling. 

“So lemme get this straight… you’re tellin’ me, this is literally some ‘when two people love each other very much’ kinda bull shit?! Who the fuck would I—” 

Angel’s voice gets stuck in his throat as a very clear image of of the potential culprit poofs into his mind's eye. 

Luckily, Lucifer and Charlie take his short-circuiting as general shock. Charlie coos and pulls him close while Lucifer backtracks, “Like I said, it’s just a theory - I’ve got no proof to back it up. For all I know, this is the Big Whatever Upstairs’ way of fuckin’ with us—”

Angel stands up, ignoring the way Lucifer flinches as he towers over him and Charlie face-plants onto the bed without his support.

“I gotta go,” Angel says, balling his hands up into fists, nails digging into his palms uncomfortably. 

He swipes the photos from off of his desk, throws open the door and briskly walks down the hallway, Charlie’s worried shouts falling on deaf ears.

He takes the stairs to the lobby two by two, picking up his pace so he doesn’t lose his nerve by the time he reaches his destination. 

When he stalks up to the bar, heart pounding and out of breath, Husk simply glances up from the glass he’s polishing and plasters on a teasing, lopsided grin, just like he's done every time Angel has stormed up to his bar at any and all hours of the day and night. 

Husk cocks his head and lifts a brow, the deep timbre vibrating across the walls, “Wanna talk about it, Legs?”

Angel’s heart thumps and his cheeks flood with heat.

“Fuck.”

[aro-comics]

Aros In Relationships - Update Post

Oh god, everyone, it’s been SO long. I Just wanted to say (even if the bulk of my life updates soon here), that I’ve missed you all so so much, and I’m so glad I get to finally be able to share my work on these. It’s certainly been a long time coming.

But onto my personal note for this series - I’m really grateful that I’ve had the chance to transcribe their stories. Talking to these people, hearing their stories, their words … I can’t even describe how many times I couldn’t believe what I was hearing/reading, because everything they were saying felt so similar to something I would have said. I almost felt like they were reading out the thoughts and experiences in my own head!!

And I guess that’s why they call it a community – we do have a lot in common! But obviously, our experiences haven’t been identical on the romance front, and it was really nice to get to hear from other aromantic people about what this is like.

Image Descriptions:

Title Card: Cover Image. This Comic series is titled “Aromanticism and Romantic Relationships”. A subtitle underneath says that it is a collaborative sketch comic series. Four people are illustrated on the cover. On the far left is Arrow, a person with an undercut and wavy brown hair. Standing next to them is Lucien, who is wearing a hoodie and a collar with a pentagram charm. They have short brown hair and tan skin. Further to the right is Dot; she has pale skin with light freckles, long slightly curly brown hair in a high ponytail, and a grey hairband. On the very right is May, who has long curly brown hair, tan skin, and is wearing a maroon shirt with a striped dark jacket, and a necklace with a ring on it.

Slide 1: Celia  faces the reader, hand at the back of her neck. “Hey everyone – it’s been an eon (ok, like a year or so). I’ll explain more about where I’ve been on my tumblr, but for this series I thought I’d make an intro for what it’s all about.”

Slide 2: Celia continues,  “A while back, I was asked to make a comic about being in a romantic relationship as an aro person – Which, given the nature of my comics –I can’t really do, because I’ve never dated anyone.”

Slide 3: “Thankfully, some arospec people who had been in romantic relationships reached out – and were really kind in volunteering their time and personal stories to help me record their perspectives.” 

Celia sits at a table, typing away at her laptop while interviewing May. Celia says: “Wait – you too?” in surprise as she realizes she relates to the story May is telling her. They reply: “Yeah! And when…” as they continue their story. 

Slide 4: “And they’ve had *such* incredible patience for me these past two years I chipped away at these comics –” 

A scene from the two years it took to get this comic series out the door. This was during Celia’s completion of her university thesis project. She holds a draft in her hands, reading out to the participant that she calls on her phone, “On page 9, I wasn’t sure exactly what to draw… I could show the progress of what y’all did on the date?” 

They reply: “That works! The sketch is mostly accurate…”

In the background, references to upholstering a bench like padded chair, design sketches, and a poster with a map and circled possible apartment locations is depicted. 

Slides 5-6: The scene switches to a group shot with Celia and the participants. She stands with one hand on her hip and the other outstretched, gesturing to them. 

 “So, without further ado – please welcome May, Arrow, Dot, and Lucien!”

The four are sitting at a table with nameplates set in front of them. Arrow waves a hand at the reader, while Lucien has their arms folded and resting on the table. May and Dot both smile in a friendly manner at the reader. 

Celia continues, “You’ll be hearing from them over the course of this series – which I’ve adapted as long form comics like my “What is Love” comic over on my tumblr.”

Slide 7: “My process for these comics was highly collaborative. I worked together with these people as I wrote the script and drew the storyboard, because I want to be as authentic to their voices as possible. If they read a little different from my usual work – that’s because they are! And I hope you’ll enjoy getting the chance to hear from other Arospec folks' perspectives.”

Slide 7: “I’ll share each person’s comic with their cover page on Tumblr – the whole thing!” The cover page for May’s comic is shown, decorated with doodles of stars. It has the caption: “May – They/Them * Aro Demiace”

“And in parts with a collaborative IG account opened for each person’s comic.”

Also shown is a screenshot of an account named arosinrelationships_may. The description of the account reads: “May’s comics as part of @aro_comics series posted here”

Celia signs off on the note ‘See you soon!’ and a heart.

[jelzorz]

194.

So much of it happens in a blur. Opeli only remembers bits and pieces of how it started to begin with before the softer parts of her brain shut down to let her do what she needed to do. She remembers an explosion, the air filled with fire and smoke, a crumbling tower and Soren beside her, ushering her towards the nearest exit, his words in her ear—stay low, keep going, go, go, go—and then there was light, and screaming, and chaos, and the rest had simply happened, because there was no time to think about it and too many people to save. There were the guards, the civilians, the dragon circling in the air; the order to evacuate and then Soren leaving her in the stairwell with Hat trembling in her palm; more fire, more smoke, a spell? And now—

The magic that protected them from the fires is starting to wear off now. Most people look like themselves again which is a relief, but it gives Opeli a chance to survey the survivors better too. Raids and wars and attacks are brutal and terrifying in the moment, but the aftermath is almost always worse—and this is the worst is has ever been. The injuries look worse on flesh and blood; broken limbs and crushed legs and burns are so much more visceral now that she can see them, now that they're able to set them and bind them and dress them with gauze. Doctors are in short supply out here, so she and the other clerics have been helping with first aid as much as they can. It's not enough. There are still people who will not see the morning. There will be more rites to give before the sun sets again.

This is why she seeks Soren out, she thinks. He's seen it all. He knows how blood looks on his hands. He knows how to handle all this.

She finds him helping to settle a couple of kids. They are fine, thank the Five Sisters, and their parents are fine, just scared and a little hungry, and he is offering them his rations when she gets to him. They hurry away as she approaches, their smiles shy but grateful, but when Soren gets up, he looks just as wary as she.

"That was very kind," she says quietly.

He shrugs. "They need it more than me. Is everything okay?"

"They could be better." Opeli presses her lips together as she studies him, swallowing the emotion that rises when she remembers he is injured too. The gash on his forehead has dried, matting the hair just above his brow, and she almost can't tell if the marks on his face are made of bruises or soot.

She is so tired of blood. So sick of how red it is, how sticky it feels on her fingers. She likes it even less on him.

“You need that looked at,” she says at last, nodding at his forehead.

He waves her off. “It’s just a scratch. The other clerics have their hands full. I’ll be fine.”

Opeli sets her jaw. “My hands are free. I’ll take care of it.”

“Opeli, seriously, it’s okay—”

“I owe you.” It slips out before she means it to. She knows he doesn't want to feel like his bravery has to be repaid. It's his job to protect his people, just as it is hers—but she thinks of the window in the tower, the dragon in the sky, the glow of an inferno and of the heat of dragonfire as it blew the glass inward, right where she would have been standing if he hadn't—

"You don't owe me anything."

"You saved my life," she points out. Twice today, she thinks, when he tackled her out of the way of Sol Regem's attack, and then she was in the crowd by the bridge, trapped by the fires after he left her with Hat to speak to his father. There was a third time too, when Viren crowned himself King and would have branded her and Corvus traitors to the realm. "Let me stitch you up. It's the least I can do."

"Opeli—"

"Soren." She gives him a look, stern, unyielding, the same kind she uses at meetings when someone won't agree to doing something reasonable. "I wouldn't be here to offer if it wasn't for you. Let me help."

He chuckles, then relents. "Fine," he mumbles after a moment. "Let's get it over with."

x

They find a quieter spot, a little away from the crowd but still close enough to keep watch over them in case something else happens. Opeli picks up a first aid kit from one of the younger clerics as they pass, one whose hands are shaking with the shock and exhaustion of treating so many wounded. She is not the only one: Opeli has already ordered two others to go to bed and leave their kits with soldiers or civilian volunteers. One of the guards threw up when Opeli reset someone's dislocated shoulder. Another had her head in her hands and jumped at every sudden noise.

The cracks are starting to show in everyone, and it's not just because of the trauma caused by a dragon attacking the castle. They are all simply exhausted, and the work does not seem to stop. The soldiers keep watch in shifts but then have to assist the civilians with tents, with food, with moving the injured and the dead.

But Soren is steady. His resolve keeps her hands from shaking, even as he winces while she drags thread through his skin. The stitches are not as neat as they would have been this morning, but the gash is clean and closed, and he's not bleeding anymore.

Opeli clicks her tongue at her work, wishing it was better, wishing she could do more, but he catches her hand as she frets over it, the warmth of his fingers like an anchor to this, to now.

"You don't owe me," he says again.

"I owe you three times over," she says. "Three times now, I—"

"You don't," he insists. "It's my job."

"It's your job to keep Ezran safe. Keeping me alive is certainly not—"

"Do not finish that sentence."

"I only—"

"Opeli." His fingers tighten. Opeli's breath catches in her throat. "It's my job to protect my friends," he says. "My family. I've lost enough. Don't act like I can afford to lose more."

There's a pause. Opeli looks away, and then, to her horror, she starts to cry.

Soren stares at her but his grip is firm, even as she hiccoughs and hides her tears in the recesses of her hood. It's all so much. Too much. The smoke and the fire and loss of life; the windows exploding inwards, the wound on his forehead, the castle crumbling to the ground. And now this too? "Thank you," she murmurs.

"Opeli, come on, you don't even owe me that."

"Not for that. For—" Opeli sniffles. "For considering me your friend. I'm honoured."

He almost laughs at her, his fingers tightening that little bit more, a man clinging to what little he has left. "You're pretty well family now," he says quietly. "Don't thank me," he says again. "Just don't die or leave or whatever else. I don't think I can—" He swallows. "Just stick around and we'll call it even. Okay?"

Opeli twitches her lips despite herself. "I can do my best."

[punkpandapatrixk]

🐶The Moon’s Message to Your Inner Child ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

This PAC is in collaboration with @faerytreealtars and her part of the PAC covers a message from the Sun🌞Check out her PAC to get a full circle reading~🍃😉

["Wisdom from the Sun" – how to reach your divine self]

‘Do you like to draw with crayons? I’m not very good at it. But it doesn’t matter. It’s the fun of doing it that’s important. Now, I wouldn’t have made that if I’d just thought about it. No matter how anybody says it is, it feels good to have made something. The best thing is that each person’s would be different. In a way, you’ve already won in this world. Because you’re the only one who can be you. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.’ – Mr Rogers

SONG: Take Me by Miso

MOVIE: Finding Neverland (2004) & Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017)

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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Pile 1 – Kinder and Kinder to Your Younger Self

VIBE: BAD MODE by Utada Hikaru

your heart’s secret desires – XIX The Sun

You are actually somebody who believes deeply in world peace. You desperately want to see the world become a sweetly welcoming place for all, especially children and animals. You have a belief that children and animals are so deserving of gentleness and safety. But you often forget that all adults are just as deserving of the same kindness we bestow children and cute animals.

At some point if Life, you grew up and became tough. I think you thought that you needed to become so. I think your environment made you believe it was important to become so tough the world you wouldn’t beat you to it. You’ve experienced quite a bit of hardships, too, so it was rather easy to fall prey to this cruel notion that adults must all toughen up.

‘If you’re tough with yourself, the world will be gentle with you.’ ??

Though it may seem like those words contain so much practical wisdom, deep down, your heart is terribly disturbed by it. There’s just something that’s not quite right about it. If everybody is hard on themselves… how can anybody be gentle with someone else?

in your element – 2 of Swords

Irrespective of what your Moon Sign is or where in your natal chart it is placed, you’re technically not a person who wants to toughen up. I think you’re a deeply sensitive Soul who still believes that patience and compassion can solve many of the world’s problems. Because in fact, your Higher Heart knows this to be true. You’re somebody who can make real compromises to accommodate the needs of others and you’re genuinely capable of real charity because you’re the type that tries to understand wholeheartedly where somebody else is coming from.

When you help others, you do so with their best interest at heart and you don’t even expect anything in return. When you are useful to other people, when your existence can improve other people’s life situations, you feel most like yourself. All that you hope for is that people are at minimum grateful because when people are grateful, they’re really only increasing their own ability to manifest even more ease and abundance. You’re not even expecting them to be grateful to you. My goodness, you must be God🤩

But uhm… You sure, honey, you’re not compromising way too much because you’re also somewhat people pleasing for a lack of gentleness in your childhood?

making dreams a Reality – V The Hierophant

See, The Sun is no.19 in the Major Arcana; that reduces to 10. The Hierophant is no.5 and this is telling me that you’re about halfway to manifesting all your dreams of ease and world peace. The half of your manifestation is already stored in your Higher Heart and you have nothing to worry about it. What you do need to focus on is learning to be kinder and gentler with your own younger self. You’re so kind and accommodating to others but often forget that you need tender care yourself.

There’s a possibility that you grew up with stern adults who didn’t know how to be gentle with children. You grew up being a victim to this kind of behaviour so you overcompensate by being overly nice to others because you don’t want to become like them. But you’re still hard on yourself because this is like already programmed in your subconscious, and if you notice, you have a tendency to also be quite stern with those closest to you. And wow… that often kinda gets messy.

Can you imagine if you became a parent yourself? You could become a perpetrator of a cycle of old people pointing fingers at young people who are still trying to figure out their place in the world. I don’t think you’d be happy with yourself in your older years when you realise you haven’t broken this pattern yourself. I believe you’re someone who wants to leave a legacy of a more peaceful nature🍂It begins by creating a new world by creating a new you, after forgiving yourself for past mistakes you made when you didn’t yet know so much🍃

INNER ALCHEMY🔻❤️

balancing logic and emotions – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

speaking with conviction – Priestess of Inspiration

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Pile 2 – Baby Venus, You Came Here to Beautify This World

VIBE: Forever by aespa

your heart’s secret desires – Ace of Cups

You are for sure a Lightworker. Maybe even a Starseed. Or something of a cosmic mystic. Could also be from the faery or elven realm. The point is, your Soul is deeply connected to a realm other than this Earth we perceive consciously right now. That makes your heart EXTRA pure and sparkly because the essence of your being is more refined, baby!

What does it even mean to be Human? Often you don’t have an answer to that. Only thing is, a lot of things about common human conducts that seem to denote their humanness don’t seem all too humane for you. It’s like you’re wondering, ‘If these are the traits that make people Human… then what am I? Because I certainly am not that harsh, deceitful, destructive, or whatever else!’

You have a strong morality about you and you should damn well honour this. The Human world is ugly, indeed, and from your place of beauty, your Soul volunteered to be born here to teach Humans about beauty. Beauty is nice. Beauty is good. Beauty elevates the Human Spirit and if only more people would open themselves to the possibilities, surely everyone would be a lot happier than they are now.

That’s your philosophy, more or less✨🪷

in your element – VI The Lovers Rx

You may resonate to a large extent with being an activist of sort. Whether or not you call yourself an activist or are involved in any real activist project, you know deep down that you’ve always been an activist before even knowing such a term exists. You want to fight for something good in this world. You want to bring an end to all these uncomfortable things that you are witnessing being perpetuated in the Human world. Problem is…

It's been quite hard for you to find people who are on the same bandwidth of frequency as yourself. I think you have a lifelong mission to find your Soul Tribe whilst being incarnate on Earth. I mean, your kind is far and between, honey. It may take some time to find each other and unite for a good cause.

Although you may feel misunderstood and lonely from time to time, the way I see it, you could view this whole journey to finding kindred spirits as a wholesome adventure story. Like a fairy tale, you know. After all, you are a faery. Your Life Story has a purpose to beautify the human spirit later when all’s weaved together to create a grander story with your kindred spirits. It’s all written in the stars already, so might as well enjoy the story writing itself from now🧚🏻‍♀️

making dreams a Reality – II The High Priestess

For you really aren’t of this world, I sense that you actually possess some kind of a superpower. Sure, others might think you’re a weirdo (even a freak for some of you) and that your interests and hobbies are strange and taboo. But what do they know? These mortals are prisoners of their own fake realities.

Since you were a kid, you’ve always known there are holes within this perceived reality and somehow, you’ve always believed there are ways you can bend reality with thought alone. You kinda just didn’t know exactly how that works, you just know it. Like breathing—unless you’ve studied biology, you wouldn’t know how to explain how breathing works but you just know that it happens and how it feels. Something like that.

Your connection to your personal spirituality, your personal occult practices, and everything else of that nature, holds the key to making your Divine Dreams a part of this mortal reality. It’s a beautiful process that only you can experience in your own divine ways, so I can’t tell you what to do exactly to manifest your Destiny. You’ve just gotta keep going at what you know to be your truth🧜🏻‍♀️

And the truth is, you are a magical being who doesn’t even play in the same dimension as the mortals😉Keep doing your magical shit!

INNER ALCHEMY🔻💗

balancing logic and emotions – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

speaking with conviction – Priestess of Illumination

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Pile 3 – Don’t Kill Your Dreams No Matter How Wild

VIBE: Anata (Darling) by Utada Hikaru

your heart’s secret desires – 5 of Cups

Hellow, wildchild. It seems you’ve been through quite a bit in Life. There was something in your childhood that erupted in ways your child mind couldn’t have anticipated and it broke you emotionally and spiritually. You’re a pretty logical person, actually, so there’s a part of you that’s been wishing you could get over this heartache. But it hasn’t been easy, at all.

The reason for that is that you care too much. Because you’re incredibly sensitive and kind, you couldn’t help but care. Your heart gets easily disturbed by any small distortion you perceive in this Matrix Reality. You have spidey senses for this kind of thing. Your inner world is so expansive and this is partly why you always feel like you want to help. You want justice to win over evil.

You tend to feel like you’re the one who has to be strong and prove everything to everyone. Not only are you helpful, but you’re truly heroic! That’s how I see it😎The problematic thing is… human beings are not exactly a grateful bunch, so… Maybe being so helpful and heroic isn’t always the best way to nurture your Soul whilst living in this human world?

in your element – Page of Wands Rx

I’m not saying you should stop caring and become a coldhearted bitch. But perhaps posing to be one is a good strategy to preserve your sanity?😜The truth of the matter is that you’re really too precious for this world. You know when people say, ‘We don’t deserve this man or woman or dog or cat.’ You’re exactly like that.

Your passion for making the world a better place is often used against you. I’m kind of thinking of someone like Elon Musk in your case. He was bullied badly at school, but look what he’s doing now. He’s making attempts to improve the lives of everybody that even those bullies are bound to benefit from his passionate work. The haters today are probably gonna benefit just the same, right?

Well, I’m a coldhearted bitch, so my petty view is that these losers don’t deserve to benefit from the works of Elon Musk LMAO But what do you think of yourself? I know that in this lifetime you are going to make great leaps that will improve the lives of those you care about. But what about your heart? Will you be able to forgive those who have made hell out of your Life? Or will you become a vengeful barbie bitch who shows them the door to hell of their own making?

It’s up to you and it should be a very exciting spectacle to anticipate👻

making dreams a Reality – XII The Hanged Man Rx

The Hanged Man is a card that has some relations to The Lovers (to think you even get the Priestess of Love for the bonus content🤯). The Hanged Man often talks about compromises and sacrifices. It’s like, when you love and care so much you’re bound to make sacrifices because the world is far from utopian. In an ideal world we wouldn’t have to hurt just to manifest blessings and abundance, for ourselves or everybody else. But… this is what we have, so…

But although this world is messy and hurtful, it wouldn’t be wise for you to reduce the brilliance of your dreams just to avoid heartache or disappointments. You’re avantgarde; not that many people can see the value of what you wish to achieve with your talents. Never kowtow to the convention. Although you’re helpful and a very pleasant person to be around, you’ve got your own big dreams that are needed by the community. I think you just haven’t allowed yourself to fully embrace this idea.

Know that you’re supported by the cosmos in pursuing to improve what you know to be your true talents. One day, the world will be so grateful that you never gave up on your Light. But when that day comes, what’s your care? Gratitude is the least of your concerns. Basically you just want to live on your own terms and create magical pathways for the world to enter into🌏Whilst at it, might as well do whatever you like🌞

INNER ALCHEMY🔻🧡

balancing logic and emotions – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

speaking with conviction – Priestess of Love

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[ouchthathurts]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬) ⋮ Work-Husband! Nanami Kento x Idol! Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 6.4k 

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋮ You’re a team leader of an awful office, and thanks to your boss, you’re now stuck with a man whose exhibits everything you want to be in this office. You hope he’ll be your ally in all of this mess.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋮ Cross-Posted to AO3 | Slow Burn | Slow Build | I Wrote This While Listening To Laufey’s Music | Soft Nanami | Nanami is such a sweet heart | Bewitched By Laufey cause 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡���𝐬 ⋮ I love this man

Nanami Kento

You’ve thought of Nanami for a very long time, honestly, there was something so graceful about the way he handed all conflicts, defended those with such language that left higher ups perplexed, and even inspired those to do their best regardless of his unchanging tone. You find this type of lens to view such a magnificent man that you find yourself often becoming absorbed in all things he does as you find yourself fascinated in his ways.

“Nanami Kento, one of my hardest workers being able work with you! You should be very grateful; he has experience that spans across the many departments!” Both hands on your shoulders like a bicycle as you looked up at the blond with a look of straight-faced man who had been overworked by this company, you were jealous by how he was allowed to look that tired, but you had people in the office comment about the dark circles under your eyes.

You had always hated that about the workplace, the treatment that you had been put through, your boss’s hands on your shoulders made this even more apparent as you tried to handle the disgust you felt as you looked over at the blond.

You watched as Nanami stuck out his hand to you, “I’ll be very grateful to work with you, I’m sure you have experience beyond me.” Nanami said your name with a coolness, you admired his work and ease with situations, “Oh please don’t be so humble! She was just a secretary before I so graciously made her a team worker!” Two pats on your left shoulder almost made your stomach shoot out your throat and onto the blond before you.

Nonetheless, you persevered, “Likewise, Nanami.” You shook his hand with a closed eye smile to not display the glare you wanted to give to everyone in the room.

 You had no real problems with Nanami, until you realized how everyone would favor him compared to you. You told everyone to get to work and while they dragged their feet, once Nanami came in and said something they were doing backflips to their work to impress the man on the same level as you.  

That’s what Nanami told you. 

A humble man indeed, he had more of an effortless way of doing things and with how he did it there was more of a reaction from the members left you standing almost like a doll next to him as if you were nothing but decorative furniture to highlight Nanami’s traits.

As of right now, you were just a nagging old hag that had to make sure your team knew what they were doing.  “...So demanding!” They complained to Nanami, the whispers weren’t so hushed as the childish way they called out to the man was as if they were children not being given the silver platter. It disgusted you, these people who believed they deserved the high-class treatment while you were one who stayed up long nights to help finish projects they decided to procrastinate and then have them take the work you did and slap their names on them without a care in the world.

Your small smile stayed etched in your face, sewn lips that stayed in a curve holding nothing, but the look in your eyes that always had a fog from being lost in what would take place after work. It was what your boss had suggested. “Oh, Nanami, I don’t know how you handle working ‘em!” One of the men complained to him, you remembered every assignment you had completed for him after he sobbed, and snot rocketed your clothes begging for you to help him. 

You only scoffed at his talk about you, you rushed quickly to clock your hours, never working late as you had matters beyond all their comprehension. You never wanted to stay once you heard them talking about you, it felt like you staying to hear it all would make you look like you were some masochist or some welcome mat that waited for the dirt in your mouth happily. You’d never willingly stayed when they talked bad about you to Nanami, you assumed he’d join them anyways in the hate bandwagon. 

While they stayed to get beers, do karaoke, and talk bad about coworkers they would then treat as if they were born from the same womb with a hateful glare under sickly sweet smiles. You were quick to rush out the building, making your way down the street with your heels clacking against the concrete with a brightness in your eyes that competed with the streetlights around your work. You rushed as fast as you could, dropping your train card as you were as eager to leave work as a newly adopted puppy. 

It wouldn’t take you long, with the way you rushed you were surprised if it took you longer than 30 minutes. You found yourself alone on the street only to turn the corner and a long line of people waiting patiently to get inside the underground building. It had a large garage door with a painted girl with bright pink curls, white frilly outfit with a large mic in her hand as she winked to those in line. 

You quickly made your way through the back, definitely late but not in a way where the audience was beginning to lose their marbles over the timing of such an event. You we quick to make your way through and found yourself putting on the makeup that had awaited you. 

“Where have you been!?” Your co-worker shouted, sitting right next to you in the second vanity mirror as he placed the bright pink wig in his head that had two large heart shaped buns with hair draping from them. You spoke softly, a smile that felt perfect on you as you appealed to him, “I was caught up with work, they hired some new guy in the department and now I’m stuck with someone who does my job “better” because he’s more “easygoing”-He doesn’t even talk that much, he just hums and nods and doesn't have anything to offer!”

You ranted to your coworker, Nakanishi Mizuki, who had been working as underground idol way before you had even though they had just turned 19. Mizuki was blessed with smooth dark skin with and two-toned heart shaped lips that made him the most vibrant to the cast as the bright make up your managers had you wear were ones that highlighted his features and brought more attention to him. 

You admired Mizuki as he showed you the ropes and you bought him food whenever you could when college began to get too stressful for him. All Mizuki could do was laugh at your attitude towards your new coworker whilst you waited for the glue on your false lashes to become tacky, the false lashes curled into one another to form hears above your irises, bright red hearts around your eyes that faded into white in the center of them. You were then given contacts that shaped your pupils into hearts. 

“He can’t be that bad, he doesn’t even talk that much?” You scoffed, “Yet he can handle my whole team in seconds whilst I have to help them meet deadlines!” You shouted as you curled the wig now placed on your head, “I feel like an unappreciated mother to my own coworkers.” You hissed; Mizuki only giggled at your words as they applied the gloss on his lips with a soft giggle leaving him. 

“Well, I think we better hurry, Tami is most likely waiting on us.” You sighed but nodded, after applying all your heart themed accessories such as large earrings, bracelets, and a choker. 

You looked at yourself through the large vanity mirror, a dark red headband that was littered with fake chocolate strawberries, red roses, and candied hearts that cover your ears. Your top was a bright crimson corset that ended an inch above your bellybutton, it had the design similar to a large red heart shaped box of chocolates, it had a nice pink lace accent that follow from the ended of your corset to where the top ended at the top of your chest with the center of the corset having cute chocolate design. 

The corset is connected by a bright red ribbon tied into a bow around your neck with a golden heart dangling from the center. You had a bright crimson tiered sleeves, not connected to the corset as they hung off your shoulders and were only on your upper forearm. The skirt you wore was a tulip one, same color as your corset, with a shiny skirt under it that popped out from the opening of the tulip skirt, this under skirt was same color as the nice pink lace design. 

There were some cute chocolate designs on the skirt as well, only they were lightly glittered outlines. You wore chunky crimson heels that have a shiny red ribbon connecting to it, it crosses around your calf and reaches your mid-thigh, so it disappears under the skirt. These heels raise you a couple of inches, it varies on the person in the group it all depends on your placing in the group.

Miyuki wears the same outfit as you, however, she only has the tiered sleeve on his right arm while the other is wrapped in ribbons. It’s the exact same make up and style as his is much brighter to compliment his skin tone. Miyuki was fiddling with his skirt, fixing up the three petticoats that was red, pink, and white layered on each other and complained of their heaviness only for Tami to interrupt him.  

“You guys should’ve been here 20 minutes ago! Stop gossiping like schoolgirls and get in your places!” Tami shouted at the two of you whilst you and Miyuki looked back at the large vanity mirror, Konishi Tamiko was one of the heads as she danced on stage with you and Miyuki, however, she was more in the background since she spent her time managing finances, getting the word out about performances, and working hard with your other manager. 

Tamiko has the most youthful appearance as she is the youngest member. Tamiko is the shortest, she has a tanned complexion due to her gyaru sense of style her hair is often braided and kept under a wig cap or in a bonnet. Taiko loves to wear brightly colored wigs, terrified of bleaching and damaging her hair, she wears these bright colored wigs in all different variations that she keeps in her wig closet. 

Tamiko’s wigs change every time they go to do a theme with your group, the managers don’t mind, and fans adore this type of adoration for her appearance. Tamiko wears the same outfit as you, however, she only has the tiered sleeve on her left arm while the other is wrapped in ribbons. 

You and Miyuki take photos quickly of yourselves in the mirror before posting yourselves to your idol account, a cute caption with kaomojis and hearts litter the text with the image covered in pink hearts. You put @kisskissasako, Miyuki’s stage name, and quickly upload it before making your way towards the stage.

The three of you listened to the crowd chant your names, finding your hands moving in a rhythm to show a wave of hands leading towards Miyuki’s head rolling out from your side and slowly showing themselves to the audience with a hot pink spotlight landing on him.

The crowd cheered, they whistled and shouted as Tamiko slowly made her way from behind you with her left arm crossing her other forearm and slowly dragging down to reveal her outfit to the audience as she spined gracefully. With one more spin, your back still towards the audience as you then extended your leg back to them before dragging your other leg into a spin whilst your back had arched. Your eyes closed with a warm smile on your face before face landed on the audience only for you to put the back of your wrists onto your forehead and gasp dramatically before letting your hand fall from your forehead to the audience, Miyuki and Tamiko followed putting both their hands towards the audience then bringing them to you as you heard them all shout your stage name.

You almost felt your heart explode once the lights hit you and the music started, you, Miyuki, and Tamiko took your place with one leg out you three slowly dragged your hands up your legs before spreading your arms out and bringing them to your body to wrap around your body as you spun your hips down whilst Miyuki and Tamiko spun them up, doing the same thing in reverse before you grabbed the mic from Miyuki hat was behind his back.

It was tired with a red silk ribbon; your lips were soft and glossed under the bright lights of the blackness of the performance area. Your leg bounced, as you connected the mic with the stand decorated with red, gold, and white ribbons. The words slipped from your lips, a roar from the audience as Miyuki and Tamiko had their mics attached to the sides of their faces in order to continue dancing for the audience.

You brought your index, middle, and ring finger into your palm, extending your thumb and pinky out as you brought it to your cheek and sung the chorus with Miyuki and Tamiko joining in as they bounced up and down rolled their hands from their body to the audience as if calling them over.

The beat had begun to kick in and this feeling was more than just euphoric, the sounds of your crowd shouting your name as if you were someone so important to them than what it truly had to be. Your hips rolled against as the chorus’s beat had begun to slow down, you repeated the words with your fingers still in a hand shape as you called out to the audience with your final chorus causing the audience to shout alongside you. 

The lights flew around as you sung different songs didn’t matter as it all blurred together throughout the night, you blew kisses to your audience, shouted alongside them, and cheered for your fellow performers as their solos came and you joined in with all the joy you felt. This night was more than just this one, many nights before, four times a week, and all it took was for you to fully be happy with allowing yourself to feel the moment as sing along towards an audience that treated you like the sun.

After performances were simple, say hello, sign things, take pictures, and listen to your fans tell you how much they loved you. Your heart felt the warmest after shows, once the afterglow of a show had subsided you were now being told by those who loved you and appreciated you that you were someone that mattered to them and they couldn’t wait to see you again. 

You soon got changed and went home, making sure to be escorted just in case of situations of deranged and delusional fans who demanded more of you and your coworkers, you took this time to take Miyuki home since you both took the same train, only getting off a stop earlier than him. As you bid farewell you looked at your phone that vibrated, likes and comments that came rushing in after the show that praised you and Miyuki that you hoped he’d see when he got home. 

You found yourself immediately passing out, waking up the next morning to say job you had been dreading for the longest. You had slowly made your way over towards your job, taking your time since you had awoken earlier than you predicted and now here you were, looking over work that was done without your help. 

The incompetence of your coworkers was astounding as this work was good, but they had never put in that effort before and made you do it by guilting you. You found yourself disgusted by their sudden work ethic, specifically of how much of your coworkers clanged to Nanami whenever they finished their work and hoped he’d critique them only for him to tell him it wasn’t time yet.

You were unfortunately stuck inside, unable to clock out for lunch until you finished your list of critiques and edits for them to make.

“Oh, would you please look at this Nanami?” They cried, the blond man remained stoic, “I apologize, but you need to go check in with other members before–” They cut him off, telling him they only wanted to hear him and not some nagging hag. “She doesn’t need an echo Nanami!” The man chortled. You had heard from your cubicle; it was almost as if forces were testing you today as you knew if you left with the unsubmitted item you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your boss. 

“You shouldn’t refer to her as that, in fact, she’s displayed something that a lot of you are failing to do as a team and that’s help one another out instead of trying to dump the work on others instead of having three of your team members check before I or your other team leader see it.” Your ears perked up at such wording, you listened earnestly to how Nanami talked of you.

“Nanami, come on, don’t be like her.” One of the men spoke up, two of your other workers agreed, “As I’ve said before, I do not want to hear you all speak of your team leader like this.” Nanami’s voice sounded of frustration, maybe no one heard his tone, but you did, his hardened walls were cracking and with the fixing of his tie and the clearing of his voice you found yourself a bit lost in what to feel.

“Woah, Nanami, what’s the matter?” A woman cooed, only for him to brush her off, “Oh come on, there’s no way you’re going to defend her like this when she’s never even gotten to know you or anyone else here. What bond could you possibly have for her when she won’t even talk to you like a friend? Just a coworker?” A woman complained alongside the other woman.

“Because that’s not her job.” Nanami chastised them, “She doesn’t have to be your friend, or know you personally, her job isn’t to be your friend. The whole point of her job is to get told what to inform you, check your work when having gone through three or more members of your work, then submit and display that work towards the higher ups. There is no cold tone, in fact, you all speak ill will when she has never done a thing besides not go out for drinks with you all after work.” 

The workplace was silence, while some members had already left to lunch your group was trying to invite Nanami without with them after getting their papers checked. You noticed how your group were a bit lost for words, Nanami’s sober persona had now become one that displayed a compassionate side towards those in the office that had gained you an ally in a place where you found yourself hating working for such a place.

You watched as your coworkers dispersed, forming the same groups they had before Nanami showed up thus abandoning the man and casting him aside with you. You found yourself a bit warmer inside, the pale white and gray bleakness of your cubicle showing the bits of color through photos you decided to let your eyes linger at for a few moments before finding yourself getting up and looking over to Nanami who's his expression had reverted back to his serene one as he slowly brought his eyes over to you.

It was a knowing exchange of understanding and thoughtful eyes that spoke essays as you found a soft smiling slowly growing on your lips, you know most likely he was keeping up for appearance as he is a team leader, in spite of all of the other workers though, he defended you when he could’ve easily joined in with them.

You thought for a moment about what to say, you looked down at the toes of your heels before looking back at Nanami, “Would you like to accompany me for lunch, Nanami?” You bubbled. Nanami’s eyes widened a bit, only if you truly paid attention to the way his face looked, you could notice the crow's feet in the corners to deepen a bit upon joining this team. 

“Okay.” 

Then you two were off, you both went to a bakery where you two were seldom on talking. You two enjoyed your meal together, amongst those chatting around you and the bustle of people on the street. You both looked at one another as you both thought about what to say to one another.  You looked around nervously at your food before noticing the time, you still had 20 minutes of and yet had not said a single word besides talking about what you two ordered.

Whilst you fiddled with your thumbs underneath the table while Nanami had found himself a bit lost in what to say as well, spending time with coworkers was a rare sighting unless it was one specifically told of a boss that his presence would be one that would impact his workplace environment. 

Nanami admired that about you, how you left when you were supposed to, how no matter how much you heard you kept coming in and doing your work diligently, and how much you did for others once he was told how some staff would guilt you into doing their work for them. Nanami collected this information in order to make the perfect announcement of how he felt about his coworkers and their carelessness for you.

Nanami hadn’t known you were there; he was so scared of you popping up he feared that maybe you found him to little to late for not defending you sooner. Your invitation for lunch shocked him and thus he found himself incapable of making basic conversation without saying the wrong thing. 

“What made you want to work here, Nanami?” You spoke effortlessly, one that Nanami could spot from miles away with how you held yourself in a high regard regardless of how people spoke of you. “Past issues. I was a failure where I was before and thus, I needed to do something I knew I could never fail.” You raised a brow at such an answer, as blunt as Nanami is, you find yourself still lost by such. 

“You most likely weren’t a failure, Nanami, don’t be too hard on yourself.” You comforted the man; you spoke calmly to him a smile on your face that gave off none of the energy from when you two first met over two years ago. A cold and detached smile that felt mandatory and stapled by in by the touch of the shared boss between the two of you, nonetheless, there was something in this smile gave a warmness in his heart. 

“You’re too good at all you do, Nanami.” You praise earnestly, “I’m bad at speaking, I do apologize for being so quiet around you.” You hush him, “Please, Nanami, there’s need to apologize for such a thing!” Nanami’s eyes perked up at such, “I was a bit careless in what I did before, I feel the same way in this conversation.” You found yourself looking at Nanami with the softest eyes, there was this beauty between the two of you that was embedded under the dirt with water to soak and the sun to beam on it with care.

“Don’t run away from me now, Nanami. You can tell me whatever as long as you’re comfortable with it, of course.” There’s a silence that falls between the both of you and now you wonder if you overstepped a boundary, thankfully you didn’t, as Nanami quickly speaks up about the situation beforehand.

“My previous work was draining, I needed to give it up everything for them and once I gave up on a friend, I knew I needed to leave that line of work.” You nodded at this, while you found yourself unable to say anything you still tried to profess your feelings about the situation to him. “I mean, you may have failed once but the pros may outweigh the cons... Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you can’t help people from making those same mistakes you did.” 

Lost in your eyes, your caring gaze, and the way your fingers found the straw of your drink and began to swirl it around. Nanami found himself listening to your words with something in his eyes that began to soften them with a cruelty of reality as you looked towards to the clock and told Nanami that you both needed to head back to the office.

You paid the bill of meal whilst Nanami stood outside, making your way out the two of you began to make your way back over to your office, “I wanted to thank you, Nanami.” You expressed a tender tone with the man as you spoke. “Thank you for defending me today, let me know if you’d like to spend time again.” You say as you make your way out of the elevator and towards your cubicle.

In an instant, you and Nanami began to spend time together. Meeting up at the train station at the morning to go to work with one another, spend lunch together, and Nanami would walk you to your home in the late nights after working those long nights with him. 

When you entered his life, your infectious tone and compassionate nature began to dismantle the carefully constructed walls guarding his heart. Nanami had never been so bewitched by someone like this, once before there was one, whose brightness was one that made him want to do more in life and pushed him to go be a salaryman after their departure. 

Your connection deepened, Nanami found himself experiencing emotions that had long been dormant, stirred by your genuine care and understanding. Nanami speaking of the one he lost, it took him a long time to open up to you of his fears of uselessness and with your constant affirmations that held him tightly in a warm embrace. There was something Nanami could not shake as the months had begun to past.

You guys had done almost everything, such as getting each other Christmas presents, spending birthdays together, going to do after work shenanigans like getting drunk and doing karaoke. Things Nanami had only ever done as one he had done with no choice unless he wanted his bosses to hate him.

You embodied resilience and authenticity contrasted the bleak and draining corporate world. Your zest for life and unwavering commitment to her values resonated deeply with Nanami, causing him to question the path he had chosen. Your inspirational worlds that called to his past being one that didn’t have to be a burden to him but could push him to do more in the future if he so chose.

“What would happen if I left the office?” 

Suddenly, thoughts of returning to Nanami’s true passion in his previous work started to emerge, fueled by the desire to break free from the confines of a soulless job that stifled his want for appreciation and impact those who wanted to do more for those around him who didn't have the capabilities he had as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

Yet, you didn’t know he was a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

“I’d support you through it all, I trust what we have will last even if you’re on to bigger and better things.”

Your words were chosen so bewitchingly, he yearned to be on the level of your phrasing and tone. Nanami had thought for a moment, what would you do while he was gone? His job would take up so much time. How could you ever see him? What if one day he was gone forever, and it would seem to you that his new life became more important to him than you were? It was new year's, you two had been close friends for a year and some change now, soon reaching your late 20s that made Nanami stop and think about what he was doing as a salaryman. You two had spent this one together, like you did last year, sitting there on your balcony looking over the city with champagne glasses brought to you by Nanami who you thanked cheerfully. 

As your relationship flourished with Nanami, he couldn't ignore the harsh reality of your situation – trapped in a job that undervalued your worth and failed to recognize your potential. Witnessing you endure the daily grind of a workplace that treated you as expendable ignited a fire within Nanami. 

There was something in your eyes, it glowed under the darkness of the night they couldn’t compare to the city lights near the apartment, that glow he never wanted to lose as he made a firm decision to not only be your pillar of support but also your advocate for change, determined to liberate you from the chains of the workplace.

The countdown had begun, you and him counting down together as you found your arm around his waist and his around yours. You brought each other close, leaning your head on his shoulder as heard the other members of your apartment count together. A strike of midnight that cause screams and shouts from the streets and homes with fireworks shooting around the two of you. 

At a crucial moment, Nanami found himself standing at a crossroads, torn between the familiarity of his corporate world and the beckoning call of a life filled with purpose as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. With you by his side, he realized that true happiness did not lie in the pursuit of material success, but rather in the freedom to follow one's heart. 

It took a while for things to calm down before you and Nanami made your way insides, your laugh lighting up the world and Nanami losing himself as he asks you question. “What do you do on the nights when we don’t spend time together?” The world froze around you both, you hadn’t told him you ere underground Idol, with how things were looking however, you were about to be on a stage that wasn’t underneath a building.

It was nothing big, a venue to host 16000~, that would be above ground this time. You looked up at Nanami, unable to find the words, yet you knew with all this time. You knew you had to tell him though, you cleared your throat and poured another glass. 

“Nanami, I’m an idol.” 

The words slipped from your throat with a smoothness you wouldn’t have had without the alcohol, you smiled at him and couldn’t help it as you looked to him with the brightest of eyes. “I’ve been an idol since I started working at the god-forsaken office.” You sighed passionately, “If I could do it full time I would.”

Nanami was lost for words, he had no idea you did such work and even more he admired you for such, doing a job that required such rigorous work for practice, voice lessons, and so on. Nanami had no idea he could feel more for you in this moment than he had before in the year and months of knowing you.

“Why don’t you do it full time?” You propped your head up with your chin in your palm, “I’m sorry?” You raised a brow at such, “Why don’t you be a full time, Idol?” You thought for a moment, “Is it because of money?” You didn’t let Nanami finish, be grateful you did as Nanami would’ve stayed in the soul sucking job to provide you the life you wanted. “No, Nanami, I love being an Idol. I really do. I love all the people who support me, cheer my name, and make me feel seen in ways life has never.”

A soft crack in Nanami’s heart as he heard of the love you deserve more than all in the world, admiration for you that skyrocketed as he yearned more for you. “I don’t do it full time because I just don’t…” You thought, “I don't…” Why didn’t you do it full time? If you left your job, you would have more time to do more gigs and do more work, however…

“I don’t want to leave you, Nanami…”

The blond’s ears perked up at such wording, you looked into his eyes with a softness that left you feeling crumbled like a wall torn to pieces by a large wave, you couldn’t put your finger on this new desire that had begun to eat you and now you looked towards Nanami with a gaze that bolstered the feelings that had begun to bubble inside around you.

“ I don’t want to leave you either… ”

The warmness of your home, the dim lighting, the faint sounds of few straggling fireworks being lit for the amusement of those around you, and the way you were here with Nanami’s presence. There was something so loving about this moment you felt your heart ready to explode from the beauty of this moment.

Nanami finding himself also lost in what to feel, the way his heart had pounded made him anxious your silence was because you wanted to hear him struggle to hold himself together around you. A yearning in the half-lidded eyes of both you as you both found yourself coming closer and closer to one another.

“It requires me to travel everywhere, I’d be in so many places performing and I don’t know if your job would allow you to be with me everywhere…” You bit your tongue, you wanted him to be there with you and yet, this moment felt as if you were losing yourself in what could be as Nanami felt himself falling apart with the way you began to bewitch him with every word that fell from your lips that were of so soft…

You watched as Nanami’s hands came out to you, larger and hardened from the years of work, they held your hands and cradled you with his thumbs rubbing against the softness of your knuckles that had begun to eat with a loving feeling. You found yourself looking up into his eyes, had you ever been able to see how close he was to you that his cool and minty breath had hit your lips.

“I’ll find a way to travel, my old job made me go everywhere, I’ll go to places with you to watch you perform and I’ll cheer you on the way you’ve done for me.” Nanami’s words cradle you, you feel his hands slowly slide up your arms towards your elbows and slowly cup your lower back, your breath hitches at such a sudden touch as your lips slowly part almost sending Nanami off the rails.

“Is this, okay?” Nanami questions, a softness to his voice that you had never heard come from him before, he must feel what you do and in a swift moment you feel this desire for more of it. “Of course it is…” Your arms snaking around his neck as you brought his lips towards yours with your eyes closing as Nanami brought himself more into the kiss.

There was something about this kiss that brought you to your knees, and Nanami breaking his neck to have more of you gave you more than you ever wanted in a relationship as he coddled you. There was something Nanami gave you, something working in that office and as an Idol. The appreciation from someone so close to you, for someone to get to know you and bring you into an embrace where all that mattered was the comfort you got as he held you tight to himself in order for you to not to fall while twisting his body to just feel your lips against his. There was something about this chaste kiss that enveloped you into this something that could you swallow you whole, and that was the way Nanami pulled away and asked you, “I want a life with you, away from this job…” 

A pause as he took a breath, losing track of time with you was one of the many things that worked as curse against the man who wanted you so dear, “Would you run away with me?” Your lashes fluttered open, looking into Nanami’s eyes that were pained with an expression of rejection as if it wasn’t you then no one else would ever compare to you and be who you were to him in the ways he had you now. 

Your hands pulled from his forearms and two his collared shirt, “I’d love nothing more.” You pulled in him, your noses rubbing against each other as you kissed him as if you’d die without it. Nanami brought you closer as you both kissed into the night, the world being nothing but just a force that gratefully brought you two together, forever.

©ouchthathurts please don't translate, claim as yours, redistribute and/or plagiarize in any way. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Greed | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: M | CW: Suicide, MCD, Mental Illness (referenced) Addiction (referenced) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie, A Stranger in the woods, Dark themes, how far would you go to get what you want?, and what's the real cost?, spooky

AO3 version if you prefer... 📷

Happy Halloween! 🎃

He counts the gold records lining the wall of his study; eleven of them side by side, one for each of their albums. They’re to be kept together even after he’s gone, his will has strict instructions on who gets them, on who can be trusted with them; Gareth, Wayne, his mother. For now though they stay on the wall, looking down on him. Judging him.

No one comes out to the bench since Chrissy died. Eddie thinks some students are afraid it was him and that they’ll be next, and others are afraid that it wasn’t him and they’ll still be next because if it wasn’t Eddie…

Hawkins is a very strange place, after all.

There’s no drug dealing anymore, he comes here to draw or write during lunch; the cafeteria feels claustrophobic and his friends are well meaning but the constant attention is grating his nerves. He doesn’t need to be protected, and he doesn’t need them carrying his books, he can manage fine on his own.

He sketches a boy in armour swinging a sword, another blood soaked at his feet. He has words for a poem to go with this one, he’ll add them later, maybe.

“You’re very good.”

Eddie spins, flinching at the pull in his side. A man stands behind him, his face shadowed by the trees.

“What the fuck, dude?” he pants. 

“I’m sorry,” the man replies. “I didin’t mean to frighten you.”

Eddie closes his notebook and slides it inside his bag. “I’m allowed to be here, it’s part of the school grounds, and I’m not—”

“Of couse you are. I’m not here to chastise you. I was hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie watches suspiciously as the man approaches the bench. He peers at Eddie over his glasses, but his eyes are dark, hidden by his hat. 

“Look, I’ve kept my nose clean since I’ve been back, man. I’m on time to class, homework completed, tests—”

“Oh, I’m not a teacher,” the man laughs like it’s absurd, and there’s a sharpness to it that leaches under Eddie’s skin. “But it certainly seems that you’ve worked very hard. It must have been a terrible struggle coming back to school, facing all of Chrissy’s friends. Your uncle must be very proud.”

The birds have stopped singing.

Eddie feels the first pinch of anxiety, can feel his heart kick up when he realises he didn’t tell anyone where he was going for lunch. 

“Who are you?”

“Someone who can help you.”

In the aftermath of everything, Eddie has been left with a healthy fear of pretty much everyone outside his immediate circle. People like to leave messages for him on his van and the trailer, and both have never been so clean. What people haven’t done is try to help him. So consider him unconvinced.

He grabs his bag, and his cane, and pushes himself up.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says sarcastically.

“It must be terribly hard,” says the man, motioning to his leg. “To be so young and to be left horribly injured.” He mouth stretches, a horrible attempt at a smile. “You have scars, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie spits. 

“Tell me, Edward, do you still play the guitar?”

He stops dead, never takes his eyes off the trees ahead of him.

Why are the birds not singing?

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“I’m someone who can help you. I’m someone who understands how hard it is to be different.”

The world is silent but Eddie hears his heart beat, feels his blood pump, the tippy-tap reminder that this is happening, that this is real. There should be cheerleaders out on the field, but he can’t hear them. Can’t hear the birds, can’t hear the wind, can’t hear the trees. 

“I don’t need any help,” he says, and he’s trying so hard to be brazen, to be the Eddie of before, not the scared boy of after, but it sounds choked even to his own ears.

“But you do,” croons the man as he circles Eddie, so close that he can feel the tweed of the mans suit on the back of his hands.  “I can return the things that were stolen from you. I can give you the things you have always dreamed of.”

Eddie breathes, ragged and harsh, and he knows the man can feel his breath on his skin.

“I don’t—”

“Oh but you do. You want, Edward. You want so deeply, so much has been taken from you, hasn’t it? Since you were a small boy, life has treated you unfairly. You’ve suffered. And your uncle has suffered, think of what you could do for him? Think of what you could give him?”

“No, that’s—”

“You dream of Madison Square Garden, and of fame, and fortune. You dream that your mother is alive and that your father is dead—”

“I don’t!”

“You dream of a boy that you can never have. So brave and so handsome, but you know Steve will never be yours.”

His breath catches. He can’t know these things, he’s never told anyone these things. They’re secrets, they’re his, they’re private things. 

“Who are you?” 

“I have powers you can barely imagine, Edward. I can manipulate time, make what was dead, alive. I can give you what you covet. Your band are talentless shoolboys, but I can make them good. I can fix you, make you play guitar the way you used to, better than you used to. People will worship you, shower you with awards. I can give you Steve. You can have all of these things, Edward.”

This is ridiculous. It’s not real.

Tippy-tap.

He shouldn’t contemplate it because its lunacy. But…

What if it isn’t?

Eddie’s limbs shake and he let’s himself fall backwards to the bench. He swallows the acid in his throat. 

“How?” he asks, a near breathless whisper.

There’s no movement, the world is locked out, just the two of them in the clearing. He feels putrid, damp breath on the back of his neck, icy lips touching the shell of his ear.

“Bring me the girl.”

Eddie shakes his head, confused. 

“The girl?”

The man’s eyes flash and Eddie feels the sting of bites.

Edward Anthony Munson (July 23, 1967 - November 11, 2011) was the lead guitarist, co-founder and principal songwriter for the heavy metal band Corroded Coffin. He was known for his virtuoso playing and intricate guitar solos. Munson co-founded Corroded Coffin in 1982 with school friends Gareth Jones, Jeff Williams and Matt Morris. Corroded Coffin released 11 studio albums, 2 live albums, and 19 singles. Munson is regarded as one of the greatest guitarists of all time.[1] 

Munson struggled publicly with chronic mental health problems and addiciton from the beginning of the band’s success in the early nineties. He faced increasing ridicule in the last decade of his life for his often bizarre behaviour during interviews, most famously on Late Night with David Letterman in November, 2004.[2]  His obsession with the occult was cited as a major contributor to Corroded Coffin’s breakup in 2009, Munson making demands that decisions about the band’s future should be made using numerology. After Munson’s death, Williams was quoted in Metal Hammer magazine: “We thought if we ended the band it would help. But it was too little too late. The number thing was just…he was so far gone.”[3] It was also believed to have been one of the contributing factors in the breakup of his marriage.[4] 

Munson died at his home in New York in November 2011, from a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head.[5] 

Born July 23, 1967, Hawkins, Indiana, US

Died November 11, 2011, (aged 44) New York City, US 

Occupation Musician · Songwriter

Genres Heavy Metal · Thrash Metal

Spouse Steven Harrington (m. 2006; div. 2011)

Instrument Guitar

Years active 1982 - 2009

Formerly of Corroded Coffin

*New York was 11th state to ratify the United States Constitution. Eddie was going to be 45, but 44 is divisible by 11... you get the picture 😆

That's it, seven more fics to add to the stash. Thank you so much to @thisapplepielife for putting this together, it's been a blast!

@the-unforgivenn I'm going to write you something sweet to make up for all the trauma!